Wednesday, May 1, 2013

WTB A Break


After only getting four hours of sleep, Jude wakes up at 5:00AM. I crawl out of bed miserably and step in cat poop as I leave the bedroom. Neelix poop, to clarify, which means it's basically shit the size of a grown man. I have to go wash my foot AND pick up crap before I can get into the nursery to tend the baby, which as you can imagine only makes him fussier. I have no idea why he decided to use the hallway as a bathroom, the litterbox is only like five feet from where he went and isn't gross or anything. I can only assume that perhaps it was occupied and he just couldn't wait.

I manage to coax Jude back to sleep once I get in there and return to bed myself, only for him to wake up five minutes after I get comfortable. From here I try to get him to sleep in bed with us, but Aaron starts to snore and scares the shit out of him. Then I try to rock him to sleep in the nursery which works, but the moment I put him down and leave to reclaim whatever section of the bed is open, he wakes up. I attempt to go sleep with him out in the living room but as soon as I emerge the cats start SCREAMING at me to feed them, even though they don't get breakfast for another two whole hours. I try one last time to put him to sleep in his crib but he isn't having it, so we're up for the day. Total time wasted: three hours.

Now it is time for the cats to eat, so I settle Jude into his swing to free up my hands. When I turn around to go feed the cats, I immediately step in a nice warm pile of cat vomit. Great. I hop into the bathroom to wash my foot, yet again, and then clean up puke. Nothing like cleaning up feces and bile first thing in the morning.

When I get t the pantry I realize we only have enough cat food to feed one cat. How this went unnoticed last night, I have no idea. So I try to split it up evenly between the two. I know there are a few cans of wet food in there, somewhere, but I'll be damned if I can locate them. So I'm just coping with being yelled at every ten minutes by the cats who are quick to realize their portions were incorrect. They aren't starving. I can deal with them later.

Jude's still happy in his swing, so I decide now is a good time to fetch my own breakfast. Only we're out of oatmeal. So I figure I'll just get a bowl of Raisin Bran, only there are no clean bowls. Damn it. I consider a bagel briefly until I realize there are also no clean butter knives to spread the cream cheese. Also, no cream cheese. I remember we still have frozen waffles, so I go about preparing those only to discover we've got no clean plates either. What. The. Fuck. is going on in my house?

I go ahead and throw some waffles in the toaster, resigned to reuse my plate from yesterday (it's just maple syrup after all) and set to loading the god damned dish washer. Of course nothing there goes right either. Nothing has been rinsed or soaked, so it takes ages to get everything in there and then once I do object A catches on object B when I try to close it and the entire silverware basket spills into the bottom of the dishwasher. Really? Really? Was this necessary? I fish everything from inside with a lot of awkward wiggling and reload the stupid thing.

By now Jude's patience has worn thin and he's fussy. I'm forced to reassure him constantly as I butter my now-cold waffles that I have not in fact abandoned him or been eaten by dingos. I sit down and turn on the xbox so that we can have some background noise as we eat only... we have no internet! Annnnnnd then the baby poops. He may a well not have been wearing a diaper for all the good it did.  Let's mop up excrement for like the third time before breakfast! You've got to be kidding me. 

I finally manage to choke down my breakfast in time to make Jude his. By some grace, I manage to puree his pears and bananas all without incident. Up until I knocked the pepper grinder off of the counter anyway, coating a three foot radius all around me in pepper. Oh and when updating this blog to inform you of this new incident, the changes didn't save. So, there's another thing gone wrong. Then, when getting up to fetch a drink, I tripped over my cellphone charger, spilling said drink! My life is the most obnoxious comedy.

Is nothing going to go right all day? It is getting to the point where I'm afraid to do anything out of fear of how terribly it may go wrong. It's only a matter if time before I get electrocuted or hit by a car.

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