Skyler and Beezus

Monday morning as I lay naked in bed, I couldn’t help but notice that my long, thick hair was dangling perfectly in beautiful blonde heaps that covered my exquisitely firm and supple breasts. I was having a tender and loving conversation with my husband as he stroked my thigh that was both stretchmark and cellulite free. He was eloquently professing his undying love to me as I lay there all virginal and innocent, hanging on his every word. It went something like this,

(Marvin Gaye playing in the background)

Adoring Husband: You are the most wondrously perfect female my eyes have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Your eyes are like a sunset, both mysterious and warm, and I could stare at you forever. I’d like to make sweet love to you while the baby is crying…

That’s odd, I thought…we don’t have a baby –

THE BABY IS CRYING!

UGH! Damnitalltohell. I rolled out of bed scratching my greasy, matted ponytail with one hand while simultaneously picking crust out of my eye with the other. Of course the night my one year old decides to sleep all night, my two year old decides he’s thirsty at 3AM. Super.

And that was the situation that created the domino affect which catapulted my Monday into a series of unfortunate events.

Not only was my ass all huge and jiggley again, but the baby dumped an entire container of animal crackers on the ground. As I was headed to find the broom to sweep them up I tripped over the dog bowl and water flew across the kitchen floor.

Then, I decided to stop at the grocery store after I dropped my oldest off at school and as I unloaded the babies from the car I remembered they weren’t wearing socks or coats. This wouldn’t be so bad except that my 2 year old decided to scream, “GET ME OUTTA HERE!” throughout the store drawing attention to his bare arms and feet – which of course started the disapproving glares from much more put-together mommies with children who were not only quiet but also bathed and clothed properly.

By the time I finally got home and got the babies down for naps my phone started ringing. It was the office at the elementary school.

There isn’t enough coffee flavored vodka in the world that could’ve prepared me for what I was about to hear.

This is how I imagined the conversation going, “Mrs. Riley, this is the office at Skyler’s school calling to tell you that you’ve been selected to receive the much coveted Mother of the Year award for your outstanding example of motherhood in every aspect of life with a concentration in exceptionally healthy lunch packing and never allowing your children to listen to rap songs or use foul language.”

But instead it went like this…

Lady With Adorable Southern Accent: Mrs. Riley this is the office at Skyler’s school.

Me: Oh dear god.

Lady With Adorable Southern Accent: It’s OK, don’t panic…Skyler has something to tell you.

Me: Oh dear god.

Skyler: Mom? Remember the hard-boiled egg you packed in my lunch today? Ummm…it wasn’t hard-boiled.

Me: PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRY TO CRACK IT ON YOUR HEAD.

(Roaring laughter from entire office staff huddled around the phone)

Lady With Adorable Southern Accent: Don’t worry, hunnie. We all have days like this. But you might want to start marking your eggs.