snap out of it

It’s been an awesome morning. Baby Girl woke up, I don’t know the reason, at some horribly early hour. The Mr. helped her deal with what ever it was that woke her (bad dream? had to pee? I don’t know) then he let her sleep in our bed. I woke up a bit when the two of them climbed in, that was the first I knew of her sleep troubles.
When The Mr got up he scooted her over by me so I could snuggle her in his absence. That was ok for a minute or two but then she started talking to me and tickling my nose with the frayed edge of her beloved blankie, then she wanted me to read her a book. She sat there beside me as I slept, if I moved or happened to let my eyes flutter open for a split second she’d thrust the book into my face and ask me to read it. Eventually we got up.
We did our morning thing, eat breakfast, empty the dishwasher, she sits on the toilet for thirty minutes or so waiting for me to wipe her bum. When she finally asks for help I tell her to wipe it herself and assume she has done so because she’s not asking for help anymore but I learn later the she’s still just sitting there, waiting.
Anyway what it comes down to is that after she’d been up stairs for almost an hour she still hadn’t managed to put on her swim suit. then my dog, after coming in from his morning ramble in the back yard, pooped on the floor as I was standing not 5 feet away brushing my teeth. So I cleaned that up and sent a raging email to the Mr about my intolerance for dog crap, then baby Girl had a little melt down when I told her she couldn’t bring her floatie to swim lessons, all of which contributed to our tardyness.
We came home and there was more whining and anti-cooperation until finally I shut Tiny (who’s been a perfect angel all morning blessedly) in the bedroom where he’s blissfully scooting books of the book shelf and sitting on his sister’s bed, some of his favorite activities, and I put Baby Girl in the tub and told her she had to play for a while (she didn’t want to, of course) and now I am here. Trying to get control of myself. Ignoring the faint knocking at the bedroom door where my Tiny, it seems, has grown tired of scooting books and sitting on the bed.
This clump of run-on and scentence fragments that I’m trying to pass off for a post likely makes little sense to anyone but myself. In fact, I’ll probably look it over a few hours from now and find myself completely confused by it. Over and out.

P.S. I forgot the part when Baby Girl asked for a second bowl of cereal then when she finished it she said “Mom my tummy hurts why did you give me so much cereal?” all accusatory like. That made me feel super.


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