Just Call Me Alexander

When I got out of bed this morning I heard Jonah dumping over his basket of instruments and Lydia whining in her room and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

While attempting to get out the door, Jonah decided he didn't want any help untying his shoes. I said he needed to let me help him. I said he was a big boy. I said I could untie his shoes for him, and he threw a huge tantrum.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because the "car carts" were all being used at the grocery store, and I barely had any room in the normal cart for food since both kids were wearing their winter coats.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was because while attepting to make dinner tonight with Lydia in the Bjorn and Jonah on the step-stool, I misread the recipe and messed up the meal. Try it again next week, Mike said.

Next week, I said, I'm going to Australia.

While eating my last-minute dinner, Jonah decided he had to sit on his jumperoo and while taking a bath he had a meltdown and we ended up with more bathwater on the floor than the tub.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody. No one even answered.

We pay bills every Wednesday night and I hate paying bills.

Lydia won't go to sleep, I keep stepping in pieces of my failed dinner Jonah put on the floor, and I still have laundry to fold. I hate folding laundry.

Mike says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.