Anything Worth Saying: All Before 9 am

This morning started off pretty well. I had noticed last week that staying home with my kids has this phenomenom of causing all the days to run together in one giant blurry Woodstock-worthy haze. That, coupled with the fact that I am currently working through my weekends at "The Bridge" lent to my decision that Thursday is the new Sunday where this Mom is concerned.

So I made the rule of "no real clothes"- we would wear our pjs all day long. And we'd eat a real breakfast that I actually cooked, rather than just toasted or microwaved. Just like regular folks do on a real weekend. Jonah and I had decided on scrambled eggs with cheese and toast with jelly; A gourmet chef I do not claim to be, afterall.

I took out the ingredients but noticed that there was a pretty sizable stack of the previous night's dishes taking over my counter space so I went to tackle those first. Jonah requested The Artistocats as his morning-mommy-making breakfast-movie (I never said I was mom of the year- my kids will be familiar with Disney classics and I'm not ashamed to say it. At least its better then the ginormous purple dino that should remain ever nameless on this blog). I set him up with his dvd and took to the dishes to task.

That was my first mistake. My boy doesn't like to wait. Within seconds I hear a rustling in the living room. I quickly ran in and saw Megan licking a butter wrapper like it was the last popsicle in the ice cream truck in the midle of July. My son? Well this is what I found...

"Yeah butter!" Really. That's what he said to me. "Yeah butter!" Like he was butter's own personal Cheerio. (That's a Glee shout out, just in case you didn't catch it.) Ewwwww. Ew.

Then, just cause its gonna be that kind of day... as I'm placing the butter in a dish to deal with later, I hear a shatter. An enormous shatter. Like a shatter I've never ecountered before. Man do those glass pirex bowles shatter. There was glass in Wyatt's kennel, behind our trash, somehow it hopped on the counter... incredible. It was a glassplosion.

And then just a teenie tiny "Oopsies, Mommy." Yeah. Oopsies.

This is post clean up... I figured risking the safety of my family in order to take a live action shot for my blog probably wasn't kosher with the DCFS folks.

Finally, hurricane Jonah was cleaned up, the dishes were hastily finished and I was getting my ingredients together again. Eggs. "Mommy eggs." That's right, my smart boy, Eggs. Where were my eggs?

He hands me two, but there were three in the carton. Where of where did that egg get to?

I'll tell you where.