Well, that didn’t go as planned..

Today has been EXHAUSTING.

Like for real.

Lets take a walk through my day…

We got up, we had breakfast, we got dressed in clothing that doesn’t contain the words “pjs”, “sweat”, or “yoga” (ok, confession, I was wearing leggings. But they were LulaRoe and a fun springy blue flower pattern, so they are basically real pants OK!?). We put a movie on TV and played on the floor. It was a soggy, grey morning, but who cares, we were having fun. It was gonna be a good day.

My phone had been dead when I woke up, which was weird, because it had like 25% when I went to bed, so it should have been fine. Maybe I had a billion notifications on Facebook (or a certain blog that had been recently updated) and it had killed my phone. I plugged it in and went about my day.

Yea. My phone was dead because Wonderful Husband had been trying to get a hold of me for about three hours regarding the DMV, transferring our registrations to WV, and Uhaul receipts we needed to turn in to his employer to get reimbursement.


Soooo, by the time my phone turned on and one of his 6,000 phone calls came through, you can imagine what I heard on the other end of that line.

What ensued, can only be described as complete an utter chaos, or also commonly referred to as a normal day in a house with two under 3.

As I was trying to simultaneously call the bank with our car loan, make a bottle for Little Littles, and explain to Little Darling that I was, in fact, NOT on the phone with daddy, some random old guy shows up at my front door.

Thankfully, old dude was looking for a different house. Easy peasy. Nope, wrong house, k bye.

The bank is drolling on and on about how if the DMV has faxed the paperwork and they haven’t received it there is nothing they can do. Perhaps I could personally fax a request on DMV letterhead, and then wait 2 hours and call back with the date, time, number of pages, and fax number from which the fax had come from and perhaps they could track it down. Then they could fax the title to me, and I could hand deliver it to the DMV.

I can smell poop.

I look over and Little Littles, while still wailing for a bottle, is on all fours and poop is leaking out the top of her diaper, centimeters from her shirt, and mere inches from my brand. New. Rug.

So now I get to argue with The Bank about how I am not doing any of the nonsense they are suggesting, they and the DMV need to handle it or my car will just stay registered in PA forever, while I wrestle a screaming baby to floor and try to change a poopy diaper with one hand. All while Little Darling is still circling me saying “I TALK DADDY??”

I finally completely lost my shit, told The Bank to go to Hell, and hung up. Click. I got the bottle warmed up and ready for Little Littles, we are only about 15 minutes behind schedule for LL’s first nap,  and Little Darling announces she has to go potty.

This is my life.

So we run to the potty and spend 3 minutes fiddling around until I, again, lose my cool and shout GET OFF THE POTTY!

Now Little Darling is laying on the floor pouting, Little Littles has her bottle and is happily eating, and Wonderful Husband is blowing up my phone for the Uhaul receipts that I have, yet again, forgotten to send. I can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.

Little Littles drinks her bottle and goes to sleep. I send the Uhaul receipts. I get a load of laundry going, Little Darling gets a snack, and we head to the basement to clean.

Little Darling is playing in the guest room, getting in and out of the bed and fluffing the covers. I am cleaning the litter box, organizing some items in the pantry, and realizing it was much, much too quiet.

I head over to the guest room and Little Darling is sitting dead silent and still in the bed.

She looks at me and says “potty”

I became a raging lunatic. I ripped her out of the bed and saw the huge wet spot where she had indeed peed on our guest bed.

I spanked her. And then for good measure, I spanked her again. I couldn’t even form a sentence I was so angry. I was screaming words like BED and BATHROOM and JESUS CHRIST over and over again.

I grabbed her hand and half dragged her up the stairs to her bathroom. I forced her into the shower, which was too cold and she started crying. I rinsed her off, gave her a towel, slammed her into bed and told her not to move until I came back.

I could hear the wails echoing as I was stripping the bed, starting a new load of laundry, and cursing whoever thought up potty training. I cleaned up pee prints up the steps and down the hallway. I scrubbed the mattress with vinegar and set up a fan to help it dry.

Wonderful Husband calls to tell me I have sent the wrong part of the receipt (with much more colorful language) and requests I take new pictures and send the correct part.

I have had about as much of this day as I can possibly handle.

I finally went to face my child, who was still half sobbing in her bed. I explained that she is definitely old enough to know better than to pee anywhere but the potty and it was totally unacceptable to pee on the bed. However, I know I was a bit harsh in my reaction and I should have handled it better. We hugged it out and I told her that while I was sorry, she still couldn’t watch tv for the rest of the day, and if she pees on another piece of furniture I will beat her until she can’t see straight. She agreed and asked if we could color at the new table. Yea, really scarred for life. Not.

We spent some time coloring and building with blocks. Little Littles woke up and we had a nice lunch. We re-entered the basement and the girls played happily together while I dragged all the gym equipment into the house from the garage and set up the home gym in one of our spare rooms.

Then it was nap time. Glorious afternoon nap time. When both girls nap at the same time and I get two hours of child-free, mommy time. Today, I collapsed in bed and decided I would take a nap and not even feel guilty.

Little Littles had other plans, of course, and only slept for about 40 minutes.

Since she was up, I decided I would start on some dinner plans. Which is how I came up with this delicious Chicken Spinach One Pot Meal. Easy, full of veggies and protein, and just enough pasta to be a comfort food on a crappy day.

Chicken Spinach One Pot Pasta

3 chicken breasts, cut into pieces
Olive Oil
1 Tomato
1 small Zucchini
4 Garlic Cloves
2 Cups pasta- I used Penne
3.5 Cups water
Basil seasoning-  I used Pampered Chef Sweet Basil
3 Cups chopped Spinach
3oz Cream Cheese
1/2 Cup Milk
Parmesan Cheese

1.In a big pot, heat up some olive oil and add the chicken. Cook until the chicken is about done, no visible pink on the outside

2. Add tomatoes, and garlic. Cook until tomatoes start to get tender.

3. Add water, salt, pepper, and seasonings. Bring to a boil.

4. Add the pasta and cook until pasta is tender, most of your water should be about gone.

5. Add milk, cream cheese and zucchini. Stir and bring to a simmer.

6. Add the spinach and stir well. Keep it simmering and add some Parmesan cheese to taste.

There you go. Easy to make, easy to clean up, and super delicious. Little Darling cleaned her plate, and had seconds. Little Littles ate almost a whole portion by herself.

So. Today was a shitty day. I fought with my husband. I flipped out on my kid. But tomorrow is another day, and I intend to make it great!



No good deed…

Last weekend we went to Wonderful Husbands hometown for his cousins wedding. I am always leery about leaving the house for any amount of time and a whole weekend really puts me on edge. I double checked and triple checked every packed bag, locked door, and light switch before we left. We drove down on Friday evening, stayed at his parents, and then on Saturday his parents took Little Darling home after the reception dinner and we got a hotel room to enjoy an evening to ourselves. I only cried a little bit. Sunday morning we went back to his parents for a few hours and then headed home, exhausted and ready to relax for the evening before the hustle and bustle of Monday came.

Monday morning it was business as usual, I unpacked all the suitcases and headed down to the basement to do laundry. When I opened the door and looked down the steps, something looked amiss. Our concrete isn’t really that dark is it? Hmm.. As I headed down the steps and my bare feet landed on the carpet remnant we have covering the laundry area it dawned on me. While we did get a good deal on a nice squishy carpet remnant for our basement, we did not get a squishy WET carpet! Our basement had flooded!!

Now we have lived in this house for almost 3 years, the basement has NEVER flooded. I mean, we knew it was a possibility, the previous homeowners had installed a sump pump. But, doesn’t that mean it shouldn’t flood again? I grew up in a house with a basement that flooded anytime the weather even considered raining, but I never actually paid attention to the how and why of it.

I quickly trotted back upstairs and said to Wonderful Husband- “I need you to take a deep breath and not panic….the basement has flooded”. He, of course, didn’t believe me – silly woman who doesn’t understand that a sump pump means the basement CAN’T flood. We headed back downstairs. Once he saw it, and stepped in it, he believed me. What followed were lots of words that I can’t type and keep a G rating. He fiddled and he futzed, he pulled and he pinched. We had no idea where this water had come from, or where it was going to go. We decided the best plan would be to plug in the dehumidifier, set the humidity as low as it would go, and go to bed. Problem solved, right? HA.

Tuesday morning I began my usual routine. Gathered laundry, did the dishes, and once LD was napping I headed down to pop in a load of clothes. I had honestly forgotten about the flooded basement until I got down there. The next several hours went as follows:

The dehumidifier hoses were not plugged in correctly, so the dehumidifier had been dripping water back onto the concrete floor for the past 24 hours, essentially we were filtering the water and then putting it back on the floor. I loaded the washer and turned it on. Then I proceeded to deal with the dehumidifier. I pulled off all the hoses, got the manual, and reconnected all the hoses correctly. Then I decided I should try to move the carpet so it would dry out. Unfortunately, I am quite small compared to the carpet, and soaking wet it probably weighs 3x what I do, so I settled for flipping up the corners to try and dry the floor underneath. I found a fan and turned it on hoping to aid the dehumidifier. Then I saw the drain…

We have two floor drains in our basement, one is in the back where we have the exercise equipment and one is up in the front in between the washer and the sink. While fiddling with the carpet I happened to look over at the drain and realize there was about 3 inches of water standing over it. The water was backed up to the edge of the carpet, which was probably contributing the the carpet not being able to dry out. I figured the drain cover was probably just clogged from all the dirt in the basement. I ran upstairs, grabbed a screwdriver, and popped the drain cover off… unleashing the smell.

Anyone who has ever dealt with standing water, drains, dead bodies, portals of hell, or satan himself will know the smell I am talking about. When dirty water stands for too long, all the gross, nasty, smelly dirt settles to the bottom where it sits peacefully and doesn’t bother anyone. When you touch the standing water and disturb the dirt, the smell comes to the surface and makes you wish you could just set the house on fire and call it a day. After I had recovered from the stench that was burning a hole through my nasal cavities, and realized that the drain still wasn’t draining, I called WH. He always deals with these home issues, that’s why he is wonderful. Unfortunately, he was currently away on a job and working the midnight shift, so I jolted him out of his slumber by screaming incomprehensible things such as “SATAN IS IN THE BASEMENT” and “THERE MUST BE A DEAD PERSON IN THE DRAIN”. He calmly explained to me that the drain must be plugged and I should get the plunger and plunge the drain for a while, like a toilet. Best of luck.

Now everyone just envision for a moment, me in a sundress and flip flops, trying to plunge the toilet hole of my basement. Really the only thing missing were the heels and pearls. I plunged, and I plunged, and I plunged. I made a frantic phone call to my mother leaving a voice mail screaming obscenities and declaring how badly I hate being both a grown up and a homeowner. I plunged until I got a blister on my hand. When the drain still wasn’t draining I took a step back to reevaluate the situation. At which time, the washer started to empty…into the sink…which drains… into the clogged drain.


I reflooded my own basement with the water from my washer. Add that to the list of things to never tell WH.

After that, I called it a day and went upstairs, closing the basement door and hoping demons don’t know how to work doorknobs. I ignored the basement the rest of the day until about 7pm when WH came home. We tip toed down the steps to see the damage…

The drain was clear. No water. No flood. No hell portal or demon spawn. WH looked at me, conveying that he thought I may have possibly lost my mind. I began pleading that I wasn’t crazy and there really had been water and stench and awfulness. But it was too late.

WH proceeded to drag the carpet remnant outside and toss it over the privacy fence to dry, reposition the fan to get the floor dried out, grab a beer, and settle on the couch. I proceeded to question my sanity and remind him that in the future I won’t be wasting my time plunging anything- that’s all him.


Wonderful Husband decided to humor me, and brought home a snake the following evening. Turns out, The Grudge has been living in my basement drain..