Can we get a do-over?

Ya know....some days are just better left undone.

I thought I was being so clever, so PRO-active as I locked our bedroom doors at 1:00 this morning.  I told Julie to lock hers as well. It was high time the kids just stayed in their own freaking beds.  Lately it's become completely out of control.  Everynight we've got one or 2 kids showing up wanting to snuggle up with us.  Or, if you're sleeping on the couch, as I tend to do a lot, they're on top of you, snoozing away.  So, my genius idea was...if the doors are locked, then the little hooligans will get the idea they're NOT welcome here and go back to their bed.  It HAS happened before.

So, lo and behold 5 a.m. arrives and I hear it, wiggle, jiggle, wiggle, JIGGGLE, on the door knob.  It was Max.  He worked and worked on that doorknob like somehow it would magically open.  HA SUCKER!  Got you.  Eventually I heard him say, through his binky, Mommay, mommmmay?  Then he gave up and tried Julies door.  No luck there either.  And finally, there was silence.  I had won.

UNTIL....

I hear Maggie being woken up and I hear her say very grumpily to Max...."Get off my bed Maxi, you're NOT invited here."

I started giggling uncontrollably, it was just too much.  So, I extricated myself from my warm snuggly cocoon and swooped in and took Max out of Maggies bed.  He was having nothing to do with going back to sleep in his bed.  So, I dejectedly carried him down the hallway and we snuggled in to the couch.  He fell asleep promptly and I dozed in and out, while Maggie came out of her room, went in with Dad, tried to fit with us on the couch (no luck), made noise, complained, etc.  She finally fell asleep on the chair at about 7:15.

Sigh......

So, already, I'm tired.  My grand plan was a FAIL.  Then came the hideous moment I had to tell Maggie to get dressed because she had school.

I WILL record this one day so you all believe me on what a ridiculous, overly dramatic, scream fest it is.  She lost her ever lovin mind and screamed and wailed that she HATED school, HATED Miss Ranelle, wasn't going, wasn't getting dressed.  She kicked and fought as I got her dressed.  Big crocodile tears fell down her face as the red glared in her eyes.  THEN I dared to do the hair.  At that point her head was spinning in circles and her screaming was so out of control that Jere was awake and threatening to poke his eardrums out.  So finally, I had to bring out the big guns.  The ONLY thing that seems to work now is to threaten her with being locked out back with louie (the dog).  I told her what was coming and the fear sparked to life in her eyes.  She claimed to be tired, she hated louie, don't do it.  BUT, I HAD to, I had told her I would.  So, in a moment reminiscent of Tatum past (they used to put her outside their back door because she was a demon screamer too and she would yell so loud I would call Lana laughing and ask her to please stop beating her child) she raised her decibal levels to the stratosphere and screamed like her limbs were being ripped from her one by one.  I'm sure the neighbors thought she was dying.  I left her out there a whopping 2 1/2 minutes, but it was enough to tame the beast.  She was now contrite and oh so sorry and promised no more tears or fighting.  We got her all the rest of the way dressed, snow hat on and no tears.  In fact, she was downright pleasant the whole way to preschool.

And she looked like this, so....totally worth it.  They're having an imaginary trip to snowy mountain at school today.  Repleat with snowball fight and hot cocoa.

So, you got my morning thus far....well, it ONLY gets "better."

Drop her off, stop at the bank, drive through the ATM.  I'm done, and need to back out because if I go forward I'll end up driving in the wrong direction.  Noone is at the bank, so I begin to pull out slowly.  I mean, SLOWLY and I was certain I had just enough clearance with the mirror.  But, in true slow motion, can't stop the wreck from happening fashion.....in a split second, my driver side mirror was SNAPPED off.  I literally just went into shock.  No, NO, NOOOOOOO that did not just happen.  It's dangling by a cable.  I'm DYING.  I'm so sad, so depressed.  I look ghetto, AND, it's gonna cost too much money to fix.  Why, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY??

Now, I'm driving home in a stupor, a broken mirror induced funk.  Literally I am in la la land.  Not paying attention to anything, just driving.  As I'm nearing Country Club I hear a siren, BEHIND ME and I look in my rearview mirror to see an undercover freaking cop with their lights blinking at ME.  Holy crap, I'm getting pulled over.

I was so in shock that I didn't even cry. Which, if you know me AT ALL is HUGE.  Anyway, a very nice lady cop came to my window and said..."I pulled you over for a couple of reasons, old registration and not wearing your seatbelt."  "do you have current registration."  After I assured her I was totally up to date, just too lazy to have ever put the freaking tags on (since May, and they're sitting on my counter) she then asked..."why weren't you wearing a seatbelt?"  To which my response was..."My mirror just got broken and frankly, I'm in too much of a depression and I just wasn't thinking or paying attention."  She asked for all the info., and of course, I have old insurance card, no current registration paperwork, etc.  She took what I had and disappeared.  When she came back she told me she wouldn't give me a ticket for the seatbelt or registration, just make sure that I put the tag on and be safe and wear my seatbelt, but she DID give me a ticket for not having current proof of insurance in the car.  Good news....I just have to go to the court and SHOW the proof and they'll drop it.  But c'mon.......on top of all this, I was in my pj's with a hat on.  I looked like CRAP! 

When I came home and told Jere what happened, he laughed at me and got giggly, 'cause he gets sooooo mad at me all the time for not wearing my seatbelt.  Somehow he feels vindicated.  Whatever.

So yeah.

Can I get a do-over?

That said, I'm off to pick Maggie up from school.

Wish me luck.

I still haven't showered.

Psychotic toddlers and observant cops,

Allyson