Just one of those days...

***Disclaimer- the following are the rantings and ravings of a pregnant woman in her eight month and may not be considered politically correct. Comment at your own risk***

I must have received a fresh batch of pregnancy hormones today because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Let me rephrase that, I woke up on the right side of the bed at the wrong time! Not only was it much earlier than my Tylenol PM drugged body was prepared for but, it wasn't exactly the most pleasant way to be awakened from a dead sleep. Apparently our two-year-old had a similar experience because he was equally as crabby. That could explain why he woke me up at 6:45 by beating me in the head with one of his baby sister's rattles.

With a "To Do" list a mile long, I wearily prepared for the day hoping and praying that I would be able to muster enough energy to finish all that I needed to before heading to the airport to pick up my mom and Lisa. It never ceases to amaze me that a toddler can undo in less than an hour what it took an entire weekend to accomplish. Thus was the state of our home. Oh it was dusted, vacuumed, polished, and mopped, but one would never know it was so clean under the vast array of crap that now littered it. Everywhere I looked I saw a new project that needed to be done before this evening.

First on the list was grocery shopping. It should have been last because the hour and a half that it took to hit two stores was enough to put me over the edge and turn this pregnant woman into a raging alcoholic.

I realized, upon finishing my grocery list, locking up the dog, and tying Daniel down to get his shoes on his feet, that Fernando had taken my house key last night and I had forgotten to get it back. When you are raised in a state of paranoia, like the one my father raised me in, it is unfathomable to consider leaving the house without locking the door (locking in our house, by the way, always meant one lock, two deadbolts, and a security door) and here I was about to leave our apartment with the door completely unlocked. Due to my increased hormonal state it took me all of about 2.5 seconds to go from concerned to not caring a bit should someone rob us blind. So we headed to the store.

Upon arriving at Kroger, Daniel immediately spotted his favorite shopping cart. You mothers out there know which one I'm talking about. It is a cart attached to what looks like a Little Tikes car that your kid can "drive" around in while you shop. Cute idea, right? Wrong! Did the creators of this "brain child" ever stop to think how difficult it would be for a woman, even one who considers herself freakishly strong, to push this veritable Lincoln Town Car through the narrow aisles of a crowded supermarket? Obviously not! But, in an attempt to humor my child and give him some indication that I do in fact love him, I allowed him to climb into the driver's seat and away we went. Apparently, my sacrifice meant nothing to him because less than three feet into the grocery store he started complaining. Please understand that the word "complaining" is used to describe any behavior ranging from screaming to throwing crackers. I experienced them all. But the highlight of the shopping trip was when he decided he wanted to be in the "other" blue car. Yes, I said "other" as he was already riding in the blue car he picked out for himself. Lo and behold, no matter what aisle we went down, we ran into that other mother with her son quietly driving his blue car and looking at Daniel like he was a lunatic. I wasn't about to argue. I did, however, consider giving in to Daniel's temper tantrum and trading him for the quiet 4 year old in the other cart. Think his mother would have noticed?

Somehow we both managed to leave Kroger alive and headed to Walmart- another huge mistake. I should know by now that Walmart makes the most pleasant of days a complete nightmare and here I was about to enter my least favorite place in the world on what was quickly becoming my least favorite day! I managed to change Daniel's mood briefly by offering him some fruit snacks. I was just beginning to marvel at my own ingenious when he dropped three of them on the floor and the meltdown commenced. I really think the highlight of the day, though, was the fact that somehow I managed, no matter where in the store I was, to get trapped behind the group of retarded kids. Around the 3rd or 4th time I got trapped behind them in an aisle with Daniel still screaming over the loss of his Curious George fruit snacks, I'm fairly certain I audibly heard God laughing at me.

I am happy to report that we made it home, Daniel quite literally in one piece and me without even a smigen of energy to attempt the next thing on my list. Should have stopped at Starbucks on the way home.