Sometimes the one who leaves for work

Gets the good end of the deal.

For the most part, as a "stay at home mom" (which somehow implies that I don't work, which irritates me to no end, and is the subject of an entirely different rant), I consider myself lucky. I don't get up at O-Dark-Thirty to sit in traffic on Hwy 400 and then spend the day in a small cube similar to that of a veal and deal with big business red tape or small business stupidity. I sleep a bit later. I get to watch my kids wake up and be snuggly. I get the good bye kisses as I drop Drama Queen off for school and the "I love you this much" smooches from Pee Pot for no real reason. For the most part - when it comes to F and I, he got the short end of this arrangement.

But on Tuesday, he was the lucky one. And I would have traded with him in less than .2 seconds.

I woke up a few minutes later than I should have and it made the morning a little crazy to begin with. However, I knew we could make up for the time if I just hurried. I woke up Drama Queen and moved her toward her bathroom to get ready. I headed to mine to brush my teeth. All is well - for about 35 seconds. Cue the screaming. "MOOOOOOOOM - you need to come here! I need you RIGHT NOW." Being as her name IS Drama Queen, I wasn't overly concerned. Yes, dear, be there in a second. NO - NOW. I enter the bathroom to find Drama Queen marooned on the potty with her feet off the floor staring at a small(ish) swarm of tiny black ants doing the cha-cha on the bathroom floor. Its like Mardi Gras for ants in the bathroom - someone left a small(ish -again) pile of cereal crumbs in the floor and they are partying like its 1999. One had colorful beads and was offering to flash the other ants for another string. Crumbs to the left - crumbs to the right, gonna stay up late and party all night! So I found the bug killer, and a roll of paper towels and proceeded to spray, and squash, and spray, and smoosh, and lift rugs and stools and spray and mush some more. At last they seemed to be all gone. At which point Drama Queen felt it as if she could finally feel safe enough to venture off of the potty.

And I ventured downstairs to make her lunch. This one portion of the morning was uneventful. But just as I start, I hear Pee Pot talking in her room. "Mommeeeee - I need to go potteeeeee". And the adventure begins anew. Pee Pot is potty training. Soon we will officially change her name to something more appropriate like "Pees in the Pot". But for now, we are at the stage where she goes if she is on the potty, but sometimes she goes even when she is not. And at night time - we are still in diapers. So I wasn't too concerned and just hollered back up the stairs - Ok sweetie - be right there. I finished making Drama Queen's lunch and headed up to check on her progress - diagnosis: slow. I fuss at her a bit to hurry up, what HAS she been doing (looking for more ants) and head into Pee Pots room. Before I even get the knob on her door turned, I know something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Its the smell that hits you first - a pungent odor of something I can't even begin to describe if you've never had a kid - poop. Not just regular poop - but poop that isn't in its localized, enclosed, able to be contained, um - container. And its not - localized, contained or enclosed. It is everywhere. Poo on the walls, poo in her hair, poo in the bed, poo in her hands. Everywhere - except the diaper. She has a handful in each hand and is looking at it like its some kind of amazing play-doh that she can't quite get to hold its shape. She looks up at me and says "Poopy Mommy" - with an absolute seriousness, that can only indicate she thinks I am either an absolute moron lacking the ability to identify such an object, or the look on my face has clued her in to the fact that I am in absolute shock - and lacking the ability to identify such an object.

This is not in the game plan for our morning schedule. A few minutes of oversleeping - yes, a fuss over what clothes to wear - yes, ants in the bathroom, not really - but we'll handle it. My youngest child debuting her fantastic artistic poo abilities - NOT REMOTELY IN THE SCHEDULE. I look at my watch - I have 10 min to get these kids out the door before Drama Queen is late. I scoop up Pee Pot and drop her in the tub, while screaming at Drama Queen to hurry it up, brush her teeth, brush her hair and find her shoes. I grab the hand soap off the counter and proceed to lather, rinse, repeat all of Pee Pots body in about 30 seconds while the water just runs over her - no time to fill up the tub, just let the water run like some sort of defective shower over her hands and toes. Pick her up, sniff - still smells like poo. Soap her up again and yell at Drama Queen again. Pick her up, sniff - less like poo, and we've got to go now.

Dry her off, toss a dress on her, and grab Drama Queen.

Where are your shoes I ask?

Today is Tennis Shoe Day she says. I need help.

Too bad I reply - wear your crocs (yes they are ugly terrible shoe-like creatures that should never grace the foot of an adult outside of gardening and boating, but they are awesome in a time crunch with kids).

MOOOOOOM - its a pattern, yesterday I wore crocs - today is tennis shoes.

Too bad. Crocs again. Out the door.

Don't forget your backpack and your lunch.

Hush - you'll eat what I packed, its fine.

Pee Pot, don't stop to pick that up - go go go.

I dropped of Drama Queen at 7:59 - one minute later and we'd have officially been "late". I'm exhausted, frazzled, drained. And my day is just beginning.