I quit.

Let me give you a little overview of my day:

It started out by both of our kids getting up much earlier than usual. That doesn't make for happy parents or a happy 2 year old.

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled at 9:30 for some lab work. They want to make sure that my gestational diabetes went away after I had Drew. So I had myself ready and the tools necessary for Drew (Anna was staying with Dane). I was planning on leaving around 9:10 but of course Drew wakes up at 9:00 and is instantly famished and crying. So I have no other option but to feed him. The process usually takes a good 20-25 minutes (for him to eat, burp and change the diaper). So he's done eating and I'm burping him thinking "okay, I think I can still make it on time...maybe 5 minutes late." As I'm holding him up and burping him, my stomach became curiously warm and wet. Lovely...he has peed and it's now all over both of us. So I lay him down and run upstairs to quickly change my shirt and grab a new outfit for him. I come back down and he's spit up all over. Perfect. So I get us both cleaned up and end up being 15 minutes late. Then I get my blood drawn twice to top off the morning. We all know how much I love needles.

Fast forward 5 hours. I am on my way home with both kids (Dane is at work for the night) and Anna is particularly whiney and Drew is starting to fuss because he's ready to eat. We get home and Drew is in full meltdown mode and Anna is clingy and whiney. We get in the house and I finally get Drew out of his carseat when I hear Anna whining in the living room. I tell her I can't understand her when she's whining like that and she says loudly (and very whiney) "I have to go peeeeee peeeee!" So I set down Drew (who immediately starts crying again because his dinner just got postponed) and I bolt into the living room to find her sitting on our couch, soaked with pee. I pick her up and carry her to the bathroom and strip her down. Now she is crying and upset, and poor Drew is screaming on the floor of the family room. I am near tears myself. So I set her on the toilet, go clean up the couch and go back to the bathroom to find Anna off the toilet and up "washing" her hands...and by wash I mean pumping about 10 pumps of soap into her hands and smearing it all over the bathroom counter. AAAUUUGGHHH! As if pee on the couch wasn't a big enough mess. I lost my cool, and yelled at her. This made her cry more. And don't forget baby Drew...still screaming on the family room floor waiting for dinner. I get Anna cleaned up and leave the mess on the counter, swoop up baby Drew, and immediately turn on Mickey Mouse for Anna so she stops crying, and whip out a boob so Drew stops crying. Good parenting by rewarding Anna with a show for peeing on the couch and making a mess in the bathroom? Probably not. Do I care? Nope.

Fast forward to bath time. I get Anna in the tub and I've got Drew in my arms trying to get him to sleep. He's so close. I poke my head in the bathroom just in time to see Anna leaning over, pushing out a poop in the bath. Seriously? About this time I'm starting to look around for the hidden camera because this has got to be a joke. I swoop her up out of the water and scoop the poop out of the tub with a cup. Yuck. Anna is standing on the bath mat, wet and cold with shampoo still in her hair. So I drain the tub and refill it just enough to rinse her hair and then wash her body. Oh, and of course Drew is just laying on the floor in the bathroom fully awake again. I get Anna rinsed, and Drew asleep and down in our room. After Anna is out of the tub, we read books and sing songs and I put her to bed earlier than usual. Is she tired and ready for bed? Probably not. Do I care? Nope. I leave the room feeling utterly exhausted. As I'm walking downstairs, I hear Drew wake up and he's ready to eat again. Of course.

The only silver lining to this day is both kids in bed and asleep and the margarita that I poured for myself and am currently enjoying. Some days, I just don't think I'm cut out for this!