I refused to get up this morning. Not just refused the day or the universe or the alarm clock. I sank to a new low and refused my child.
Bug: "Mommy, it's morning. I see the sun is going to come up. Get up!"
Me (rolling over - away from person talking to me): "Three minutes."
Me: "One minute."
Bug: "I don't want any minutes!"
Me (eyes still closed, still hoping for ten seconds of peace): "Okay."
Overhead light in bedroom came on.
Bug: "I turned on the light!"
Me (pulling covers over my head): "I know."
Floor lamp came on.
Bug: "I turned on the nother light. Time to get up!"
Me (not moving from under my covers): "Okay."
Three minutes later.
Bug: "I have a poop in my diaper!"
Me (getting up): "Okay."
Within a few minutes, Bug was cleaned up, I was out of bed, and Squish was also awake. Bug and Squish were on the couch so that I could address The Dish Situation looming in the kitchen sink when I smelled something vaguely poop-ish (for lack of a more delicate phrase, as usual). I smelled my hands - implicitly acknowledging that I may have done a mediocre job washing my hands after I took care of Bug's diaper this morning.
My hands - thankfully - smelled like coconut and lemon.
I looked down at my shirt and saw a stain. Yes, that was the source of the smell. And then I realized that my shirt must have been soiled when I carried Squish to the living room. And then I realized that Squish was probably soiling the couch as I was having all of these realizations.
I took Squish from the couch and to the changing table for a new diaper. I changed my own shirt and washed my hands.
When I looked at the clock it was 7:20. Part of me thought, "Wow. That is a lot of poop all in one morning before 7:30." Part of me thought, "Hmmmm... normally, by 7:30 we are brushing teeth and talking about getting jackets and shoes on. Today, I have only managed to change two diapers and heat two frozen waffles. No one is dressed. No one has finished breakfast. No one's bags are packed for the day. I am going to be later than usual today."