Mother’s Day- Good/Bad/Ugly

Today was Mother’s Day. My husband made breakfast, which was amazing and he usually makes weekend breakfast, because he’s awesome like that. Miss E had a little stack of Mother’s Day cards she has been making all week(melt my heart), and the girls and I went out to check the chicken coop for eggs. This evolved into an impromptu game of tag in the perfectly sunny, zero wind, perfect NoDak morning.

Hubby entertained both little girls for a couple hours in the afternoon to allow me time to relax in my hammock and enjoy the peace of our amazing yard. I played with my camera taking pictures of birds, repotted some plants and planted some trees, all of these things make me feel peace in my soul.

We ran to town and Miss E picked out some flowers for our front stoop’s planter. I also bought a container of Hens and Chicks, which remind me of my grandmother. She had them planted outside her home and I’ve always wanted the little succulents gracing my flower bed as well. It seemed like the perfect way to give a nod to one of the maternal influences in my life.

We picked up some butterfly cupcakes as a special treat for after our evening grill-out.

Other than a brief morning phone call and a Facebook shout-out, I didn’t get a chance to connect with my own mother, but all-in-all, Mother’s Day was an amazing day. May your Mother’s Day be as beautiful as the perfect weather was today.
Today was Mother’s Day. Miss A came in our room, pre-8AM. She was donning a big smile…and a soaked through pull-up and jammies. I stripped her down and she and Hubby headed downstairs. I flopped over on the bed and noticed my face was damp. Miss A left her blanket behind…and the blanket must have been near her little wet behind. I stripped our bed and started laundry. Good morning.

Miss E informed me that she was going to help dad make my favorite for breakfast: French toast…but we were out of bread.

After an exotic day of hanging at home and then grocery shopping, we came home to garden. After an epic battle between Miss E and Miss A over who gets to carry the garden hoe, we planted some flowers and then there was a terrifying wasp scare.

I had wanted to run down to my mom’s after dinner, but the molasses-children weren’t cooperating and then we got to the point where it would be a late bedtime no matter what AND they definitely couldn’t skip bathtime after the mud and water gardening activities…so no mom-time on Mother’s Day. Cue daughter-guilt.

While putting Miss E to bed, she informed me that Mother’s Day was nothing like she thought it would be. She thought we’d play lots of outdoor games and everything she wanted to do today was wrecked-including breakfast(see above).

She then told me no one loves her when I went to leave her room, due to some kind of gastro-intestinal rage she was having. I didn’t have a gas mask and she is on day three or sleeping in a tiny tent on the floor of her bedroom. Um-no thanks.

Hey, I love being a mom, but there’s just too much pressure on Mother’s Day. Where’s my wine…

Mother’s Day feelings, like everything else, is in your control. You can focus on the exceptional or not-so-great, but the choice is yours.

All in all, I had a great day. I may have had a few dark, and damp, spots, but I am the mom of two amazing, spirited, emotional and crazy little girls who make my life exciting, fun and special. This is thanks to my awesome-sauce Hubby, with a little assist from some special doctoring and drugs, but I’m a mom and I love it. Today was a phenomenal day in North Dakota. I had some peaceful moments and spent time with my crazy little family. It was a great day with lots of good parts. I hope no matter what happened in your day today, you get to focus on your good parts.


Cocks Blocked

I was attacked. I was walking from my garage to my house, and I was attacked in my own yard. I felt a blunt force blow to the back of my left knee accompanied with a sharp pain. When I turned around, there stood a puffed-up, dancing, cocky cock. One of our roosters decided to assert his dominance by taking me on…

So what did you do this weekend? I butchered roosters. You know those chicks we brought home last Spring with intentions of butchering? Those chicks that Miss E fell in love with that we didn’t butcher? They gone. They got to meet the woodblock. Well, the majority of roosters are anyway.

Our flock was heavy on the male side of the gender pool, so today we will practiced corrective community culling.

As a kid I grew up on a farm with animals and we raised most of the produce and butchered a fair share of our meat. I remember helping with the processes and always understanding the process of where food comes from.

I didn’t know how Miss E and Miss A would react to the process, but they were fine. Miss E averted her eyes the first time a rooster was dispatched, and then she watched. She didn’t like the killing part, not that anyone does, but she wanted to help where she could in the rest of the process. Miss A just wandered around investigating as 2-year olds do.

As my father-in-law explained the fine art of cleaning, I talked through what we were doing for Miss E, and we shared stories from when we were kids on the farm, memories and knowledge were passed down. An understanding of where food comes from was achieved. My kids now realize that there’s a lot of things that happen to make that unassuming chicken breast appear at the local grocery store.

Our docile and now lone rooster, Big Red, is thoroughly enjoying his new harem of exclusive hens, I am enjoying the sense of independent accomplishment of putting up our own food, and the girls are enjoying not having to keep a wary eye because the “mean roosters” are no longer in the yard: they are safely in the freezer.


Mom! Mom! Mom!

Once in awhile, I get uninterrupted sleep and wake up on my own, well rested and ready to take on the day. Ha! Ha! Just kidding-I’m a mom.

Last night, about midnight, I hear “Mom! mom!” Hubby was asleep in a NyQuil and cough syrup coma and I didn’t want him or the non-yelling kid to wake up, so I get out of bed and find Miss A distraught in her room. I lay down with her in her spacious toddler bed until she drifts off. I unscrunched myself, collected my numb arm, and returned to my bed around 1:45.

What seems like a short time later, my alarm goes off and I think to myself, “Shoot! I set my alarm for a Saturday.” Then to my dismay, my phone informs me that it’s actually Friday…the 13th. Forget this! I’m not getting up early, quick alarm reset and back to sleep. While getting settled back in, I hear an unusual breathing pattern. Sometime in the night, Miss E apparently found her way to our room and had crawled into bed. Welcome to the party, I’m going back to sleep: just 25 more minutes.

“Mom! Mom!” Ugh! I go collect Miss A and bring her back to Hubby and my bed. Don’t care-want sleep, I just want 10 more minutes. Miss A pets my face, tells me the secrets of the universe…or something, then looks at me:
“I need to eat.”
“Just let mommy shower and I’ll come get you and get some breakfast. snuggle with dad for a little bit.”
“I want to eat!” Fine.

I bring Miss A downstairs, pour her some fruity pebbles, and wish her luck. I’m going to go shower. “Mom! I spill!” I turn around to see her pointing at a microscopic drop of milk on her leg. I hand her a paper towel. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes.”

Fast forward 97 seconds: “Mom! Mom!” is coming from the kitchen. I finally just yell back “I am in the shower!”

23 more seconds go by: the bathroom door flies open, Miss A drags her stool over to the tub, stands on it, whips open the shower curtain, “Mom! You done??”

At this point, Hubby appears in the doorway, and after realizing no one has died, he silently backs out of the room, pulling the door closed as he goes.

I walk into the kitchen, half-dressed and one-quarter sane, to the chorus of Miss E and Miss A begging me to put “ponies” in their hair. Hubby looks at me, smiles and says “Happy friday the 13th Mama.”

I realize that I will never be this loved or needed again, but holy crap, 9B260F94-FFAD-46C1-B7C2-D37117866A66.jpegcan a woman get some rest?

OMG STOP Snowing

This morning I opened my door and stepped outside to greet the morning with about 5 inches of new snow. It is going to be Easter, and April, in two days and there’s more snow on the way.

I’m not familiar with the science, or art, of meteorology so I cannot speak about the subject knowledgeably. That being said, last week we were forecasted to receive a FOOT of snow: 12 inches. At my home we received a dusting. This made me doubt the weather person when she said we should expect snow last night. Guess what? Surprise! She was right as rain…or snow. I found a shovel and a snow brush and dug out my car this morning because I was so confident we weren’t getting snow last night, that I didn’t even BOTHER to put my car in the garage. WRONG.

So this year we’ll just skip the dying of Easter eggs and leave them white. We can just stand on the porch and angrily chuck them from the front stoop. The eggs shouldn’t crack with this pillow of frozen wonder, then we won’t leave footprints either. Good freakin luck kids. Mommy and daddy will be in the warm house drinking hot chocolate with Schnapps because the next time it is forecast to be over freezing is more than 10 DAYS from now.

My silver lining? Chocolate won’t melt, so guess what? That bunny had better be hauling a giant chocolate bunny my way(preferably dark) because mama is SICK of snow.

Don’t get me wrong: I love snow. I’m usually the one cheering for blizzards and taking photos of snow drenched tree limbs with a sundog in the background, oh so beautiful…but I’m dafuque over it. It became frigidly cold before Christmas this year. That means we have clocked over three months of cold-cold winter this year. Some years we are celebrating St Patrick’s day in tee shirts and last year I had to buy jelly beans and other gross non-melting candies for the Easter egg hunt because it was just too warm. Not this year. We have a fresh half-foot of snow and are expected to get another batch of equal or deeper proportions tonight.

If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be basting my Easter ham with bourbon, along with my sorrows.


Birthday Cakes Blahs

On my 17th birthday my dad made me a birthday cake. It was chocolate. Chocolate was my favorite. I was so consumed with going to hang out with my friends, I took a quick photo and then went out to meet them. I don’t even remember if I ate a piece of cake. My dad passed away less than six months later.

Today is my birthday. I have no cake. Today marks the point that I have been legally an adult as long as I was a child. I’m 36. What normally is a happy day has me feeling very reflective and meloncholly which isn’t usually my style.

Instead of being wrapped up in the poor-me or the so-sad mindframe I try to look at the bright side and the opportunity.

If you are finding yourself in a place of not-so-niceness, remember all the good things, all of your accomplishments and eat the damn cake. 20B1D515-3672-47CE-9B2E-E98465641BD4.jpeg

Winter Show!!!

Well NoDak Mother Nature is drunk again…every year(that I’ve lived in NoDak) since I was a little girl, I have tromped through the mud and jumped the puddles to go to the North Dakota Winter Show in Valley City. It is coincidentally held around, or during, my birthday every year. The North Dakota Winter Show is the longest-running agriculture show in North Dakota. As a kid, we would head up to the winter show barn. The air smelled of sawdust, livestock, fair food and cigarette smoke(it was the early 90s). Dad would have us lie about our age so he could save a buck on admission, and we’d go in and gawk at all of the booths; some were ag-themed, some not-to-much.
There has been a guy selling balloons shaped like critters and light-up toys since the beginning of time: he’s always to the right of the entrance, just on the other side of the information booth. There’s the guy wearing a headset and doing his own little cooking show while trying to sell cookware…Hubby and I own a set-he’s very convincing! There’s the soft serve ice cream booth, bedazzled western purses and hats, tools from hand-tools to combines, you can find experts in booking hunting excursions, real estate, reflexology and everything in between. There are dealers in vehicles, hot tubs, corn stoves, creams and salves, windows, welcome mats and honey.

Besides all of the booth-shopping, there are events happening during the show. In the main arena there are rodeos, livestock judging, horse pulls, tractor pulls, pickup pulls, and if pulling isn’t your thing-there’s even a concert scheduled during the show. There’s also a small stage where speakers with agronomic topics or lesser-known family entertainers can distract the crowd. There’s a children’s weekend where inflatables and yard games are set up, so a family can take a break from the weather and let the kids run off some steam.

And…let’s not forget the food! It’s fair food in the late winter/spring. If you want a footlong corndog with a side of mini donuts, you’re covered. Nachos with a side of cotton candy? Done. How about a bison burger stacked with some cheese curds with a side of kettle corn? You are welcome. Yes, if nothing else-it’s a great lunch escape.

The winter show is educational, entertaining, and sometimes a guilty lunch pleasure, plus there’s the nostalgia of an event that people have been going to for 81 years! The North Dakota Winter Show ushers in spring and allows families to make memories with their kiddos the same way their parents, grandparents and maybe great grandparents did with them. There aren’t a whole lot of those opportunities still around. So even if drunken Mother Nature has decided that we’ll be trudging through snow instead of mud this year, my family will be attending the North Dakota Winter Show. If you get a chance, I suggest you do the same.


Kid Road-Trippin’ Top 10

B0DA0FE3-CDE9-4ACE-8A91-F9E19A8188F1.jpegAs cabin fever seizes our family with cold temperatures and limited sunlight, we start dreaming of warmer weather and vacations. Hubby and I love road trips. We like to just take off and see where the road takes us. We have learned in our 15 plus years together that he is the late-night negotiator at the hotel lobby counter, I am the online booker and he is not allowed to navigate…ever. With the additions of Miss E and Miss A to our fold, our opportunities to road trip have been drastically cut, but Miss A is turning 3 this year, her potty-training is at 95% and she is able to verbalize(kind of) what she needs. We have decided this is the year of the family road-trip. This made me think…how should I mentally and practically prepare the care for these adventures?

NoDakKelli’s Top 10 Checklist for the Car so I Don’t Lose My Mind on a Family Road Trip.
*This is my list feel free to hippy-it-up as much as you want
10. Sunglasses for everyone. Hubby, me, both kids, everyone needs sunglasses and no one will remember to pack them unless you happen to leave the house when the sun is menacingly beating down. If it’s early morning, late evening, or if a cloud exists, everyone will forget and then whining, complaining, and eye damage caused by UV radiation will follow.

9. Plastic bags. There will be messes. There will be garbage. You are going to enjoy not smelling those stinky discards for miles and miles down the road. I like to take a little handful of those plastic bags I have crammed under my kitchen sink at home and put them in my glovebox or under my seat before a trip.

8. Water bottles. If you have leak-free water bottles, even better! This way you can pour whatever beverage out of the ridiculously flimsy container into the bottle and maybe, just maybe, avoid a spill. If that doesn’t work:

7. Paper towels. Trust me. You will never complain about having too many absorbent paper products handy. While you’re at it: wet wipes(baby wipes/Clorox/etc). Sometimes a paper towel won’t cut it. My youngest thinks ketchup doubles as a skin conditioner and testing the structural integrity of drinking cups is a competitive sport…sometimes you need to call in the big guns…or wipes.

6. Slip-on shoes or sandals. Our children don’t give us a countdown for bathroom breaks. There’s no “Mummy. I believe I’ll need the facilities sometime in the next 30 or so minutes, so please keep a keen eye.” It’s more of a frantic request(usually RIGHT after passing the well-lit, nicely laid out travel stop) which quickly turns into painful screaming because someone needs to potty NOW. I don’t want to spend time buckling cute booties or tying 10-foot-long tennis shoe laces. Time’s a factor. If the shoes don’t slip on, pack them in the overnight bag.

5. Entertainment. I’m not getting into a technology vs no technology argument. You do you. We’ll do us. BUT if you are hauling kiddos for hours upon hours in the car, you are going to want something to occupy their little minds and give you some respite from I Spy(my girls could play I Spy HOURS on end, in eastern North Dakota you only have so many green-grass, green-field, blue-sky, blue-sign, gray-road, gray-grain bin you can handle before getting twitchy). We like: kids magazines, etch-a-sketch, DVD players, music, baby dolls with bottles or other simple accessories.

4. Blankets and Travel Pillows. I haul my pillow with me when I go over night. It helps me sleep better and I don’t assume everyone else will sleep fine with all foreign bedding, so each kid gets a blanket and a pillow of some kind for in-car snoozing.
3. Chargers. That ITunes Kid’s Playlist of happy pop, curse-free rock, and Disney standards will do you no good if your phone or IPod are dead.

2. An insulated cooler bag. I usually don’t mess with ice, but I do throw a freezer pack(wine chiller) from the freezer into the bag for beverages and in case we pick up anything we’d prefer to keep cool.

1. Snacks. It doesn’t matter if we just ate a huge breakfast 35 seconds before getting in the car. For some reason the car’s transmission clicking into reverse somehow magically drains my children’s stomachs and they are hungry. My children are asking for snacks or assessing our snack situation before we leave a parking lot. I don’t know if they think we are going to get marooned to a distant planet that doesn’t have food and all we will have to survive is what I have in the car, but they are worried. Variety and the architecture of snacks should be taken into consideration, as children get bored and if your snack choice bursts into a million flakes of dusty powder on impact…you’re going to need a hazmat suit to clean out your back seat. When we travel, this is what I’m packing: bananas (this is where those plastic bags come in handy, so you aren’t smelling deteriorating banana peels for hundreds of miles), cheese sticks (in the cooler bag), fruit snacks, applesauce pouches, and pretzels.

Now remember, car trips are fun!! Plus there will be somewhere to get booze when you reach your destination. If not, put a bottle of something IN the cooler bag. We’ll call that number 1.75…see what I did there?

Valentine Shmalentine

It’s Wednesday. It’s also Valentine’s Day. Here’s my little(not so little) gripe. I haven’t checked out social media yet today, but I am willing to bet it will be FILLED with posts about aww….look my bae sent me flowers, ooshy-gooshy love declarations, posts about going out for dinner, candy, blah, blah, blah, which is fine…if you are a teenager. Let me lay it down how Valentine’s Day works:

The Assignment. Your kids will come home needing 174 Valentines for their classmates or friends. These will need to be either A: purchased or B: homemade. I will always hope for option A. Then your little one will write out all of the cards and you’d better hope you can find that class list because parents are nuts and you don’t want to miss-spell: Porsche, Siouxzi, Phareough, Aiden, Ayden, Eiden, Adehn, or Ahdein.
Oh and there needs to be a “treat” but if it’s candy make sure it doesn’t have peanuts, eggs, gluten, dye, etc because there is one kid somewhere who can’t have it. I’ve never met this kid, but I’ve been assured that he/she does actually exist.
Now you probably accomplished, or at least started, the Assignment days ago, so this is where it becomes a test: remembering the Valentines on the actual day so your little one can drop them off. Most mornings I’m doing well if I’m wearing matching shoes and socks of somewhat the same color, so having this extra little task-no thank you.
The Competition. At the office, flowers will start coming in and you have an obligatory duty to take a lap around and comment on how beautiful they are and how wonderful your coworker’s partner must be. If they are extra large, you can also comment how they must have done something wrong *nudge* *wink* barf. Guys, if you are sending flowers, you’d better make sure they go to the office so she can be a part of the competition. Your only saving grace if you skimp out on paying the delivery fee and hand-delivering them is:
Social Media. If your significant other is brazen enough to NOT send you a gift to work so you can bask in all of the ‘Look at me’ glory, it’s okay. You can post photos of the <insert cliché gift here> all over Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or whatever other social media platform you use to make your life look more Stepford than it actually is.
The meal. This is where people will go out and spend more than they intend to buy food they don’t really want, wine that’s more than they want to spend and be around crowds they don’t like…for the sake of VDay. Oh how enjoyable.

So here’s the deal. It’s Wednesday. My Hubby is awesome all year round. The undue stress of trying to plan a “romantic” evening on one particular day(by doing things that some people at Hallmark or Lifetime deem is Valentine appropriate) No thanks. Do you know what I woke up to this morning? Well besides children who move the speed of molasses in January. Hubby stayed up and cleaned the house after I went to bed-halle-fricken-lujah! That maybe the best Valentine’s day gift I’ve ever gotten. Do you know what I gave him? An Espresso Double-shot and I bought a piece of red meat for us to cook at home and eat at home tonight. The thing is: this doesn’t scream Valentine’s Day. There are other days that I wake up and Hubby was up burning the midnight oil doing some fixing/cleaning/repurposing. There are other days I come home with a treat of something extra tasty for dinner or get him a caffeine boost.

Here’s the thing: you can’t make up for 364 days of being a sucky partner with one day of flowers and candy so just stop. If you’re doing it right, you don’t need a Valentine’s Day. If you really get excited about all of the hearts and flowers and chocolate, then great: do you. If you only pull out the hearts and flowers and chocolate because you think you have to-you don’t get it. Instead of blowing a couple hundred bucks on dinner and some flowers, try just not being an idiot. Do something nice(it can be small) for your partner more frequently than an annual basis. Help, appreciate and acknowledge each other. Leave the rest of the junk to the teenagers.

Dear Gawd Vaseline!!

One Saturday morning, not that long ago, an amazing thing happened: the sun was up and we were still in bed. Everyone slept in and it was magical. I heard the pitter-patter of little feet and then Miss E and Miss A were in our room. “Can we watch a cartoon?” Miss E asked. She knows how to run the remote control now so that’s a pretty big deal. “Sure.” Hubby and I stayed snuggled in bed as the pitter-patters headed for the TV.

MINUTES later, Hubby gets up and heads downstairs. I’m in the bathroom trying to get my contacts in my eyeballs and I hear: “NO!!!!!” from Hubby. Half-blind, half-awake, and in a bathrobe I come out to see what is the matter. Miss A is covered with baby powder fresh Vaseline. Miss E has very dry skin, so we put Vaseline on her hands before she goes to bed at night. I usually buy in bulk, so I bought a larger tub of it and the Vaseline sits in Miss E’s room, on top of her book shelf. Miss A has Vaseline all over her pajamas, arms, legs, it looks like she’s a child-sized cake and Vaseline is the frosting-it’s everywhere. Hubby is just ticked off. I’m snickering. I bring her into the bathroom and scrape her off. Then I find out why Hubby is so mad: Miss A started smearing Vaseline IN Miss E’s room: her walls, her bedrails, her blankets, then down the stairs on the wall, banister, along the hallway wall to the living room, where she tried her best to lubricate our couch.

We bought new living room furniture when I was pregnant with Miss A…that poor couch has seen more fluids, spills, and now Vaseline, than any other piece of furniture we’ve ever owned. I’m sorry couch.

The next several minutes were spent scraping Vaseline off of surfaces, wiping down walls, floors, banisters, and the poor poor couch. Our washing machine was put through its paces getting all of the linens and towels back to their non-gunk existence. I still couldn’t help but smile: she’s two. I wonder if this was her grand plan when she scaled her sister’s bookshelf and retrieved the tub of Vaseline or if she just rolled with it once she had it in her hand. Either way, the house could have a lot worse smells than baby powder fresh Vaseline.
Oh and I totally get it. HEY KELLI-don’t leave your 2-year-old unattended. Good point Judgy McJudgers…good point.

I Despise Mornings

Let me give you a little glimpse into the little gem of my life that is getting ready in the morning. Miss E is in Kindergarten. Miss A is 2. Hubby and I are not young parents(oh but age is just a number…yes it is and our numbers begin with 3s and 4s). This morning I woke up early.

At 5:30AM my alarm went off and I decided to get up and be productive. I started a load of laundry, walked on the treadmill, baked some blueberry muffins, oh I’m killing this being an adult thing! Then the rest of those people who live in my house need to get up. Miss E was pretty easy to coax out of bed. She loves blueberry muffins, so it was an easy sell. Miss A looked like she had attended a midnight rave. She was passed out-snoring completely backwards on her bed, hair disheveled and using a pillow as a blanket and a her blankets were all kicked off her bed. I woke her enough for her to see me, climb over to me, assume “the position” where she lays her head on my chest and sucks her thumb and then goes back into snooze-ville.

I bring the snoozing smaller child downstairs, show her the muffins(she’s ALWAYS like a starving hyena in the morning so having food ready circumvents the hanger). Then I go to find larger child because she has disappeared. She has started playing with little keychain sized critter toys. I remind her that we have muffins and things to do-let’s try to get moving.

Miss A is now freaking out because she hasn’t physically touched me in seconds…possibly minutes, so she plants herself on my lap to hold me hostage as she eats her muffin and then snuggles in, when she brings her head up again, my shirt has now been covered with muffin, drool, and what I’m assuming is boogers. I go upstairs to change shirts, letting the girls know to put their boots and coats on so we can go. When I come back downstairs-no one has moved except Miss A is now crying because Miss E took a piece of paper away that A was looking at because “it’s hers”. Get your friggin boots on your feet.

Fast-forward through 10 minutes of battles, threats, negotiations, pleading and questioning life-we are in the car. It’s 8 miles to daycare. We get about 2 miles away from home and Miss E says: “I forgot my snow-pants!” Generally I’d say tough noogies, but by this time-we are already running late, it’s the nicest day of the week(it’s supposed to be 40 today!), and she’s already learning a life lesson because her homework isn’t done, so F it. I turn the car around at the next freeway exit and go back home. We get to our exit and she says: “Silly me! I didn’t look on the floor.” She has her snow-pants. That was a fun little 3-mile detour for no reason.

We show up to daycare 15 minutes late, the school bus is going to be there any minute so I tell Miss E just leave all your stuff on and go watch for the bus. Miss A goes into defense mode: spider-monkey climbing, clinging, screaming: “I want to go HOME!!!!” She buries her face into the chest of shirt #2 like she’s an ostrich and I’m a sandbox. It’s fine: I’ll just wear my sweatshirt all day. Her amazingly patient daycare provider peels her off of me. I wish her the best of luck and I’m out the door. It’s now 7:54 and I’m 15 miles away from work.

I have a minor heart attack when the sheriff tapped his brakes when I passed him going 57 in a 55, but he thankfully decided to go the other way. I pull up to work: 8:09AM, lift my purse and see Miss A’s snow-pants mocking me from the passenger seat. Son of a BITCH. My lesson for the day: don’t get up early. Bad things happen and you end up being late anyway.