Today is Sunday.

You like that title? Couldn't think of anything original. Must be all the mucous and phlegm clogging up my brain. I feel like crap. Very tired, crabby crap. Eric's working 3rd shift right now (everytime I go to write "shift", I write "shit" instead. Fruedian slips and all that). So he's gone all night at work, and sleeping upstairs during the day. Totally sucks. I do like having the bed to myself at night so I can sprawl out and turn the fan on, but then I'll be laying there and imagining that I hear some serial killer opening our front door, or I'll remember some freaky horrer movie that I saw like 10 years ago and not be able to sleep. But that's ok, because Nora doesn't sleep either, so we can just sit up and be freaked out together.

So, as mothers, we all think our kids are special, right? Look at how cute and precious the little kidlets are.

But then sometimes, you wonder if they're, well...special.

I love that hat of Nora's but it kind of makes her look like a knob head. And it's almost impossible to get on. Apparently, if you're in public and trying to get your kids ready to go outside to the car, it is absolutely impossible to get on. I know.

We were at the grocery store yesterday (well, more accurately, at the liqour store inside the grocery store. Don't worry, I got food, too) and getting ready to head out to the car. Now, at the grocery store, Tate likes to ride in those carts that look like racing cars so he can "drive". No problem. Well, except for the fact that I can't put Nora in the drivers seat with him, because I'm not an idiot. She'd come out of that experience missing a layer of skin or an ear or something. We're still working on the whole "be nice to the baby" concept with Tate. It's slow going. So I wear Nora in a sling. To put her in the sling I have to take off my coat, her coat, hat, etc, because otherwise we'd look like a big fat Shamu carrying a little marshmallow on it's chest.

So anyway. I got Tate all bundled up, as he was screaming for the sticker he dropped on the floor that I stepped on and got stuck to my foot, and started on Nora. After I realized there was nowhere to set her down to get her coat on, I sat her on the floor. Apparently this is a mortal sin because she immediately started hollering and trying to flip over onto her stomach so she could make a getaway from Evil Mother. Trying to get a coat on a kid slipping around on a linoleum floor ain't no easy feat. Add trying to get a hat over the kid's head and it's pretty much impossible. Kind of like trying to get clothes on a giant, flopping, hysterical fish.

What really made it fun was the old lady buying some Franzia who kept commenting "Oh, these days go by so fast. Enjoy them now because soon you'll turn around and they'll be grown!". I was about to grab her by the collar and hiss "Not soon enough, lady." At this point one of the managers noticed the steam coming out of my ears and kindly came over to help. I'm sure she recognized me as one of her best customers and didn't want to lose all that business.

I also got Nora these boots.

Cute, huh? I know. I have excellent taste. Except these aren't boots, they're tiny, pink, fur-lined BASTARDS. Suckers will not stay on her feet. I found this out when I got out to the car, finally, and realized they were both MIA. This is what ensued:

Me: "GAHMOTHERFRIGGINSTUPIDCRAPBOOTSFROMHELLARGHHHH"

Then I saw one of the boots bouncing away and someone came up with the other one. I felt pretty cool when I realized he had witnessed my boot-related meltdown, but really, at that point, I didn't care.

Annnnd, finally, Melissa's cooking tip of the day. If you're making chicken noodle soup for lunch, it'll cook faster if you turn the stove burner on.

Remember that for next time.