One of those days

Today has been one of those days.

It technically started last night when I finished bathing Derek and realized that there was not a single diaper in our house.
I understand that those kind of things don't happen to most people, because most people realize that they're getting low on diapers and pick up a new package before they are completely out.

I am not most people.

In my defense, the kids have been my "diaper helpers" as of late, and have been running to the closet to get me one as I need it. They didn't keep me up to date on our dwindling supply.
The stinkers.

No problem. I asked Josh to grab the diaper bag from the car.
Surely I keep a well stocked diaper bag in our exceedingly clean* minivan, right?

*In this post the words exceedingly clean can be substituted with disgustingly dirty at the reader's discretion. But if you want to leave it as is, I'm totally cool with that.

Back to the diaper bag.

There was one diaper in it.
One single, lonely diaper.

Can I just tell you, if my husband were a stay-at-home dad this would never happen. It's just not in his character to procrastinate and he rarely ever forgets things.
Instead of appreciating this about him, I find it a touch...annoying.
Because he just doesn't understand why this kind of stuff happens to me every once in a while more often than I care to admit.

So I'm enduring a mini-lecture about what I plan to do about the fact that I'm putting our very last diaper on the boy. I quickly concoct a plan that includes me dropping Alex off on time for preschool (a rare occurrence) and squeezing in a trip to The Wal-Marts before my Bible study starts.
He can just stay in the diaper he slept in all night and I'll change him at the church.
No problem.
Good thinking, Erin.

See? My forgetful procrastination only serves to keep my problem solving skills sharp.
Right?

Josh: Well what if he wakes up in poop?
Erin: He never poops in the morning.
Josh: gives wife exasperated look and leaves the room

And so a new day dawned. Josh was out the door this morning before 6, and I snuggled back under the covers to await my 7:30 alarm clock I fondly refer to as Alexandra.
But instead, I roll over and see the clock glaring at me with a big 'ol red 8:06.

Well crap.
Normally that would be very much appreciated, but as I mentioned before I was trying to get Alex to school on time today.
And I needed to shower.
And I needed to finish my last day of Bible study homework that I didn't get done.

So I busted into a high gear and finished up my homework while Alex ate breakfast. Derek still wasn't up so I grabbed a quick shower and resigned myself to a day in which I look like I left the house with wet hair because, well, I was going to leave the house with wet hair.
I went to get Derek up and...

...what's that smell?
No. Way.
I don't believe it.
He hasn't pooped in the morning in forever.
He's totally on his dad's side. He's just trying to prove that my forgetful, procrastinating ways are wrong.

Well newsflash boys, I ALREADY KNOW IT.

I just haven't remembered to get around to fixing it yet, okay?

Luckily for me, a few stray pull-ups from Alex's potty training days were found and used. Alex was only 2 minutes late to preschool. Instead of hitting the store, I just went straight to Bible study with the extra pull-up in the bag. 
Then I finished the study, and grabbed diapers from The Walmarts before picking Alex up from school.

And then. 
And THEN.
I took both of the kids grocery shopping. 
Because I am a glutton for punishment.
And we were out of food.

But first I swung through the McD's drive-thru for burgers that the kids could eat on the way to the store so that I wouldn't have to listen to how hungry they are for the next hour.

Instead I have a 10 minute conversation discussing how I understand that they are hungry and I'm sorry that the hamburgers are hot, but they are just going to have to wait a few minutes because the speed limit is 65mph and I don't believe that it is safe for me to drive that fast while turning around and blowing on their hamburgers.

We make it to the grocery store, the kids manage to choke down their hot burgers, and we make it back out of the grocery store.
No small feat.

Then on the way home, they are-- surprise! Hungry!
And since the clock is ticking well past nap-time, I decide it is better to have them eat in the car and be ready to sleep* when we get home.

*also interchangeable with not sleep

So they each have a banana.
At some point Alex comes to the realization that Derek has a large, fresh booger stuck to his cheek and she proceeds to freak him out about that fact.
Me: Just leave it alone Derek, mommy will get a tissue when we get home.
Alex: Ew it's really big Derek.
Derek: *poking himself in the face looking for said booger*
*insert long discussion in which Alex vacillates between telling her brother where the booger is located and telling him not to touch it because that would be gross.
Me: NO MORE TALKING ABOUT THE BOOGER. I WILL TAKE CARE OF IT AT HOME.
*crickets chirping*

2 minutes later.
Alex: Mommy? Mommy I have to tell you something really gross.
Me: Yes, Alex. What do you have to tell me?
Alex: Derek found his booger and now it's on his pants.

Sigh.

We get home, I unload the car, I put kids to bed, I begin to unload the groceries.
I spend a good few minutes trying to arrange a shelf in the freezer to hold the many bags of frozen potato products necessary to the good will of our household around the exceptionally large box of lean-pockets that comprise my husband's lunch on most work days.
Then I realize that I could have saved myself a good deal of that effort if I had first realized that the aforementioned large box of Lean Pockets did not, in actuality, contain any Lean Pockets. Or anything else for that matter.

Am I angry about that?
Nope.
I'm happy.
Because at least I can say that he does dumb stuff too.
I forget diapers, he puts totally empty boxes back in the freezer.

Thank you for validating me honey.

And thank you all for the free therapy session. If indeed you are still reading this.

*crickets chirping some more*

Goodbye.