What's good about it?

Oh man, I have had one of those mornings that just...well. Practically ruins the rest of your day. Although I did listen to Elizabeth Mitchell songs in the car and her voice and music are so dreamily comforting, they are like a lullaby. (Yes, it is children's music. Leave me alone.)

Sequence of events:

• Hear Jelly Bean stirring. Book it to the shower.
• Get out of the shower and go to get the Bean, lest he start blaring like a fire engine siren.
• Change his diaper (just wet) and go to wake up Brother.
• Provide Brother with clothes for school. Not an easy feat as my order of uniforms from Old Navy have not come in yet and I have precious few uniform items that fit him. (Who knew he would grow so much over the summer? Not his mother, for sure.)
• Go jerk some clothes on and find comfortable-yet-form-fitting clothes for evening dance class.
• Go back to Brother's room. Find Brother sitting naked on his bed scowling at Jelly Bean, who is calmly looking at Brother's new Pokemon books that I bought to try to entice him to read.
• Me: Brother, what are you doing?
• Brother: Watching Jelly Bean so he doesn't mess up my book. *Scowl*
• Me: *Scoops up baby and says GETDRESSEDDOYOUWANTEGGS?!?!
• Brother does indeed want eggs and buttered toast. I rush forth with my dripping hair to find Jelly Bean standing on a chair in the kitchen.
• I grab up the Bean. The Bean smells. The Bean has shit his britches. Damn.
• I throw some eggs in a pan, (believe me, by this time it would have been cold cereal, but alas. We are out of milk.) toast in the toaster. Grab the butter and pour a glass of water.
• Finish cooking and yell, "Brother! Breakfast!"
• He comes out with no belt, no socks, no shoes, and his shirt untucked.
• I yell. Tell him to get dressed PRONTO because he is going to miss the bus and has exactly 10 minutes to dress, eat, and brush his teeth.
• Brother freaks out. *Sigh*
• His pants are too small. I forgot to give him socks. The belt loops are tight.
• I freak out (Not proudly). Go to find new pants that do fit. (They were size 7s! The same size he wore yesterday! But the waistband had to have been 2 inches smaller in this brand of shorts because he couldn't button them.)
• I make him take huge bites whilst I wrestle new pants and socks onto him and put the belt on twice. Of course, I did it backwards the first time. All the while hollering to EAT! EAT! and about how if he hadn't spent so much time doing nothing, we wouldn't be in this predicament.
• Finally, I get Brother out of the door and to the bus and go to put my makeup on and do my hair. Jelly Bean comes with me. Then I remember the shitty diaper. Damn.
• Tell Jelly that he needs a new diaper. He runs to his room and I follow. Once I am in the room, he runs out, shuts the door and takes off.
• I am *so* not in the mood for a game of tag.
• Fetch wayward child. Change the dirty diaper that kinda pisses me off a bit. I mean, why couldn't he have pooped in the last wet diaper? Now this diaper is practically new and clean...you know, except for the mound of baby crap in the middle of it.
• Don't ask how my mind works. I couldn't tell you.
• Back to the bathroom with the Bean so I can watch him. I don't do such a hot job. Even though he is 1.5 feet away from me, standing on the toilet lid....
• He proceeds to mash my lipstick all over his nose and smear foundation all over the counter.
• I pull him off the toilet repeatedly, but he always climbs back on when I have the hot curling iron wrapped up in my hair, so I can't get him.
• I envision 5 inch steel spikes jutting out of the fuzzy green toilet seat cover. "THAT would keep him off of there! Ha. Ha. Ha." says my less-than-maternal-and-slightly-sadistic voice.
• All the while I am saying, "No! No!" He doesn't listen. I freak.
• GAAARAAHHHH!!!

So, yes, we all finally got where we were going and writing about it now, it sounds so small potatoes, but I assure you. I am still angry. I wish Brother would listen. I wish Jelly Bean would listen. I wish my temper didn't have a two inch fuse. I wish my measly serving of patience could override my frustration during these banal interactions.

Damn kids.