Good Morning

I had something to good to write this morning. Honest, I did. But the world does not want to cooperate. I don't know why. I don't know why I have been singled out to be punished. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I am so sorry and I promise that I won't ever do it again. I will pay you money.

Keep in mind that what you are about to read took place in the span of less than 10 minutes.

This morning I woke up with my daughter screaming in my ear. About an inch away. I may now be deaf, I'm not sure.

"Papi! I want my papi!"It was 6 am.

She lost her pacifier. I have no idea where it is but I'm awake now. Kind of. Normally, my daughter would have woken up in her room and tried to find it herself. But she slept in my room last night because Hossmom is out of town on a business trip. No big deal really but normally I don't tire of the kids before 7 am in the morning.

I shoot my hand out everywhere looking for it. I'm trying very hard to not open my eyes. We have got to get over this pacifier thing. I make the decision at that moment to find everyone that I can and cut them up and pitch them to the depths of hell. I tell my daughter to go to her room and see if she can find it. Probably not a good idea.

She takes this to mean that she should go to her little brother's room and wake him up. I don't know this of course but only find out later when he comes running into the room to wake me up. It might be 6:01 at this time. He's a happy little guy, happy to be let out of the prison that is his room. He climbs up on the bed to give me hugs. Or that is what I assume he is doing. I've been a parent for 4 years now, I should know better than to assume anything.

I know that I am wrong when he launches himself and sits on my face. Straight up crotch to face. Normally, not a too big a deal.

Not the best way to wake up but we're still good. He's two and I understand that his love for me cannot be contained. It's then that I realize that my face is wet. Why is my face wet? Because my son has pissed through his diaper and is now sitting on my face with my open mouth. Good morning dad, have some pee. Alot of pee. He's soaked.

I roll him off me and now I am awake. Now dad has no choice but to get up at 6 am in the morning.

I'm spitting and coughing. I'm heading to the bathroom. I don't turn on the light. When will I learn?

I wash my face and put my hands on the counter to look into the mirror. I'm questioning my ability to be a parent. I put both my hands in gobs and gobs of Tinkerbell toothpaste. When did they do this? When did they empty an entire god damn tube of god damn toothpaste? And why did they do it on the counter. Ya know, I was ok before. I could handle it before. I was even in a good mood. Now I'm just pissed off for being pissed on.

I wash my hands and sit on the toilet, Dads morning routine. I get a shock when I notice that the entire toilet seat is wet. And a little bit sticky. Now I know what happened to the rest of the toothpaste. It's on my ass. But I do what a man has got to do when he's on the toilet.

I reach around to get the toilet paper. It's not there. None of the gigantic roll that I put there last night. Do you know where it is? I do and I don't even have to look.

But before I can react my daughter comes in and gives me a hug. She loves to give me hugs on the toilet. I don't know why. Then she says "Stinky Poop!" and flushes the toilet before I can stop her. At least now I am acting fast, I know what's coming.

I scramble on my hands and knees, underwear around my ankles, toothpaste on my ass and cut off the water supply before it gets to bad. Nothing overflows but it's close. I will take my one victory because some days you only get one.

Now it's time to go downstairs and get the extra rolls of TP and to start to clean myself up. I remind myself to turn on every light every where. I will not be ambushed by the monsters again.

But I am.

I step into the hallway and my foot lands with a "squelch!" I know it's not good. It's instinct and as I have shown in this blog, my parent instincts are razor sharp.

I look down to see my foot in a pale substance. It's kind of grainy and looks like little wet soggy crystals. I realize that you people that don't have kids may have no idea what this is. I know.

It's what comes out of a diaper when it busts and is full of piss and water. It's the guts of a diaper. I look up and down the hall and it's everywhere. The diaper has spewn forth it's disgusting contents everywhere. It most have gotten snagged on my tooth when I threw little Jr. off me.

The trail leads back into my bedroom and the carnage is worse. This stuff is every where and now my underwear is sticking uncomfortably to my ass. My kids are ninjas.

I head downstairs, avoiding the little piles as I go like they are punji sticks. Although it wouldn't surprise me if there was. These two are on a roll this morning.

But there are no punji sticks at the bottom of the stairs. Only my stupid fat dog squating and taking a massive piss right there in front of me. It's 6:05 now.

It's funny sometimes. You ever get so mad and frustrated that you can't actually yell or move? The point where you actually wish you were in a coma rather than to continue on? That silent guy with sticky underwear at the foot of the stairs, that's where he's at. He's so upset now that he physically can't move. He doesn't even stop the dog from finishing.

I take the dog out. I have never missed Hossmom so bad in my life and I haven't been up for ten minutes yet.

I come back inside to find my children throwing clothes over the railing. Into the puddle of piss below.

Dear God, I am sorry I offended you. Dear Buddha, please take mercy on me. Mother Earth, redeem me and grant me safe passage.

"Daddy, do you have my papi!" Little Hoss yells.

No honey. I lost it along with my sanity and toilet paper.