My husband was due to arrive that evening. It had been 8 days since his departure to Europe. Work purposes.
Eight.Long.Days. With two very rambunctious boys. Both of whom hate getting dressed. One who refuses to brush his teeth. Both all too occasionally refusing to eat the foods from the bottom of the pyramid. One who cries every single morning because he must have Shreddies when he only ever eats Cheerios...and we don`t have Shreddies. One who still has epic meltdowns when I refuse to give in to his wiley ways.
By 8 am I had already dealt with two tantrums, screams for chocolate, refusal of fruit for breakfast. 160 pieces of Mega Blocks were scattered beneath the kitchen table, random papers were strewn on the counter amongst pj`s that were stripped almost immediately upon wake up. Rubber boots were worn through the house leaving a trail of dirt...then tossed across the room in a fit for reasons I couldn`t comprehend. Both boys were clinging to me like a fifth and sixth appendage and the damn dog couldn`t figure out if she wanted to be in or out resulting in incessant whining and barking.
All this before my morning cup of joe. And I desperately needed it.
``Holy macaroni!`` I yelled in frustration. Those are some harsh words I know. Believe me...I wanted to use other, more stress releasing words but alas I am a responsible Mother who, when stubs her toe, screams, ``Fart in a windstorm, that hurt!`` or ``Oh sugar!`` when I really want to scream the acronym of Sugar Honey Iced Tea.
I`m a badass. Obviously.
My son has been obsessed with rhyming lately. Random words he`ll bring up in the car as we`re driving.
``Four, door, more...car, tar...melt, belt...poopy, Snoopy...fart, cart``
So when I exclaimed the ever so daring, ``HOLY MACARONI``, his response was the oh so brilliant....
``Holy smack a pony!``
And all of a sudden, my day became that much brighter.