8:00 a.m. Alarm goes off. I roll over.
9:10 a.m. I can hear Colt yelling from his crib ‘Daaaa Daaaa!!”… Am I dreaming? “Daaaa Daaaa…” Todd and I leap out of bed. Ahhhh! Shit!!! We’re going to be late for church AGAIN.
10:05 a.m. We’re late for church. AGAIN.
10:10 a.m. We back away from the church nursery as the babysitter pries Colt off me. We walk toward the sanctuary pretending not to hear the blood curdling screams from down the hall. I smile at the old ladies. No, I don’t know whose child that is.
12:00 p.m. We’re at the country club having brunch. I am fervently trying to distract Colt with a grape – as he persistently yells, “Mommy Pirate! Mommy Pirate!” pointing toward an elderly man wearing an eye patch.
12:30 p.m. Colt has eaten five pieces of bacon and a plate of grapes. He has not eaten one bite of eggs or toast. He will not touch the potatoes or grits. Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s eaten a dairy product, vegetable or carbohydrate in a week…
1:15 p.m. Colt is down for a nap. Exhausted, Todd and I flop down on the couch. Suddenly I remember I’ve got 25 thank you notes to write from Colt’s birthday party – ugh.
3:20 p.m. Colt is awake. He would like some “geepes”, “bubeeries” or “fruit naks”.
5:00 p.m. Considering dinner. I open the refrigerator and survey the provisions. There’s a hurricane coming tomorrow, and for once, I am very prepared. I’ve bought tuna fish, fruit, raisins, applesauce in little squeezable packets, canned everything, bread, peanut butter…my pantry looks like one of those coupon-crazed ladies’ basements from TLC. But it’s not even raining outside. In fact, it’s sunny? We don’t need to eat a non-perishable meal. But in my preparedness, I forgot to buy real food in case there was… no hurricane.
6:30 p.m. Eating hot dogs with mustard and hormel chilli, canned peaches and cheese puffs. Hurricane food can be delicious!
8:00 p.m. Colt is in the tub. I’m praying that he doesn’t poop. With all those grapes, blueberries…the chili….what was I thinking…
8:30 p.m. Colt is in his jammies and swinging his foam baseball bat at my head.
8:31 p.m. Colt is in Time Out.
8:33 p.m. Colt and Mommy are snuggling in the rocking chair. Reading the Bunny Book.
9:00 p.m. Our nightly routine of picking up the toys, cleaning up the kitchen, vacuuming – which leads to 30 minutes of de-clogging. Considering selling the monstrous ball of hair I pulled out of the filter to a wig maker for some extra cash.
9:45 p.m. Exhausted, Todd and I flop down on the couch. He leans over and gives me a high five.
And that is why I love my life.
thebedfordwife 
HaHA! The man at the Club with an eyepatch was probably my dad. He wears an eyepatch to golf.
Well, I know your dad! I feel like I would have recognized him, lol! Perhaps there are two eye-patch-wearing pirate golfers in Temple Terrace?