Crystal and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Crystal and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Crystal and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (with apologies to Judith Viorst and her excellent children's book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

I went to bed with the taste of wine in my mouth and now there's vomit in my hair.

When I got out of bed this morning, I stepped in cold, slimy cat puke and by mistake I said lots of bad words, and I looked up and saw my youngest child, Brooks, at the bedroom door.
I could tell this was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At breakfast Cassie finished all the milk and left the empty carton in the fridge, Phillip used the last clean bowl in the cabinet and Brooks just stood staring at me in fear due to my previous curse-filled morning rant.  All I got was a heaping of guilt to wash down my oatmeal cooked with water (yuck!), which I had to eat out of the cat's bowl.

I think I'll move to Hawaii.

On Facebook I was confronted by pictures of my previous night's antics and the pictures of my drunken toilet-papering adventures were posted all over my updates.  I said I was forced to drink too much wine even though I poured it myself.  I said I didn't know the reason that five drunk housewives would suddenly decide to make a mass t.p. run at the local CVS even though I contributed funds to the cause.  I said that if I don't really remember all the details of what followed next and that I'm pretty sure it doesn't count.  No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At the playground, the other parents snickered at my dark sunglasses, droopy head, green complexion and lingering smell of debauchery.  At the grocery store, I gagged at the smell of the fish and didn't buy it for dinner.  Who needs fish anyway?  I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because even though my friend kinda dared us to t.p. her house 'cause she didn't think that we actually would, and she kinda knew that she really shouldn't ever dare our motley group (especially after we've been drinking for several hours) 'cause we can never pass on a dare, but she did dare us and we did t.p. and then her husband got really pissed.  I think that he wished we would all sit on a heck of a lot more than tacks.  He definitely hopes that the next time any of us gets a double-decker strawberry ice-cream cone that the ice cream part falls off the cone part and lands in Hawaii.

When my husband came home from the store, he got tackled at the door with a big, suffocating hug from Brooks.  He also got a half-hearted body nudge from Phillip.  Even Cassie gave him a civil "Hey."  Guess who didn't get any of those things from her children?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was, because I did try to drive over and help clean up the t.p. so my friend's husband wouldn't be mad at us anymore.  But he had already cleaned every last piece up from his yard.  My friend said, "Don't worry about it.  He'll get over it.  And, I am never missing another Friday Happy Hour.  Who will we t.p. next week?"

Next week, I said, I'm going to Hawaii.

On the way back home, I stepped in some cat puke again.  (Why do my children insist on taking the cats out in the backyard and letting them eat so much darn grass?)  And while I was washing off the cat puke, I realized that Phillip had also stepped in it and he tracked cat-puke foot prints all through the kitchen.  I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody.  No one even answered.

So then we went to Baskin Robbins for ice cream and Phillip got two scoops of chocolate ice-cream with Reece's Peanut Butter cups in it, Cassie got two scoops of Jamoca Almond Fudge ice-cream and Brooks got one scoop of ice-cream with Reece's Peanut Butter cups in it and one scoop of orange sherbet.  Together.  In the same bowl.  I told him not to do it.  I told him that he would regret it.  I told him some flavors just don't mix.  Guess who didn't want to eat his ice cream after only a couple of bites and guess who sacrificed her vanilla soft-serve cone and got stuck with nothing?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were ants in my house and I hate ants.

There were food smudges on my counters and I hate food smudges.

My house was too messy.  I got frizz in my hair.  I had no dishwasher soap for the dishwasher.  And I stepped in cat puke again and I hate cat puke.

When I went to bed the cats were already asleep in my spot and they wouldn't budge, probably exhausted from a day of puking all over my house.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My kids say some days are like that.

Even in Hawaii.

(I demand proof.  My family should take me.)

 

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  • You are brilliant! I am thinking children's books are in your future...

  • oh crystal, this post is hilarious! and wow, your cats certainly throw up a lot!

  • I believe kitty sized barf bags around the house would be in order.

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