Sadler Life: Jennifer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

With thanks and compliments to Judith Viorst who wrote Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

I went to bed way too late with too much on my mind and when the two-year-old climbed into my bed at 5am she smashed my face with her knee and then I couldn't fall back asleep and the one-year-old woke up screaming which isn't normal and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

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At breakfast no one wanted to eat and cereal ended up all over the floor and banana ended up all over the baby's head and my breakfast shake half melted before I could even take a drink and every time I stepped away from the table to get the two-year-old something new both girls yelled or screamed until I came back.

I think I'll move to Jamaica.

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At the doctor, the wait was long, the reality was frightening and the delivery rushed. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

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I could tell because upon my return home the babies were fussy. Nap time came late. The girls didn't sleep as long as usual, and they both woke up on the wrong side of the bed or crib. My husband claimed he "forgot" to call me on his way to an important meeting and had me worried that something was seriously wrong.

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Picked up the house to have the girls drag out every toy again. This is fine, but then I walked into the back playroom to discover melted ORANGE Popsicle on the carpet, and the tile and the dining chairs. Dried orange Popsicle from morning snack.

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Then everyone wanted to know how my doctor's appointment went, and I didn't want to talk about it but I did and everyone seemed to have an opinion about what I should or should not do and while I am sure that comes from a place of love and concern, it really just feels like no one trusts me to make my own decisions for my own life and I really hate being told what to do and how to do it and why to do it. This happens a lot lately from people who know and love me and people who have no idea who I am. Someday my life will be my own again. Until then,

I think I'll move to Bermuda.

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There was spaghetti for dinner and I love spaghetti, but I couldn't eat it. There was Denver Broncos football on TV, and I love the Broncos, but we had to watch Curious George instead.

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Bedtime came. We completed our routine. Bedtime went. Two little girls cried and cried and cried. I snuggled and played and pleaded and lay on their bedroom floor. I begged and threatened and cried too. Around 1am, they both finally screamed themselves out. Then I cried myself into a stupor and drifted off to sleep.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Some days are like that.

Even in Colorado.