The morning started with poop and ended with poop. In the span of two days I have spent $400 unexpected dollars on my car brakes, cleaned up Ever's poop that went down into her boots-both sides- and threw away her pants, stepped in bare feet the poop that fell onto the bathroom floor then later stepped in my new running shoes in a huge pile of dog shit while cleaning up dog shit, given up cleaning the two million one trillion four quadrillion tiny hairbands the size to fit a child's pinky that Ever threw like confetti around my bedroom floor- which, by the way, nicely covered the spot of, you guessed it, POOP that Ever left when she dropped a load on the floor last week, broke down in tears twice, Christmas shopped three times, cleaned the house over and over, felt constipated depression from writer's block, had insomnia, went to sleep ridiculously early and woke all night feeling ill, wiped Ever's nose a million times ( Mommy, there is a little achoo on my shirt! ) cooked dinners and made lunches and realized I forgot to shower two days in a row, edited a manuscript, written fashion reports, babysat, sent out a few Christmas cards, and
today set the oven on fire.
Ever also found my lipstick:
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