Oh! Lord!

Some days are just on the calendar to get through. Ya know?
Take today for example. Ev wakes up her chipper self and begins to request special this and special that, not only for breakfast but for a week to come. If you know me at all, you understand that it's very difficult for me to process this kind of thing before noon.
 Liam wakes up, soaked in pee and mad at the world.
The cat starts biting my ankles the minute I swing my legs out of bed.
Liam has a fit the entire time I am cleaning the old, cold pee soaked clothes off of him.
 I have to cook breakfast while Liam stands guard whimpering and crying the entire time. Breakfast itself goes ok but when it's over, Liam feels that 10 ounces of milk and 2 scrambled eggs was not enough and he starts crying and whining again.
I have to end a phone call with Les about 10 minutes later because Liam vomited up about a ton of scrambled eggs and milk into Ev's play cash register.  And may I say, who ever though that keeping Barbie shoes in a cash register was a good idea? While he sits and watches me clean the register, Liam makes an un-holy deposit into his pamper. That was a great mingling of fragrances.
The cat, realizing that biting my ankles is not eliciting the glorious chase scene or fabulous tuna feast that he had envisioned begins systematically clawing the furniture in a last ditch effort to wrest my attention from the kids.
All clean and freshly diapered Liam decides to play with the paper money from the register but he wants to carry it in these perfectly neat piles. The thing is, he's two and can't pull it off, so he walks around crying and weeping while he tries and tries to fix his stack of pretend presidents. He makes these endless little circles crying and complaining. It's maddening.
In the meantime, happy little Ev gets a sword and starts Kung Fu-ing. Liam decides to forsake that abominable cash for the sword. He wants that sword. Bad. He should have the sword. He demands the sword. Well, we take turns around here and we don't negotiate with terrorists so... Liam doesn't get the sword. This sends Liam into another crying jag and me wondering if we have any Vodka in the joint.
Also by this time Ev is feeling very superior and begins Lording it over Liam.
Les is working late today. He won't be home until bedtime. Isn't that convenient?


A few notes: Please read this as a funny breakdown of a tragic morning: that's what it is. 
*Also please realize that Liam will eat until he vomits as he did this morning, so I have no clear understanding of the proper amounts to offer him.
*The cat is a self centered, four legged tyrant.
*Cleaning the recycled eggs out of the Barbie shoes was the absolute worst thing to happen today.
*Liam has never had to figure things out for himself or really try at anything so things like sorting money can be VERY trying. I help him a time or two but I feel that he must figure these things out on his own in the way that a 6 to 9 month old infant has to.
*He was still mad over the money so when he wanted the sword that just compounded his frustrations. He eventually got his turn and immediately dropped the sword and wanted the doll that Ev had.
* I haven't, as of yet, located any hard liquor.