I'm convinced that my sole purpose of existence is to clean up poop. Seriously. Emme decided to poop her pants today. As to why, I'm still not sure. Then we ran to the store (because I literally have like 5 minutes a day to devote to laundry and Daddy needed some new and clean underwear) where El proceeded to have a massive poop explosion in her brand new, white onesie that Mimi got her. So we had to rush home to take care of that. Wow...
Now the trashy neighbor is out there revving his truck (like he does every single day for about 15 minutes), Emme is crying (she cries about everything these days) and there is a stupid cop at the end of the street trying to wave people down to give them tickets. The kitchen is a disaster, there are about 5 more loads of laundry to do, it's Monday and I'm trying to have a good attitude. :)
"Somebody's got a case of the Monday's..."
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