Harebrained Morning

Wake up. Sore, weight-lifted last night. Just keep moving.
Shower, face, dressed. Good hair day.
Baby down to nap. Good baby.
Upstairs, boys breakfast? Breakfast, check.
Dishes, check.
Enter bathroom #1, address serious aim issues. Toilet is also clogged.
Plunger? In a minute.
Enter bathroom #2, toilet is also clogged. Frustrated sigh.
Read to boys. Quiet moment. Feeling sleepy. Keep moving.
Baby? Monitor on? No! Baby screaming. Run downstairs. Hush, hush.
Re-enter bathroom #1. Plunger? Locked and loaded.
Toilet #1 disarmed and neutralized.
Re-enter bathroom #2. Plunger is locked and loaded. Toilet unclogged? Nope, Red Alert, all hands to battle-stations!
Toilet overflows.
Save the jeans! (O hallowed jeans!) Jump onto tub!
Slip off tub, fall on the floor, jeans (O hallowed jeans!), sweater, entire self is in the sewage all over the floor.
Emit very unhappy sounds.
Hear giggling from the hall.
Emit even more unhappy sounds.
Giggling stops.
30 minutes, an armful of towels, half a bottle of cleaner later, emerge battered but triumphant.
Wash hands half a dozen times.
No more hallowed jeans today.
Serious lecture on flushing.
Time? 11:50.
Feed baby, change diaper, deposit baby safely on the floor.
Stand, turn, run smack into Isaac's head.
School!
Lunch, backpack, shoes, car, Love you, Isaac!
Silver lining: discovery that old skinny pants fit again. Still a good hair day.