Why is Mom yelling NOW?!

"Why is Mom yelling?!"

Or, more frequently, "Why is Mom yelling NOW?!"

Some people aren't born yellers. They're patient and calm and speak in a nice low voice all the time, even if someone sets their hair on fire. Max's preschool teacher is like that. He loves her. Hell, I love her. She's fantastic.

But me? I was born loud. I'm not ashamed. I come from loud people. It should be listed as part of our ethnicity. Polish, Italian, Irish, LOUD.

Also in that list would be emotional. This used to bother me, but I'm kind of proud of it now. You never need to worry about whether I'm being honest with you. My face is ALWAYS honest with you, no matter what my mouth is saying.

So if shit goes down, this mom is yelling. That answers that. But let's now look at a typical morning in my house, and you tell me if you can figure out why Mom is yelling NOW.

For the fourth or fifth time in a row, my four-year-old son Max woke at 4 am unable to breathe from coughing up all the gook that had settled in his chest while sleeping. All children do this at some point or another. With my older two, it was annoying, an inconvenience, but also pleasant in the way that I could pick them up and lean against the wall or sit in the rocking chair and at least half sleep while comforting them.

Max wants a shower.

Max, as a human, is relentless. So, at 4 am, I get up, take off his jammies, and put him in the shower. And then we both get steamy, our noses run, and we are wide awake.

And usually by now, so is the dog and so is my middle son Noah.

Okay, I think, I can do this. As long as I have coffee.

Making coffee is a nice easy procedure. Except the few simple steps are interrupted by I want breakfast. I have boogers. Bizzy's in the basement! No, not THAT breakfast. Hey! He took the last muffin! I wanted THAT muffin! I have boogers. Ew! He has boogers! I'm gonna puke! Uuuggghhh. Mom, I missed the toilet. Ew! He missed the toilet? Now I'm gonna puke! Did he take my muffin?

But that's not even when it gets exciting. Wait until the oldest wakes up and "can't find" whatever he needs for school. It's usually laying on the floor. Right in front of him. Because, did you know?, that's where stuff will be found when you never put it away.

By the time I got to take my first sip of coffee today, my brain was scrambled eggs. So when Max came up, two snot rivers flowing cheerfully from his nose, and said, "I'm bored," I put my coffee down, and said in my usual loud voice, "I AM HAVING A BAD DAY."

To which he responded, "Geez! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

*Narrow-eyed, dead-pan facial expression.* Right here.

But he is sick. He is my little sickie. His eyes are about two inches in diameter and the prettiest green you ever saw, and somehow when he is sad his eyelashes get longer and poke the top of his head, so I said, "Here. Let's do something fun."

And I got the great big bowl reserved for Halloween candy and I filled it with fresh snow from outside. We got our Play-Doh toys and a ladle and Max's mittens and BOOM! A snow day indoors.

I am awesome.

All joy and smiles until I walked away for ten seconds and he decided to add sundae sprinkles to his snow bowl.

And they spilled.

Everywhere.

Man those suckers get some distance when they hit the floor.

So I'm vacuuming. It's cool. I love to vacuum. I break out the vacuum hose; I'm loving the sound of the sprinkles getting all sucked up.

"Mom! I'm gonna go get some superheroes to play with in the snow!"

My clever, creative boy. I'm so proud of us both, I'm dancing with the vacuum hose.

That's when I sucked up his mitten. You know...I try to be myself for one second...and guess what else? I still haven't had any coffee.

Thirty minutes later, my brand new vacuum is dismantled. The floor is a giant puddle where the snow melted. The dog is throwing up (because why not?). My arms are covered in vacuum dust. Max is bored.

"I'm going to wash my hands, and then we'll clean up," I tell him.

I enter the bathroom. I step in a lake of urine.

"I am having a BAD DAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!"

"Geez, Mom. Mrs. Hanley always tells me, 'Just forget about the bad thing and move on with your day.' That's what she tells me. You should try that."

Thanks. Thanks a lot. But I am covered in vacuum dust and someone else's pee.

Screw it. I'm just drinking my coffee now.

P.S.--Max is still wearing the other mitten because, he told me, he needs to keep it safe from crazy mom.