Thursday what?

3:00am: "Mom, I had a tee-tee accident." "Ok, honey, just change and get in bed with us." 5:30am: "Mom [from the other one]!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to go TEE-TEE!!!!!" "OK, just do it and be quiet."

Why all of us must be involved for one to go to the bathroom is beyond me and seems extraordinarily precious (not meaning cute) and superfluous.

Second kid then attempts to join the all-in-one-bed family circus and whines like a mo-fo when he can't have the exact spot he wants. Did I mention that Cat has joined the fun and nips my chin for attention?

Second kid is whining and carrying on to such an unbelievably pesty degree that I exile him from our room. He refuses. I insist. He stands his ground. So I frog march him to his bed, get in with him and wonder if my blood is actually boiling, think probably not but do credit the person who coined that term because it feels effing accurate.

Breakfast, coffee!, where's my backpack?, where's my library book?, a tantrum that causes us to miss carpool (mortifying and further blood-boil provoking), an extra drive to school with a come to Jesus on the way. In the carpool line, I manage the great misfortune of pulling in behind the parent who, on an entirely too-regular basis, feels it's OK to literally park in the active drop-off line to chit-chat with the parents and teachers who are opening car doors and unload the kids with such colossal slowness that I truly wonder if it's possible or if the rest of us are being toyed with. Parking in any in-process carpool line should be a capital offense.

I return home to now-angelic second kid and share looks of WTF/We Are So Tired with hubs before he spirits second kid to school. The mountain of tee-tee-smelling and overall kinda gross laundry appears unscalable but I persevere and am now on load 2. With the help of friend X, I am also making a batch of strawberry-rhubarb pie jam before I must return to school for my last day as library volunteer before this year is out.

Enough said

So, after bath time, I ran downstairs to get my phone, thinking I'd take a cute shot of the boys, but as I headed back up, to hysterical cackle-type laughter, I caught sight of the above. Oliver's sweet bum with WHAT tucked inside? Apparently, a small bit of styrofoam packing material from the box in which my new sandals were (still?) nestled.

Really, this moment perfectly encapsulates Ol's mischievousness, the sort of comedy which makes Jack tick (I about peed in my pants because as a surprise, this was hilarious), and my day.

Butts come up SO often in my daily conversations. It's just remarkable. As such, it may not surprise you that I am, at the tender time of not-yet-seven, at the very-last-drop end of my second glass of wine. It's an excellent bottle of wine, if that makes any difference: the Greywacke 2012 Sauvignon Blanc from Marlborough, NZ. I highly recommend it. As with many NZ Sauv Blancs, it's nearly clear in the glass; straw-colored I'd say if forced to choose a hue. Immediately you are confronted with the fabulous, racy, herbal grassiness of good NZ SBs. I absolutely love these wines when done well. Each and every sip manages to cleanse, satisfy, excite and entice. Which is one reason I've just finished la deuxième.

I am dying, DYING to make the Giant Green Pie recipe published in today's NYT Dining section, but I am NOT sure I want to wait two more hours for the finished product. Instead I might do something with the enormous mess o' arugula I recently culled from my garden. A pesto? A spread? Ooh, what about a Bûcheron and arugula pesto frittata? And that's a go.

Kale odor, nose slam

Oh my god, y'all. I am in my car in the school pick-up line, heard my name, thought my window was more open than it is, swung my head out and BASHED the area where my nose meets my under-nose area. Throbbing! Red! I feel like an ass, and I was not the Emily being sought. Good god. Earlier, I was hungry and really wanted something, probably a Vanilla Bean with kale, from Purée. It's been a while since I indulged there so I went and got the VBwK. The juicer and I started talking kale, and he asked, "have you ever smelled plain, juiced kale? It's pretty revolting." I had not and next thing I knew, I was inhaling a kale shot. In fact, it is beyond revolting. Oh.my.god. Never smell a kale shot unless you have to.