With Apologies to Judith Viorst

I went to sleep with a relatively clean kitchen and woke up to find one that looked like a bomb had exploded in it, and when I told S. to make her lunch, she said we had nothing good to eat, and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

J. didn't want to wear his socks, D's bus was late, and Z kept trying to bait her sister. All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a hot shower.

When the kids left for school, I took a shower with no pressure. When Mr. WG and the baby came back, I complained about not having pressure. I said that it wasn't fair. I said that I wanted it fixed. No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At 7:35 am, the phone rang and it was the HR lady calling to tell me that Aetna denied D's speech therapy because they don't cover developmental delay.

At 12:30, the principal from the day school emailed to say that S. had been caught bullying another student and they need to meet with us. At the grocery store, I discovered that Mr. WG had taken $10 out of my wallet and I had to use a credit card for the groceries. At the gas station, gas was over $2.50 per gallon. Who needs gas? Well, we do. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because when I tried to pump milk for the baby I got nothing, so I had to take the baby with me when I took D. to speech therapy. The billing lady told me that we owe over $1,000 because the insurance hasn't paid. I hope they rot in hell, I said. I hope they are subject to the quality of care they provide. You still owe us money, the billing lady said.

The baby didn't fall asleep on the way to therapy or on the way home. Instead, he cried. A lot.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That's what it was, because when I got home from therapy with D. and the baby, D. wanted to take the trash cans out to the street AGAIN, and the baby wouldn't stop screaming and I saw that J. had been in my office and messed things up and I remembered that I forgot to defrost meat for dinner.

When I tried to work in my office, all I could hear was the baby screaming and I still couldn't pump any milk and S. kept coming in my office to ask questions and no one would leave me alone and my client ignored my email and while I was trying to get a tiny bit of work done everyone wanted to come and tell me about their day and I just wanted a little bit of QUIET ALREADY.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I told everybody. No one even answered.

So then I tried to slice the meat so I could make stir fry but it was too frozen. I finally got it sliced and added the coleslaw. You can cook that stuff up, said Z., but you can't make me eat it.

D's Friendship Circle volunteer couldn't come because he had homework. The baby refused to sleep. My headache persisted. I had no beef stock to flavor the stir fry. J. would not stop yelling. D. kept hauling the trash cans to the street.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were bills in the mail and I hate bills.

There was nothing in the bank and I hate being broke.

My kids were too loud, the sink was full of dishes, the kids had really annoying homework, and I had to clean up the family room. I hate cleaning up the family room.

When I finally get to go to bed, I bet someone will throw up. It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Thank God I have Mr. WG here with me, because he is my hero.