So you know how when...

you drop a can of soda on the floor, you pick it up, think about how it's going to explode now if you open it, and put it back into the refrigerator at the back of the stash so it gets opened last and has time to 'settle down'?

Yeah, that's what would typically happen to regular people that aren't sleep deprived, 37 weeks pregnant, and have a cranky toddler that loves to throw a tantrum at the most inopportune moments. That's what happens to those people, that doesn't happen to me.

Here's what happens to me. The can explodes when it hits the floor. The soda goes all over the kitchen. And it's not just on the floor. It's on every cabinet door since your kitchen is a square and cabinets are pretty much on all sides. Not only is it on the cabinet doors and the appliances, however, it's also on the window pane that is barely reachable when you don't have a huge baby gut hanging off of the front of you, and on the ceiling too.

Yes, people, just a typical day in my life.


I'd show you all the soda all over my cabinets, but you can't see it very well, which makes for a fun time getting down on your knees (which, incidentally don't bend well at this stage of pregnancy) to look for each and every drop and clean it, so I'll just show you my dishwasher to provide an example of what the rest of my kitchen looks like.


And here's the cause of all the drama. How in God's name did this happen? Seriously?