On the plus side, my baby brother is the shiz.

This is how my day has gone so far.  

I basically didn't sleep after 1:30 or so.  First Josie woke up to eat.  I fed her and put her back to bed.  Half an hour later, Zeke woke up with night terrors and it took me 45 minutes to calm him down.  I fell asleep for an hour or so, then Josie woke up to eat again.  She had a harder time getting back to sleep, so I kept jumping back and forth between my bed and her room to pat her on the butt or replace her pacifier.

The long and short of it is, I'm really tired. 

I managed to get the kids up and ready for school, but 5 minutes before we were set to leave, I called to Zeke that he needed to put on his socks and shoes, and he completely lost his mind.  Crying, throwing himself on the floor, rolling around, the whole 9 yards.  Josie had been sitting very calmly in her bouncy seat for 45 minutes, but felt the need to weigh in on the chaos, so she started to cry.

"Oh, yeah, I need to take my Zoloft," I thought to myself.

Then Jason called to inform me that his car was broken into and his satellite radio thingy was stolen.  And, oh yeah, he can't find his driver's license.  

And my mom is coming in tonight because we've got our big annual convention this week in Colorado Springs, so she's going to come look after the monkeys while I'm busy presenting and shmoozing and doing whatever else one does at these things.  And of course, the house is in shambles, so I need to go home during lunch to clean so that she doesn't realize I'm an incompetent shlub of an adult.

And we have no food in the house, no dishwashing soap and no laundry detergent.

But, when I got to work this morning and opened my email, I discovered that my brother Sam, who writes and performs under the nom-de-song The Flying Change, is doing a show in New York City on Thursday night, and was written up in The New Yorker.  

Which is pretty fucking cool.