Mondays. Oh I Hate Mondays.

Mondays are a particularly bad day in the D-Zo household. A Monday after a holiday erases all residual memories of turkey-induced joy and makes you wonder why we need a day to celebrate anything at all; particularly if the celebration is going to interrupt The Schedule.

It's time for the useful tip portion of today's story: Infants do not remember CRAP if it doesn't happen every flipping day.

For the past three months, my Mondays look something like this:

This is every Monday. For the past 3 M.O.N.T.H.S.

Because on Monday morning, The Bean is fairly certain I've let an infant-eating, psycho lunatic into the house to tend to her while I go watch Wiggles videos all day long.

She has zero recollection of the events she participated in a mere 2 days earlier:

But today. Today, my friends, was a special Monday. A Perfect Storm of a Monday.

Fact 1: The D-Zo clan is all getting over a cold because God hates us and after 5 years of not being sick has bitch slapped us with 2 sicknesses in one month. This, naturally, means The Bean has been even more of a parasite than usual...I didn't know it was possible either.

Fact 2: It was a rainy, cold day in Atlanta today. This is important because one of the nanny's go-to Bean meltdown diffusing techniques is a walk outside.

Fact 3: The Bean opted to not take her morning nap this morning because, hey, it's Monday. A time for daring and thinking outside the box.

Fact 4: And, of course, the piece de resistance - we haven't seen the nanny in SIX WHOLE ENTIRE OH.MY.GOD.DID.SHE.EVER.EXIST.WE.JUST.DON'T.KNOW. DAYS.

Normally, I lock myself in the office and watch an episode of Top Chef with the volume cranked become so engrossed in my work that I don't even notice the screaming. See *I* know that if I run out there every time The Bean screams she will eventually learn this behavior and we will never break her of the habit.

*I* know this.

Guess who else was working from home today?

You're never going to guess.

As we all know, the whole D-Zo clan caught this cold. Men. Sickness. Need I say more?

9 AM rolls around and I hand The Bean off to the nanny and within 20 minutes (far longer than I thought, to be fair) The Bean has hit her stride and is in perfect voice.

Her father cannot cope. Because he is a sucker.

He runs to rescue his baby. But his idea of rescuing is talking to The Bean while the nanny holds her.

2nd Helpful Tip of the Day (because it's the holiday season): The most efficient way to elevate an infant meltdown to window-shattering, eardrum-rupturing, tear your own face off levels is to stick her with a "stranger," walk away and then come back and taunt her by not picking her up.

The Bean turned magenta.

It was time for Mama Intervention.

I pick up the child who is now violently purple, soaking wet from her own tears and covered in scratches from clawing her own face off out of anger.

0.000000000000005 seconds later, she looks like this:

Manipulative little bugger.

I can hardly wait for the two-week Christmas vacation extravaganza we have planned.

Dear Santa,

Wine.

XOXOXO - Mrs. D-Zo