Woke up at 4:30 this morning.

Son number 2, was crying.

Son number 1 had crawled into bed at some time around 3:30am and is giving me karate kicks to the ribcage.

By 5:30 decided to heat milk for bottle.

Fill glass with formula.

Put glass in microwave. That has idiotically designed "cooking rack" inside.

Watch glass tip on idiotically designed cooking rack and spill milk:
throughout microwave,
all over espresso machine,
over counter,
onto clean dishes,
into cupboards,
onto floor, and finally
soaked up by floor mat.

Swear!

Cause more crying.

Clean-up.

Take shower.

Make coffee.

Notice interesting smell of warm milk rising from espresso machine.

Wife wakes up (gets up - she HAD TO BE AWAKE already) and says "You are making too much noise stomping around the house."

grumble. grumble...

"I'm moving to Australia. It's been a terrible, horrible no good, very bad day." I say.

No one even answered.

Then...

"I love you, Daddy," says son number 1.

:)

Yeah. I suppose I will live.

Son #1:

Son #2:

I got back home from close to 3 weeks of travel. My wife, Mandy was collapsed in bed. I said I was happy to be home after all the travel. I was exhausted and needed rest.

Then I asked, "How was your week, Hon?"

"...grumble." (Turns over).

I get up this morning. Once again ask how the week went.

"Read My Blog." (Sips coffee)

OK...

Anyone got some ideas on how I might get out of this dog house I have found my self in?

My wife, Mandy, has a great blog post on my son Nate's response to daddy's frustration. It's funny. ........Now.

No so much when it was happening.