Since rejoining the workforce four weeks ago, I’ve done pretty well keeping up with housework. It hasn’t been easy, but by making sure the house is picked up before heading off to bed, I can stave off the “a toy box just barfed all over my house” look. And that’s half the battle.
But this week…. Oh, how I can’t wait for this week to be over. Monday started out like any other day. I got up and even had the time to get dinner in the crock-pot before getting the kiddo up. I was feeling a bit like supermom. But as so many superheros do, I quickly fell from grace and on Monday night, it all went to hell.
For some idiotic reason, I attempted to stay up past the ungodly hour of 10p (I know, I’m old) and ended up falling asleep in the recliner… twice, actually. I vaguely remember waking up a few minutes before The Office was scheduled to start and thinking, “Ohhh… I should stay up and watch it.” Then, crash. Back asleep. And waking up at 2a to finally head upstairs did not lead to a cheery 630a. (Not that I’m ever cheery at 630a, mind you.)
And that is what led to my obscene use of the snooze button this week. And I blame that snooze button for paving the way for skipped showers, shoddy breakfasts, botched lunches, and the sinkful of dishes in my kitchen. Because once you’ve figured out how long you can stay in bed and still make it out the door in time to be less than 10 minutes late to work… Then you’re screwed.
So, that brings us to Thursday morning. I finally drag myself out of bed at 650a. (Only two snoozes today!) Mistake #1. I shaved. That took an extra 7 minutes that I could’ve used to unload the dishwasher. Mistake #2. Looking for the mysterious stink in my kitchen. Hmmm… Trash? Dishes? And the winner is… Cat puke! But not just a little furball. Full on, day old, hardened puke. Awesome.
So now I’m running 15 minutes late. I wake up the munchkin, skip the snuggling, and proceed to chase her around the house for 3 minutes trying to fix her hair. Determined to feed my kid a healthy breakfast, I throw some oatmeal in the microwave and pour myself a travel cup of milk. Running out the door, I see the remains of a life well lived, scattered all over my floors. And knowing that I may have lost this battle makes me feel a little more human. And glad that I won’t be home all day to stare at it.