Ever had one of those weekends where you get to the end of the weekend and you can’t believe you’re expected to go to work tomorrow because what the hell you’re tired. Because, dude, you just spent your whole weekend cleaning your pig sty of a house and your two small kids kept bickering over the same book and the same spatula and the same duck and the same piece of cookie and where did all the candy wrappers come from on the living room floor because you thought you put the child proof lock on the cabinet with the candy and, no, you didn’t throw away your husband’s electric toothbrush in a Peter Walsh induced de-cluttering fit. Your 18 month old hid it in the bottom of a hamper. So there. And so what if that kid’s turned two and you’re still calling him your 18 month old. You’re his mother. You like calling him 18 months old. That might be weird when he’s 6 but the kid’s only 2. It’s perfectly normal to take a while to make these transitions in your head. So deal with it. Because I had one of those weekends is what I’m trying to say.
I cleaned the kitchen Saturday. This included de-cluttering drawers, large amounts of Lysol wipes, and a mop. I know. Even I can’t believe I mopped. I hate mopping. My back hurts just thinking about it. But I did. And it looks awesome. And my husband better not crap up the counter with any coffee drippings and bagel crumbs or I might just feel obligated to behead him or something. I mean, I love him, but the kitchen looks stellar and crapping it up would be wrong.
Sunday I got up and did the whole thing over again in the bathroom. Toilet, tub, floor. I even wiped the baseboards. I rule.
Of course, now I can’t figure out why I have to be at work. Because, I’m worn out and that means it must be Friday. Except it’s not. It’s Monday. And I didn’t get our Christmas decorations down either. Which was my #1 goal for the weekend which is apparently now going to be my #1 goal for next weekend. If I cared, I might be concerned about the newest 4 year old plugging in the lights all week to showcase for the neighborhood what slackers we are. Luckily, I don't
Besides it’s only the second week of January. I’ve got a good two or three weeks before that becomes genuinely embarrassing.