Let the dishes wait a minute

My husband went out of town last week and I’m not totally sure when he’ll be back. Three minutes after he left, I missed his face. Three minutes after I missed his face, I missed the extra set of hands to help with all the household tasks that pile up and sap my will to live. Three minutes after that, I got sick. Naturally. Because if life is going to pile on the stress, it will definitely pile it on all at once. Because, well, that’s life.

I spent two days laying in bed. I didn’t even really sleep. My only symptoms were my entire body ached and my head felt completely fuzzy. Oh, and I felt incapable of remaining upright. So I mostly channel surfed, read, and wished I felt better. Friday I probably could have gotten up and accomplished something productive at 2:00 in the afternoon. But since I knew I was flying solo for Halloween shenanigans, I opted to save my strength for that night. Good call.

I then used the saved up strength to deliver crap to a neighborhood party. My husband had volunteered a table and an appetizer. I had stupidly volunteered an ice chest of water simultaneously. You can’t very well back out at the last minute when you are the one producing the table everyone’s crap is going to go on. But all of it required effort to produce. And by “produce” I mean I ordered wings from Papa Johns and heated them up in time for the party. Don’t judge. They were having pizza at the party. This was an acceptable item to bring. 
This was an acceptable kid to bring.  Iron Patriot.  Someone had to explain to me who he was.  I have been assured he did not make this character up.
The harder part was the folding table and cooler. Both required me to be upright while putting forth effort. The table had to be cleared off and wiped down. The cooler required locating and filling.

Does it make me a bad person if I momentarily just wanted to sweep everything off the table onto the floor?
Then they had to be drug down the street. Not sure why I felt the need to carry the table by hand rather than using a dolly. Also not clear why my daughter danced along next to me the whole way instead of helping me carry it. Such are the mysteries of motherhood.

No dogs were harmed in the staging of this photo of Katniss Everdeen and her bow and arrow. 
 And we hadn’t even trick or treated yet. Or gotten anyone dressed and out the door. Sheesh.
Iron Patriot and Katniss flexing their muscles for no apparent reason.
My daughter had friends coming over to trick or treat with us. My son was ready to leave an hour early. I successfully made small talk with other parents and stayed upright for a two full hours. I’m counting it as a win. Especially because my evening wasn’t over. Next up, drag all the crap back down the block to our house. Drop daughter at sleepover. Eat candy and cuddle the only baby left in the house for the night.

By 9:30 I raised the white flag and laid my head down on my pillow. I told my 8 year old son to turn off the television and go to bed at 10:00. I don’t know that he’s particularly trustworthy to accomplish that, but the cooties convinced me I didn’t care and his sugar high appeared to be wearing off. He took “turn off the television and go to bed” as turn out the television and go to sleep right there in bed next to me. I know this because his cold feet were pressed up on my thighs right around 3 am. Around 5 am he flopped over and began breathing on my right eye.

That morning, we got up and had breakfast together. Nothing special. Just the usual. I had two sinks overflowing with dishes, the kitchen floor was a mess, the trash needed to be taken out, the fridge needed to be cleaned out, grocery shopping needed to be done and we had volleyball, soccer and dance looming ahead on the schedule for the day. But my eight year old had had a fun night the night before, eaten his fill of candy, slept in Daddy’s spot in our bed and he was loving life as the only baby in the house. Plus he got to love life as the only baby in the house while sorting and counting Halloween candy. He radiated happiness and contentment. He rambled on uninterrupted telling me his every thought. 
And all my troubles fell away in that moment. And life was bright and shiny and sweet. It’s November and a good time to be thankful. So it was nice to have a moment that brought me back to feeling thankful. Because I am. For him and each day with him and her and their father. Even if their father is far away and can’t wash dishes for me right now.
So I sat myself down next to him and let the dishes wait a little while.

And the universe repaid me by giving me a great day followed by another great day. We watched Galaxy Quest and laughed. We went grocery shopping and they actually retrieved items we needed from aisles on the other side of the store. Yes, a case of Propel appeared in my cart. Yes, so did a roll of Gum Tape. But no one freaked the hell out or thought about killing anyone. And at one point my sweet babies even tried to convince me I look like I’m in my 20s.
Love notes from my babies.   They either love me or plan to hit me up for an X Box tonight.
My glass is officially half full.


Anonymous said...

Hi Kim, you have sweet kids and talent for writing. I will follow you and I will be happy to read you regularly :) I'm new on blogger, I decided to write down my thoughts. Visit and follow if interested!

Dominika Sygula said...

Hey, what's up, you alright..?
Great post hun, thanks for sharing.

Visit me whenever you have time;

Kisses, i hope you have an amazing easter. xXx

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Veronica said...

Hope all is well with you and your family. It has been a while! Just wanting you to know that I miss your writing. :)

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