I had a good day today. It was another mild, blissfully sunny November day. I dropped off the kids, grabbed a coffee and headed out to pick up a few things. I managed to spend a few dollars, but got a birthday present for my sister, a new bedspread and mattress pad for the soon-to-be new bed for my eldest and some other bits and bobs. Fresh bread from the bakery served to fill my tummy with sandwich before attacking the floor that had challenged me for too long. Satisfaction at a clean floor helped me to sail along to yoga for an ohm good time. A bottle of wine picked up and hugs from the darlings continued the smiles, as did lighting of the BBQ for a late in the season steak dinner. All good.
So where did it all go wrong? All that positive energy I built up all day exploded when the milk hit the floor (my newly mopped floor!) followed by a plate full of juicy steak, potatoes and salad with salad dressing of course. The chair pillow was soaked. The wall was splattered. My beautiful clean floor had lasted for a scant few hours and I was livid. I hate mopping the floor, but when I do mop I find a serene beauty in it. It makes me blissfully happy to know that I have conquered the dirt, germs and stains. It never lasts though. The day the floor gets mopped is the day that mass food spillage is guaranteed to occur. Sighing and shaking my head are all I can muster now, but the kids got worse than that. I sometimes wonder where my anger comes from. How can I get so upset over spilled milk? Well, it was also working on the 45 minute mark of sitting at the table and I had been watching them eat for the better part of 20 with an empty plate in front of me. Both of their plates were still looking almost untouched. "Wasting food!" my brain screams at me. "My time and energy" my defeated soul moans. I yell and rant and lose the battle again. "Maybe I just won't make dinner any more!", I fume, knowing that is a ridiculous threat, but wishing that I could somehow convince them that the dinner wars are just not worth it. I am not the first parent to have these challenges and I know I will not be the last. I just wish I could be a little more graceful at making dinner flow pleasantly. We lit candles for goodness sake and had music playing! It should have been a good meal. I even served bread (probably the downfall there). Yeah, yeah, you lose Katherine, let it go.
I could not let it go though. Dinner crashed to its close and I re-mopped the floor. The dishes were put away from the dishwasher and refilled. I finished my wine without children, breathed for a moment and then jumped back into the ring. This time the battle was the play room. Why do I do this to myself?! Oh Lord, but the floor has not been seen for many a day/week. I entered the room and threw the gloves down. Television off. This was serious. I had been warning them this day was coming and today was the day. I figured I was in the right spirit for it, so sat down amidst the mayhem and began to sort. The kids brought me toys to sort into bins and I directed what was to go where. "Garbage. Your bedroom. Dress-up trunk. Garbage. garbage." Two hours.
T asked me, "is it bedtime yet?" I looked at my watch to find it was already nine! Holy shamoley!! The mess was tamed though. The floor was discovered and it was good.
T even thought it looked much better. I tried to vacuum after the girls were tucked into bed, but even it resisted me tonight. A broom finished the job. Unfortunately my dream of a tub tonight was shattered. Sigh. Alas, alack-a-day! The basement can be walked into though. The garbage has been put out. And now it is way high time for me to toss my weary cranky body into bed. I will live to fight another day, but hopefully tomorrow the fight will not be about food or a messy basement. Please
