It’s Monday night at 9:44pm.
I just finished packing lunches. It took me forever, since I had to pack a lunch for myself instead of my usual at-home lunch (I’m a parent volunteer on my son’s field trip tomorrow), I needed a special container-free lunch for my son, and my daughter has a theme day at Preschool and requires extra snacks. I’m not the usual lunch-packer in my house, that’s my husband’s department, so I was out of practice and inefficient. It. Took. Awhile.
Mondays are my latest day at work, so I got home just as the bedtime routine was in full-swing. Two smiley kids, still with bathtub hair, greeted me at the door and pulled me out of my hunger-induced grump. I joined them in stories and tuck-ins. I spent fifteen minutes scrambling eggs and washing berries in my attempt to avoid ordering pizza for dinner. Success. This time.
Then I packed backpacks. Field trips and Preschool theme days require extra packing and planning. 8:35pm. I went upstairs to our computer and paid some bills online. I printed off a list of Burlington playgrounds for our see-all-the-playgrounds challenge this Summer. I hunted for a new recipe for Wednesday’s dinner. I drank a cup of tea and spilled some. 9:33pm. Cleaning up tea from underneath the computer desk, I stood up and banged my head. Crap (or the R-rated version). I’m still hungry. There are chocolate chips in the baking cupboard that are taunting me. Hold strong.
It’s blog night. I’m usually way ahead on this task. Most weeks I’ve written a post in my head several times over and it’s just a matter of typing it out. Not so this week. Life has been busier than usual. I’m starting fresh. A blank screen stares at me. An hour later I text my editor, my husband the English major. He comes upstairs and says my sentences are choppy. “Too bad,” I say, “I’m not changing it.”
10:46pm. I’m heading downstairs to have a shower and fold some laundry. I will likely get engrossed in my bedside book and shut off my light after midnight, then regret my choice when my children jump on me the morning. But it’s my husband’s turn for the 6:00am workout tomorrow so I get an extra hour of sleep.
And where was he through all of this? Washing dishes, vacuuming rugs, and mopping floors. Our house is dirtier than I care to admit because, see above, life has been busier than usual. So it’s Monday-night cleanup around here.
Why am I telling you all of this? Not to complain, believe me. But because my life is just like yours. I get overwhelmed and overscheduled. I eat scrambled eggs for dinner and chocolate chips in front of the computer. I argue with my spouse and get frustrated with my kids. I have more tasks than time to do them.
So while my life is perfect for me, let me assure you that it’s not perfect.
This is life. And this happens to be my life. And it makes me damn happy.