Do you know what has happened at the Jedi Manor today that’s interesting enough to write about?
Except for the small fact that Thing 2 slept until 7:15 this morning because OF COURSE HE DID. It’s Monday. It’s Monday, and I had to get up and shower, because it was my day to captain the carpool wagon and get the boys dropped off for another day of the 6th grade. It was Monday, and Hubs had a meeting at 7:30 this morning. It was Monday, and I had to get up and make a ham sandwich and shove it into a Ziploc baggie, along with some vanilla yogurt and chips. It was Monday, and we were out of fruit for lunchboxes. It was Monday, and I had things to do… appointments to keep. It was Monday, and I had to get going, because it was totally MY DAY to sit in the chair at the salon and dye those crazy, wiry ultra blonde hairs that keep growing in at the top of my scalp.
And the baby slept until 7:15 this morning.
But on Sundays, he likes to go on ahead and get up at 4:40.
Do not be alarmed, people, if you run across an auction on eBay that says, “For sale to highest bidder… ” Hubs and I will TOTALLY do a background check on the highest bidder, to make sure that they do not enjoy sleeping in a wee bit on the weekends. We don’t want anyone to leave us negative feedback that says, “Nowhere in the auction did it state that this baby wakes the rooster up on Sunday mornings. I tried to get my money back, and the sellers said NO.”
Anyway, that was my day.
And I cleaned a little house.
You would think that cleaning house is my hobby. It’s not. I thought I should be clear there. It’s just that I LOVE a clean house, and the only way to GET A CLEAN HOUSE is to roll up my sleeves and shove my hand into a toilet bowl to scrub it, because, for some reason, it seems wrong that a mostly-stays-at-home mama should have her own housekeeper. (And really? This seems wrong to HUBS. It doesn’t seem wrong to other people living in our house.) I don’t ever remember daydreaming about how the toilets would get cleaned when I was seventeen and imagining myself as a married woman. For some reason, I thought I’d be wearing Ralph Lauren shirts every day, and having lunch at trendy coffee shops every day, and being taken to giant piano concerts in enormous theaters a couple evenings a month, during which I could wear a ball gown and clap in a ladylike manner with my long, white gloves.
None of that has happened, but I have clean toilets today.
And THIS little snippet is just for Hubs:
And that, in a nutshell, is a glimpse into our real life. Sometimes it’s boring. Oh, it’s always GOOD. It’s always VERY GOOD. But sometimes there are days when I scrub potties and vacuum floors and get my mustache waxed off at the salon, while the dye is doing its magic on my hair, and pick up Cheerios off of the floor and tell the boy, “You may NOT wear that sweatshirt again until I have washed it, because you have worn it seven days in a row now, all day long, and GROSS! You will never get a date this way!”
But tomorrow? I think tomorrow I’ll wear Ralph Lauren and have lunch in the city.
Y’all have a merry Monday evening.