Mommy's Gone Crazy

Some people think that since I stay home with our kids and we homeschool, that I have all of the time in the world to get myself and the kids ready, schooled, and the house clean, complete with a hot meal on the table for the hubby when he walks in at 5:30 every evening. 

Honestly, that's what my plan is every morning when I wake up and my feet hit the floor. 

However, that isn't how it plays out most days. 

 This truth had never been more real to me until yesterday when I had an unexpected knock on the door at 2:30 on the afternoon.

 You see, I had decided to rearrange everything in my living room that morning during our school hours. Terrible mistake mind you, but I'm impatient and only have a small amount of time on my hands to do luxurious things such as moving furniture and wall hangings, which subsequently means sweeping thousand of crayons and cat toys out from where the couch had been, plus dusting all of the pictures that I had taken down.
 The living room was still in the throws of upheaval and since I knew I was going to be sweaty and dusty, I didn't bother showering that morning. 

Gross, but logical. 

I had just moved the fish tank from the kitchen table (which had newspapers and paint scattered all over it from finishing up a pinewood derby car) to the bookshelf and had sloshed about half of the tank water all over my chest. I don't know how many of you have or have had goldfish, but they are dirty little creatures.
Picture me standing in the middle of the wrecked living room, complete with hammers, crayon piles, and wires everywhere looking back-and-forth  from the messy table to the fish tank to my shirt which now smelled like a green pond on a hot day. 

I just knew then and there that I was over that day and bedtime needed to come in the next thirty minutes for everyone's sake. 

Then I looked at the clock and it was only 2 in the afternoon. 

*sigh*

So I came to grips with myself and trudged into the bedroom to change my shirt. I dug through the laundry baskets full of the clothes I hadn't folded and put away from the day before and found an acceptable ratty shirt to wear for the next couple of hours. I still smelled like fish tank, but I knew I was going to shower soon, so I brushed it off.  As I looked around our bedroom, I quickly remembered that it was Monday, which meant it was a big laundry day, so I found all of the hampers and dumped them in the only clean part of the floor in the living room so I could sort them. 

I like to add more chaos when I can.

I got my huge laundry piles separated and was passing through the kitchen on my way to the laundry room when I spied wadded up, half chewed pieces of bread all over the kitchen floor. Being the attention deficit person that I am, I set down the laundry load to pick up the  bits of bread. I would have put them in the the trash, except it seemed that I am the only one who's trash bag changing skills are exemplary enough to accomplish such a feat, therefore everyone leaves the job to me. It's an honor, really. So I changed and took out the trash. As I went to get under the kitchen sink to get a new trash bag, I realized that the sink was now overflowing with dishes that the stupid past me didn't do the night before, nor that morning. So I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher and started it, only to realize that there were still dishes left because our dishwasher is half the size of normal ones. 

 I debated  for about one second about washing the rest by hand, but screw that, I didn't exactly feel like it. 

 I was making my way to my bathroom to finally get my shower when, *knock, knock, knock*

 I looked around at my living room which was in shambles before, but now had three new piles of laundry in the floor as well as a puddle from the fish tank. Then I panned to the kitchen which still had dirty dishes, an empty trash can sitting in the middle of it, and the laundry basket brimming with clothes sitting on the sticky counter.

And finally, I looked at myself, wearing pink fuzzy pajama pants, an I'll fitting, ratty shirt, and my hair was half up, half down because I had gotten in caught on a nail in the wall as I was bending over. 

Plus I smelled like fish water still. 

This next part happened in slow mode in my eyes. 

I saw Sawyer start to open his mouth. I knew what was going to happen next. He was going to yell across the room that someone was at the door, as if I wasn't already aware.

I leaped as gracefully and as quietly as I could to the kitchen table to cover his mouth before he made a sound. 

It had to have been thrilling to be a fly on the wall at this moment.   It was as if I swooped in like an eagle to hush him and usher him into the bedroom to get out of view of the front window. 

It was there, hunkered down in the floor of our dark bedroom, trying to stay quiet, that I realized I had hit a new low.
Sawyer looked up and said with fear in his eyes, "Are we in danger?" 

At this point, the lady (who I didn't know) had left and I assured Sawyer that we were safe and explained why mommy went psycho. 

I eventually got everything sorted and cleaned (including myself) by the time Josh got home. I would have told him about my day, but I don't know if he could empathize as well as my friends, so I just didn't bother, and now I'm telling y'all in the hopes that you can.

The moral of the story here is: Always call me an hour before you come over, if you do show up unannounced, be prepared for this kind of scenario when you get here, and always tackle big projects on the weekend. 

Happy, Tuesday, friends! May it be better than your Monday!