I need a big cup of coffee right now. I’d like to say I slept well last night, but our little guy had a waking spell around 4am (which is highly rare for him) and he just couldn’t settle back down. Poor dude. Poor mommy. I was kneeling next to his bed, rubbing his back and all I wanted to do was lay my head down and go back to sleep, but, as it is when I wake up early like that, once I got back into bed I couldn’t drift off again.
My head always seems to fill up with things, if I’m awake for too long. Bits and pieces from the coming day start swirling around, along with anxieties, frustrations, and even, sometimes, hunger. Mostly I battle them back and go back to sleep, but it’s only after a prolonged hour or two. Some mornings I give in and get up, hoping for some kind of productivity. And once in a great while, I get the thoughts to retreat and I actually go back to sleep.
This morning was one of the prolonged battle type mornings. I did drift off, late, and then my body’s idea of sleeping in was to let me hang in there until 8:30. I could hear little voices downstairs (Bren had the Wii going) and no matter how I try, I just can’t turn off the “mommy-alert” status that puts my body into.
In the meantime, Todd lay there, snoozing and snoring. I looked at him, one more time before getting out of bed, and I really wanted to jump up and down on the bed and cheer “THE KIDS ARE UP – HOW CAN YOU SLEEP???”
Yeah. Dads just do not seem to have the same alert system that moms do. Or maybe that’s this particular dad. I don’t know.
I have mammoth amounts of cleaning to do today. I’m looking at my desk right now and I can’t help but shudder. The downstairs big table has become a repository for all things paper. The living room is scattered with shoes, coats, toys and the remnants of what should be filled DVD boxes. Our kids are down there, playing quietly, so it’s hard for me to feel motivated right now. They are happy little guys – one has his car book (with the accompanying stickers that are now attached to a bookshelf… sigh) and the other is thrilled with Lego Star Wars the Complete Saga.
I’m hiding up here, typing furiously, because I haven’t had any quality blogging time in a while… but I feel guilty, guilty, guilty.
I should have a load of laundry in. I should be working on cleaning off my desk, the table, the living room, the giant ex-Christmas tree mess that defies description.
Should, should, should.
It’s rattling around in my brain. I hate “should”. I like the thought of magic house fairy instead. She (and I say “she” because cute as Dwayne Johnson was in a tutu, I want a woman doing this magical assistance because I know – and here is my momentary descent into sexism – she will do it the way I would like), the Magic House Fairy (MHF), would come in, sprinkle fairy dust of the active type, not the passive, make more mess type, and wave her MHF official wand… My house would emerge sparkling, well-organized, clean down to the micron level, and both children would be gleaming with a healthy glow of good nutrition.
We’re stuck with me and my side-kick, Makes Big Messes.
I am fully willing to admit my failings and here is my biggest, most warty failing. I enjoy cleaning ONLY when I have absolutely NO other commitments whatsoever. Now, it should be noted that working and school both constitute MASSIVE commitments. When I have a break from either, the very last thing I wish to even remotely consider is doing laundry or dishes. I want to sit, quietly and do absolutely nothing except something which is frivolous and serves no other greater good.
All this will do, however, is allow the mess to increase and have the cheery side-effect of making me miserable on Monday when I return to work, fully conscious of the fact that the house work did NOT get done. That it will, instead, build on itself until I have even more to do once I find an ounce of drive to do it.
So if you have an MHF, please send her (or even him, I’m desperate) right away.
cheers on what could potentially be a productive Sunday,