I’m tired. And sometimes I’m amazed by how easy it is for me to get this way. My life isn’t that super crammed with things on the calendar. My to do list often has just the essentials on it. How do the working mothers do it? Well, maybe their houses don’t get as trashed every day, I tell myself, but then, I don’t really know.
But I’m still whupped by the time the boys go down for nap, my poor, tired bones just aching to rest. It’s Friday, and I’m done in.
The floor is sticky, there’s dust in the corners, the deck is mess of cobwebs, leaves, and random toys. I don’t care. And I’m thrilled about that. I kick the toys away from the center of the playroom, ignore the stains on the rug, and call it “picked up.”
Soup is in the crockpot, and I care not a bit that the single gal who’s coming for dinner will be using a dish towel to wipe her hands in the downstairs bathroom. This is hospitality “young mom” style. You can come in; just don’t look too closely at my house. But go ahead and admire the handprint art on my windows. Ain’t it cute? That lavendar candle will cover over the faint, lingering scent of teething poop, won’t it? I thought so…
Happy Friday. I’m going to lie down.