To echo my seven-year-old, “This has been a long week.” Whew, girl, has it!
Somehow when I've had a tiring, productive day at work, I come home revved up to be productive on the home front. Tonight is one such night. The air outside is crisp, and I'm reminded that tomorrow we are headed to a corn maze with Cadence's brownie troop. Her laundry basket is full to overflowing, and the mother of the house had a minor tantrum this morning when it was determined that the wrong clothes were available for Cardinals' wear day at school. It's time to do some laundry.
But then I get sidetracked by dropping a light bulb I am trying to replace in the bathroom. Right about now I think I'm living the adult version of If You Give A Mouse a Cookie... If you give this Mom some space and time she will jump from household task to household task, and actually call this fun.
The bathroom rug which caught some of the shrapnel cut in line before Cadence's clothes, and the sink and bathroom floor got cleaned. So there ARE silver linings.
I've cleared a path in front of my counter-top desk in my office, and this is where this post is being written. I look around and see at least seventeen other tasks that are calling to me: brownie patches to be sewn on a brownie vest, letters to be written, bills to be paid, clothes to be bagged for the donation bin, a sad movie to be watched, glasses to be carried down to the kitchen sink. Okay, that's only six tasks, but I am certain I can find a full seventeen.
The roar of the baseball crowd floats up the stairs from the TV in the living room. My daughter is at her friend G's house playing away this week's stress of tricky second-grade spelling words and the life cycle of a caterpillar.
This is the first weekend in four that I am not going to go into the office to get just a few more things done in peace and quiet before another long week. It feels a bit like a luxury, this not going to the office.
Give away some outgrown shoes of Cadences, organize school papers, pull out the winter clothes, get caught up on this week's episode of The Voice, update my daughter's journal...the tasks keep mounting and now I'm six tasks away from the estimated.
The second-grader is home from her playdate without any arm-twisting. She can't sit idle, so she's convinced her dad that a trip to Target should be next on the agenda for this expansive, happy Friday night. I decline the invitation to tag along. Time alone for a mama is about the very best thing ever. On this Friday night, contentment is mine.
