I’m currently rocking back and forth in fetal position sucking my thumb. My children, especially the oldest, has chattered me to death. Even now he explaining how he has devised a new method to laying his outfit out the night before.”Jesus Christ, I don’t care” is what I want to say. Instead I opt for the more motherly response of “Oh sweetie that is a great idea!”
To add to my bitching on this full moon evening, I would like to compare and contrast my household accomplishments for today vs my husband’s, who has made a permanent dip in the sofa. He just came up here 10 minutes ago acting as if he had built an addition on to the house…so exhausted. He went down for his nap at 2 so I’m a bit perplexed.
Made all breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Washed, folded and put away 4 loads of laundry.
Took boys to church*.
Grocery shopped, put away groceries.
Prepared boys backpacks for tomorrow.
Cleaned up 2 pissing pools courtesy of my 13 yr old chihauhau.
Took 2 hours to assist my youngest in cleaning out his hoarders paradise.
1.5 hours of work online so I am not beaten tomorrow in the office.
Took out 1 bag of trash.
Unloaded groceries from car yet without fail, choosing to leave any non-spoiling liquids, such as water bottles for me to take out.
Ran his laundry**. He has yet to fold it. We will be lucky for it to be folded this week.
* Successfully made it another Sunday to church without burning upon crossing the threshold.
** I refuse to do my husband’s laundry as he refuses to wash clothes or really do anything that remotely resembles a chore. His pile grows so high and ridiculous that I’m thinking about starting a separate blog to document the evolutions the pile goes through and how many days between washing. Kind of like a captain’s log. Today was the first time he did laundry in 2 weeks.
Thank you for listening to my complaining. I’m about to pour a bottle of wine in my 8 gallon drum wine glass and enjoy Downton Abbey.