And not a moment too soon. Last week North Carolina was in the record lows for the end of March. It rained every single day except Tuesday, when the wind gusts made the sun shine at a maximum of 30 degrees. Today we are predicted to have a record high for the beginning of April. Of course.
Eliott was awake every day last week at 7am. At least her sister got the Spring Break memo and stayed in bed another hour. For this, Eliott was forced to entertain herself in her bedroom until “Carter wakes up.” I am happy things weren’t the other way around. So naturally, this morning, when I got out of the shower at 8:15, both of the girls were still sound asleep.
I was exactly halfway productive last week despite the fact that I was on full time mom duty for at least 10 hours a day. This means the house got vacuumed (but bathrooms remained dirty), laundry was washed and dried (but only half-way folded and definitely not put away), errands were run as needed, and well planned fully executed meals were cooked every night for dinner (but leftovers are sort of smattered throughout the fridge, unidentified). This is what I get when the only way to get my kids to stop yakking at me is to look busy with anything but the TV, a book, or the computer. Despite the fact that I’m about to hit my one year milestone in stay-at-home-mom-land, I admit I still have not created a weekly schedule for myself and my things to do. I keep thinking I will. Then I keep not doing it.
The truth is, I’m still stuck in the habit of getting all house chores done over the weekend. I like the way Saturday and Sunday frame a nice chunk of time and pose an impending time goal of “If you don’t get this done by Sunday it won’t get done until next weekend.” Usually that is enough to motivate me into full productivity. I like settling down in front of the TV on Sunday night knowing the house (and bathrooms) are clean, the grocery shopping is done, and clean clothes are put away. Somehow, I can embrace Monday when this is my weekend.
Unfortunately, my body now knows that my only responsibility for the rest of the week is making sure my children don’t die. I mean, there’s dropping them off and picking them up from school on time M-W-F, and nap-time every day around 1:30, but otherwise, my days are pretty wide open. It seems a little stupid and pretty lazy that anything I don’t finish on the weekend gets put off until the next weekend, but I’m not lying when I say that the clean laundry that has been laid neatly on the chair in my bedroom to prevent wrinkles will not be put away until next Saturday. The toilets will have to go another week, and maybe if I’m lucky, I can send my husband to the grocery store on his way home from work for bread, milk, and raisins.
When the weather warmed up on Saturday, we sort of went outside and then never really came back in. At 5:30 last night it dawned on me that we had nothing to eat for dinner. I sent John for grocery-store-deli fried chicken (my favorite) and beer, and proceeded not to re-stock any of the staples we clearly need.
This is why we’re having soup for dinner tonight, even though it is about 86 degrees outside. Because if there’s one thing I do well, it is a big mean pot of clean-out-the-fridge soup. Everything is in and it is on the stove, cooking itself, as we speak. This frees up my afternoon to sit on my porch with some sun tea (yes, I am that domestic) and watch my kids blow bubbles. Maybe I should finally pick up the book for April book club.
I’m too busy cherishing these moments that every one keeps telling me to cherish to do any chores today, or for the rest of the week, I suspect. And in the words of my brother, if my only real responsibility for the day is reading the book for book club, well, that’s a pretty damn good day.