Look; you already know that I’m basically sort of lazy. (At least when it comes to physical stuff. My mind is sort of like a hamster on crack on a giant wheel, running for broke. It doesn’t often GET anywhere, but at least it’s going.) So I preface this story with the acknowledgment that what I consider an incredibly productive weekend may, indeed, be your idea of an uneventful hour. I understand that. Still, FOR ME, it was something of a masterpiece of productivity, and you’ll just have to allow me a few moments of bragging about it.
Besides, we all know there’s a moment at the end where I got knocked down a couple of pegs, because that’s just how it goes. Success in my world can sometimes be fleeting; I accept this.
Usually. I mean, most of the time.
I mean… well, you’ll just have to see for yourself.
The kids have been back to school for two weeks, and all of the things we accomplished in a leisurely manner while they were still lounging around the house this summer (or, um, not at all, because we were busy slacking) are now being crammed in here and there or overlooked entirely, now that everyone has Someplace To Be and Something To Do at every minute of every day. I kind of consider the first month back on schedule to be a success if everyone gets out alive, quite frankly, but I also sometimes stop and look around and feel overwhelmed by everything that needs doing.
On Friday afternoon I made sure to clean out everyone’s lunch boxes (because doing that on Monday morning sucks, both because it SMELLS and because then there are things like OH NO I forgot to refreeze the weird phallic ice packs that screw into the kids’ water thermoses) and made the kids clean out their backpacks, and then I triumphantly
demanded requested that Otto bring home food for dinner so that we could just eat and relax and not worry about cooking. Friday evening was lovely.
On Saturday I did approximately eleventy loads of laundry, completely cleaned off my desk, filed paperwork, organized my bookshelves, packaged up items to be mailed, paid bills, renewed magazine subscriptions, meal-planned for the week to come, hosted a playdate which meant the volume in my house went up to 11, took the dog to get groomed, ran a bunch of errands, and told Chickadee “we are not shopping for you while we’re out today” and then (yeah, I know) ended up buying her a pair of sneakers in our travels. (The child has an unnatural obsession with the Chucks she received for her birthday. Yet her feet, they keep growing. She found another adorable pair in the next size up for roughly half what I’d paid for the first pair, on sale. I HAD NO CHOICE.)
On Sunday, I vacuumed most of the house, did more laundry, changed linens, cleaned the kitchen, tasked the kids with dusting, had them clean their rooms and then the bathroom while I cleaned the other bathrooms, helped Chickadee with an assignment, grocery shopped, did a bunch of food prep for the week, responded to a bunch of emails I probably should’ve responded to a long time ago, updated the family calendar, and had everyone in bed clean and well-fed and EARLY.
Otto and I celebrated by staying up to watch Mad Men with popcorn. Because we are party animals.
He kept complimenting me on my productivity this weekend, too. There was this tone of wonderment, almost, like he just couldn’t believe I’d gotten so much done. I tried to take it in the (complimentary) spirit in which it was intended, but I did feel a little defensive after a while, like, am I usually SO slothful and unproductive that this is just a COMPLETE SHOCK? (Answer: Yes, actually.)
Anyway, we all got up this morning and I went to pack lunches and realized that after ALL OF THAT organization and cleaning, somehow I’d managed to leave the ice packs in the water bottles. On the counter. Of course.
I put extra ice cubes in their containers, so I’m still claiming this weekend as a victory. Even if I am something of a dumbass.