So remember when you were little and used to wish that you had a robot that could do all your work for you? Or a button that you could push and the dishes were magically cleared, washed, dried, and put away? Yeah, I’m having one of those days. So instead of doing the mountain(s) of laundry, or the dishes filling the table and counters , or even taking the groceries downstairs to put away (Sam’s Club trip on Saturday night–Yes, they’re all still sitting in my entry), I’m blogging. That’s a good use of my time. Oh, and I’m very sarcastic this morning.
It could be because my almost two-year-old wouldn’t go to bed again last night. Around 11 I finally figured out he was hungry. After half a package of graham crackers and two cups of chocolate milk, he finally fell asleep. I carried him upstairs to his bedroom where number two son’s alarm clock was sounding. It was midnight. Naturally, the baby woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep. I ended up crawling in bed with him. At one o’clock he was sleeping soundly enough that I sneaked back to my bed. And so did he. Which woke up Nate, and I felt terrible because he had to get up in an hour and bale hay.
So I packed the baby back to his bed and spent another hour there. This time I made it back to my bed without a follower. Then the children woke up at six to move sprinkler pipe and Nate came in shortly after that to get ready to go to work and now it’s 11:00 and I’m wishing for a magic button . . . or a maid. Maybe I’ll have to settle for putting on my ipod and getting to work.
I hear ya! Will a reset button do? It ‘s certainly less satisfying than a button that will do our work for us, but taking a minute to reset mentally provides a magic of its own. Uh, right?
I’m glad I sauntered to the computer to read your post just now. It’s nice to know we’re not alone. To reach my “reset” I left a pioneer trek skirt in the sewing stage on my kitchen table, a hose running in the vegetable garden, a basket of wet laundry that I haven’t hung yet because I got distracted seeing how cluttered the picnic table is; and children tackling with butter knives the popsicle mold I bought yesterday because the goodies won’t come out.. And I’m writing this long reply because I’m avoiding making dinner, which will inevitably require the clearing of a table somewhere. 🙂
Oh how I loved the picture your words painted. It seemed strangely like–home.
Yes, definitely a reset button. If only it could include some sleep . . .
A trek skirt?! For you or your daughter. Who is the lucky lady?
When you find a robot or a magic button will you send it my way? Thanks.
By the way, sorry I never got back to you about some help loading furniture from my Mom’s house last Saturday. Apparently my sister thought I would call you and I thought she would. Ooops! It’s all done, though.
I’m so sorry about the confusion. On the 4th (after the parade), I thought, I should call you or Charlotte and get the details nailed down. Then I never thought about it again until Monday morning! I must have thrown away the paper with both your numbers on it when I cleaned my desk . . . but I was still going to find your number and call until I forgot. Again. So sorry. Glad everything got moved.
Emma’s the lucky trek lady. We had our last sewing get-together with the ward last night, and she is excited. (Yay! We finished everything!) Kyle is going too. I know it will be hot, hard and dusty, but I hope their experience is as spiritually memorable as when I went on trek as a youth.