My Wednesday began as it usually does. With me getting up and THEN remembering that I should have gotten up earlier because Wednesday is always my craziest day of the week.
I lovingly(ish) awakened my hard-sleeping children, urged them to the breakfast table, and jumped into the shower.
Somewhere between me getting dressed and the kids brushing their teeth (only after being reminded, even though you would think this should be an unforgettable daily habit), the discovery came to light that my 10yo son did not, in fact, need black pants to wear with his choir shirt to the World’s Coolest Field Trip Ever That He’d Been Looking Forward to All Year Long. (Like I thought he did.)
He needed jeans. Needed/wouldn’t-be-allowed-to-go-if-he-didn’t-have-on-what-he-was-supposed-to-have-on.
And even though he also had needed jeans for a choir performance last Friday (and had to instead wear slightly highwater navy pants because WE COULDN’T FIND HIS ONE PAIR OF JEANS THAT ISN’T SIX-INCHES-TOO-SHORT), it had not occurred to him to tell me this before 7 a.m. Wed. morning.
I won’t describe my reaction.
After a pointless search through the same places I searched last Friday, and internal dialogue with myself over whether this should be a teachable moment (about the need to prepare the night before), or whether it was worth it to make him miss the one thing he has been excited about all year with choir (which I forced him to join) . . . I decided to make an early morning trip to Walmart and buy him some jeans.
Very early. Since I need to leave by 7:45 to get to Bible Study on time.
So . . . the clean dishes in the dishwasher that needed to be put away . . . never entered my mind.
I went through my normal crazy-Wednesday, with the addition of spending the afternoon driving 45 minutes (each way) to get Hubby’s Elvis costume for his appearance at prom this weekend. Y’know how that is, right?
We arrived back in town just in time to be last in line for Wednesday night supper at church. I then spent two-and-a-half hours in music practice. This was followed by Hubby’s and my weekly Survivor-watching-ritual.
So, at 10:30, when I got online to check email for the last time, I posted on my facebook page that I was going to bed without doing the dishes.
Even though (as you know if you’ve read my e-book) that’s a huge no-no for someone who wants their house to stay under control.
So, this morning, I had to “waste” 38 minutes doing the dishes/cleaning the kitchen.
As I cleaned, I thought about my day yesterday. I was home for about an hour-and-a-half total other than the Survivor Hour. I could have emptied and re-loaded the dishwasher.
IF that had ever occurred to me.
Yes, it’s proof that the routine of this non-negotiable task is key with my Slob Brain.
I also thought about my Crazy Day in terms of excuses. But since I’ve worked hard to stop making excuses during this (ongoing/never-ending) deslobification process, I realized that I don’t really see these things as excuses anymore.
They’re just things that occasionally happen in my over-loaded and generally-fun life.
And somehow, when I don’t see them as excuses, I have more energy to just keep going. Less self-loathing from knowing I’m being whiny and lame.
More understanding that one day lost isn’t a reason to give up on every other day.
Accepting life as life helps me tackle the dishes the next morning because I know they have to be done and again that same night to get right back on track.
I know they didn’t secretly multiply in the middle of the night while giggling about what my face would look like when I walked into the kitchen this morning.
They’re just dishes. Not my nemesis.