The Post-Mother’s Day Bliss Bust

So its the day after Mother’s Day and I wake up feeling a little blissed out. Mother’s Day is better than Christmas, my birthday and any other holiday all rolled together. For me at least. I don’t have to cook anything. I don’t have to clean anything. And I especially don’t have to wipe anyone’s hands, face or butt. It’s wonderful.

After a day of contentedness, I wake up a little earlier than normal, ready to start my normal Monday routine. I get up and immediately know something is up. The kids are still in their room and they’re quiet. Not asleep. Just quiet, with some occasional giggling. I walk into the kitchen and there is a huge mess (which I must admit, looked like they had tried to clean up and hide from me) of watercolor paints, water, brushes and waterlogged paper on the floor and counter.

I tiptoe to their bedroom door and swing it open to find my two little monsters… eating the leftovers of my Mother’s Day dinner that I brought home to have for my lunch today. Oh, and the part they didn’t get to yet was sitting inside my daughter’s dresser drawer. All. Over. Her. Clothes.

Yeah. My bliss is busted just like that. Within 2 minutes of being awake.

I tell the kids that since they decided to help themselves to the food in my fridge, that I was happy that I wouldn’t have to make them breakfast. A big crying fest begins. I call their dad at work at, what?, 7:20 in the morning. After I had cleaned up the watercolor mess and started a pot of coffee. We chat about what exactly we need to do to get it through to our 5 year-old that she can’t just do whatever she wants to do. It’s like she thinks that if no one is around to actually see her doing it, than she hasn’t really broken the rules.

I drink my coffee in my office while I listen to the kids argue amongst themselves about who was responsible for the lack of mom’s usual hot breakfast service. And I smile when I remember that today is Monday, which means I get a 3 hours of preschool break from my 5 year-old.

Now I just have to figure out how to get someone else to pick up all the toys that were left everywhere on Mother’s Day. And make me lunch. And fold the load of laundry I just put in the dryer. *Sigh* I think I need a wife.


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