Yesterday afternoon, I decided, hey, the laundry pile isn't towering over me yet, let's strip the boys beds and wash the sheets.
At 9 pm, we sent them to bed, like we always do. At 9:01, Ben comes back into the living room: "Mom, why is my bed all messed up?"
I jumped up to my feet, mumbling expletives to myself as I walked down the hall...HOW did I forget the tiny detail of oh, I don't know, their beds? The favorite sheets were still in the washer, so I opened the linen closet and prayed for a miracle--that the sheets I sought would just fall out onto my head, instead of me having to search for them, and that this might jar my brain back into place. I got them settled in and then tended to the wet sheets right away, lest I forget them again. (And I know I would have.) I find myself muttering, almost chanting, my next task to myself as I go from room to room all day. It's not like I'm not a smart girl, it's just that there are so many distractions...stray toys left within jaw-crushing range of the puppy, a pile of mail, the towels I'm gonna throw into the wash next, a bathroom mess, "Mommy can I have some ___?"....all vying for my attention. I'm lucky if I make it to the bathroom in one straight shot.
And then there's the other thing that competes for my attention.
It's much more subtle, but time consuming nonetheless. I was once told that should I get started doing this, my children would be left to nosh on uncooked macaroni in their dirty underwear while I was enchanted and entranced by the glow from the screen.
A new tv show? Nah. This. Writing in my journal. While writing in my j takes time, I'm more surprised at the time I take reading others. There's a list over there, under 'other journals' of some of the j's I read regularly. That can account for some of my time, lol, but when you start the j-hopping boogie, when you go from one to another via the links you find there, well, get out your good dancing shoes cuz you might be there all night. Before you know it, the time you usually take making the rounds is suddenly <gasp> two hours, and you were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago to pick up the kids. (Sorry, Ryan.) Ha, I've discovered I better set my oven timer if I pop something in for the kids, because telling them they gotta wait longer because "oops, Mommy burned it" is not a good thing, and the novelty of uncooked macaroni has worn off.
As I was writing this, I had grandiose plans of including not only their link but a link to my favorite entries...but I knew I wouldn't have time to backtrack. Hey, part of the fun of reading someone's j is checking out their back entries anyway. Besides, one of my favorites, Un-Common Sense, doesn't have any back entries due to someone pushing the 'smite' button over an alleged TOS violation, so his back eighteen (months) is missing anyway. The back entries that are there will tell you all about it, so check it out. It's a safe bet you'll change your mind about backing up your journal yourself.
There are journals I read that are from fellow Moms-in-the-trenches (Laura, Chantal, Peachy, and Kelly). The journals of the single hip chicks (Tara, Deni, and Nikki). The ones from the Moms that have been here before, and lived to tell about it (Suz, Kendra, and Anne). Mrs L and this lady, also Moms that live to tell the tale, are so funny that I have regained hope that my brain will not turn to mush and never be seen again. In the meantime, however, I have Armand, Remo, and Patrick giving me something to mull over once in a while.
There are more, of course. But I'm out of time...there's the issue of that pesky toddler that needs to be fed, and a puppy that is doing the gawd-woman-let-me-out dance.