Monday was one of those days where Doug walked through the front door & I just shrugged.

There was no dinner in the oven, the child was shoeless & filthy, toddler bedding was strewn across the living room floor, & my hair was in a top knot with a bandana holding back my bangs.  In short?  We were a hot, hot mess.  If Doug had asked me what I did all day (you know, if he wanted to have his balls for dinner), then I would have simply said that I kept his kid alive for one more day.

Oh, sure.  I had plenty of aspirations including homemade chicken pot pie for dinner & dessert in the oven for the basketball championship game.  When I woke up that morning, I imagined booking an extra hour while the boys did their nightly game of chase in the backyard.  Then reality took over – Harrison slept in a little bit, I took him out for breakfast before we went grocery shopping & he was perfectly behaved the entire morning.  Then he dumped tomato soup on his head & needed a mid-day bath, my laptop battery died, & I found two molars blistering through his gums all before naptime.  We spent the rest of the day “camping” in a Thomas the Train tent & coloring (only making it into the coloring book 50% of the time, RIP Melissa & Doug puzzle).

Nothing that mothers don’t deal with on a regular basis.  Nothing that I didn’t face in the office with other work.  Nothing to complain about or make a fuss over, but just the little things that take away from the moments in the day & I look up & oh my, how is it 5:30pm already?!  I haven’t worked or made dinner or cleaned the house or done anything that leaves a tangible response.

I called my mother the next morning & she reassured me that in her many years at home, she had days like that where the clock flew faster than the to-do list.  & that there were many times where “Honey! The children are still alive!” was worth celebrating.