I see a picture on the mantle I keep meaning to hang. Pull it down, it's covered in dust. Go get paper towel to clean it off. See I'm at the end of my paper towel roll. Go downstairs to grab a couple of rolls, see the cans of soup still on the floor from last shopping trip. Start loading them on the shelf. Step on shovel, and remember looking for it two days ago in the garage but it wasn't there. Take the shovel to the garage and see the freezer left open by naughty popsicle-sneaking kids. Notice stray popsicles and 2 year old chimichangas are thawed out at the bottom of the freezer so I decide now is as good a time as any to clean out the freezer. Clear out about 3 things, get popsicle juice all over my arms, go to the yard to hose it off. See the flowers are wilting and garden looks dry, set up sprinkler for yard. Kids see sprinkler and beg to get wet. Help find missing swimsuit bottoms, and say for the 43rd time, "Yes you have to wear something, you can't go naked through the sprinkler." Spend ten minutes looking for sunscreen. Find it in the fridge, in the gogurt box, apply sunscreen. Get it in at least three eyes and survive the whining and griping. Barely. Stand in the middle of the yard wondering where I was and what I was doing. Go inside, in case that helps me remember. See picture sitting on counter, dirty. Remember the vinegar in the garage, go to the garage to get it, freezer door still open because of absent-minded, non-popsicle-stealing, mom. Close freezer on half finished cleaning job, grab vinegar. Remember I want vinegar up in the laundry room as well. Take bottle up there. Take load out of the dryer, notice the load in the washing machine smells worse than it went in, because it's been a couple of days. Restart load. Notice the soap dispenser is all cruddy and has soap build up. Go grab a washcloth from bathroom, there are none. Remember bucket downstairs has dirty rags in it, run downstairs to bring them up, to wash with the vinegar I just took up there, see there are a couple more dirty rags in the sink. Go to throw them in the bucket and realize one rag has at least one more cleaning job left in it. Get down on hands and knees to work on a spot on the floor. Newly mobile infant makes her way to me, slobbery, giggling and full of delight with her mobility. She must have my face in her mouth, my hair in her hands, her feet on my shoulders. And then she is hungry.
Husband comes home to messy house, me in my pajamas, wet kids, no plans for dinner, and I'm sitting in the recliner nearly comatose with a sleeping baby in my lap, watching Drop Dead Diva on Netflix.
I don't know how I got there.