Empty

{Yes, that is white wine in my fridge. Cooking wine. It should also be noted that all contents on the right hand side of the fridge belong to Timm, except for the Diet Coke with lime that I have repossessed.}

I probably should have guessed it when I arrived home and was immediately met with a cat crap stain in the living room and an unidentifiable smell pervading the house: It was not going to be an easy return.

To be fair, I should preface this with saying that Timm went above and beyond what is necessary or expected to ensure that I came home to a clean house. I always make sure that I leave the house clean, whether I leave for the day, or for an extended trip like this, so it is very gratifying to see him take the care to do the same. He mopped, he did all the laundry, he changed the sheets, he ironed, he vacuumed, he did the dishes- It was great. Unfortunately he was not home to intercept the aforementioned cat crap stain or the other debacles I was yet to face.

 We got in after 11pm, and the girls didn't get in bed until midnight. I stayed up for a bit going through mail and enjoying the first quiet I experienced in nearly three weeks. The next day was spent doing the usual post-trip chores: unpacking, laundry, vacuuming, pouring out the two week past-expiration solid milk Timm left in the fridge, etc. That evening we finally went out to the grocery store to procure some much-needed staples for the next few days. After about an hour of shopping, we went to check out. Being almost entirely out of food, the total was a bit more than I expected and I swiped the credit card to make the purchase. Timm and I had previously carefully planned out the final expenses of the month, dividing them between the scarce balances on our two credit cards. (Our goal of paying those off isn't going too well. It's a tough gig trying to survive on the less than $2500 a month paycheck a teacher's salary provides.10 months a year. For a family of 4.) Needless to say, the card was declined. In futility, I tried again. (I'm a glutton for punishment and public embarrassment.) Next I tried to write a check, reasoning that it wouldn't go through before he was paid on Friday, only to find that I had left my driver's license at home. They called over two different managers, both of whom refused to take my check without my driver's license. Even with another form of id and my social. Defeated, I left the store telling them I would be back with my driver's license even though I knew it was not true. I don't know why I told them I would return, but it was probably to save face. Upon leaving, Bella realized that they were out of free cookies and started to cry while Fiona loudly protested over her bandaids that we had to leave behind in the cart.  I couldn't help it: I cried on the way home, and I cried when we got home. I fed them toast for dinner and then started in on the next obstacle designed to defeat me.

At some point during the day I tried to move some food from our freezer to out chest freezer, only to find that at some point while I was away it had tripped the breaker, which happens frequently. The good news is, being poor as we are, there was hardly any food in it. The bad news is, there was some previously frozen Brussels sprouts, which had thawed and proceeded to decompose for approximately 2 weeks. Now, I love Brussels sprouts. Fresh, well-prepared Brussels spouts. However,  I cannot adequately describe to you the power or force of the stench that was unleashed when I broke the seal on that chest freezer. The cruciferous odor that had been captured in that small space was enough to take on a life of it's own. If it were a cartoon, it would be a thick green ribbon snaking through the house leaving death and destruction in it's wake. Since it was not a cartoon, I tied a dish towel over my nose and mouth and opened the freezer once more to face it's fury. After I threw away the offending and ruined food, I began to try and drain the 2 inches of standing water infused with essence of rotten Brussels sprouts. I attempted to drain it onto cookie sheets, but kept spilling fetid water onto the carpet so I opted to sop it up with towels which I quickly transferred to the washing machine. I wiped it out with Lysol and let it air out overnight, but I'm afraid some damage is irreversible. I am what they say a 'super-smeller' and keep thinking I smell those Brussels sprouts wherever I go.

Lastly, coming back East was a much harder adjustment, and Bella was obviously stuck on Vegas time since she didn't fall asleep until after midnight. I was desperately trying to watch last week's Survivor on my laptop, trying to reverse the damages of the day while pillaging their Easter candy, and she kept coming out, all. night. long. Eventually we both settled into my bed, and she fell asleep there around midnight. We took the day off again today, hoping to get her acclimated enough to return to school on Friday. I got a few groceries, and Timm gets his teacher's lump sum tomorrow. I'm trying not to think about the fact that it will almost be gone the same day after our online automatic bill pay has it's way with it.

For now I am going to settle in for another Survivor on my laptop, and make sure that girl is asleep this time.

Whew. Tomorrow I can start on my trip highlights, of which there were many.

Pop Quiz:

Which dresser is mine?

The one that houses just a few decorative elements and the necessary bedside items? (in this case, glasses, oft-worn jewelry, perfume, Carmex, and a stack of books-)

Or-

-the one that's contents are pushed to the very limits of the dresser in order to keep a modicum of tidiness and reveal just a bit of clean surface?

Was it the perfume that gave it away?

Note, also, the boxes in front of his dresser. Now and then when I can't take the various piles about the house, I resort to filling boxes with all of the miscellany for him to deal with later, so that at least it is condensed. I don't know that this is actually effective, since the boxes seem to remain untouched for weeks, if not months. Every morning I also find at least one article of clothing on the floor. It does not escape my notice that the clothing, haphazardly dropped on the floor, is within 1-2 feet if the dresser, the closet, and the hamper, all. Take your pick.
And thus, I will never be out of work as a housekeeper.
Just a minute detail of my job.

Flux

For me, one of the hardest parts of motherhood is the constantly changing and evolving schedules of my children, depending on their age and stage at the time. The flexibility required to continually adapt and adjust my priorities, my time tables and my days.
For instance, I generally use Fiona's morning nap to get any cleaning that needs to be done, allowing me the afternoon nap to rest and recuperate, all to myself. I need that small does of alone time in my day to get me through the rest of it with some sanity intact. I've been working on my Home Management Notebook lately and have gotten my schedule pretty well arranged. (Providing I actually stick to my various schedules, of course.) And now? Fiona has not been taking morning naps. This makes it difficult, if not impossible to get any cleaning done, let alone get ready for the day. Augh. I struggle with productivity and motivation enough without having constant wrenches thrown into things. I know there is a solution to this, it will just take some reexamination and retooling, not to mention sacrifice of 'my' time. It just frustrates me to never have a constant- except change!
I'm afraid I'm also going to have to start getting up earlier. Which probably also means going to bed earlier.
AUgh!!

Whine

I'm sick.My ears are ringing. I lost my voice. I have an earache. I have phlegm. I have a stuffy nose. I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't take a day off. I hate being the sick mom. Not only do you get no rest and no special accommodations or care, but you're still taking care of everyone else. 3 year olds and 5 month olds are not the best nurses, or very understanding either. They still whine, cry, wake up in the middle of the night, and generally drive you crazy. Even crazier when you feel like someone is sawing your ear off.
Blimey.