I'm in way over my head.My husband works out-of-state and is home on weekends; however, this week he had to stay over. Thinking I had a two-week block in which I could tackle some house projects and feeling very ambitious, I have somehow managed to destroy my entire bedroom. It looked as though a bomb went off in it before...now it looks like one of those rooms you see on TV when the police go into a home after neighbors complain of odd odors and they find a body buried under piles of trash. (Okay, my bedroom looks like that except for the dead body. The only body in this room is the exhausted one crashed here on the bed.)
Of course, last week I still had my freelance work and homeschooling, invited a neighbor family with their four kids for dinner, had two five-year-old twins join my five-year-old for a sleepover, had my older daughters build a fort in the living room for their sleepover, took our dog to a dog show, and drove all over creation to classes and grocery shopping and other child activities.
My husband comes home in three days, and I can't see the bedroom floor.
So there go my plans to surprise him with the bedroom cleared out of all our construction debris from the remodeling project from two years ago in addition to cleaning out the garage. I've only made the garage worse as I haul the tools, supplies, wood, and everything else out of the bedroom and into that space.
Why do I think I can do it all, and do it all perfectly, and feel terrible when I don't accomplish it all, even when what I do accomplish is really pretty darn good?
And why do I keep forgetting there are just so many minutes in a day? You'd think, after being on this planet for thirty-eight years, I'd have some idea of how many minutes there are and just how long it takes to do some things. Why do I have so many unrealistic expectations of all that I should be able to accomplish?
Oh, yeah. Because I'm a mom.
And, as a mother, I forget: I don't have to do everything. I just think I do.
So, if you don't hear from me for a while, please come look for me. I might be trapped under one of the thirty-two piles of stuff I've got two days to organize or trash. Just don't let the TV cameras in here. Please.
