Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Crying Over Spilled Milk

Mornings are crazy around here (see Meltdown Madness as proof) so once I get the kids off to school, I like to reward myself with a cup of coffee. Except that rarely happens. Because as soon as I walk in the door from the bus stop and/or preschool, I look around and see the 10,000 things that need to be done around the house.

I have been trying to get to the kitchen floor for a couple days. It is filthy, as it is the main thoroughfare for all humans (6) and dogs (2) in our house and it is adjacent to the mudroom. Despite its name, the mudroom not only collects mud, but also houses shoes, backpacks, lunch boxes, recycling, coats, vacuum cleaner, craft supplies, toys, tools, dog bed, dog food, and all sorts of debris that is carried in from the outside. And all that debris gets tracked into my kitchen. Needless to say, the kitchen floor gets really dirty. (So does the mudroom floor but since no food is prepared in there, it doesn't seem to bother me as much.)

So I decide that I absolutely MUST wash the kitchen floor before my coffee. My mother raised me to believe that the only way to wash a floor is on your hands and knees so I begin scrubbing the floor. Not once, but TWICE. Yes, it really was that dirty. Honestly. I changed the water at least 10x while washing. I was not kidding when I said it was dirty. I assure you that I wash the kitchen floor weekly. It just gets REALLY dirty again. OK. So now the floor is nice and clean and the kitchen smells good and I can walk in my bare feet without stepping on crumbs and grime. This must be a taste of what heaven is like.

In any case, I decided to hold off on the coffed and clean the playroom first. While I was in the playroom, I checked my email (the computer is in the playroom) and was in the midst of answering an email from a friend (hi, Michele!) when I went into the kitchen to check the calendar before hitting the "send" button on the email. And there is my 2 year old, grin ear to ear, standing in a puddle of milk. On my NEWLY WASHED floor! I have no idea how he managed to get the milk carton out of the fridge and pour it himself, but not only did he manage this, but he also managed to put the milk away by himself too. (As the youngest of four, he is pretty resourceful and tries to act older than he is.) So I start cleaning up the spilled milk and lecturing him about why he cannot do this, it makes a big mess for Mommy, Mommy just washed the floor, etc., etc. I don't think he was listening because he was literally dancing around the kitchen, delighted with himself for pouring his own milk. As he was dancing, he managed to spill the entire contents of the milk cup on the formerly clean kitchen floor. So I basically washed my kitchen floor not once, not twice, but three times today!!!

And I still have not had my cup of coffee.

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