Today was the first day I felt like our house was going to return to normal. The sickies are better. I got a quick bug and fought it off without throwing up. I was insanely excited about this, even through my aching body. Isn't it the truth that everyone would go through hell and high water so as to avoid throwing up?
William went to school. The girls and I went to Trader Joe's to restock our shelves. We came home and I unpacked the groceries. Before I walked back out the door to grab William from school I remembered to bring that wet mop back downstairs that I used all day yesterday to wipe out any remaining germs. And there is was, rearing its ugly head back at me. A huge water stain on our hardwood floors in the dining room. And not in an inconspicuous place either.
I could have screamed. Actually, I think I did scream.
That's the thing about where I'm at right now. Just when I think I've got a handle on things, I get kicked down again. Now I've got this massive ugly imperfection staring at me every time I walk past it into the kitchen to remind me that I screwed up. I fell short of doing all I had to do.
It's so unlike me not to tidy up loose ends, especially after a cleaning day. But there has just been so much lately. I should have put it away before we went outside to play yesterday afternoon. But Lucy had to go potty. I should have put it away while I was doing the dinner dishes. But the baby got hungry. I should have put it away while I was watching some evening television. But I was folding an endless mountain of laundry instead.
The real fact of the matter is this: I cannot do it all. Even if it is as simple as bringing a mop back downstairs to its rightful location instead of letting its dampness marinate your beautiful hardwood floors all night long.
And so begins the pity party. I Google "How to Remove a Water Stain from Hardwood Floors." And after each DIY step I kick myself. Why didn't I just bring the damn mop back downstairs?!
And I know, I know, it's not really about the mop. Or the stain. It never is.
It's about control. And an image. About wanting to appear like I can do it all when I never can. Because no one ever can.
It's about wanting to catch a break after a week of illness. And thinking the universe owes me one.
It's about realizing what really matters. In the grand scheme of things.
Because I know no one is going to remember me for a water stain.
But right now, that's the hangnail I'm choosing to tug on. Even if it is small potatoes. Relatively speaking.
Because it's not about the stain. It never is.
William went to school. The girls and I went to Trader Joe's to restock our shelves. We came home and I unpacked the groceries. Before I walked back out the door to grab William from school I remembered to bring that wet mop back downstairs that I used all day yesterday to wipe out any remaining germs. And there is was, rearing its ugly head back at me. A huge water stain on our hardwood floors in the dining room. And not in an inconspicuous place either.
I could have screamed. Actually, I think I did scream.
That's the thing about where I'm at right now. Just when I think I've got a handle on things, I get kicked down again. Now I've got this massive ugly imperfection staring at me every time I walk past it into the kitchen to remind me that I screwed up. I fell short of doing all I had to do.
It's so unlike me not to tidy up loose ends, especially after a cleaning day. But there has just been so much lately. I should have put it away before we went outside to play yesterday afternoon. But Lucy had to go potty. I should have put it away while I was doing the dinner dishes. But the baby got hungry. I should have put it away while I was watching some evening television. But I was folding an endless mountain of laundry instead.
The real fact of the matter is this: I cannot do it all. Even if it is as simple as bringing a mop back downstairs to its rightful location instead of letting its dampness marinate your beautiful hardwood floors all night long.
And so begins the pity party. I Google "How to Remove a Water Stain from Hardwood Floors." And after each DIY step I kick myself. Why didn't I just bring the damn mop back downstairs?!
And I know, I know, it's not really about the mop. Or the stain. It never is.
It's about control. And an image. About wanting to appear like I can do it all when I never can. Because no one ever can.
It's about wanting to catch a break after a week of illness. And thinking the universe owes me one.
It's about realizing what really matters. In the grand scheme of things.
Because I know no one is going to remember me for a water stain.
But right now, that's the hangnail I'm choosing to tug on. Even if it is small potatoes. Relatively speaking.
Because it's not about the stain. It never is.
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