Flywashed

Last night I was absolutely physically and mentally exhausted. We had had a full, full, full day. Then, Joey was working much later than he had anticipated at a new part-time job, meaning that I had no parenting relief. You fellow mothers-of-many know how it goes: the 18-year-old is responsibly getting himself ready for bed, the 15-year-old is on the computer (in other words, they are not immediately available for assisting in corralling siblings), the 12-year-old has conveniently forgotten to do his 10-minute tidy before heading off to bed (meaning that I will end up doing it), the 11-year-old and the 9-year-old are completing their kitchen chores but at a decidedly pedestrian pace so they must be continually prodded, the other 9-year-old is apparently too tired to actually stand up and walk to bed (so more prodding is necessary) and the 5-year-old, who has had a nap earlier in the day, is provoking the 2-year-old, who has also had a nap, to ear-shattering peals of hilarious squealing.

I believe that the image in my mind at that point involved Calgon.

So, after everyone is finally in bed, I am sitting on the couch wondering when Joey is going to be home. I am so tired that I am dizzy. Yes, sitting still, I am dizzy from fatigue.

Yet, almost robotically, I got up, walked over to my sink and shined it. Whoa. Then, I walked downstairs and re-booted the laundry to be done by morning.

And I’m reaping the benefits this morning because in less than an hour, I have several people appearing at my house for Anne’s Early Childhood Intervention re-evaluation. I don’t have to run around and frantically clean up anything.

Next time I wonder if I’m truly Flywashed, I hope I remember yesterday.

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