Carpe Diem. Or don’t.

Today has been a failure. I define a failure as a twenty-four hour period where nothing on my to-do list is accomplished both because every attempt has been thwarted by either a toddler or a baby, or by me, and also because I can’t find my to-do list. I’m wearing one shoe, and face planted into the couch, watching my Zumba DVD but not actually participating in the act of Zumba, while Olive runs around the living room making it rain play-doh and demanding to watch more videos on You Tube, most likely of children playing with toys she already has. Also, I’m crying on the inside.

I will tell you how I got here.

I had plans today. We were going to go to the park, I was going to work out and clean the house and play with Olive and do all sorts of things I have written down on a list I can’t find.

It was a new day; twenty four hours to really delve into my to do list (the one I wrote for the week on Sunday but is most likely either sitting on a pile of crap on the dining room table or being made into poop by the dog). I was going to take the kids out to do fun things, and I was even going to get up before the kids and work out.

I’ve been trying to make up for the fact that we’ve been cooped up in the house because one of us has had either the stomach flu or a very nasty cold since December 22nd. I’ve spent the last three weeks  covered in so much vomit, diarrhea, snot and general oozing discharge coupled with straight cabin fever that my eyes are beginning to get twitchy and to say that my fuse has been short would be a mild understatement.

So even though Willow woke up before 5 am for the second night in a row with a drippy nose and hacking cough, I did not disparage. It’s ok, I can work out during their nap and she will be better by ten AM surely. But it was clear after spending the next 1.5  listening to her congested snoring  that it would not be so. It was also clear, while clinging to the six inches of the bed that she allowed me when I brought her back into bed with me that  I would not sleep well this morn. When Olive woke up at seven ,I could take heart in the fact that I was right. Not that baby snuggles aren’t awesome, but I cannot run on coffee and wine alone.

Ok, so scratch being too adventurous today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun and get stuff done around the house. Except after having half a pot of coffee while trying to navigate, clean clothes (because Murphy’s Law clearly states that if someone in diapers can pee past their diaper’s capacity they will) and breakfast (because I am sneaking eating the last banana in the kitchen while trying to explain to Olive that chocolate cake is not breakfast), I succumbed to the fact that it was 9:30 and not only had Olive been watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and play doh videos on the laptop all morning, at this rate it would only continue. I finally brought out her own play doh which she promptly discovered ways to shove it into niches and crannies all over the living room. I’m sure I will only continue to find remnants of dried play-doh in random places in the coming days. Perhaps in my missing shoe.

Its ok, I told myself, we’ll get out of the house and grab Subway for lunch after I get some cleaning done (which ended up consisting of me loading and running the dishwasher and removing the contents of the dryer into an ever growing pile that I’m sure will never be put away. After trying to finagle an over flowing garbage can outside I realized that we didn’t put the garbage on the curb today either, which means that all those diapers I’ve been throwing out the last week get to stay in our driveway for an extra week. Superb. I’m sure our neighbors will also be thrilled.

Then it was time to get “samiches.” This was the only thing that went right.

After eating lunch and playing more play doh and watching Inside Out for the umpteenth time since the holidays, and carrying a kicking and screaming Olive to bed for a nap, I decided a nap was a better idea than my original plan to work out. Except of course Willow had other plans. And then by the time Willow went down Olive was screaming again.

Ok, so no nap, but I can still squeeze in a Zumba workout! I’ll just let Olive play in the living room while Willow sleeps and I’ll work out this stress and frustration and get the endorphins flowing. I just knew it would turn my day around.

It became clear a half hour later when I couldn’t find my other shoe (I only own one pair of athleticesque shoes and apparently now I may only own half a pair). What can you do at that point but begin whimpering  at the stupid Zumba menu that was clearly taunting me with its sexy Latino reggae drums or maracas or whatever the hell it is?  I don’t need your damn come hither beat, Zumba a** holes. I seriously considered trying to Dirty Dancing this workout in stilettos, but realized that could only end in shattered ankles. I finally had to mute it, but I was too sad to turn it off. Part of me wanted to buy a new pair of shoes, part of me wanted to cry, and another part of me wanted to hide in the bathroom with the last ice cream sandwich and a glass of wine.

But I didn’t. I wrote this instead. Because some days are really hard and sometimes it’s difficult to just get started. Whether it’s because the task just seems too daunting or because you don’t have a shoe for the other foot.

Besides, tomorrow is a new day filled with twenty four more hours and opportunities to tackle that laundry. Get out of the house. And find that damn shoe.

 

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