Last night, my son, my adorable little Owen was mad at me. All he wanted was my attention, he wanted me to sit and put together his puzzle, watch Rugrats and eat grapes with him. But I couldn't.
My stupid reason why...
I have a routine. I work Monday through Friday And I try to make it so through the week I get free un-obligated and chore free weekends and I spend them doing what I wish. However, this past Monday left me desperately wishing I'd had been more productive. I spent my weekend playing. We walked through seashore park, played in the sand, visited a few community parks and freinds, slept in and our ritual movie marathons filled with popcorn. Needless to say, I didn't touch one stitch of my ever mounting laundry, I didn't vacuum one crumb, or stock up our cabinets. I did do the dishes, but that's simply for my tendencies to not be able to cook in a kitchen with dishes in the sink.
My routines. Monday: Clean House, Tuesday: Laundry, Wednesday: Groceries, Thursday: Fresh Linens, which tends to mean Laundry yet again, Friday: Start of the weekend. And of course the typical pick up and wipe up the usual that follows raising a 20 month old.
From here out I wanna make a few amendments so that when little man wants his Momma, I can walk away from my to do list and say okay and wave my hands in the air and simply just not care.