You know how you kind of go along in life, having some regular days where you do regular stuff, and then one day you are so productive that you want to smugly proclaim the details of your day on Facebook, except you don’t because that would be obnoxious? I am willing to accept the possibility that that’s just me, and that all of y’all have super productive days nearly every day of the week, lest you get fired. Thankfully my main boss is only a couple of feet tall and really needs to keep me around, and the boss of my part-time job is me (who is quite lovely and forgiving) because I find this is kind of how my weekday life goes now, where I never feel like I’m doing a particularly excellent job at balancing all of the plates I’m responsible for — I mean, everything gets done that needs to get done, and most of the time it happens when it needs to happen, but I’m not holding my breath in expectation that the local work-at-home-moms slash stay-at-home-moms are going to elect me their spokesperson or anything — but then every few weeks I have a day where I GET STUFF DONE. That was my Monday this week: I washed and dried four loads of laundry, tidied up the house, made a more elaborate dinner than usual, sent some invoices, did some client work, spent lots of time with Ellie, and I did this all in spite of the fact that my afternoon babysitter called in sick. Here is where you can picture me spiking the ball and doing some sort of touchdown dance accompanied by “Taking Care of Business” by Bachman-Turner Overdrive.
Flash forward to yesterday, when you can picture me getting fined for excessive showmanship and deeply regretting the touchdown dance ever happened. Things happened all day long that made me feel irritated and angry and helpless, things like Ellie lying prostrate with grief on the kitchen floor because her favourite yogurt-eating spoon is dirty and I’ve refused to wash it for the third time that day, and then, once she has stopped tantruming and asked nicely for the spoon and I have given in and washed it, deciding to use the spoon to create some strawberry yogurt artwork on the couch when I have left the room for thirty seconds. This was possibly the least frustrating part of my day; I don’t really remember much because I blocked it all out except for the few seconds right before bedtime when I had a brainstorm and asked Mike to grope around in her mouth a bit and we discovered that one of her eyeteeth, which she has been working on literally since the summer, finally broke through yesterday. I have said to no fewer than seventeen (17) people that one of the many good things about having a generally good-natured child is that it’s usually pretty easy to tell if something out of the ordinary is up. I do not, however, expect that Ellie has told seventeen people that one of the many good things about her mother is that she is a fast learner.