I am well aware of the fact that one day I am going to miss having random ephemera in my home such as a tiny drawer labeled “googly eyes.” I am fully cognizant that the absence of a giant bin of cleats and shin guards of various sizes in my basement will someday strike me as bittersweet. I know that one day I will miss these things because they will signify that my children have grown and no longer live with me. I understand that, but today is not that day.
Today started with an “Oh hey, 4:30! Jet lag, you are awesome” wake-up call.
It was an “I’ve done so much before 8 a.m. I could make the most hardened Army drill sergeant weep” sort of day.
Today had a distinct “I have different standards of cleanliness than they do, I have different standards of cleanliness than they do” mantra.
It featured an “I’ve only been home from my vacation with Daddy for about 17 hours, 12 of which you were sleeping, and you are making me un-miss you already” late morning followed up by a “Don’t make me wish your childhood away with this constant bickering” afternoon.
Today was a “Hey, I’ve got a novel idea! Let’s put shit AWAY when we’re done with it…ALL THE WAY AWAY” day.
It included an “If you screech like that in the car one more time I am positive I will careen off the road and crash” mid-afternoon outing.
Today was a “Why must there be poop in the toilet every single time I go to the bathroom?” sort of day.
It was an “I am not going to dignify that gum/snack/screen time question with a response” day.
Today was an “I know I’ve said this many times before, but this time I am really, really going to lose my mind” kind of day.
Today was definitely an “I value organization too much to have this many children” sort of day with heavy “Why do I even try?” undertones.
It was an “It’s unfortunate you don’t like spinach because spinach loves you” dinnertime preceding a “Brush your teeth. Brush your teeth. Brush your teeth. Did you brush your teeth? Why didn’t you brush your teeth? Please go brush your teeth” bedtime routine.
I do truly believe that the day will come when I will long for the impossibly loud pitter patter of little feet at too dark o’clock in the morning. I know that is true. But today, the day after I got home from Amsterdam, is not that day.