That Day

Today was not supposed to be That Day. Today was supposed to be busy but doable. A had a playdate with H where JJ would took both boys to Balboa Park and I was alone in the house to clean. (Yay JJ! There are probably not two toddlers less alike, but they genuinely enjoy each other's comapny.)

And I cleaned: scrubbed toilets, scrubbed floors on hands and knees, once with degreaser, once with bleach, dusting, clearing clutter, laundry, and even some mild outside work. I banged out some thank you notes and the minutes from Sunday's meeting. I made vanilla gelato to chill for the ice cream machine later, plus cupcakes, plus simple syrup. Plus lunch for everyone when they returned from the park.

My domesticity just astounds you, right? And I'm good in bed too.

But somewhere between this wildly productive morning and now, things fell apart. A toilet broke. A wouldn't take a nap between lunch and speech therapy. I got out of the shower I finally had to take to find A standing in a puddle of urine in one of the clean bathrooms. And then there was a wipeout in a puddle of urine, which means he'll have lovely bruises for his birthday part. Plus, A needed a quick shower instead of a bath because his speech teacher was coming in fifteen minutes and I had already scrubbed the tub once today.

So once he was clean and dry and clothes, I scrubbed the bathroom floor (again). Scrub number two plus cleaning a urine-soaked boy meant I needed shower #2.

And then the shower door fell on me.

I'm fine. My back hurts, but that's being pregnant and scrubbing floors.

This doesn't mean that I'm happy. If I were a cat, my back would be arched, my ears flat, and my hair standing straight up.

So instead of using my speech therapy downtime to call people on various organizational-related business matters, I'm blogging, listening to This American Life, and playing Civ. That shit will all just have to wait until tomorrow because I am in no shape to be charming or gracious right now.