before these little sugarplums entered my life.
There was a time when . . .
I was appalled that people called before 9 a.m. Seriously! People are trying to sleep. I already had little Addison, but she was on our schedule . . . late nights, late mornings. Olivia broke us into 7:30 -8:00 mornings and Drew kills us with occasional 5:15 mornings.
There was a time when . . .
my clothes were clean. When I worked at ZCMI in college, there was this sweet Mom that worked there that always had food on her shoulders from hugs for her kids . . . I know, it's gross. Sitting at church on Sunday, Ansen kindly pointed out the stuff stuck to the back of the arm of my sweater. And sadly, it wasn't the first time.
There was a time . . .
when it took a solid week of ciaos and no cleaning to destroy our tiny apartment. Now it just takes one Sunday or one Saturday to destroy our entire house. Actually it really only takes 3 hours in the afternoon. I will forever be perplexed as to why the weekends are so hard. There are two adults home, we usually all do Saturday morning jobs and Sunday we're at church, we take naps and often go to my mom's. So why? Why is the house a absolute disaster every Sunday night?
2 comments:
I'm with ya on the Sunday mess stuff. In fact, I'm sitting here blogging right now trying to ignore the pile of dishes that are all over my counters and sink from not having been washed in a whole day. With no intention of touching them until tomorrow morning when they've had a night to harden--at which point I'll have probably wished I had done them instead of blogging. But nope, gonna blog instead.
Go figure.
Ah, so true. But isn't it great!
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