Things About Girls

This morning started off AWESOME. I slept in until 9:17. American time. It was epic, and not in the junior high sense of the word. TRULY epic. Josh had snuck off to work at 6:00 or some other God-awful time that I refuse to acknowledge as existing, because people work on Saturdays, apparently. I would have thrown a fit (something I have done a lot of lately, and quite well), except it was nice to have the Whole Bed to myself and not feel guilty for not getting up at a Reasonable Hour. So 9:17 it was, when the tyrant of my body known as a bladder forced me up. And the tyrant of my soul known as Motherhood compelled me to make breakfast for the 37 girls that were sleeping in various inappropriate places around the house. Somebody, who recently had a sleepover for twelve 8-11 year olds, didn't think through the ramifications of letting Everybody have a friend to spend the night. So the female adolescent population in our house doubled overnight. Literally. It really wasn't bad, since Kizzie and her friend were making dinner for us. So after I cooked the chicken and made the alfredo sauce from scratch and found the pan for them to cook the tortellini in, and gave them detailed instructions on How To Slice Bread, Spread Butter, and Sprinkle Garlic Powder, they mixed it together and put cheese on top. It was nice to have a night off. And Kizzie only threw a little fit when I asked her to clean up "their" cooking mess and wash 1/5th of the dishes (I actually thought I asked about all of the dishes, but...).

After getting to bed a little later than I had planned, thanks to an impromptu and overdue downloading session with a buddy and a few drinks, I slept like a baby. Because I had been allowed the privilege of sleeping in, I scurried around like Mother Of The Year and made breakfast for the crew. And then it all fell apart.

The toilet flooded. And by flooded, I don't mean it reached the top of the bowl and a little spilled out. I mean an inch of standing toilet water across the bathroom floor. Lucky for me, I had just picked up the bathmat so that was one less thing to wash. After dealing with the Clog of Unknown Origin, I searched the house for 45 minutes, looking for the mop. I think after the last go round with Josh and some drywall dust, it went into permanent hiding. I finally resorted to using a Swiffer with the useless dry covers, and a very large bottle of Clorox spray. I wasn't too upset until I got toilet water on my new Minnetonkas, because I forgot that you should never walk into a bathroom unless you are wearing rubber boots. It's ok though, because when I was spraying copious amounts of Clorox, I also covered my wet Minnetonkas, so they are now disinfected, and probably ruined. I mean really, when you have 6.5 women and Josh in a house, you can't expect a toilet to not revolt. Not that Josh poops, but...

My mild but well handled frustration at the toilet and Minnetonka situation was exponentiated when I rushed to the laundry room with a dripping pile of towels, only to find a load in the washer of questionable age, and THREE PILES of dog poop. After relocating Dagny to the outside, forever, I cleaned up the poop. I dealt with the laundry crisis in the only reasonable way: denial and ignorance, and finished mopping with seven or eight Swiffer things, found my now cold coffee, and sat down. Half of the girls were gone to volleyball. The rest were hiding, in fear of facing the same fate as Dagny. I chose to ignore the cold puddle of dog pee under the kitchen table, since we ran out of pellets, it will be frozen pretty soon, and I can just chip it up.

Now my house is saturated with the sweet smells of Bacon grease (because I didn't use the Aunt Lynn method, lacking a wire rack or broiling pan), Clorox spray, and stale laundry. My plan for the day is to load up every Scentsy I own, possibly including Santa and The Easter Egg, watch part of a volleyball game, go to town and get my hair done, a pedicure and probably a whole new wardrobe, all after putting my hard boiled eggs away. Because making hardboiled eggs in the middle of German Pancakes and Bacon and Cleaning up poop just seemed logical.


And I Did This. 

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