The Aftermath

Our home is generally pretty tidy, but on a weekend with a full house it’s another matter altogether. I always start our days of togetherness trying to clean up after everyone as I go, but I’m outnumbered and they all seem dedicated to the task of trashing the place (or at least burying it under as large a pile of stuff as possible). My adorable weapons of mass destruction, they are.

Somewhere around 4pm on Sunday afternoon, my eyes simply glaze over and I no longer see what’s going on around me. This is when Claire and Wynham usually kick into high gear in an attempt to “outmessify” each other and gain my attention. Yesterday, this was the moment one of our neighbors decided to drop by; I’m pretty sure I didn’t even say hello to him, I was so dazed.

On Sunday nights, I always go to bed hoping that I’ll wake up in one of those fairy tales where the Brownies come and clean everything up while the household is fast asleep. Mother Goose never seems to get the memo.

When the garbage trucks go by at 5:15am today, I stumble out of bed and into the darkness, ready or not to face what I call the Monday Morning Aftermath. It’s not pretty. It will be hours before the order is restored. But as Claire would say, that’s the way life goes. Now if you'll excuse me, I’ve got some cleaning up to do...