I was sitting on my crumb-covered couch (We have a strict no-food-out-of-the-kitchen rule. Can you see how much good that does?) in my white t-shirt and yoga pants, both splattered earlier that day with spaghetti sauce. At least three loads of dishes sat on my counter, but I was busy holding my two month old while she slept, because that’s the only place she would take a nap, while my one year old tried to step on her head. (He succeeded a couple times.)
Once I finally got up and did dishes I ended up grinding a spoon in the disposal which splashed a high arc of rotten milk all down my already dirty shirt while my three year old hit me with “life bullets” in the…ahem…derriere. At least we teach them to shoot with “life”, right?
After doing a load of dishes I immediately ran upstairs.
To paint my nails. To look like a hot mama.
Because who knew what those other two loads of dishes would throw at me. Painting them got me out of dishes thanks my husband. He was tired of me whining that painting them was pointless, so he offered to do the dishes any time I actually did something to them besides bite them.
They were bright red.
I should paint them more…*sigh*
And no, I didn’t bother changing my shirt. Don’t judge.
Any of this sound familiar? If so, you’re at the right place! Join me! I love those perfect mommy blogs with their perfect homes and perfect kids and perfectly coiffed hair.
That’s not me. I’ve tried. I have five kids under 8. I have a child with ADHD and Anxiety and the youngest recently adopted from Japan. We are now an interracial, special needs, chaotic, but very happy and loving family. Welcome to our life.
(Ps. I tried to find a very fitting picture by searching “dirty dishes” to include and you know what I got? Beautiful plates of gorgeous foods and place settings. Blah. Don’t rub it in!)