I can’t stand garbage day. Not because I mind taking out the trash so much – that in and of itself is no big thing. I’d much rather do that than dishes or laundry. No, it’s the compete sense of panic I get when I realize it’s garbage day.
Usually this occurs between 9 and 10am – when I hear the truck coming down the street. Crap, Crap, Crap! Run to the diaper genie, open, gag, empty, gag, check can freshener, close, throw bag of unnaturally stinky Huggies into bathroom garbage bag, grab bag and do a fast turn around the house. Run to the porch and empty that bag. Run to the garage, why won’t this thing open faster?? Take bags to can. Run can to the curb just in case the truck is faster than me. Back inside to grab the kitchen bag Oh no. I forgot to clean out the fridge. The truck is coming. Would I rather the trash stink for a week or the fridge be a little crammed. Oh here it comes, forget the fridge! Grab whatever boxes I can get my hands on, run to the can, throw the bag in, start ripping apart boxes, duck back into the garage just before the truck pulls up in front of our house. I really don’t want to have to face the garbage men. Because as I much as I despise garbage day (usually entirely my own fault for forgetting about something that has happened every Thursday for four years), I know those guys hate me. They have to.
Today wasn’t that bad. Mostly because I was struck with an insane bout of insomnia last night (BTW the movie John Tucker Must Die is garbage. Thanks for sticking with my theme, while wasting two hours of my time Oxygen Channel), so I went around and gathered everything I could get without waking the kids and put it all in the garage. Then I got it all out to the curb while waiting for Kaleb’s bus this morning. Easy Peasy.
Our amount of weekly garbage is ridiculous. Between the kids – Mason’s diapers, Kaleb’s art that Mason destroys, Kaleb’s art that Kaleb destroys, stuffed animals the dog destroys – and us, we have a lot of garbage each week. Especially this week. After finishing Kaleb’s room, starting on Mason’s room, the fishy catastrophe, and just your run of the mill normal weekly trash – those guys are going to want to shoot me. Of course, it’ll be just as bad next week because I opted to wait to put out the box Mason’s bed came in until next week – for fear that they already won’t take our full can, two black bags, and the giant box filled with boxes. And don’t forget I’ve decided to go a little cuckoo-cachoo and have started ripping the whole house apart to “spring clean”
I don’t know why I felt the need to do this. I am not a spring cleaner. I am a “get as much done while the Monsters are sleeping” cleaner. And even that’s an exaggeration. Our house is cluttered – primarily because I do not see the point in spending two hours cleaning the house up while the kids are napping, just to have Mason come back out here, dump out the balls in the ball bin, have Kaleb throw the box of wooden blocks, and who knows what other absurd mess they will create within the first two minutes of entering the living room.
Usually by the time they go to bed, I’m left sitting here staring at the flash cards and bouncy balls, I’m just resigned to living in the clutter forever.
But now. Now I’ve got some insane wild hair up my rear end – and have decided that every closet, every cabinet, every drawer is going to be cleaned out and de-cluttered. I’m going to add to my garage sale (in the hopes that we will actually manage to do that next month) pile. I’m pretty sure I’m either delusional or I’ve gotten really good at lying to myself, because the every day me thinks the rest of me has gone completely bonkers (Yeah totally nuts! Terrific, now I’m singing the theme song from a 90’s cartoon).
Though, I guess if I’m going to clean I’ve got some pretty good company for it. Well, kinda. Mason likes to “help” mommy clean. I enjoy this, because it’s sweet, and it’s probably good stuff for him to be learning early on. Except Mason’s idea of cleaning, is more like drive-you-crazy, put-the-clean-laundry-in-the-washer, scream-when-you-won’t-let-me-sit-in-your-lap-while-it’s-full. This is not the kind of help I’m looking for.
Please don’t throw that diaper in the toilet. Oh, come on! Why would you throw the diaper in the toilet?? No! Get your hand out of there! Mommy will get it! Yuck! Get back! No! Don’t… oh Mason, seriously? Did you have to jump on the two piles of sheets I was trying to sort? *sigh* I guess I might as well take a break. Come on, let’s read a book. What? Why are you screaming now? No! Don’t eat that! Get the bath fizzies out of your mouth! Come on, out! Out out out!!
So, “spring cleaning” the boys bathroom will be put off until nap time. When he won’t actually take a nap – he’ll stand at the gate and yell at me because he wants to “help”. This is why I”m not a “spring cleaner”. Cleaning is bad enough, doing it with Captain Destructo is just not happening.
Which doesn’t really matter right now. Mason has an audiology appointment today (for a hearing test). I remember this. I remember doing this with Kaleb – when he was having a really good day. It sucked. A lot. Now we’re doing it with Mase, who has half the language Kaleb did at this age. Oooooh joy. This is going to be one of those “Mommy treats herself to a super big latte after nightmare appointment” days. Then again, it might not be. He might put on his People Personality and get through it no problem. Though given the combative mood he’s been in since 6:30 this morning I seriously doubt it.
Speaking of Mase and appointments – I got a call from Child Find yesterday, to schedule his school evaluation. Awesome. Want to know when it is? 48 hours before his eval to be diagnosed. Oh. Joy. Well, this will make for an interesting week. Of course, Kaleb is going to be out of school then as well. That will either help, or cause a complete disaster depending on how he and his brother interact that morning.
At least it’s finally happening. That’s a plus, and I’ll take it. In the meantime I’ll focus on each week as it comes – because somehow our schedule is filling up faster than fast.
On a final note – this is my 100th post. That’s kinda cool. So to all you wackos who have been reading this lunacy – thank you! It’s nice to have company on my way to the asylum.