Every Monday, we start with a relatively clean house. And every week, without fail, by Friday morning, it looks like our house has been invaded and attacked by a pack of feral squirrels.
On Monday morning, the laundry is put away in drawers where it belongs. By Friday, it will be in haphazard, makeshift piles on the formal dining room table (that *is* what a formal dining room is for, right?).
On Monday morning, groceries have been purchased and neatly put away. By Friday, the fridge will be a boobytrap of recklessly placed milk cartons and leftovers, all waiting to pounce on someone who opens the refrigerator door with just a tad too much force.
On Monday morning, a meal plan has been created to feed our family in a nutritious and budget-appropriate manner. By Friday, all good intentions are gone. The meal plan has been scrapped and we are either ordering pizza or the kids are fending for themselves from the snack cabinet (also known as the “Dad Dinner”).
On Monday morning, the school folders have been reviewed, the homework has been completed, the agendas have been signed. By Friday, papers are lost, homework is a crapshoot, and what agenda? Child, can’t you just sign it for me? (Consider it practice for your teen years…)
Every week, on Sunday night or Monday morning, I make the same old promise: this week is going to be different. We are going to stay on top of things. We are going to clean as we go. We are going to be organized.
And every week, like clockwork, Friday rolls around like one of those trashy, 90s daytime talkshows (Maury, Montel, Jerry—you know the ones). The host comes out, takes one look at the kitchen (or any other room) and says, “The results are in. Our test determined THAT WAS A LIE.”
Does anyone else go through this weekly charade?