I should be doing the dishes.  They have piled up again.  Instead I stare at the massive crusty pile and wish them away. But they stubbornly refuse to clean themselves.

I should be cleaning the living room.  It has been overrun with all the things that belong somewhere else but somehow creep back in when I'm not looking.  Then I turn around and am greeted with a scene from a horror movie.  I should be putting all the things back where they belong.  I should be scolding my children and making them put the things back where they belong.  But I lack the energy to follow them around pointing out each item and explaining in detail how and where it should be.  Instead I watch and listen to my children blissfully playing. Totally unaware of the chaos that surrounds them.

I should be writing a blog post.  Something insightful, or eventful, or charming, or witty.  Instead I stare at a blank screen as the words refuse to form themselves.  My head swirls with tiny snippets of thought that flee like butterflies from my net.


I should be working on my blog design.  Maybe finally redoing my blog roll.  I took it down months ago to reorganize it and have never gotten around to putting it back up.  Instead I find myself frustrated that I can never get those little buttons to line up just the way I want.

I should be commenting on a million different blog posts that have made me laugh, made me think, made me cry.  Instead I find my words inadequate to express the intense emotion they have evoked.

I should be making dinner.  My husband will be getting off work soon.  The kids never cease to be hungry.  Instead I sit and think of all the other things I should be doing and am not.  I forgot to thaw out any meat last night and now it's a bit late to be planning.  Instead it will be a take out or fend for yourself night.

I should be painting my walls or trim or finishing any of a million projects.  Instead I remember the last time I tried to paint the trim in my living room, home with the two kids, and ended up with painted curtains instead.  Courtesy of my son's distraction and my daughter's creativity.

I should be doing laundry.  My daughter has a checkup at the doctor tomorrow and so I will need suitable clothing for wearing out of the house.  Instead I will wait for the cover of darkness.  To hide the hose coming out of the window.

Instead I kiss little owies, and re-adhere stickers that have long ago lost their sticky.  Read stories and listen to their dreams.  Watch puppet shows and compliment artistic masterpieces.  I then wash the masterpiece off the wall.  I help with schoolwork and praise my little geniuses.  I affirm and direct.  Answer a million questions.  Laugh at jokes, even when they make no sense.  Attempt to understand what "pickle foss" could possibly mean.  I break up tiny fights because that one toy is suddenly the only one worth playing with.  I console little broken hearts.  Because the battery in the toy is dead.  I help button buttons, or tie ties.  Replace hair bows that have fallen out.  I search for lost treasures.  Calm little screamers when they have gotten a little overexcited.  Provide distractions, dry tears and calm fears.  Fondly remember those years when nap time provided a welcome break.  I wipe up little spills, or at least throw a towel over the mess.  I make lunch and snacks.  Open yogurts and bananas.  Peel apples and slice them.  Wash the strawberries and cut off the stems.  Cut the sandwich into a heart shape or a triangle.  Refill water cups.  Help them on the potty.  Give baths when she didn't quite make it.  I worry and wonder and wish.  I give hugs and kisses.  And get them in return.

And I treasure these tiny moments.
Even though I've gotten nothing done today.