Today I yelled over spilled lemonade. It wasn’t my finest moment. And in my head I could hear all the voices saying, “don’t cry over spilled milk” and I had just yelled over spilled lemonade.
But it wasn’t the lemonade that did me in. It was the day. It was that I had made more meals before noon than most people eat in a day. It was the half wasted granola bar and the cup of sour milk that sat on the table, while the four year old asked if it was lunch time yet.
It was the endless requests to make lemonade. And “can we make it now”, “is it time to make lemonade yet?”, “mom are you done your coffee yet”. It was the relentlessness. And the fact that a 5 minute task had now taken me a half an hour and if I hadn’t been interrupted so many times I would be done.
It was all the canceled plans and that desperate feeling that I could use just ten solid minutes of uninterrupted adult conversation. Or just ten minutes of uninterrupted anything.
It’s the peach cobbler that overflowed and is burning the bottom of my oven because I was too distracted to use the right sized pan. It’s the house filling with smoke and the dog barking because the mail lady insists on sitting in my driveway and texting. It’s the noise, the chaos and the drama.
A 4 year old stomping his feet and saying, “I’m going to my room”. And me saying, “no you’re not who is going to clean this mess”. Cause I’m certainly not.
It’s the endless mess, that spills out of the playroom and into the living room and creeps it’s way to the dining room and the kitchen. It’s a sea of Lego’s and Action Figures and stuffed animals that just keeps growing and growing until I feel like I might drown in the stuff.
It’s the voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, “Enjoy these days”, And it’s the guilt I feel instantly for not enjoying every moment, even though I know that’s impossible. It’s the guilt I feel that we aren’t doing something FUN today. It’s the insane guilt I feel that every day isn’t FUN. That some days are just days when laundry needs to be done and errands need to be run and Mom has some work to do.
It’s all of this. All of this, over and over again, day in and day out, that has lead me to yelling over spilled lemonade. Because it’s never really about the lemonade.