Saturday was....horrible. The worst.
I was in a mood to get my house clean. It has been neglected. I started washing load after load of laundry. I washed 4 loads. Nearly every article of clothing in our house was dirty. It felt good to make progress. While the laundry was being washed and dried, I was working on other projects (mopping the floor, organizing cupboards, cleaning the fridge). I didn't want to stop to fold laundry so I just put them in a huge pile in the corner of the living room on top of our Love Sac.
I got to the point in the kitchen that I could spray down the counters with my Clorox spray (seriously, that stuff is amazing). I sprayed half the counter and started scrubbing. All the while, the girls were giggling and playing so nicely with each other. After scrubbing I decided to work on the other counter....but I couldn't find my spray. I've been pretty spacey lately. After looking around for where I may have put it, I lost steam. I decided I would just start folding the laundry.
I picked up the first few articles of clothing and noticed one or two really small bleach spots on them. By the time I lifted the third shirt out of the mound to fold, the bleach smell hit me and I began to connect all of the dots. Then I found the spray bottle. The girls had sprayed my spray all over the 4 loads of laundry. SO many ruined clothes. The deeper I dug, the bigger the bleach spots became. Massive bleach spots all over the clothes. The girls' non-awful clothes. My work clothes. I still feel like crying when I think about it.
Luckily for my children, I had said a prayer that very morning to be a better and more patient mother. After I was done crying and calling my mother-in-law to have an emotional breakdown (which I accidentally did with my windows open, so that all of the neighbors could hear. Ugh.), I called the girls to the living room and showed them the mound of bleached clothes. I explained to them that the spray was dangerous. Then Peyton and I had this conversation:
Me: Peyton, see all these clothes? They are all ruined. We can't spray things with that bottle because it ruins things and takes the color away.
Peyton: (With a reassuring smile) We can wait and tomorrow the clothes will be better!
Me: No, Peyton. Tomorrow they will still be ruined. They will be ruined forever.
Peyton: Will they be ruined on Wednesday?
Me: Yes. They will be ruined on Wednesday. They will always be ruined.
Peyton: Will they be ruined when I'm sixteen?
Me: Yes! They are ruined forever. They will still be ruined when you are sixteen. A hundred years from now, they will still be ruined. They are bleached forever.
Peyton: Oh....
She seemed sad and put her head down. After a few seconds of sad silence, she looked at me with a new light in her eyes and asked with hope, "Will they be ruined at 3 o'clock!?"
I got through the ordeal (it was a serious ordeal for me) without yelling at my children. Sure I had to cry and call my mother-in-law, but if I had a trophy made of high-quality chocolate, I would have given it to myself.
On the plus side, the girls were not hurt (so dangerous! I know you are wondering how I could have not noticed. They were giggling and playing between the couch and the mound. I thought they were just playing) and they didn't bleach the carpet or the couch. It could have been worse. I can't wait to be a stay-at-home mom so that I can tackle this stuff little by little instead of having one day a week to try to clean and accomplish everything. I know that being a stay-at-home mom is hard, but I can't help but think that these kinds of things will happen less.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comments:
Oh courtney, i am so sorry! I would give you a chocolate trophy too.
Post a Comment