My premonition was correct - the day got worse before it got better.
I got all my laundry washed, first thing. The last load was in the washer. I mopped all the floors, which were pretty disgusting. My house was on it's way to spic n span by 9 am. It's a great feeling - the feeling of accomplishment. I sat and surveyed my mountains of fresh, clean folded laundry and shiny floors with pride.
Then Chloe woke up. Then Cora woke up. Chloe, Miss "I want my breakfast NOW", didn't want to wait for me to change Cora. She grabbed a chair from the living room (the floor was still a little wet in the kitchen) and somehow in the process of moving it from the living room to the kitchen, managed to dump my whole bucket of now-dirty mop water. It's amazing how far one bucket of water can reach into one home, really. Dirty mop water flowed into the dog food/cleaning supply closet. It seeped under the carpet in the living room. It gushed into the bathroom, pooling at the base of the bathtub and therefore causing water to start dripping into the basement. And it poured into the kitchen, where it made little rivers under my refrigerator and stove before puddling up right in front of the back door.
Our house isn't real level - it sort of tilts to the north. I never thought that would be much of a problem, but apparently when you have mop-bucket-spilling five year olds, it is.
I actually remained fairly calm. I told Chloe to go change her clothes, and I got the towels. I have 16 towels. Each and every one of them was nice and clean, mind you, since I'd just finished all the laundry. I managed to mop everything up. It involved, of course, moving the stove and refrigerator and then cleaning up under them (and practically pulling a muscle in my back while I did) and then I re-mopped everything since it was all grimy. I started a load of towels (there are still two more to go now.)
And then, I got breakfast.
Oy. I wanted to cry. I was kind of irritated with Chloe just because she didn't seem to even care that she'd just done that. She said something like "Sorry mom. I guess you'll have to clean that up now." And that was NOT what I wanted to hear. So I sort of snapped at her to go find something to do until I was done cleaning it up (which took the better part of half an hour.)
Ah well, I'm sure she's not permanently scarred.
So then, Ashley invited us over to swim with Tori this afternoon, and grill hot dogs. Sounded good, so we agreed. I told Chloe we'd be going. Then this afternoon, she called to let me know "a few other people" might be there too. A few other people included 5 adults and like 15 kids. I don't like other people's kids, have I mentioned that?
But whatever, Chloe already thought we were going, so we did. What she failed to mention was that each of the other friends was pregnant. REALLY pregnant. Like, the kind of pregnant that doesn't find it so humorous when a girl shows up wearing a tank top that says "epidurals are for sissies". Yeah, so that was fun.
It was good for me though, to see other people parent their kids. It always makes me feel like a better mother. I was all down on myself for being cranky after my dog poop/mop water morning, and I was a little short with Chloe a few times. Not anymore. I'm doing just fine as a mother. This one poor little kid, maybe 2 years old? grabbed a cup of soda that was sitting on the ground, and his mother grabbed it, said "God Damn it D, put that fuckin' thing down." Ohhhhh my goodness. I cuss sometimes, but NOTHING like that chick did. And then, if any of them had anything to say to any of their children, they just screamed it across the yard. Couldn't get up to go speak to the children, apparently. It was insanity. I've never heard the Lord's name used in vain so many times in one hour in my whole life. This mom grabbing this kid, screaming at that one, this kid crying, that one screaming.... Oy vey. We left as soon as it seemed polite to.
I might not be a terrific mother, but I'm not a bad one either.