By Leslie Lindsay

Each day, I set out with a list in hand.  One that contains the chores, the kid-related stuff, the things I want to do (whatever) and the things that “gotta get done.”  Today’s list included such items as:

• Wash the pee-pee bedding from last night (Kid #2’s, not mine)
• Load/run/unload DW (that’s dishwasher)
• Kid #1 to camp
• Kid #2 to pool
• Email
• Blog
• Find sitter for the 5th
• Schedule appt for kid #1
• Pack for trip
• Exercise
• Write a book

Am I wallowing?  Not really.  Okay, maybe a little.  But, you see…this is a typical list for me.  Nope, I’m not manic.  I am perfectly sane, I just have lots to do and less time to do it all. 

No where on this list does it mention how I have intervened with at least three sibling bicker-fests, mopped up water from the kitchen floor when my 4-year-old decided to “give the grapes a bath” in a small bowl filled with water, or how many tiny ants I killed, leaving a burial ground on my ceramic tile.  No where on the list did I write, “wake at 6:32am to two children screaming because the satellite wasn’t picking up a signal on the  television.”  And, I did not write, “Allow kid #1 to hold to my leg tightly as I try to pack 3 lunches.”  No.

You see, the entire list pretty much revolves around me being a slave river to my family.  But no one cares.  I am ready to run off and have a fuge state.  Who cares if the get-a-way mobile is a Goldfish-encrusted-library-book-minivan-with-two-booster-seats.  I am done!

And that is what is in my brain today, Thursday June 30th 2011.