The Household Tell

Everyone has a "tell," a physical tick that tips you off when they are lying, or telling the truth, or hungry, or annoyed. My house has a "tell" too. One look around will show exactly the kind of day I've had.

I am not a morning person--in the 10 minutes to pry my eyes open and another 5 just to convince myself to scrape my head off the pillow kind of way.  Yesterday, I left the house by 6 a.m. I had to drive 2 hours to Custer County to negotiate a 45 minute deal and drive 2 more hours back home. I filed a motion and submitted a mediation statement by 4 o'clock. By 4:30 I was in line at the Cracker Barrel waiting on chicken 'n' dumplins and cobbler. I don't cook these days.

R.J. greeted me with giggles and screams, "I went pee in the potty!" [Hooray!] I fed him macaroni and cheese, ate two bites of chicken and promptly collapsed in the recliner. [I love that thing--even though it disjoints itself and returns as though nothing has happened--motion furniture still freaks me out].

R.J. needed a bath. I needed a bath. The floor, vanities, countertops, and some rogue cushions needed a bath too. (Potty training has done a number on the upholstery.). Only mommy got a bath--the eucalyptus scented bath salts less the smell of Johnson's baby shampoo told the story.

R.J. needed stories read to him. I was too tired.  The DVD player tells the story of an exhausted mommy. We don't watch movies everyday.

When R.J.'s daddy got home from work, the house told the story: It's 7 p.m. The kitchen lights are off, and there's a pile of unfolded laundry on the chair. There is no welcoming aroma of dinner on the table, and the lemon scented candles aren't lit either. On the couch, there's a toddler bowl of sliced grapes and a toppled tippy cup.

Mommy and R.J. are snuggled deep into the corner of the sofa while Lightening McQueen tips tractors on the t.v.

No words need to be spoken. No one needs to tell me it's bedtime. Lights out.

[Note: I did manage to haul myself out of bed at a reasonable time today, folded laundry, untoppled the tippy cup and swiffer the floor--applause please.]