Why Things Don't Get Done

First of all, I’d like to extend a hearty welcome to all the new readers from Facebook! It’s a first step to making this thing a bit more public, taking the pressure of the dedicated core of readers that I’ve been forcing to come here over the past few years.

My intention was to bring the blog out of the closet and then fill your week with a bunch of new entries. But I was stymied by two problems. The first problem was that Blue and Green did not have camp this week. So my days began like this:

6:33 a.m.

Green: Mommy, I’m bored

Me: Hrrhmh?

Green: There’s nothing to do at our house.

Me: i…need…coffee…before...i…can…talk…to…you

Green: Can we go snorkeling now?

Me: Hrrhmh?

Green: Where’s my bathing suit?

Me (growling): Honey, the sun isn’t up yet.

Blue: We could go build a giant helium-powered light apparatus that shoots bad guys and let’s us see underwater in the dark! Mommy, do we have a chainsaw?

Green: IT’S NOT FAIR. HE’S GETS TO BUILD THE GIANT HELIUM-POWERED LIGHT APPARATUS BEFORE I DO!!!!

Blue: (punches Green in stomach)

Green: My arm is broken! He hit me, and my arm is broken!

Me: I think he punched you in the stomach.

Green: You always take his side!


Needless to say, my lovely children didn’t help me get a lot of writing done this week. My other big challenge involved preparing for our upcoming family reunion vacation. It’s not the actual packing that’s the issue. I haven’t even begun that process. I don’t know if this happens to you (or if it’s my own particular brand of crazy), but in the days before any trip, I become obsessed with attending to obscure household details.

This time, it was the bathroom grout. Was it always that color? Shouldn’t it be white? I can’t explain why dirty grout would be a problem in an empty house, while it never bothers me when we’re actually in town. And so there I was, on my hands and knees with a scrub brush and bleach, and a myriad other bizarre cleaning tasks were already forming an unsteady pyramid in my mind. That shower curtain is looking a little funky – should I replace it? The rug in the boys’ bedroom is beginning to smell a little bit too much like boys – should I get carpet cleaner? Old Cliff Huxtable-esque sweaters are thrown in a haphazard heap on the closet floor – take to Goodwill? Stuff from my dissertation is still shoved in a cardboard box under my desk – is it time to organize.? Has the food in the emergency kit expired? Do we even have an emergency kit? Ack!!!

The Unnecessary Things to Do list was growing ever larger, and I was growing ever more anxious. And, still on my hands and knees, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been asked to referee a fight in a while. I hadn’t been asked to read a book or do a craft project or feed anyone junk food. I peered out of the bathroom and saw nothing. I strained to listen. There was quiet followed by the words “fuel” and “exploding” and “hee hee hee.” It suddenly became clear to me that my grout might be clean, but my unattended children were busy in the kitchen building a bomb.

I am in awe of creative people, especially when they say how they get their work done. You know, the author who writes her novel on the bus while commuting to work, or the painter who paints at 4 a.m. before the day starts. But after this week, I’m pretty sure that these people don’t have children or grout. I may not have entertained you very well this week, bloggers, but I did manage to save the neighborhood from 7-year-old terrorists. And I deserve something for that.

(Next time you come over to my house, check out the baseboards! Shiny!)