Why? Because I Said So.

I am sitting on my couch, looking at a crooked Canaletto on the wall across from me, perched over a table of unread catalogues and books alongside a half-filled bag of Haribo gummy bears. I wonder if Caneletto ever imagined one of his masterpieces dangling over such domestic disarray. The men and women wandering the Piazza San Marco of Venice would surely disapprove of such conditions and certainly turn their noses up at the coffee that fills my cup this morning. Fear not, Signore Canal and my good citizens of Venice, I will straighten you up at some point when I’m done writing and have the motivation.

Over the years and particularly after having children, I have become very accustomed to life in chaos and that includes my acceptance of crooked artwork. Stuff here, there, and everywhere—it’s hard to know where to begin. And, when I do begin, I end up falling down a rabbit hole of cleaning. For example, the other day I was searching for my computer charger so that I could do some work. This led me to my daughter’s room whom I assumed had taken my charger as it also works for her computer. The things I found in that room were appalling. Unpopped popcorn kernels on the floor, stale Chips Ahoy cookies stuffed in her nightstand, hardened boogers on the walls, and tragically altered/maimed dolls. I have no idea what kind of dolls she has but they look like ladies of the night and that’s being kind. This inclination to alter things is not limited to dolls. Maire doodles on all hard surfaces, peels paint, cuts stuffed animals fur, and “customizes” anything and everything using these things called Posca markers. I literally can’t keep up with her, she is always one step ahead. “Some people would call that vandalism” a friend at work told me. I laughed because she was 100% correct. My daughter is a vandal and I am thankful she has not yet gotten into Grampy’s spray paint cabinet downstairs though I know it’s only a matter of time. I’m sure there is a psychological reason for this that will come out someday but, for now, we’ll label it “budding artist” and leave it at that.

Of the many things I discovered in Maire’s cave, I never did find my charger. In fact, when J.D. got home and asked me what I was doing, he informed me that HE had my charger in his LOCKER at school. Ugh. At that point, it didn’t matter. The new goal was to douche Maire’s room. The end result was fabulous, I even scraped the boogers off and applied flower wall decals strategically over marred areas of the walls. For once, the room looked less like a troll’s den and more like Punky Brewster’s hangout. By the next morning, however, it had all started to fall apart after Maire attempted to find an outfit to wear and tore through her drawers and hamper. “Go upstairs, right now, and pick up your room.” I told her upon seeing the mess. There was no way all my hard work was going to get overturned that quickly. “You don’t have to be so rude about it!” she yelled at me. Charming, I know. She’s a total angel everywhere else but at home.

Today, instead of tidying up and straightening that Canaletto, I decided to actively resist significant housework. Maire’s room was a big enough job this weekend and the kids requested various forms of entertainment over the past 48 hours that led to a lot of driving. I needed to allow the wind to take me where it wanted to go today. On top of that, we had a representative from Re-Bath come for two hours this afternoon all to quote us $31,000+ to do our upstairs bathroom. As my sister was once quoted as saying in Hawaii — mahalo, but no mahalo. Although the promise of faux marble, corian sink and vanity, brushed nickel hardware, and laminate flooring all sounded lovely, I didn’t think that $31k sounded “reasonable” though I may be totally wrong on that. I’m more of a piecemeal kind of girl and would prefer we do this project in more manageable chunks. So, nope, I didn’t do the things I had set out to do. I didn’t even change my sheets as I had planned. Why? Because my clean ones are still wet in the washer and in order to dry them, I need to fold whatever is in the dryer which is A LOT and I still have an entire basket of clean clothes to fold on top of that! What I think I’m trying to say right now is that sometimes, our days, weekends, years…don’t end up exactly as we had envisioned or planned. With Covid fatigue setting in heavy around here these days, am I correct in assuming that you are as tired as I am of shuffling on through it all right now? Yes, I thought so. We have all been through so damn much over the past two years that we never stop to give ourselves credit for continuing to be decent humans for the most part. My laundry isn’t folded, the sheets aren’t changed, and our beloved Canaletto is still crooked. Hell, even my Christmas lights are still up outside. But, we are here and somewhat healthy (at least trying to be—I begrudgingly bought Keto friendly pistachio ice cream today which Isaac said “will probably be gross”). Productivity can wait until tomorrow. Rest in where you are at right now; you and I deserve to revel in the nothingness. Why? Because I am a Mom and I said so.