The Remains of the Day

The girl who was coming over on Mondays to watch Gus while I slept a few hours moved away. Far, far away. So the past few Mondays have been, shall we say, freckin' brutal. Usually I am extraordinarily chipper the first hour after I get home, like my brain is over-correcting for the fatigue in my bones, and for a brief moment, the trickery works and I think, "This ain't so bad. What." I make great plans to go to libraries, gyms, grocery stores. I anticipate afternoon crafting sessions, baking, cleaning. I'll get out a few packages in the mail, I'll think. Or, I'll power wash the side of the house later, for certain! Oh and I've been meaning for months to go out and clean/rearrange the shed. Isn't today a lovely day for such a massive project!?

Then 8:30 happens, and I am incapacitated. I hit the mother-lovin' wall. Sometimes literally - I run into walls. And I never accomplish anything, no matter how remotely trivial, for the remainder of the day.

Luckily, this is usually is the neighborhood of naptime for Gus, so it's not a big fight to get him to sleep. But oh how fleeting is that time. We wake up in what feels like 90 seconds. Or, in today's case, Gus wakes up and I put him in the floor in my sleep and continue on sleeping. Then LATER I wake up to him crying and have a flash of panic as I realize I didn't close the door to the nursery, so my curious 11-month old is wandering around a house that is not 100% baby-proofed while his mother sleeps on the futon.

Mother of the Year Award 2009? Why, I'm honored! I'd like to thank the little people. That means you Gus. Thanks for not crashing through any windows or eating any chemicals while I was dreaming about Jimmy Smits.