Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go...

You know, I think the Ramones were onto something with that song. I'm not necessarily saying I want to actually be sedated, but thinking back to those first few months with a new baby, it almost seems like the sleep deprivation functioned like a sedative. Or something. I'm sure I was going somewhere profound with that thought.

I was whining to myself (in my office, with the door closed) that there is just never enough time to get everything done. I don't think that's just the scourge of the working mama, but I find it almost impossible to check everything off my mental to-do list. It's just exhausting - there aren't enough hours in the day or enough of me to get it all done. And forget counting on the Spouse - don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have him, but men are just not so concerned about stuff like that - maybe it's the DNA?

Let's see what the typical evening/night looks like for me:

Drive home from work, hopefully traffic won't be so bad and it'll only take me 40 minutes instead of an hour but either way that puts me getting home after 6pm. Hopefully Baby is still awake - 75% of the time he's conked out before I get home because he's exhausted from daycare.

Awake or not, I've got to figure out something quick for dinner. What to eat...nothing sounds good, everything takes too long to make and too much planning ahead. Maybe I'll just snack on some stuff here and there. There, some wine will top it off and we'll call it a meal.
I really need to plan something for tomorrow's dinner. And we should go grocery shopping as we need more food to send to daycare, and I feel like we ought to break out of the carrots-bananas-cheerios rut.

I should pick up the living room, as it's become Toy Central and how did he get all those monkeys from the Barrel O' Monkeys scattered ALL OVER THE FLOOR?!? And why are there cheerios EVERYWHERE?!? Ugh, can't deal with that right now, maybe I'll go pick up the kitchen and dining room, as Spouse has left dried-on bananas on the highchair tray because he forgot to clean it up. Or maybe I forgot to clean it up. Can't remember.

Either way it's gross now and oh, look, there's still those bags of baby books and stuff I loaned out and upon getting it back, stacked it in the corner of the dining room where it still sits. I need to put that away but where?

And there are those bags of maternity clothes that I just got back and left in the garage, should probably put those away, too...oh, and while I'm at it, there's that mess of stuff on top of the bookshelf and fireplace, where we've just been stacking stuff to keep it out of the baby's reach (& mouth).

And I really ought to go through that stack of mail and don't forget about that huge stack of filing that's one day going to pin me down and suffocate me and what about finally going through and purging all those old magazines I've never had the time to sit down and thumb through? Oh, and speaking of organizing, maybe tonight I'll finally go through and organize all the clothes he's outgrown, along with his books and toys.

But first, oh look, the floor needs to be vacuumed and the kitchen floor mopped and I've got to clean the toilets but first I'll just sit down and check my email and maybe facebook and oh look, it's already 9:48pm and I really ought to do some stretching and sit-ups before bed, and I wanted to get a little reading in, and did I floss? No, I didn't floss but @(#$*%&! WHO DECIDED TO MAKE FLOSSING A DAILY REQUIREMENT AND REALLY, DO WE NEED ONE MORE THING TO FEEL GUILTY ABOUT NOT DOING?!?

Am I just really disorganized? Is that my problem? Because I don't see how, aside from pharmaceuticals, working mothers get it all done. Especially those with more than one child. It's just ridiculous.

Maybe tonight I'll refuse to feel guilty about not flossing. We'll see. And now I've just eaten up a chunk of time venting about how I don't HAVE time and sigh, it's such a vicious cycle. Back to the working grind...