The Maid

Yesterday was kind of crappy. I was in a grumpy mood most of the day and Olivia was especially bossy all day long.

At one point, I was vacuuming the living room carpet. Olivia asked for a grapefruit.

I told her when I was done with the vacuuming, I’d prepare one for her.

The vacuum was off for no more than two seconds when she said, “I thought you were going to get me a grapefruit.”

I was still wrapping the cord of the vacuum cleaner. I looked at her and said, “Am I done with this job?”

She shrugged at me.

I replied to her shrug with, “No, I’m not done. I’ll get you the grapefruit when I’m done. That means when this cord is wrapped and the vacuum cleaner is put away. Now, if, when that is done, I decide to sit down, put my feet up and twiddle my thumbs, then you can remind me that I was going to get you a grapefruit.”

She and her sister laughed because I’d said, “Twiddle.”

I know.

I let my children treat me like the maid. This is my fault and I need to work on that.

I clean up after them. I cook for them, I do their laundry and I even still wipe Olivia’s butt after her enormous poos.

But it makes me tired and cranky and when I’m in that place, I need to remember that it’s not their fault. I’ve se the president, so I’m the one who needs to reset it.

I’m working on that. I’ll let you know how it goes.