Weekend Accomplishments

As I tucked Olivia in on Sunday night and settled into bed myself I reflected on the weekend that had just passed and wondered if I’d managed to accomplish anything.

I mean, sure, I bought groceries, I swept the kitchen floor, vacuumed the living room and family room. I changed the sheets on all the beds. I made banana bread. Both my children were relatively healthy and my husband was still speaking to me, sooo, sure?

But what had I REALLY done? I wondered.

I went through a couple of boxes of clothes that Alyssa outgrew years ago, picking ones I thought Olivia might wear, putting those in a basket to be washed and tossing the ones that I knew Olivia would never in a million years wear into a box to be given to my oldest step-son’s daughter. We send all O’s outgrown clothes to her and tell her parents, “Whatever you don’t want, you can give away, donate, burn, whatever. Once they’re in your hands, they’re no longer our problem.”

Or something like that. I just like to get stuff like that out of my house.

I’m trying to get the ‘guest’ room cleaned out so I can move Olivia’s stuff in there. Alyssa’s claimed her room and it’s all good. Even though O’s bed is in my room (so she can chat with me at 3am…Oh dear lord, WHY?) I want her to have a space that is clearly hers. So I’m getting all the stored stuff out of there, but it’s taking forever. I figure maybe by the end of summer, I’ll have it set up like an actual room for her. Maybe.

But sorting clothes can take a while. So once that was done, it was time to make lunch for the girls and then the afternoon just floated away and it was time to make dinner and wash the dishes and settle down for the night.

And just like that, the weekend was gone.

I got into each Friday afternoon thinking of all the things I might get done that weekend. I mean, there are two whole days ahead of me, days during which I don’t have to leave for work.

And yet they fly by and I never get the toy room organized or the stuffed animals out of the corner of O’s future room. I don’t get the pile of crap by the door in my own room cleared out either. It sits there, mocking me, asking me what I’m doing with all my time.