Holy cow, I had a heck of week. The up, down, crazy, sideways and what the heck am I doing kind of week. I know it’s Monday morning, but each time I opened my browser to start working on this week’s Sunday Confessional (which would have been long enough before Sunday came along) someone in my household lost their ever-loving-minds.
Most of you know what the Sunday Confessional series is, but for those who are newbies (oh hai! And welcome to Home Ec 101) it’s the series in which I try to point out that no one is ever going to get their lives magazine perfect. And I never want to contribute to anyone feeling like they are somehow less of a person because their homes and lives don’t match media and judgy mcjudgerson Internet Standards. The Sunday Confessional isn’t about celebrating mediocrity, it’s more about just admitting that no, we ALL have bad days or weeks. And I want to be sure you understand that we are almost always -in our heads at least- comparing our own absolute worst moments with other people’s best foot forward.
Last Monday I flew home from San Francisco where I had been meeting with the Method brand -and oh my, I cannot wait to tell you about that, I have never fallen in love with a company before and I have butterflies. . . we talked chemistry and the environment and cleaning and and and post coming later today, I’ll stop gushing now.
Tuesday, I started my new job. I’m now a server in an Irish pub three nights a week. I love it, it’s exactly the kind of escape from startup / homeschooler / working from home life I needed. What I need now is a way to manage my time more effectively -the fact that it’s Monday and I’m writing Sunday’s post should say something. Friday another server called in and I was thrown into the Friday night rush on what should have been a training shift. That really wasn’t a big deal, I did serve for years in my past life, it was just a matter of having to cut myself some slack for not knowing all of the ins and outs of their computer system and hoping they’d cut me the same slack. I made it through. Saturday I picked up a shift because the server that called in had to be replaced. Let’s just say it ended up being a very, very late night thanks to the time change* and my children do not have a snooze button.
Sunday morning my dog ripped off a toenail and created a scene straight out of Dexter for me to clean up just a few minutes before I had to get the kids ready for Sunday school. You know, I really hope no one in my household disappears unexpectedly, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do when the crime scene people show up with the black lights. Yeah, the floor only got a lick and a promise kind of cleaning, the deep clean has to wait until tomorrow -hopefully.
Today? I have to figure out how to get all of these metaphorical juggling balls back into the air, maybe I’ll breathe after my shift ends tonight.
What about you? What do you have to get off your chest? I know it’s Monday, but we just had the time change, so we’re all running a bit behind.
*No, it wasn’t the kind of late night that results in a hangover, it was just a late night running my mouth with actual adults.