I took the last two days off. One to relax and one to work on Lil Man’s birthday stuff.
Not much relaxation happened on Monday – it went by in a quick blur of errands, volunteer, and finally Lil Man’s bath time and bed time.
But today, oh, today. It was like I channeled my inner 50’s housewife. I got Lil Man ready, kissed him and DH goodbye, did a little bit of cleaning, prepared dinner (chili that slow cooked all day – perfect for this rainy, chilly day we had here), and I baked. 36 cupcakes and two 6-inch rounds for Lil Man’s birthday. Pumpkin cake, at that. See (sans frosting)?
And I loved it.
I loved taking care of my home, having dinner ready for my family, and baking for my son’s birthday. There’s something so fulfilling about it. And I loved picking up Lil Man a little early from school so we could have extra play time. We played and rolled around the floor in a chorus of giggles and squeals. We had dinner, splashed in the bath, read together, cuddled for a bit, and then my sweet baby boy went to sleep without a fight. It was heaven.
I floated downstairs on a cloud of domestic blissdom, thinking that perhaps I should be a stay-at-home mom. That perhaps the benefits of his preschool do not outweigh the benefits of him having a mom at home. In the short walk downstairs, I dreamt up a fabulous life in which I’m always well dressed, my child is happily playing at all times, there’s always something fabulous in the oven and on the stovetop, and the house is always, always immaculate.
And then I walked into the family room and saw that despite my cleaning this morning, the house is a mess, the chili that was slowly simmering away on the stove almost scorched, and the toys that I had put away were all over the place. Didn’t I just pick those up?
And then, I saw that while I was upstairs in my mommy bliss, the dog ate Lil Man’s birthday cake.
I think I failed my 50’s housewife test. But I’m okay with that. Perfection has never been my thing anyway.