Becasuse my life is not futile enough

No, honestly - even though it may seem like it at times,
my life is not futile.
But at times, it does feel like it.
I mean really....how many things do we do in a day
that truly honestly MEAN something important.
But anyway, I digress.

Today I had some unexpected time to myself.
So I thought to myself....
the weather was awesome, I had to be home to wait for the UPS man,the kitchen floor had not been washed in literally months.
No no no I did not just admit that to the universe! Seriously I wash my floor weekly...I am just saying this for the dramatic effect. Honest. *fingers-crossed*
One suggestion, if you hate to wash the floor, put in tile. It hides so much more indisgression than linoleum. Honest. I know.
So I got to work,
worked all morning.
washing the floor,
vacuuming,
tidying,
doing laundry.
I felt to accomplished.
Felt so nice that it was all done.
The couch was fluffed and aired.
The floor was shiny.Then,
I remembered.
The kids had a half day yesterday.
You know.
it dawns on you immediately,
how futile my attempts were to clean up.
Usually I get to appreciate my efforts for at least maybe an hour or so.

Ironically,
I finished the kitchen,
literally,
15 minutes before they came home.
5 minutes later my kitchen looked like this....

Because according to my daughter,
school is trying to starve them.
even though somehow she manages to blow through her
lunch money a week before she should.
Although we know the real reason is because
she feeds her friends, but that is another post...

So, I drew a breath,
and calmly said,
in my calmest most level mom voice,
"Remember to please keep in mind,
that I just finished cleaning this kitchen.
Please clean up after yourselves."

20 minutes later my kitchen looked like this.....
and I didn't photograph the pot left half
full of macaroni and cheese on the stove,
and the crumbs all over the counter.

After my head popped off, spun around 10 times
and settled back on my neck,
I am proud of myself and can tell you there was no
mom-icide to report.
I calmly walked in the family room,
politely asked them if that was what the kitchen looked like
when they came home......
to my children's credit,
they did get up quietly and finish cleaning up the mess.
I am proud of myself for not losing it.

Although I am going to figure out how to teach
everyone else that lives with me to
open the dishwasher door to see if it is full of clean or dirty dishes...
since I seem to be the only one that ever knows.
And somehow get them to remember
that there is no dishwasher fairy
that magically walks their dishes into it.

And I try to remember,
some day the house will stay clean when I am finished,
and I will hate it.
So for now, I keep breathing.