"I've got to go the bathroom," an everyday mom explained to her two kids. She tried to ease the bewilderment on their faces. "It'll only be for like thirty seconds. You can do this." She held her breath, turned up Sesame Street, and began to walk backwards.
"Finally," she whispered as she occasionally looked over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. She eventually made her way into the bathroom, her break room. But before she could enjoy her two minutes of me time, there was an intruder. She saw that there, in all their glory, was a perfectly fine pair of Lightning McQueen underwear in the trash. "What in the world..." she mumbled under her breath as she made her way to the laundry room.
There she was greeted by a mountain of clean clothes. "I might as well start folding these while I'm in here." She began to pile all the socks into her lap, but there was an intruder. There in the laundry basket she found a sippy cup wrapped inside a Paw Patrol shirt. "Yeesh," she gagged as she quickly screwed the top back on. "Son! I told you to quit hiding these chocolate milk cups! It's not funny, you know! How hard is it to just put them in the sink?"
The mom rushed to the sink to escape the putrid odor all while leaving a trail of mateless socks in her wake.
She rinsed the cup out and sat it to the side to soak. "Might as well start loading the dish washer while I'm standing here," she muttered quietly to an audience of Minnie Mouse plates and an embarrassingly large number of coffee cups.
Before she could place the first Minion spoon into the silverware receptacle, she heard her daughter's blood-curdling scream.
Our dear old mom dropped the spoon, turned on her heel, and picked up her other foot only to have it catch on the dishwasher door.
Mom down.
She scrambled to the living room. Frantic, heart racing, gasping for air, she somehow managed to blurt out, "What is it?"
Her kids were laughing. "What are you talking about, Mama?" She looked back and forth to both kids. No one seemed to have a broken limb. No one was hurt. She shrugged.
Mom hobbled back to the dishes only to find a trail of blood from where she had come. "Great," she muttered. "Maybe we've got some bandages somewhere."
Mom grabbed a roll of paper towels, limped to the medicine cabinet, and opened the door. "What in the world?" Everything was sticky...like a thin layer of something oily had made its way onto each and every item. "Gross." She found no bandages, but she did find an intruder: a tube of Neosporin from 2008 that was apparently missing a lid. "These need to be thrown away," she thought while she gripped a few expired items in her hand, but they slipped from her grip, knocking over the paper towels, sending the towels into a beautiful cascade across her kitchen floor. "Great."
Mom walked to the trash to rid herself of the aged salve and to roll up the paper towels. The trash was full. No, it was milk-jug-sitting-on-top-overflowing full. "Oh, well. I'm standing here. I'll just take it out."
Mom hobbled to the door with the trash bag only to find that her dear child, clad in only a pair of Thomas the Tank Engine underwear, was being greeted by the precious mail lady. OUTSIDE. She bolted out the door, leaving the untied trash bag by the door.
Mom blushed. "Oh, I'll just take the package, ma'am. I'm sorry. I didn't know someone was out here." She turned to her son. "And how did you get out here!?"
"There's my tractor!" the little boy declared, beaming with pride.
"I see that," the nice lady replied.
"Son, get in the house. I really don't know how he slipped out like this. He does this sometimes." Mom giggled nervously while the sweat poured down her temples.
"Ma'am, your toe. You're bleeding."
"Oh, that's right. Thank you. I forgot. It just slipped my mind. Have a nice day." Mom gave the best smile she could muster. This is where our mom gave the "look" to her son...the look that implied cloudy skies and danger were coming if he didn't get his backside inside the house.
Mom trudged back to the front door and stared. She couldn't believe what she saw.
Trash was scattered across the floor. A completely unraveled roll of paper towels were becoming her son's newfound form of entertainment. Socks littered the hallway. Dishes were everywhere. Blood was all over the floor. And what was that awful smell?
"Kids, if y'all don't stop making all these messes, I'm going to go crazy!"
She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. "Now let's see...why did I come in here again?" She had been asking herself that a lot lately. "Oh, I've got to go to the bathroom! I'll just..."
"Moooooommmmmm!!!!!"
Have a nice weekend, mamas!
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