Today, I had one goal: vacuum the living room.
It was 3:00 pm before we finished. There was much cajoling and threatening (from me), whining and moaning (from the two eldest) and crying (from the youngest). I had to vacuum with Second Son in the carrier -- and even then he only stopped crying when the cleaner was actually running.
You might think I'd be proud and happy with my nice clean living room.
Not quite. I am dismayed to report that it is impossible to tell that the living room was clean a few hours ago. It is once again strewn with toys, dress-up clothes, and books. Probably some other stuff, too. It makes me a little depressed to look at it too closely.
At least one of the school cabinets is assembled. (We must end on a bright note.)
Oh, and Second Son has been sleeping soundly on our bed for an hour now. Alone. Without me. Without Kansas Dad.
Did I mention he's alone?