Doing the Dishes

Chores stink.

As a kid/teenager my Dad would make chore charts for my five siblings and me. I used to hate them. But now I miss the idea that for one week all I had to do was take the trash out. Or for one week all I had to do was vacuum. Etc.

As a stay-at-home Momma I have all the chores, every week.  Boo.

So this morning when I was washing dishes and listening to {E} getting into mischief in the living room, I started to get FRUSTRATED. Frustrated over my messy house. Frustrated over my inability to do chores as quickly as John. Frustrated that {E} was definitely doing something she wasn’t supposed to. I quickly put the soapy pan down {which resulted in water spilling out of the sink and all over the floor} and went to see what she was doing.  Oh she was just ripping apart the super cute pop-up book her Grandma H. gave her for Christmas. AHHH!

I stomped. She smiled. I yelled. She smiled bigger. I cried. Not a great Mom moment for me.

She and I took a break for a minute {I went in my bedroom and ate 5 chocolate kisses while she jabbered at the closed door}.

20 minutes later it was time for her nap. I was still a little worked up, but as she quickly {thank goodness} fell asleep in my arms these pictures from a few months ago came to my mind.


Chores aren’t all bad I guess.

{And sorry about the book Grandma}

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