Bed.

I often think how nice it would be to go to bed early. By early, I mean anything on the pm side of midnight. Every so often, I even have a night like tonight, where there is nothing to really keep me from bed-- except that nagging list of things that never seem to get done. Today I had the whole day off of work, and I had ideas of wondrous activities-- go to the park with the boys, grocery shop, fold laundry, wash clothes so we don't look like homeless people... I know it doesn't sound like much, but that is an extraordinarily busy day in Danielle world.
I found I spent little more time than usual in the bathroom, today, and not in a gross way-- it is the only room my toddler is incapable of destroying. When I need reassurance, or a minute away from my desperate attempts to manage the chaos, I poke my head in and just revel in the fact that there is one room in my home I am proud of. If only I could use the bathroom for all of my family time and entertaining needs, I suppose there would be little reason to even bother with the rest of the house. Alas, people would talk.
We did manage to make it to Target today. It was time to get Jonamonkey his very first pillow (he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, and ended up falling asleep curled at the foot of his bed. This is an improvement on last night, however, when he fell asleep atop a pile of books he pulled off the shelf). Target is one of my favorite places. It's the one place where I don't try and pretend I am a calm, cool, collected, sane individual. It all started when I was pregnant with Ethan, and went on a shopping excursion with the Monk. It was nearly bedtime, he was exhausted, and I think I had forgotten to feed him dinner (oops). I can't remember if he was in the front part of the cart or piled underneath all of the items I intended to purchase. I do remember that he had kicked off a shoe in one of the aisles, and a kind employee found and returned it. I couldn't help but notice that he gave me that look-- the look of mixed pity and caution, the one you might use with someone who is indigent, that you don't want to offend by making any show of the fact that you noticed. I couldn't figure out why he might be giving me the look, but then I saw myself. My shirt didn't match my pants, I had toddler snot and cookie crumbs all over my shirt, my hair was in a ragged half ponytail, half bun, and my shoes were caked with mud. Add that to the screaming, unkempt toddler, and I instantly knew that I should be embarrassed. I called my sister in law, delighted-- "I am that person Tammi! I am the one who is the pity of every shopper and employee of Target; and I don't even care!" It was the turning of a new leaf for me. From that day forward, I have had an image to maintain. I could get used to this.