Cuddled poor sick daughter (allergies have given her chronic cough). Gave her cough syrup, cleaned up the spit-out syrup, gave her fresh. Made a protein smoothie for her for breakfast, because her throat hurt.
Started laundry. Folded previous two loads. Hung up the shirts and pants. Showered. Got dressed. Got Anna dressed, teeth and hair brushed.
Ate breakfast. Made her lunch. Made my lunch. Packed her things for school. Cleaned up my room. Washed dishes, emptied dishwasher. Checked email.
Packed up her immensely fragile homework. Took her and it to school, delivered homework to the classroom. Got in the car to go to work. 8:15 AM.
Not much. Bet that ladle of yours is really clean...
Listen (as it were), it's not a question of accomplishment, it's a question of weirdness. I never claimed that cleaning a ladle was any great feat - that'd be idiotic. It just felt like a weird thing to be doing, so I wondered how my friends were spending their mornings.
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Cuddled poor sick daughter (allergies have given her chronic cough). Gave her cough syrup, cleaned up the spit-out syrup, gave her fresh. Made a protein smoothie for her for breakfast, because her throat hurt.
Started laundry. Folded previous two loads. Hung up the shirts and pants. Showered. Got dressed. Got Anna dressed, teeth and hair brushed.
Ate breakfast. Made her lunch. Made my lunch. Packed her things for school. Cleaned up my room. Washed dishes, emptied dishwasher. Checked email.
Packed up her immensely fragile homework. Took her and it to school, delivered homework to the classroom. Got in the car to go to work. 8:15 AM.
Not much. Bet that ladle of yours is really clean...
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Whereas, a busy morning getting a child ready for school - is just another day.
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To you, yes; I continue to be impressed by how much work you put in each day, and it makes me reflect on how large a decision having children is.
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Honestly? It's not a big deal. And the joy is so very massive.