Weekend Wrap-Up: Productivity Queen

As a “mommy blogger,” I consider it my duty to religiously follow no fewer than one zillion other blogs. Most of the time, my blog obsession results in little more than fits of jealousy as I bemoan the superior popularity of every other blog on the planet (how do you do it?!? Who do I need to bribe?) and drool over all the cool site designs I am too lazy/untalented to implement on this hunk of junk, but every once in a while I glean some serious inspiration from my fellow bloggers.

On Friday, I happened upon a blog written by an insane person. Well, technically speaking, she’s not insane — just one of those maddening domestic goddesses that cooks literally everything from scratch (SHE HAS GOATS AND MILKS THEM DAILY, YOU GUYS) and makes all kinds of awesome crafts (SHE HAS A VINYL MACHINE THINGY, YOU GUYS) and lives super frugally and has a gorgeous house and essentially is everything I wish I could be in terms of homemaking.

Needless to say, my jealousy was through the roof.

But! So was my inspiration! If this woman can make all-natural homemade pop-tarts out of spelt flour (which I had never even heard of but apparently is some sort of even-better-for-you alternative to whole wheat), surely I can take five minutes to fold the clean laundry that’s been rotting in the basket for a week, right?

RIGHT!

And fold that laundry I did. AND SO MUCH MORE! Fasten your seat belts and be prepared to be jealous of ME (unless you are the type of person who makes your own organic soap, in which case, prepare to laugh at my embarrassing attempt to be like you) because I was EXTREMELY PRODUCTIVE this this weekend. Let’s break it down:

30: Minutes spent scouring the hell out of my stove.

7: Weeks it had been since I had last done so much as wipe down said stove. It was…gross.

5: Separate times I rolled up my sleeves and washed dishes so they wouldn’t stack up like they always usually do.

100: Approximate number of Bubba’s toys I washed and/or Lysol’d. I even crawled under the couch to fetch the ones he willfully rolled under there!

9: Number of miles I ran on Saturday…WITH THE JOGGING STROLLER!

35: Percent of said “run” I spent walking or filling up my water bottle (IT STILL COUNTS).

3: Number of YouTube videos I watched on the subject of “how to wear a scarf.” I had purchased a scarf a couple weeks ago but am so sartorially-challenged that I literally could not figure out what to do with it. Success:

40: Minutes I spent sorting through Bubba’s clothes, weeding out the too-small stuff and rotating in the big-boy gear (overalls! Jeans! Actual shoes!).

5: Minutes I spent wistfully tearfully looking at all the adorable tiny newborn items (doll-sized socks! Teensy-weensy hats! Waaaaaaaah….)

35: Combined number of minutes I spent vacuuming or sweeping various rooms.

23: Seconds it took before the floors were absolutely covered in my dog’s hair again.

100: Percent of my home’s toilets I scrubbed.

2: Number of toilets in my home. Sounds more impressive the first way I phrased it.

0: Junk food items consumed. Unless you count the Chipotle we got on Saturday. Or the Jack In The Box fries we got after that 9 mile run (I challenge you to find a better post-run snack. You will fail.). Or the non-diet soda(s) I drank when we went out for breakfast yesterday. Shit!

4: Hours I spent making HOME-MADE CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP yesterday. Full disclosure: I cheated and bought a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken from the grocery store. But I made the stock myself from the bones and whatnot, so: IT STILL COUNTS.

6:00: Time last night that I decided it would be a good idea to rearrange my living room a little bit.

1: Number of alcoholic beverages with which I rewarded myself after all this madness was complete.

11: My level of drunkenness (on a scale of 1-10) after consuming just 80% of said beverage. I’m old. And lame.

Try not to be too jealous of my expert housewifery. If it makes you feel any better, I was back to work today, which of course meant that we ate leftovers for dinner and my house looks like this again:

I’ll deal with it next weekend.