bird droppings and the secrets of the universe



Love your life (even though you don't have a dishwasher). This is my meditation as I try to erase dinner from two nights ago off our slow cooker while Eli does a figure-8 of some sort between my legs.

I am convinced that the secrets of the universe will be uncovered by one extremely, perhaps manically, organized individual. I bet Jesus, the Buddha, Ghandi, Bill Gates, and Ryan Seacrest were/are all very organized people. I mean, think about it. The Last Supper? That was one hell of a dinner party to pull off -- even with only one type of carbohydrate and alcohol as the main course. And commentating American Idol, I mean, come on, people. That takes skills.

I will never know the secrets of the universe, because, a truly organized mind is just not in my genetic code. But, oh, how I try. Like today, for instance. I did all these things:

Woke up, with Eli in tow;
Made coffee and sandwich for husband;
Scarfed a Fiber One bar while child watched morning television while eating bananna;
Drank said coffee;
Did photography work on computer while child watched more morning television;
Prepared gourmet lunch of turkey in pita bread for self and child;
Sat and ate lunch with child;
Answered lots of questions while eating said pita;
Took said child outside to play;
Decided to weed an overgrown flower bed;
Watered flowers and vegetable garden;
Cleared other rocks and weeds from behind house;
Kicked ball with child;
Swang (swung?) with child;
Held garden hose while child ran under and around it with endless fascination;
Pondered dirty dishes in sink;
Hung bed sheets on clothes line to dry;
Lured child inside to take nap with promise of cool pop;
Started cleaning kitchen and re-organizing pantry while child (miraculously) fell asleep on the floor eating said cool pop;
Transferred child to sofa;
Continued in kitchen;
Completed pantry;
Cooked dinner;
Fed self and child;
Called husband to say 'you can come home now';
Said to child, "No more cool pops or banannas until you eat more of your dinner."
Greeted husband at door with toy steering wheel in hand. Don't ask.

I was feeling smug.

I had accomplished so much today.

Then, as we headed out for an evening walk, a bird crapped on my head.

I give up.