Sleep in Bathroomly Peace

*Warning:  Disturbing Mental Images may commence.*

**If you go to church with me on Sunday, you're gonna feel like I've done a whole bunch of over-sharing next time you see me.**

I've been reading a lot of non-fiction lately.  It's not always fun, but sometimes it's necessary for overall life and familial improvement.

For example, right now I'm reading a number of different books.  (All scattered through-out various locations of the house and car and read at different times.)  One is about ADHD, one about Mental Health, one on Gardening and one about Organization.  (Oh, and I frequently reference "How to Choose the S-e-x of Your Baby".)

The one about organization is called "Sidetracked Home Executives" and this is my second (third?) time reading it.

Before Gabey was born, I read it and used it to get my life in order.  The system recommended, though it takes some time to set up, really works well for Mom's with ADD or a high level of distractibility.  (That would be me.)  

Unfortunately, after Gabey was born, I took an organization-vacation and let my good habits become a distant memory.   So now I'm starting all over again.

But it's hard.

Really, really hard.

For example, one of the recommendations/rules is to get up half an hour before your kids.  That way, you can shower and dress before they get up and you're ready to start your day.  This is excellent and sound advice.  

In theory.  

In reality, my kids get up WAY too early.  I'm a night owl and I'd much rather sleep until 9 and let the little hellions fend for themselves.  But THAT tends to backfire and always results in a big mess in the kitchen and Max putting three cups of sugar on his oatmeal.  Oh, and me spending the day in sweats; bra-less and make-up-less.  Which isn't the breakfast of champions.

So I've resolved to do better.  Actually, I've resolved to have Doug force me to do better.  This means, he (literally) drags me out of bed at 6:30, gives me a swift smack on the rear, and shoves me into the bathroom.  (Oh, and by-the-way, usually at least one kid is already up at this un-godly hour.  It's just that I'm not willing to get up any earlier.)

This has been working relatively well until today.  Today we (I) hit a snag.

The problem is, we have a hamper in our bathroom.  

Why is this a problem???  Because when it's pulled in front of the toilet and a sweatshirt is sitting on the lid, it makes a perfect headrest.  For me.  When I'm sitting on the...*eh-hem* throne.

At which point...I fall asleep.  

That's what happened this morning.  I fell asleep.  For a good 15 minutes by my estimate.

So when I woke up with dropped trou and wicker marks embedded deeply into my forehead, I just gave up trying and went back to bed.  

***IMPORTANT!  Doug had neglected to pull up the comforter, so really, this is all his fault.  The book, which I forced Doug to read, clearly states that an unmade bed acts as a high-powered magnet to pull a Sidetracked Home Executive, like myself, back in.***

I nestled back into my cocoon of Nova-Form Mattress Topper and Synthetic-Down Comforter bliss.  And of course, fell immediately back to sleep.  

Unfortunately, it wasn't the peaceful sleep of the innocent.  It was restless and haunted by the knowledge that Doug was still somewhere in the house and might at any moment discover my treachery.  Which he did.  Just before he left for work at at 6:50.  

This time, when he grabbed me by the ankles to yank me from bed, he was far less gentle.  And there was considerable "tsk-tsk"ing and reprimanding accompanying this second shove into the bathroom.

This evening when he recollected my fall from grace he said, "It's like living with a 12-year-old!"

REALLY!!!  HMPFH!!!

I don't know If I can handle this kind of abuse to body, mind, and spirit.  I don't know if a clean house and orderly life are worth it!  Do YOU?!?!?

I think I'm going to use my Pottery Teaching money to hire a Mama-san to clean for me!

And then I'm going back to reading fiction!!!

Goodnight!!!