by Whitney Barthel posted in Life

As I lifted my vacuum off the ground and onto my bed, I thought, this has to be an all-time motherhood low for me.

Let me back up a little bit. Yesterday, before needing to go pick Frankie and Daniel up from school, I was blessed with a few moments to shower as Charlie napped and George accepted my bribery in front of the boob tube. It was glorious.
It wasn?t until I was already out of the shower that I realized my missing shadow (George) suspiciously did not end up running into the bathroom after five seconds, like normal.
I poked my head into my room where George was watching SpongeBob. Cornflakes were everywhere. In the middle of my bed, which had been torn to smithereens due to a certain 3-year-old?s desire to test the force of gravity, was said 3-year-old and a whole upturned box of cereal. Why do all bad things happen on my bed"
I tried not to blow. Not because I wasn?t angry, but because I literally did not have time. I had to leave for town to pick up the big boys in 20 minutes. And although I was at least clean and body-odor free, I was a naked mess.
So, I left it and the memory literally went poof out of my brain. That is, until this exhausted 5-months-pregnant momma dragged her butt into her room for some pajamas later that evening. Sonofab*tch. Cornflakes everywhere.
I looked around, what are my options" I don?t have a clean pair of sheets for this size of bed. And, even if I did, I am way too tired to fight linens ...