I didn’t check Webster for this one, but if you asked me the definition of “exile” I would tell you that it’s when a person is removed from its previous existence against its will and placed in a foreign land. And that’s exactly what’s happened here this week. Currently, as I type, there are four residents of our household who are currently in exile. Did they break a law? No. Did they do anything to deserve exile? Probably not. So why then are they in exile?
Because Mommy went on a rampage.
I never knew about these rampages before I was a mom. I mean, I’d seen them before, but I’d never really experienced one. I’ve never experienced sitting in one spot, feeling completely normal and then BAM! the next second you can’t stand the dirt in your house one.more.instant. and so you jump off the couch, start cleaning, and God help the person/animal who gets in your way. I’m there. Right now. With my house. Actually, because I’m typing and not cleaning…I’m actually only almost there, “there” will probably happen this weekend.
Rampages aren’t limited to just cleaning…they can happen for a variety of reasons. Hormones. Animals. Being touched too much in one day. Clutter. You name it, a Mommy Rampage could happen because of it.
My most recent rampage happened because of the animals. I have four pretty great animals and we are currently dogsitting two little daschounds. One of those six, who will remain nameless to protect the innocent, likes to cuddle. On an average day, I’m fine with that, I even enjoy it sometimes. But? On other days, I literally can’t handle it. Wednesday was one of those days. The animal who shall remain nameless would not listen to me when I asked it to stop cuddling. Wouldn’t stay on the other couch. Wouldn’t even stay on the other end of the couch. No, it had to be right there on my leg. I got up and went to the bathroom, where another animal who will also remain nameless, followed me and sat right outside the door staring at me. The logical thing to do would’ve been to shut the door. But, instead, my frustration just inched higher. I then went to wash my hands…and, you guessed it, another animal who will also remain nameless jumped up on the counter to assist me. I sat back on the couch and the first animal cuddled right up next to me. Up to this point in the evening I had been pretty silent about my frustration, which had been climbing steadily since the afternoon. It seemed like I was walking through a sea of animals all day. When I sat back on that couch and the animal cuddled up next to me, I lost it.
I got up quickly and announced that I was going to bed. I made sure that Brad knew I was in no way shape or form mad at him and went upstairs where I got into the shower. I figured that’s the one place in our house where no animals come. {Although, more than once one of the cats have come to sit on the edge of the shower…can’t a woman get ONE spot that’s completely solitary?} I sat in there and tried to talk myself out of giving away every single animal that we have, and the only way I did was by repeating this saying on a billboard I pass every day, “Totally giving up is a permanent solution to a temporary situation”. By the time I finished my shower Brad had locked up the house and was coming up to bed too. As I was removing the litter box from our room and placing it in the hallway I announced that no animal was sleeping in the room that night. Brad looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I was as cool as a cucumber. I couldn’t give my animals away, but I damn sure wasn’t going to see another one that night. You know what I mean?
And, you know what? Unfortunately for the four animals that sleep in our room, I slept deeper than I’ve slept in a long time Wednesday night. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a cat wrestling me for foot space, or sleeping on my pillow. Go figure.
Last night my sister {who is staying with us for the next four months} asked Brad if I was still crazy or if the animals were allowed back in the room. No, Jess, Mommy’s still crazy.
Confessions of a Reluctant Housewife 