Kitchen's Closed

It's so funny how every night after the kids go to bed I have deja vu.

Let me set the scene.  It's dark outside and the lights are low inside.  It's eerily silent in the house.  The clock on the stove says 8:15.  The sink is full and the floor is crunchy.  There's a beautiful young woman with gorgeous, yet tired eyes surveying her kitchen.  Don't laugh...it's my story.  The woman is me...and it's time to clean the kitchen.  Again.  I wipe the table (if I haven't already), wipe down the counters, put away the lunch dishes that have finally dried, and begin sorting dirty dishes.  Sorting?  It all depends...half the dishes, which are festooned with cartoons must be hand washed by the law of Disney and the other half hit the dishwasher by law of Mommy.  Then it's back to wiping out chairs and sweeping up the floors.  Then if necessary, I have a Cinderella (pre-princess) moment where I get down on hands and knees and tackle the sticky and hardened bits under the table.  If I were expecting tips I would refill the salt and pepper shakers, but alas...no tips.  Finally, after a good hand washing I search high and low through refrigerator and pantry for something...anything...that those little angels will eat tomorrow.  I finally come up with something to sustain them throughout the day and pack the merry little lunches for 2 or 3 of my merry little ones for school.    I set out their water bottles so they can be filled in the morning.  I write little notes for their lunchboxes.  With a sigh, I look at the clock on the stove.  I think for a second I might fix a little sweet snack for myself since I wouldn't have to share it with anyone, but it's 9 and the kitchen is closed.