Pick the things that matter the most to you in the moment, and do those.

The dishes have piled their way up to the spout of the water filter and next to the lip of sink. I can smell last night’s taco meat on some of them when I walk back into the house after taking my kids to school. Gallons of apple juice and ungodly amounts of syrup are neatly in row by the coffee pot. A pink and yellow polka dot jacket is crumpled on the floor, along with Barbies, a Build-A-Bear friend, clothing tags ripped off in the rush of morning rituals, crumbs from various meals over the last two days, play pots…Are you tired yet? Get it together, this is only the first level.

Upstairs is folded and unfolded laundry in procession, all my son’s blankets (why are those out?), dirty clothes, books, a pink car, a pink hippo, combs, hairspray, a towel that’s pushing the bathroom rug into a mess and making me want to ring the neck of the careless ingrate that put it there, blue toothpaste…everywhere.

And I’m supposed to exercise, because it’s good for me.

And I need to eat balanced, because I should be healthy.

And I could use a shower, because I’m in a marriage and it’s a teensy bit important.

And I need to make my bed, because that one act alone can make my entire bedroom feel picked up.

And I need to put my little one down for nap.

And brush my teeth.

And write and read, because that’s for me and the only way to survive this stage of life is have a little me.

And I CAN’T. I. Just. Can’t.

So I won’t. I’m picking what matters most to me today.

The taco smell, gone.
The preschooler, down.
The bed.
The shower, not the make-up.
The writing and reading.
And the rest will wait. Because when my older two hop down the bus steps, my youngest wakes up warm and soft, and my sawdusted husband walks through the garage door, I will look them in the eye and ask, “How was your day?” and mean to know it.