In theory, it should be a good thing to start the day with a dishwasher full of clean dishes. Hey! Look! Dishes! And they’re clean! And you didn’t have to wash them! It’s like a dish fairy visited the house during the night. Or a dish robot. But robots are more creepy (creepier?) so let’s stick with the fairy idea.
But here’s what happens next: you have the best intentions of unloading the dishwasher before breakfast. You even put away a couple of glasses. But then the shortest member of your household decides to pee on the floor and rub her dripping wet butt on the couch. And, clearly, getting the pee off the couch trumps unloading the dishwasher. Then breakfasts must be made. Because if the floor-pee-er doesn’t get fed, the morning will take an even more drastic turn for the worse. But, as it turns out, you end up making four breakfasts: 3 for Shorty and one for yourself. The cereal is spilled and the banana is accidentally stepped on. Joy! More clean up!
Then, while placing the dirty breakfast dishes on the counter, you smash your shin into the corner of the dishwasher which you left open. So you karate kick the freaky robot fairy dishwashing device closed and, perhaps, you swear. And a tiny voice repeats your swear. Now you’re having a conversation about bad and hurty words and you hear yourself offering to give yourself a consequence. So you’re sitting on the stairs in a self imposed, tiny-dictator approved time-out. You find yourself actually kind of liking it because, hey, at least you’re alone and it’s kind of quiet.
Suddenly, it’s not so quiet. Shorty has fallen off the couch because, probably, she was jumping on it, but you’re not really sure because you were in time out. There are hugs and back patting and endless discussing and play-by-play recountings of The Terrible Fall. Yes, that is what is is called. Then there is PBS kids to stop the tears. And suddenly you find yourself still not unloading the dishwasher but combing out hair tangles and getting yelled at. You are trying to be gentle. Really. But you’re not feeling very gentle at this point. You briefly wonder what it would be like to be a delicate pink flower blowing in a warm breeze but then you realize that’s the dumbest thought ever and move on to wondering what it would be like to be a hippo.
You shove yourself and the couch-butt-wiper into clothes because if you don’t get out of the house you may have to stab your eyes out with a spoon just for something to do. Someone forgets to brush their teeth but decides that morning breath can be masked with a mostly-still-wrapped Star Burst found at the bottom of the diaper bag. Yes, you still call it a diaper bag even though you no longer carry around diapers.
You go to the library. How educational! And wholesome! As you are walking out your front door you remember that the dishwasher still has not been unloaded. Then you prentend that you didn’t remember what you just remembered and begin to wonder if you can really trick yourself. You decide that no, you can’t trick yourself and instead reason that if you let the dishes sit longer they will get drier and you won’t have to use a cloth when putting them away. Win!
You come home 100 minutes later and make dinner in the crock pot. Then you make lunch — grilled cheese and soup. Pots and pans are involved. The areas next to the sink and the sink itself are now piled with dirty dishes. And you have no where to put them because the clean dishes are still in the dishwasher. Also, you are tired and don’t feel like doing any more cleaning or putting or care taking. Now you worry that you are a bad parent and, yes, a bad person because you lack the willpower to unload the dishwasher. Plus, there are so many dirty dishes! There are only 3 people in your house — how does this happen? You make a mental note not to have another child. And you think about how, in theory, it should be a good thing, a miraculous thing, to wake up to a dishwasher full of clean dishes.
But, somehow, it’s not.