Today as I was cleaning up the ever-present mess in the kitchen, feeling my back and neck ache from carrying whiny children, and thinking about how welcome tomorrow's night out is going to be, I thought:
"I am just like Cinderella."
And I mean, really. My life consists of cleaning up other people's messes, obeying orders from my family slave-drivers, trying desperately to be happy and kind about it. As I was wiping down the counter (for the umpteenth time) I could barely keep my eyes open and thought that Cinderella must have been very tired all the time, too. And she didn't even have the emotional aspect of her slave drivers being her own children that she loved and adored and had to make do things they didn't want to do for their own good.
But tomorrow...tomorrow, thanks to some of my good friends and BYU, I get to go to a ball. I mean, a real prom dress, late night, fancy, live band, dancing kind of ball. Complete with theatrical and musical entertainment.
This little break could not be coming at a better time. (Although I do hope I don't regret the amplified loss of sleep this is going to create. I think it will be worth it in the long run). Today while Tommy whines and Scarlet refuses to nurse or sleep and I try to keep up with keeping the house decently clean, I am thinking about how I want to do my hair, and which dress I should wear, and if I should try lipstick, and will those shoes be too tall to dance comfortably in?
I mean, a ball. Hello. What is more romantic than dancing? Especially when you have a husband who refuses to dance with you, except on very VERY special occasions. That's another reason I am so looking forward to it. Robert hasn't even given me the "Do I really have do dance and go to this thing?" look. I guess he knows better than to put a damper on this Cinderella's ball, haha.
Ah, this break could not be coming at a better time. True, the possibility of my dress being ripped apart (or spit-up on or pooped on or spilled on) just before the dance is still quite real; but unlike the (unprepared) Cinderella, this one has a back-up dress. And hopefully my fairy godmother will appear and turn my children into perfect angels for the entirety of tomorrow afternoon and evening (doubtful).
Nonetheless, I am excited to go to the ball. Luckily for me, I don't have to run away from my prince to get home on time. I get to take him with me. :-)
And honestly, if I even make it to midnight, he'll probably be carrying my poor, fatigued body down the palace steps rather than running after me.
Here's to being Cinderella (like, for real) for a day!