A Moment In Time

Here is a slice of a typical morning for me. The following events do not occur every day but, something similar does- you can bet your life on it.
This morning, I awake to the dulcet sounds of my daughters voice (incidentally she was complaining as she came down the stairs this morning, I think about a fly upstairs). She clambers onto my bed and begins to talk in a muffled tight lipped voice that is not, in fact herself, but her stuffed tiger-cat, Papa Juan. Apparently , Papa Juan has not been fed in days and days and this is something that needs immediate attention, or Armageddon will occur. Fine. A round of toast and jelly for the small human and invisible/imaginary tiger food for Papa Juan- check.
OK. Then we have to go check on the Neon (long story- a whole other post). -check.
Then I spend about an hour and a half cleaning the house and sweeping these damn dusty floors-check. After I clean the bathroom, Ev heads in there for her morning ablutions- maintaining a constant stream of conversation of course.
After that we sit sown at the table to work on a top secret art project for her grandma. This takes ABOUT 20 minutes.
When I get up and walk back through what was just my clean living room. I am shocked to discover (not really shocked- just dismayed because,let's face it, I should have known) that is is covered in loose cat litter, cat fur and in the middle of it all , lays my fat, diabetic, wheezing mess of a thirteen year old, deaf cat.
What happened you ask?
I'll tell you.
As Ev was in the bathroom, she got CRAY-ZEE with the agua- think giggling fountains of sink fun here. So, the floor (ok the entire room) was left in a puddle. I forget to have her dry things down- usually a standard operating procedure (ask my sister, the water play is constant with my child) and we go off for our art project. Meanwhile the aforementioned cat needs to pee because well, why not, Mom had just scooped the litter box out. Well, fat cat has to walk through all of that water to get to her litter box and her tootsies got a bit damp. Damp cat feet into clumping litter = big heep mess for Mama. Really.
Then the cat decides well, I am a bit sleepy after that, so she gets up on the freshly vacuumed furniture and turns around like what must have been a thousand times before she settles down.
So.
Time to clean again. Except this time around the naked three year old (I have NO idea how or why she ended up completely naked at this point and I may never know)- is bustling about offering advice and wanting to close the diaper wipes after I take one out- each time , even though it was a hundred wipe job to get the litter out of the cat's feet. If you picture the kid naked, with hand on hip, alternately fussing and asking "why?" you will just about have it. Oh and don't forget to add the fat cat, grasping and clawing at anything - trembling with the effort and wheezing louder than ever due to the exertion, letting out the occasional yowl (complete with the kid echoing each yowl). I will not even try to describe my physical or mental state during this time, just let your imagination run wild.
Complete mental and social breakdown of family structure-check.

ah hell, the kid and I are going to the park!
right after I dress The Bean
Oh and I was just informed that Papa Juan needs to go too.
And now she's hungry again.
And where is Billy Bones anyway?
Oh and the bathroom still needs wiped down.