Did Donna even OWN a plunger....or a toilet?

Too many days...SO MANY DAYS, I find myself wielding a plunger before 8am.  It's gross, I know.  Imagine how I feel, with delusions of my perfect Donna hair, heels and pearls heroically fighting the reality of my situation.  Demoralizing I tell you.

Which bodes the questions - how to handle the ickiness that is motherhood with the perky, fun attitude I am so desperately striving for?  Of course the obvious thing to do is look back at my idol, Donna.  How did SHE handle it?  Yeah........she didn't.  Ever.  She never uttered the word plunger, toilet or vomit.  I never saw her gagging while cleaning up a post birthday party explosion.  I did not see her trying to decide if she should wash the sheets at 3am or just throw them out, cuz some things are just too awful to deal with at that hour.

Perhaps I need to try the "Fake it, till you make it" concept.  I will PRETEND that I am NOT trying not to throw up into the very toilet I am trying to unclog.  (Achieving this only due to the fact that I would have yet another mess to clean up.)  I will smile a maniacal Sheldon Cooper grin while answering child 2's questions and complaints regarding dinner, as I try not to lose my own lunch over the stomach flu mess, child #3 has created.  Perhaps I will even have a frilly, pink apron that I throw on for just these occasions.  (I'd say heels as well, but that could create a slipping hazard and no amount of faking it could handle that gross-ocity.)

Then again I could try the "Wait until your father gets home!" tactic.  Just shut whatever door needs to be shut - and then go make a meat loaf.  Upon my hard working, attractive husband's arrival I will greet him with a kiss - and a HAZMAT suit.  I have read that men like to feel needed.  This should do the trick.  A nice little ego boost.  Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that my husband would find this a less than lovely way to feel needed, plus he travels.  If I waited for him to fix the problem - well, that would just be nasty.

So, OK.  The new plan for the new year.  Handle it myself (I am woman, hear me roar!), wear cute apron over baggy flannel pj's to keep spirits up, NO HEELS, and try not to look like I hate every part of being a mommy while stomping from bathroom to bathroom looking for the plunger.  'Cuz I don't hate it.  At all.  And every can of Resolve used while trying not to breathe is worth it.  But there is a reason The Donna Reed Show never addressed this subject.  Luckily for you - I'm no Donna Reed ...yet!