If you give a mom a Tervis thermos, she’ll fill it up with water and try like hell to drink it during the day because that’s what the magazines say is good for her aging skin (among other less superficial things).
She will take the Tervis outside just to watch the kids swim in the pool as even though July in north central Florida is hotter than the surface of the sun, she doesn’t feel like swimming and then having to wash her hair for the second time in one day.
She will only sit down for five minutes, though, since it is soon time for dinner (and also because she’s sweating in her bra).
She will accidentally leave the Tervis out by the pool because her brain is always on fire.
Two hours later (after dinner, baths, and picking up bedrooms), while doing the dishes, she will realize she is very thirsty.
She will remember she left her Tervis out by the pool.
She will go out to the patio to retrieve it.
When she gets to the door, she will realize that there is a gross handprint on the glass.
She will go back to the kitchen to get Windex and clean the handprint.
She will go out the clean door to the patio and see a pile of stuff on the table.
She will remember that she spilled a water bottle in her gym bag (again) and left the contents out to dry.
She will pick up the crap on the table and bring it inside.
When she sets it down, she will realize there is a big sticky spot on the kitchen table.
She will go get a sponge and wipe up the sticky spot.
She will then refill her gym bag with the dry items that go inside it and start dreading all the burpees she’s going to have to do in the morning.
She will go BACK out to the patio to retrieve the Tervis (she is SO FREAKING THIRSTY).
She will see an empty sunscreen can on the ground and think about how once the current cans run out, she is going to be totally bummed to have to revert to applying sun screen lotion again because somebody did a study and told us spray-on sunscreen (one of her favorite inventions of all time) is actually bad for her kids.
Deflated, she will throw away the empty sunscreen can.
She will FINALLY get within 3 feet of the Tervis only to realize the pillows on the couch are a mess.
She will rearrange the pillows.
After rearranging the pillows, she will ACTUALLY pick up the Tervis.
She will bring it inside.
She will take two long swigs of the now hot water that’s been boiling in the sun for the last two hours.
And then…she will get back to washing the damn dishes.