It's a service I provide. Really.

In the "I do it so you don't have to" category, here's a helpful hint: It isn't enough just to put water and ground coffee in the coffee maker on a Saturday morning. You must also TURN IT ON in order to actually get coffee.

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

If only there were applause

So when we got a cat last week (Did I mention we got a cat? No? He's adorable and great with the kids.) there was one thing I didn't anticipate: He's another audience member. Just as my beautiful kids can't help but come to see what I'm doing the moment I'm in the bathroom/shower/on the phone/folding laundry, the cat must visit me as well. I can be sitting and wishing for a cat for long minutes, but the moment I'd like just a little privacy I now have one more potential visitor.

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

Really it's only half done

Every week I do this to myself. On Fridays, I do a bunch of wash so that we can have clean sheets for the weekend. I do a load here and there throughout the week, but I can count on three or four on Fridays. As I put the last load in the dryer I always think "Yippee! That's done!" Nope. It's nearly half done. The easy half is nearly done. It's not done until it's folded and put away. Perhaps that will get done by Tuesday, when I need the dryer again...

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

It's your choice

I've heard of "Driver's Choice" when it comes to the radio selection on car trips. I've been unprepared for the "Choices" available when you have children.

Me to three-year old: Leave your brother alone when he's going potty!
Seven-year old to me: Pooper's Choice, Mom! She can stay!

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

First the hair, then the clothing

So last week I had a hair mishap before heading to the grocery. This week it was clothing. I actually remembered panties (yippee!) but I put on a favorite pink tank in the locker room only to find it was stained with a mystery substance. It's that stain that I know it's a stain but to others might appear that I'm just not capable of using a cup properly after thirty-odd years of practice. No, I don't know how it got there and I reserve the right to refuse that the idea that I do not, in fact, know how to use a cup after decades of practice is true.

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

Au Naturale

So this past week I got to the gym with my trusty bag filled with my items for a shower - a shower free of an audience of any kind. That's bliss, baby. So after my solo shower, I'm getting ready to head to the grocery store and find that I'm missing something. It appears that my daughter "helped" me unload my bag without my knowledge and removed my hairbrush. It was not my best hair day at the grocery store. Sadly it wasn't my worst, either.

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.

The best laid plans

All day, I have planned out what chores need to be done and when. Meals, gym time, laundry, dishes, child maintenance (playing, bathing, benign neglect) and the like are all neatly scheduled to be completed by the time my husband comes home. This is done in hopes that he can have a happy few minutes with the kids before bed and so that we might be able to enjoy a few moments together before passing out ourselves about 10 p.m. So imagine my dismay and surprise when I get to the "dishes" portion of the day and open the dishwasher to put away clean dishes. Only the dishes are decidedly NOT clean. What on earth could be wrong with my brand spanking new dishwasher that would make it leave the dishes this dirty? I begin contemplating how to cash in on the manufacturer's warranty when suddenly I realize exactly what's wrong.

I never put soap in and turned the dishwasher on this morning.

Don't be jealous of my fabulous life.