Most days I feel like, "not bad, s'alright" when I survey the house. Sure, there might be an avalanche of heel piercing Lego's on the kitchen floor but it's a floor I'm pretty confident that I wet mopped sometime this week. And watching Hoarders tells me that as long as there are no dead, flat cats layered in the junk I'm holding my own as a haus frau.
Then a spontaneous dinner party happens. A "Hey, we're in your neighborhood and have a bottle of wine in our backseat. Want to join forces, order pizza and mutually ignore our children together tonight?" phone call. Yes! Of course! It'll only take me a minute to light a few candles and fluff some pillows right? Wrong.
As soon as you realize guests are coming your viewpoint goes from hazy, soft candle light to 100 watt bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. All the stains in the couch rise up to the surface, especially that questionable one that looks like someone in the family has an incontinence issue. The gorgeously, thick 1926 wedding cake baseboards you and your husband drooled over when you bought the house? They are coated with 2 inches of dust, dog hair and grape jelly that would take a chisel to dislodge.
So you start with the basic company's company cleaning drill. You get on your hands and knees and plough through an overpriced plastic container of Clorox wipes de-hairing and de-pissing the bathroom. Your husband grabs the giant shop vac out of the workshop and starts sucking the hell out of the floors and furniture, not noticing the stinky poof poof of workshop dust that's emitting from the back of the vac.
You are throwing away Happy Meal toys, because sonofabitch they multiply while you sleep and they are everywhere. All the while turning a deaf ear to your children's cries of anguish as their beloved, most favorite, broken, chicken nugget scented plastic Shrek toy hits the bin. Your husband is now vacuuming the dog and announcing that when he's done he'll go clean the garage....and you scream at him that he has no company cleaning priorities cause who the hell is going into the garage tonight, and there is a Polly Pocket dangling from the ceiling fan that needs to be taken care of stat!
And about 10 minutes before company arrives you wash your armpits out in the sink, give the house and your family a quick spraying of Febreeze, shoot your husband an "I'm sorry to be a psycho bitch before company comes but this is the way of women my friend" look and pour both of you a big glass of something alcoholic.
Halfway through your evening you notice that now the sun's gone down you can see the jelly on the baseboards hardly at all. And your friend's smile and focus hasn't been on the Rorschach like stains on your sofa but on your company. And every time you were about to point out how messy your home was you were sidetracked with a fantastic story and laughed out loud instead. It has been a wonderful evening that has left you feeling warm and loved and happy to have opened up your perfectly flawed, perfectly inadequate, perfectly perfect home.
Winnnahs! Dirty, Dirty Sex Book Giveaway
Oh The Joys
and
Fivefiveohseven
Enjoy ladies!
After School Freight Trains
Son has been looking wild eyed at the end of his second grade day. He has listened, he sat still, and by God if he doesn't get to run and scream he'll start twitching. But please feed him intravenously while he does this because he is STARVING too. But he also needs downtime, time to shut out everyone and zone. And he needs all these things at the same time.
Daughter walks out of school jacked up with excitement. Can I look at her art project? Do I want to hear what she did in school today? Can she have a playdate with a new friend? She is dying of thirst and STARVING too. She is pumped and thrilled with kindergarten and has a million things to tell me right away and inaconstantstreamoftalkingthatdoesnoteverend.
So I pick my two kids up from school and as they run towards me I can feel myself bracing for it. The explosion that is these two wonderful, maxed out kids with immediate needs for food, attention and questions coming straight towards me.
Today I'm gonna be ready. I've got a bag of snacks packed so I can yell "Go Long" and toss them a granola bar or bloody hunk of meat as they barrel towards the school playground. I've got a stack of comics in the car so they can veg out as we drive home. And we've created a new game called Stopwatch. Where you have to stop talking (and breathe) when your time is up so the other person can tell us about their day too.
I think this will work. I will be ready when that bell rings. But if not, do they make child safe tranquilizer guns?
Daughter walks out of school jacked up with excitement. Can I look at her art project? Do I want to hear what she did in school today? Can she have a playdate with a new friend? She is dying of thirst and STARVING too. She is pumped and thrilled with kindergarten and has a million things to tell me right away and inaconstantstreamoftalkingthatdoesnoteverend.
So I pick my two kids up from school and as they run towards me I can feel myself bracing for it. The explosion that is these two wonderful, maxed out kids with immediate needs for food, attention and questions coming straight towards me.
Today I'm gonna be ready. I've got a bag of snacks packed so I can yell "Go Long" and toss them a granola bar or bloody hunk of meat as they barrel towards the school playground. I've got a stack of comics in the car so they can veg out as we drive home. And we've created a new game called Stopwatch. Where you have to stop talking (and breathe) when your time is up so the other person can tell us about their day too.
I think this will work. I will be ready when that bell rings. But if not, do they make child safe tranquilizer guns?
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