Rise & Shine.

Dear Diary, 

     Last weekend, I beat my husband to the punch in asking him if I could be the one to sleep in on Saturday morning. He's an easy going person and gladly said, "of course!" Moments later, I plugged my ears (with the free ear plugs I stash from the gym, hehe) and away I went into a deep slumber. The next morning, my bedroom door opens and in comes my three year old. Only he isn't walking in. He is backing up by way of a shuffle, pants around his ankles, bent over forwards, hands on his bum cheeks and spreading them wide as he declares, "Dad! I need you wipe my bum!" I was glad I wasn't the one to wake up to that. Cheers! 

     In other news, I found myself scissoring a two pound block of Colby Jack cheese out of its packaging way too often. When I began to think about it, I came to the horrible realization that we are eating around 10 pounds of cheese a month. I'd love to say that this is for a family of 4, which can then be broken down to around 2.5 pounds per person per month, but truth be told, I'm the biggest offender here. Last night's trip to Costco resulted in 6 additional pounds of cheese that are guaranteed to be eaten within the next 30 days. 

     Lastly, and ironically, my terribly behaved one year old loves to sing Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" by singing "GOOD GIIIIIIIIRRRRLLLL" really loudly in the car when it comes on. I was hoping she'd say the phrase "Good Girl" enough times that it would begin to change her behavior, but to no avail. My kids have been wild beasts lately and I can't tell what the deal is. I feel like I live with one of these creatures at least 3 days a week. 

     Last week it was so bad, that I threw in the towel and ate a brownie for breakfast two days in a row. Only I ate it in a deep bowl, and away from the kids so no one would see it and steal it from me. Being a mom is like nothing I've ever experienced. I love it. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Sincerely, 

Me. The Mom.     

Vital Information.

Dear Diary, 

     Yesterday, we went to the store purely because we had a bad case of cabin fever. Despite the whining from our mini-monsters and the 114*F temperature outside, we took off. We walked into the store, grabbed a cart, and then a few minutes later, my 3 year old thought it was vital that everyone in the store knew exactly what was on his mind. He stood there on the tile in the middle of the store and yelled, "I! Got! My! Lightning! Uh-Queen! (McQueen)" and held it up for any and all shoppers to see. Then he moved right on to, "Hey, Everyonnnnneee!!!! My WEE WEE! Is! Hiiiiiding!" 

     With eyes wide open and a dumbfounded look on my face, I beckoned him my direction and we bolted into a fitting room. I'm so glad we have many many years to learn how that whole mind-to-mouth filter works... 

Sincerely, 

Me. The Mom of a Candid Speaker. 

Laundry Roulette.

Dear Diary, 

     I'm a minimalist. I try to make as little work for myself as possible, and I try to stay 5 steps ahead in life as often as I can. Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way I plan them to. I'm not one of those people who carry around a ball full of luck dust. Like Pig Pen...kind of. Anyway...

     Every time I do laundry, I feel a little more accomplished. Pour the soap, load the clothes, add the softener, start the machine, walk away. I know what you're thinking, and no...I don't forget to put the clothes in the dryer. My problem comes after that step. I leave it in the dryer for days. What can I say? I love cold, wrinkled clothes. 

     Because I do this so often, I always cock my head to the side and wince while opening the dryer door as I'm about to put in a wet load of freshly washed clothes. It's kind of like playing Russian Roulette. Only, instead of 1/6 times, it's more like 5/6 times there are clothes behind that dryer door that I did not anticipate giving my attention to. I'm thinking that maybe living in a nudist colony is not so bad. Less laundry, that's for sure. In the mean time, I'll just to have to hope my unanticipated dryer full of clothes doesn't come on a bad day. 

Sincerely, 

Me. The Mom Who *Loves* Laundry and Is Working On Looking Good Naked.