and you thought i was an excellent housekeeper . . .
My house is stinky tonight. Okay, maybe not the house in its entirety, but there are definite offensive areas.
My Kitchen Garbage. Apparently if you chuck a dirty diaper in there (and I mean one of "those" diapers that results in a lingering odour in every area the baby has visited since creating the offense) the entire kitchen will get this burst of rotten you-know-what smell every time it's opened. Not pretty. I suppose I could change it.
My Washing Machine. I know what you're thinking - Nothing smells better than clean laundry! Well, if you wash something, and then leave it in there for a couple of days all wet and soggy it starts to stink. I am guilty of this. Remember that time I went camping? Still working on the laundry. You should see the basket in the kids' room. Mommy very very bad.
There are cookie crumbs on my island. Not an actual island island with leis, sun and sand. Oh no, we can barely afford the chunk of land we live on, much less an island. I mean the counter. I’ve looked at it a number of times and thought “gee, I should wipe those” but . . . I didn’t. I’m so bad. I think I’ll blame Michelle for having a cookie. I tried to stop her, tried to wrestle the cookie container out of her hands, but after ten minutes of wrestling around in the kitchen I had to give up. I think wrestling is one of those things that should wait until at least a couple of days postpartum.
My back yard is a mess. Not a mess as in a few toys laying around. Not that there aren’t. There are LOTS of toys laying around. There is also a pile of hedges that have been dug up, and mounds of dirt that were dug up as Steven tried to dig out the hedges. On top of the piles of dirt lay a spade and a pickaxe. Both of which are very suitable things to leave in the backyard for the children to find. Oh how children love pickaxes. But picking that stuff up would mean leaving my deck, and if I do that the cordless phone gets all fuzzy. So instead I sit on the deck, talk on the phone, sneak monster cookies and hope that the kids don’t play with the pickaxe. It’s way better that the 15 month old climbs the slide and runs around the top of the play structure. You’ll be happy to know though, that if I yell at him from across the yard to sit on his bum and come down the slide he does. Sometimes. Other times I have to actually leave the deck.
There is now a new load of laundry sitting in the wash. You’ll be happy to know that I put the original stinky load through a second time and it smelled pretty good. That load is now wrinkling in the dryer, and the next load is now fermenting in the wash. It’s only been about 20 minutes. I may get to it tonight. It is ten o’clock you know, I have to pace myself.
Those are my biggest offenses at this time. Unless you consider that there are at least four socks inching around the entrance among the shoes, as well as Tennyson’s dirty clothes. I’d have let him wear the dirty clothes a little longer, but he was pretty wet. It doesn’t make me a bad mommy to have sprayed him just a little with the garden hose does it? What if it made him laugh? What if the second child came out of the house to see what was going on, and I inadvertently (okay, it was totally intentional) gave her a little misting, and she stood on the front steps and cried? What if she was being a bit of a baby, and she wasn’t even all that wet? What if I gave her lots of kisses after?
My Kitchen Garbage. Apparently if you chuck a dirty diaper in there (and I mean one of "those" diapers that results in a lingering odour in every area the baby has visited since creating the offense) the entire kitchen will get this burst of rotten you-know-what smell every time it's opened. Not pretty. I suppose I could change it.
My Washing Machine. I know what you're thinking - Nothing smells better than clean laundry! Well, if you wash something, and then leave it in there for a couple of days all wet and soggy it starts to stink. I am guilty of this. Remember that time I went camping? Still working on the laundry. You should see the basket in the kids' room. Mommy very very bad.
There are cookie crumbs on my island. Not an actual island island with leis, sun and sand. Oh no, we can barely afford the chunk of land we live on, much less an island. I mean the counter. I’ve looked at it a number of times and thought “gee, I should wipe those” but . . . I didn’t. I’m so bad. I think I’ll blame Michelle for having a cookie. I tried to stop her, tried to wrestle the cookie container out of her hands, but after ten minutes of wrestling around in the kitchen I had to give up. I think wrestling is one of those things that should wait until at least a couple of days postpartum.
My back yard is a mess. Not a mess as in a few toys laying around. Not that there aren’t. There are LOTS of toys laying around. There is also a pile of hedges that have been dug up, and mounds of dirt that were dug up as Steven tried to dig out the hedges. On top of the piles of dirt lay a spade and a pickaxe. Both of which are very suitable things to leave in the backyard for the children to find. Oh how children love pickaxes. But picking that stuff up would mean leaving my deck, and if I do that the cordless phone gets all fuzzy. So instead I sit on the deck, talk on the phone, sneak monster cookies and hope that the kids don’t play with the pickaxe. It’s way better that the 15 month old climbs the slide and runs around the top of the play structure. You’ll be happy to know though, that if I yell at him from across the yard to sit on his bum and come down the slide he does. Sometimes. Other times I have to actually leave the deck.
There is now a new load of laundry sitting in the wash. You’ll be happy to know that I put the original stinky load through a second time and it smelled pretty good. That load is now wrinkling in the dryer, and the next load is now fermenting in the wash. It’s only been about 20 minutes. I may get to it tonight. It is ten o’clock you know, I have to pace myself.
Those are my biggest offenses at this time. Unless you consider that there are at least four socks inching around the entrance among the shoes, as well as Tennyson’s dirty clothes. I’d have let him wear the dirty clothes a little longer, but he was pretty wet. It doesn’t make me a bad mommy to have sprayed him just a little with the garden hose does it? What if it made him laugh? What if the second child came out of the house to see what was going on, and I inadvertently (okay, it was totally intentional) gave her a little misting, and she stood on the front steps and cried? What if she was being a bit of a baby, and she wasn’t even all that wet? What if I gave her lots of kisses after?
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