Spotted on my kitchen counter tonight:
A big, huge mess, including such items as
- 1 swim diaper
- 1 Little People dog that is required to talk to Lyle when he uses the potty
- Today's unopened newspaper
- My planner
- 6 small nails, which I assume have something to do with the piece of IKEA furniture Matt started to assemble yesterday
- A wedding invitation
- An old, broken baseball cap
- Piles of paperwork from Baxter's school that I should be dealing with right now
- A random cookbook I got from my local Dominick's grocery store today. (Turns out, if you donate $5 towards breast cancer research, you get your very own cook book just chock full of great recipes -- collected from those who work at Dominick's! Wow! Listen up Dominick's: just because someone works at the grocery store does not make him a kitchen god. Think Al's Artichoke Dish, JP's Cheese Ball, and John Paleologeous' Watermelon Kicks. Now I don't know what Watermelon Kicks are, but you'd better believe I'm going to find out. I'll let you know. Better yet, come on over, and I'll make 'em for you.)
But the best part of all this is that I just noticed a Real Simple magazine that I bought at Dominick's today, promising to de-clutter and simplify my life, perched ironically on top of the mess.
As. If.
2 comments:
Two things: first, the fact that a Little People dog must talk to Lyle when he uses the potty is just so, so familiar-seeming. Not that Julia is using the potty, but if she did, she would DEFINITELY require a small toy to talk to her while she did. And second, I used to get Real Simple (gift subscription, which is why I don't get it anymore; I love it, but was too cheap to pay for it myself!), and while I found it beautiful and interesting, it always made me feel...unorganized. To say the least.
Yeah, I try to avoid those magazines. They inspire me to do all sorts of projects, which I only get half-way through (if that!). This then serves to make my mommy/wife-self-esteem plumet even further. I was JUST thinking a moment ago as I walked the 1/2 mile walk from my mail box to my desk (this is something that needs its own commentary, but I just don't know where to begin) about how I would love to be the kind of mom who comes home from work at a reasonable hour, mixes up a batch of 1/2-wheat flour pizza dough, picks up the kids as it rises, then oh-so-educationally lets them help me make homemade pizza and salad once we're home.
Then I laughed at my-bought-soup-in-hand-no-groceries-in-the-house-but-cereal-self. As. If. is right!
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