A note to stepmoms everywhere

It Doesn’t SMELL Like Tuesday

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Something stinks here

Something stinks here

Dude. This week is ridiculous. I am convinced that it’s like Thursday, and if it’s not, I don’t want to know. Yesterday was standard gale-force hurricane type Monday craptacularness. It was overwhelming and dizzying, then there was grocery shopping and a board meeting that was hijacked by a visitor. Love it. There was pizza for dinner, and I hate that, especially on Monday. Not good pizza. frozen from the cheapest store in town pizza. Gah.

Today has been pretty crazy, also. Nothing quite as charming as playing PR to cranky octogenarians. Fantastic. After being washed in the tide of my day, I stopped on the way home to find out the oil change place jacked my car up. They couldn’t fix it today (rad). I came home to the horrific mess that is my neglected dining room. We’ve been tossing things in there and then leaving or working on our bedroom or pretending that room doesn’t exist. But today I decided I had enough, and I started seriously kicking some butt. We were short one child, and for some reason the child dynamic is completely different when one is removed. Since the middle child was missing, the oldest and youngest were having an “I am more helpful!” contest. Pretty awesome. They were helping me clean, and get the middle child’s room ready for her return. I noticed the youngest had a shirt that was supposed to tie in front, and it was all saggy, so I asked if she had cow udders. That was good for a giggle. We called her Bessie for the rest of the night.

During all the cleaning, I caught the oldest repeatedly saying something I am guilty of, which is sighing “okay” in between errands. Like, turn the vacuum cleaner off, look at the dresser that needs to be wiped down, sigh “okay” and then get a rag. It’s a way that I talk myself through things that need to be done. I just couldn’t believe she does it too.

We took a bunch of things to Goodwill (I love a good house purge) and on the way there, the youngest was walking in the house and said “crapcicles”, which is one of my favorite things to say.

So it might be a crazy week, but I’m really getting things nailed down and cleaned up, and I’m doing a fine job of tweaking the children, apparently. It’s funny that they aren’t even mine and they’re turning into me.

Crapcicle sandwich.


Author: Jessie Henry

Reinventing my life and enjoying my adventure. Living life as full as I like with no apologies, loving all of it.

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