I sometimes come back from browsing blogs and feel depressed because I haven't made vintage glitter crowns and curled up with buttered yeast rolls before a roaring fire reading "Little Women" aloud while my faithful golden retriever, Cinnamon, lolls about being used as a pillow by my clean and freshly pajamaed girls.
Instead, I have seven baskets of laundry in stages varying from stained with poop, freshly washed but needs another round of Oxiclean for the poop stains, left in the washer overnight so the mildew smell is faint, clean but wrinkled from sitting in the dryer, to folded. And my children are uncombed and naked, wearing Darth Vader masks and eating ice cream sandwiches in the baby jumperoo.
2 comments:
Love that picture. That's the sort of house my children would be welcome in. And they'd love the nude eating of ice cream and we have our own Vader mask we could bring.
You have ice cream sandwiches in the house. Nothing else matters.
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