Friday, February 24, 2006
I took two minutes out this morning to email a picture of my new hair color to Rex (so narcissistic, but a mama's got to get her funk on sometimes). No sooner do I hit "send" when I find my hallway looking like an Issac Mizrahi scrap bin.
Moms and non-moms alike: let this be proof that even if you watch your kids (or anything in your lives) like hawks, crap happens. I suppose it's the way you handle it.
A: Beat yourself (or them) senseless with a rolled up copy of "E-Pregnancy"
B: Take two minutes and quickly clean it up - it's less painful than reading headlines about Angela Jolie picking out baby names (My vote is for Celebritia Irritata)
C: Make the stinker clean it up - even if it takes them an hour (the same amount of time it will take Angela Jolie to lose her baby weight. In fact, it is very probable she's lost it already and she's only 7 months along - she's that robotic).
I choose C (of course, this is on days when I'm not PMSing and less inclined to scream 'Holy Fxxxx Sxxxx you crazy kiiiiiid!' which, I'm not saying I have ever done, but I'm not saying I haven't. And if I have ever done that, which would be very rarely, I guess it goes to show that even moms who try to take the high road hit low points. Weird. Aren't we all supposed to be Madonna goddesses? How did humanity enter the picture?)
Of course, there is also a D and E that I add, but this is optional.
D: Put on Stink's favorite Scooby Doo episode so that putting away clothes is as irritating for him as it is for me to supervise.
E: Fantasize about the beer you'll be drinking later (In my case, this really is a fantasy because I'd end up puking more than Pipsqueak has this week. )
Translation: Delude yourself that both your home done dye job, and your social life, is red hot (so that your attitude toward your kids isn't).