The other day one of our neighbors came home with a pet bird, a budgie. My kids were fascinated. A pet bird! So awesome! Can we get a bird? A bird would fit in our house. Daddy’s not allergic to birds. Can we? Please?
Many of our other neighbors have pets… cats, dogs, I’m sure there are lizards and fish. I think there’s also a rat somewhere as well (ugh). My kids love meeting the neighborhood animals. They follow the creatures around. They ask to walk the dogs.
They beg for pets of their own. Then I crush their hopes and dreams. This will never happen as long as you live at home with your mom and dad. No pets ever! What about a fish? We’ll look after it ourselves? No. But why? Cue big sad eyes and trembling lips.
And you know what? I has absolutely no effect on me! I have plenty to do just keeping my human children fed, bathed, housed and exercised. Sorry kids, mommy’s heartless and your tears are wasted. Why don’t you run on over to the neighbor’s? Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll let you clean out the bird cage!
I don’t know about the rest of you, but we always seem to have an exceptionally huge amount of dirty laundry waiting to be washed. It doesn’t matter what point in the week it is. I may just have done laundry earlier in the day, but by evening that damn basket is completely full again.
It made me wonder… and then I discovered that my son, as he selects his clothes for the day, does this magic trick where he empties half of his clean clothes onto the floor. Part two of the magic trick happens when those clean clothes that he decides not to wear but took out of his dresser and dumped on the floor end up…. wait for it…. in the dirty laundry basket!
WHAT THE HELL!! I’ve been washing clean clothes! No wonder I never seem to have any spare time.
Nearly every evening after I’ve cleaned up our supper dishes, I pack lunches and snacks for the kids to bring to school/camp/daycare the next day. I’ve been doing it for years.
One time, this past school year I accidentally packed my daughter’s lunch in my son’s lunch bag and her water bottle in his back pack, and vice versa. It was early in the school year, I can’t even remember exactly when it was. I had all but forgotten about it.
Then this evening, my daughter turns to me with her sad, sad, big eyes, on the verge of tears, “Mommy, why did you give me the wrong lunch?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. Did I mix them up for camp today? No, I was sure I had everything packed correctly – as I usually do. “Did I give you the wrong lunch today honey?”
“No mommy, but remember when you gave me my brother’s lunch? And you gave him my lunch. And you gave us the wrong water bottles too. Why did you do that?”
One time in years of packing lunches. ONE TIME in YEARS! And apparently the pain of mommy’s error is not fading, nor will I be allowed to forget it.