T.G.I.K.J.

I used to be a good mother.

There was a time when no one would have left the house without perfectly matching clothes, shoes and bows.

There was a time when everyone was bathed every day and diaper bags abounded with healthy snacks, full juice cups, plenty of wipes and two extra matching outfits with perfectly coordinated bows clipped to them.

That was a long time ago.

Fast forward eight years, three kids, one dog and an aging husband. Well, maybe I'm aging too, but that's beside the point.

This morning upon arrival at school, my two-year-old's bag had no diapers and no juice cup. It did contain, however, one wrinkled jacket, a Dora phone and a few random smarties. Plenty to make it through a hard day of preschool, don't you think?? Luckily her teachers have become used to me and refrain from talking behind my back until I am around the corner.

This is S.



I love her and it is a good thing. She is God's way of curing me from my perfectionism and anal-retentiveness. She does things like this.


Whose idea was it to teach her her alphabet anyway? An ignorance of letters would have kept her blissfully unaware that my laptop keyboard contained all of those letters just waiting to be popped off. And rearranged. To the point that they can't be put back on. Because apparently the little plastic things that hold them in place are big fun for the dog to chew on.

The sad thing is that I don't even fight it anymore. Possessions? They will just rot one day anyway. (I had to get to that place after the sharpie-meets-car-leather-interior incident of 2007)

Another day, another drama.

Thank goodness I know Jesus, that's all I'm saying.

~L