Since our move to the city, we nearly doubled our living space and added five sets of stairs. I suppose it was the ten year old that still resides inside me that compelled me to pick this place out. Oh, the space we would have! And truthfully it hasn't been all that bad. Until I got pregnant...and Elsbeth learned to rival the Tasmanian Devil in destroying a clean room. The past several months have been a breeze physically as far as this pregnancy goes, but emotionally, my Mother was right. WHO'S going to clean a house like that? Me, that's who. And it's all I seem to do lately. MY coinhabitants aren't much help either, here's an example.
Look at the face above. You would think it easy to love a mug like that. But in reality, there is not much happening behind those eyes other than intermittent messages of: DUUUUUUHHHHH! Sunday I returned home from church to find Jack Johnson covered in feathers and trailing a whirlwind of feathers behind him. My heart sank and I knew instantly what he had done. He ate through our down comforter. Of all the small things in life that give me pleasure, my down comforter is at the top of the list. I wanted to chop off his head right then and there, and I think my hormonal rage would have compelled me to do so if it weren't for Ellie begging clemency for his black, black soul. Every day since then I have risen to find he has decapitated one of her stuffed animals or gotten into the garbage. He has always been annoying, but never anything like this.
After that, Jeremy and I had a talk about the fact that for the next several months I am going to need more help around the house. There must be more shared responsibility on his part and he must take the initiative to help me out without me nagging him about things. I think he may have seem the dark storm brewing in my eyes and he readily agreed to help.
He has kept his word and I am so grateful. Sometimes though, I just don't understand him. I found this in the kitchen:
This is a half gallon of obviously spoiled goat milk. Keep in mind that the trash can is about two feet from the fridge. The distance to the counter where I found this milk is about three times that long. This is supposed to say: STAY AWAY (it's a good thing he chose to pursue dentistry and not English...Whew)
And just because the first warning wasn't enough, the next side of the bottle exclaimed this: YUK! Yes, we can all see that the milk is SO spoiled that it has actually seperated and formed two layers in the bottle. YUK indeed!
And perhaps because there was still one empty side and his impeccable sense of proportion compelled him to also fill it in, he indulged us with this gem:
Sometimes all I can do is laugh.
This has become my life. A nightly orgy of zoo animals and strawberry scented bubbles in the tub, a Dora the explorer potty seat, and a pink step stool used in the aiding and abetting of Elsbeth's sporadic ransacking of my makeup. Would I change anything? Well, maybe some money for a maid would be nice, but otherwise, nope, not a thing.