So, of course, when you have kids, most things that used to be true about you may or may not be true anymore, depending on the day of the week, the mood of the kids, and how many Cheerios you have had to sweep up off of the floor…don’t act like you don’t know what I am talking about, I know you do. (I used to be punctual, I used to have a memory, I used to have a clean house, and I used to be prepared.)
I know I talked to you on the phone earlier this week about the reunion and I know we talked about the date of the deadline to purchase tickets. I also know we talked about your shower and how it was today and how I needed to RSVP—you even offered to do it for me, but still, somehow, it did not sink in that the shower was TODAY today. I did manage to RSVP at the very last minute, rudest time possible, but I think I should still get points for actually making the call. But this is not even my concern right now. I’ll tell you what my concern is at this very moment as you are reading this…
I have 2 children—girls at that, who are the apples of my eye, but sometimes their schedules and their wants and needs just kind of take over my life. Marlo, my chubby little cherub, has nearly eaten me out of house and home this week. I have literally found Cheerios in every possible crack, crevice, and small space in my house. I cannot think of a clever decorating excuse for them to be there so I have to clean them up, sometimes 7 times a day, because that is how many times she wants them every day. (I have pictures of her burying her head in the Cheerio box to prove it…I just don’t have time to download the pictures or post them, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.) Joy, on the other hand, does not drop Cheerios all over the floor, but rather scatters words everywhere…and that is my funny way of saying that the child just will not stop talking. Sometimes I cannot remember what I am thinking because she interrupts my thoughts, my conversations, herself, her own thoughts, the neighbors, and the list goes on and on—but I am supposed to keep track of everything she says and everything I say and everything she hears on TV and overhears other people say, and then she quizzes me on it. Now, this gets very tricky when I cannot remember what I just thought or said because of the incessant chatter. You see my dilemma.
So I know you are wondering what this has to do with anything. I really do have a point. Between the Cheerio situation and the verbal diarrhea, coupled with Marlo’s slightly inflexible nap schedule and Joy’s severe constipation, I have been under house arrest for the last few days. I did remember that is proper to bring a gift to a shower, and I have been waiting for this day to come to bring you a gift, finally. And I did order your gift, which is really just a gift certificate, but a gift nevertheless, but Babies R Us informed me (via email) that even though it is an e-gift card, it still may take up to 24 hours to “ship.” It is right now. I don’t think that you are going to sit at the shower until to wait for this gift certificate to “ship.” So, please excuse my lack of preparedness—I am claiming the excuse of motherhood and the insanity that accompanies it at times. I know you’ll forgive me. You have to—I have known you longer than almost anyone and I know too many things about you. You don’t want to upset me.
It is kind of a lame picture, but that was the best one I could find in the limited selection. I intend to contact Babies R Us and tell them how silly their choices are and give them a few suggestions and ideas to incorporate into their online store.
Anyway, the gift certificate is probably sitting in my email inbox as you read this. In fact, it probably arrived the second I pulled out of the driveway. And if I hadn’t had to pull Cheerios off of my rear end, out of my knees and out of the soles of my shoes, I might have had more time to remember to check my email inbox, but then I couldn’t remember what I was doing anyway because Joy was asking me who all was going to be at the shower and if we were going to sing the Hokey Pokey and what the names of all my high school friends are, what they will be wearing, how they are going to get to the shower, do we really have to take a shower at the shower, etc. etc. …(I’d write the rest of it, but my printer would run out of ink and then I wouldn’t have an excuse to give you, either!)
Welcome to motherhood, dear friend!
I hope you enjoy each and every minute of it as much as I do!
Xs and Os—
Posted by The Editor for Busy Body.
Posted by The Editor for Busy Body.