Whenever my house looks like THIS, six hours before we are hosting a barbecue for ten families, it makes me think....
....that if I could harness the amount of sheer willpower and effort that it takes to clean the damn house, then I could probably cure cancer and world hunger in a single. freaking. week.
Sidenote: Little crap is the bane of my existence. It's not so much the dishes, or the laundry, or scrubbing the bathrooms that kills me, so much as the small plastic froggie (and it's militant gang of McDonald's toys and bouncy balls and goodie-bag-items) that take all kinds of effort and creativity to hide, because I am running out of DRAWERS, people.
When I run for President of the Universe, it will be on a platform that, a.) prohibits pajama day in any way, shape or form in schools across the galaxy; b.) makes it illegal to dress your daughter as a skanky nurse, or Prarie settler, or Little Red Riding Hood on Halloween, and; c.) bans the pressure and expectation of birthday party goodie bags, by outlawing the purchase of mini slinkies, bouncy balls, crayon packs and small animal figurines.
I realize there is a lot of hate in my heart over really stupid things. But that's the thing about parenthood; you learn that there is a SOLID line between what you can tolerate, and what drives you into a hormonal rage.
Today was our first day of summer vacation--more on that next week.
Happy Holiday Weekend, friends.