1. We don’t run out of bar soap at our house. Or toilet paper. If either of these things appear to be lacking, check the linen closet (general overflow) or underneath the bathroom counter. On my side.
2. A bar of soap is not used up until it is at least the size of a votive candle. I feel that is generous. A bar of soap does not need to be replaced when has only done half of its job.
3. If you are the person who “needs” another bar of soap, then you are also the person responsible for eliminating the soap remnants from the soap tray.
Isn’t this basic logic? Do I need to start a remedial soap training course?
27 February 2008
23 February 2008
On Her First Birthday
One year old. The house is decorated, and quiet. We have pink streamers and pink balloons, and yes, I am the kind of mom who actually had those just sitting around the house from some other project. I bought pastel napkins with little baby ducks on them. I guess I still want her to be my baby.
And she is. She is a squealing, gurgling delight. She is feisty and curious and has as much energy as Tom. But she also has a dainty streak, a snuggly streak, a difference that makes her Lucy Lu and my special little girl.
We bought her a shopping cart for the occasion. What better way for a little girl to be like Mama? She is truly obsessed with it. She laughs maniacally as she begins to push it, faster and faster on the wood floors. The wheels on this thing spin uncontrollably like the real carts at Costco. Then, she spies a wall ahead. She breaks down even before she hits the wall, because she knows a wall ahead means her journey will be halted. This process went on and on for about an hour this morning until finally, tired and exhausted and wondering why we have so many walls and so little room for shopping, she crumpled into a pile of tears. Tommy ran to console her and held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth and whispering, "It's okay, Wuce. It's okay."
There are more days now that I feel ready to be a mother of three. Still, the diapers pile up at an enormous pace and the grocery store seems an obstacle for the insane. But the kids are snuggly and peaceful and beautiful when they aren't fighting. Lucy pages through her fuzzy chick book, and Tommy asks, "What letter does lobby man start with?" It is rewarding...and exhausting.
Then again, what full time job worth keeping isn't?
And she is. She is a squealing, gurgling delight. She is feisty and curious and has as much energy as Tom. But she also has a dainty streak, a snuggly streak, a difference that makes her Lucy Lu and my special little girl.
We bought her a shopping cart for the occasion. What better way for a little girl to be like Mama? She is truly obsessed with it. She laughs maniacally as she begins to push it, faster and faster on the wood floors. The wheels on this thing spin uncontrollably like the real carts at Costco. Then, she spies a wall ahead. She breaks down even before she hits the wall, because she knows a wall ahead means her journey will be halted. This process went on and on for about an hour this morning until finally, tired and exhausted and wondering why we have so many walls and so little room for shopping, she crumpled into a pile of tears. Tommy ran to console her and held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth and whispering, "It's okay, Wuce. It's okay."
There are more days now that I feel ready to be a mother of three. Still, the diapers pile up at an enormous pace and the grocery store seems an obstacle for the insane. But the kids are snuggly and peaceful and beautiful when they aren't fighting. Lucy pages through her fuzzy chick book, and Tommy asks, "What letter does lobby man start with?" It is rewarding...and exhausting.
Then again, what full time job worth keeping isn't?
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