Aug 232009
 

My sweet husband helps with the dishes each night. Actually, he helps with starting the dishes, but he has trouble finishing, which, as Seinfeld suggested …is really the most important part of doing the dishes…the finishing.

Every evening, I notice that I am alone at the sink and that Craig and the kids have sneaked out back to the trampoline. Last night I followed them and called out sweetly, “Honey? Did you notice that there are still piles of dishes in the sink?” And like always, he said:

They’re just soaking, babe. It’s part of doing the dishes. It makes it easier to get them clean.

As you can see, sometimes Craig uses my lack of knowledge about basic household duties to get out of things. This isn’t right, people. But it’s pretty clever.

I have resolved to steal his move.

When my husband arrives home tonight, he will find me reading a book on the couch, having abandoned the children in the bathtub.

When he panics, and asks me for an explanation, I will say the following…calmly and sweetly.

They’re just soaking, babe. It’s part of bath time. It makes it easier to get them clean.

Aug 232009
 

Ah…it’s Sunday. The day I don’t blog, launder, sweep, or cook -you know, out of love for Jesus. And utter exhaustion.

Today however, I must break my Sunday rule. Because something happened yesterday that I can’t NOT tell you about.

Yesterday, I sneaked out of the house at the crack of dawn to go to the grocery store. I don’t even change out of my pajamas to do errands anymore… it has come to that. I just brush my teeth, grab my purse and I’m out the door. Okay, I don’t always brush my teeth, but I use mouthwash every time.

So as I’m walking up and down the grocery aisles, I notice this distinct, mildewy, putrid odor following me. And I keep looking around for the responsible party, until I discover that she is me. I stink.

When I get home, Craig rolls out of bed to help me with the groceries and I say “Honey, smell me. I stink.” And he sniffs my shirt and says without surprise, “Yes, you do.” And I say “Well, what IS that? It’s disgusting.” And he says the following:

“It’s mildew. All our clothes smell like that. We always stink.”

I’ll just give you a few seconds to digest that information. I know I needed a little time.

“WHAT? WELL WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME, HUSBAND?”

“I was scared to tell you. You get sensitive about….housekeeping stuff.”

“Oh. So let me clarify here. You’d rather reek all day at work and allow Chase to be THE STINKY KID IN CLASS than risk me getting mad?

Yes. Yes, I would. Definitely.”

Kay.

I left the groceries on the counter and immediately drove back to the store to buy some fancy detergent, the kind that costs more than five dollars. I smelled them all until I found one that reminded me of flowers and every popular girl I’d ever met. Then I came back home and started washing each Old Navy t-shirt, Dora panty, and pair of yoga pants in this house. I’m still not done.

I learned two very important things yesterday, and I’d like to share them with you, just in case you are in the Laundry and Wife Remedial Classes, like I am.

#1. Okay- this is, apparently, how laundry works. Say your laundry day is Wednesday. You cannot put the laundry in the washer on one Wednesday, and then wait to put it in the dryer until the following Wednesday. You must finish it all on the SAME Wednesday. It’s unfair, but true. If you don’t, your family will smell like dead mice.

#2. You must be sweeter to your husband so he is not afraid to tell you that your entire family reeks.

Sigh.

Housekeeping and marriage are complicated.

Aug 202009
 

Hi everybody.

Can you do me a favor? If you like this blog, if you read it often, would you register as a follower?

As far as I can tell, there is absolutely no benefit to you for doing so. But there are a few benefits for me.

First, I’m a little insecure. When I see all of your teeny faces in the corner of my blog, it gives me confidence.

Second, I have been waiting my whole life to have followers.

Third, and most importantly, new followers allow for moments like this at home…

When I launched this blog a week ago, I began a ritual of running to the computer every ten minutes to see if I had any new followers. I do this all day and evening. Even during dinner. Yes, I do.

Last night, during one of my checks, I yelled down to Craig:

“HONEY, HOW MANY FOLLOWERS DID JESUS HAVE WHEN HE STARTED OUT? I CAN’T REMEMBER.”

“TWELVE, HONEY.”

“THAT’S RIGHT. TWELVE. I HAVE FORTY-TWO.”

Silence.

Then…

“GLENNON. DO NOT WRITE THAT ON YOUR BLOG.”