A couple of weeks ago, on the way to school, Sam shouted "Mom, help! I have a booger and these are new pants!"
I was intrigued by this combination of announcements, so I asked "What does having a booger have to do with your pants?"
"Well, if they were old pants, I'd just wipe the booger on them, but these are new pants and they're nice! I need a tissue!!!"
Isn't that lovely? The truly embarrassing part of the whole thing is, that of course, I really don't actually want my kid wiping her boogers on her pants--that's super disgusting. On the other hand, what I didn't know wasn't exactly hurting me, and the last thing I wanted to do was fumble around the diaper bag while driving to try and find a tissue. Cleanliness or safety? So, the reality of the situation was I just would have preferred never to have found out what she did with her boogers. Plausible deniability--every parent's best friend.
In other news, I saw a study that said 53% of moms lie to make themselves and their kids look better to other parents. I would just like to point out that in case it wasn't obvious based on what I've told you above (and hey, the rest of this blog), I don't actually fit into this category. If I was lying to make myself better and this was the best I could come up with, someone would have held an intervention for me by now. Let's all just admit that we're human moms, not super moms, or perfect moms, and laugh a little at our foibles. Even if our kids pants are covered in boogers, if they're happy, fed, insanely loved, and regularly hosed off (and the booger pants run through the wash), we're doing ok.
And finally, while I may be fine with being an imperfect parent, I'm sorry to say lately I've been a downright unfit blogger. At least I have a good reason for that. Baby #3 is joining our family in early May!!! While I am beyond thrilled, I have also been beyond nauseated and it's been effecting my blogging (and parenting, and cooking, and cleaning). Now that I'm feeling a little better, (hopefully continuing to improve as I hit the 2nd trimester), I will try to be better about updating...at least until this kid shows up and I again face the endless pit of newborn needs. :)
Happy November!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Product Placement
This morning for breakfast, I made Sam and me a smoothie.
Peyton doesn't get any, because I like to put almond milk in them, and there's a slight chance he's allergic to almonds. So, tough beans kiddo, eat your banana.
Anyway, as we were drinking the smoothie, Sam looked over at the carton of almond milk. Suddenly, she said, "Mom, is this almond milk Silk?"
"Yes." It did just happen to be that particular brand of almond milk. I got excited thinking she might have sounded out the word and read it herself.
Before I could ask her if she read it, Sam piped up again and said, "Wow! It's no wonder I'm so good at soccer now! Silk is so good for your bodies and bones!! I hope I'm playing today, 'cause I'd be great after drinking this."
That was quite the pitch (and so humble about her soccer skills, too). As I've mentioned a time or two on this blog, our family is very susceptible to advertising.
Now, apparently, we've progressed to product placement in our daily lives. She would fit right in to an awkward sudden conversation about Yoplait light or Extra dessert flavored sugar-free gum on The Biggest Loser.
The sad part is, no one is paying us. She just talks like this because she thinks it's normal to talk about products using their key advertising points.
I blame our consumer-driven society, and the vast amount of advertising she encounters everywhere, even on the endcaps of store aisles. I most certainly am not going to blame myself. This is America, and personal responsibility is sooooo last century.
Now, I'll drown my parenting worries in a nice bowl of Blue Bell ice cream. Made with only the best ingredients, Blue Bell tastes just like the good old days, and is still a full half gallon!
Peyton doesn't get any, because I like to put almond milk in them, and there's a slight chance he's allergic to almonds. So, tough beans kiddo, eat your banana.
Anyway, as we were drinking the smoothie, Sam looked over at the carton of almond milk. Suddenly, she said, "Mom, is this almond milk Silk?"
"Yes." It did just happen to be that particular brand of almond milk. I got excited thinking she might have sounded out the word and read it herself.
Before I could ask her if she read it, Sam piped up again and said, "Wow! It's no wonder I'm so good at soccer now! Silk is so good for your bodies and bones!! I hope I'm playing today, 'cause I'd be great after drinking this."
That was quite the pitch (and so humble about her soccer skills, too). As I've mentioned a time or two on this blog, our family is very susceptible to advertising.
Now, apparently, we've progressed to product placement in our daily lives. She would fit right in to an awkward sudden conversation about Yoplait light or Extra dessert flavored sugar-free gum on The Biggest Loser.
The sad part is, no one is paying us. She just talks like this because she thinks it's normal to talk about products using their key advertising points.
I blame our consumer-driven society, and the vast amount of advertising she encounters everywhere, even on the endcaps of store aisles. I most certainly am not going to blame myself. This is America, and personal responsibility is sooooo last century.
Now, I'll drown my parenting worries in a nice bowl of Blue Bell ice cream. Made with only the best ingredients, Blue Bell tastes just like the good old days, and is still a full half gallon!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Cleaning with Kids
Cleaning and chores with kids, once they're old enough, is a funny thing.
It's something they've just got to learn how to do to be functional members of society, yet teaching them is a way bigger pain than just doing it yourself. This is why a lot of people today don't know how to do jack--their parents just did not have the energy to do the same thing they would do anyway but nine times slower, half the quality, and with random bouts of crying.
But Daniel and I will not have that in our house. We WILL NOT have it!
So instead, we have this:
Me: "Sam, your room is very messy. You need to go clean it up. Please go and put all your toys away--where they go, not just anywhere-- then make your bed, pick up your books and blankets, and make sure that you don't shove stuff in the corners or stack everything on your dresser."
Sam: "Sure, mom!" Runs to her room, where I hear the Dora clean up song being belted at double speed. Amazingly, approximately 1.6 seconds later, Sam runs back in where ever I am. "DONE!"
Me: "Wow. Really? Your room is clean? If I go in there, will I be happy or sad?"
Sam: "Happy! It's clean."
Me: "That's great. So, you made your bed, and---"
Sam cuts me off: "Oh. Wait, hold on!" Runs back to her room, starts the Dora song again, and manages to reappear even faster than the first time. "My bed is made now!"
Me: "You are super speedy! So, the pillows are on?"
Sam: "Yep yep!" (This is her latest affirmative answer to anything--a super fast "yep yep." It's adorable, we love it.)
Me: "Great! And your comforter is pulled up and smoothed out?"
Sam: "oops. Hold on." Again, she runs off and sings Dora. I start to wish there was another clean up song known to preschooler-kind. This time lasts maybe 5 seconds, so she probably found a toy to play with and got distracted. "Okay," she runs in, breathing hard from all the dashing, "the comforter is up, the room is all clean. You'll be happy."
Me: "Yeah! I'm so glad you cleaned it up! I will come to inspect it soon. I can't wait to see the nice clean dresser--you remembered not to pile everything from the floor on the dresser right?"
Sam: "ummmm, hold on." You guessed it, we repeat the cycle again. As this time, she takes piles off the dresser. When she runs back, we repeat this cycle again with piles in the corners, dirty clothes piled in front of the hamper, clean clothes spilling out of drawers, and books stacked pretty much everywhere but the book bin. Maybe a few more times if she's been playing princesses or blocks, since apparently "clean up the blocks/figurines" translates to "clean up one block/figurine, then announce your are finished. Repeat for every single one on floor." After she has completed a metric mile running back and forth between her room and mine, I decide it's time to inspect her room.
What I find is a comforter pulled up awkwardly over an entire menagerie of stuffed animals, making it look like a small mountain range, decorative pillows stacked on top of each other upside down and sideways, a mountain of books in the book bin that will start cascading to the floor any second, at least one dirty shirt in front of the hamper blocking the closet door, and an entire line of toys peeking out from under the bed that obviously didn't qualify as "out" since they are 1 mm inside the bedframe and are therefore invisible to the naked eye.
Oh, and one four year old completely bursting with pride. "Isn't it great!? Are you so happy!?" She asks jumping and clasping her hands in rapture.
And I am so happy. Because even if it was like pulling teeth and herding cats--simultaneously--she did it herself. Her floors and surfaces, formerly completely covered from view, are clean, and she made the effort. I know this is the best she could do, and I am proud and happy.
But no way am I stupid enough to look inside that closet. I'm going to ride the good emotions while they last.
It's something they've just got to learn how to do to be functional members of society, yet teaching them is a way bigger pain than just doing it yourself. This is why a lot of people today don't know how to do jack--their parents just did not have the energy to do the same thing they would do anyway but nine times slower, half the quality, and with random bouts of crying.
But Daniel and I will not have that in our house. We WILL NOT have it!
So instead, we have this:
Me: "Sam, your room is very messy. You need to go clean it up. Please go and put all your toys away--where they go, not just anywhere-- then make your bed, pick up your books and blankets, and make sure that you don't shove stuff in the corners or stack everything on your dresser."
Sam: "Sure, mom!" Runs to her room, where I hear the Dora clean up song being belted at double speed. Amazingly, approximately 1.6 seconds later, Sam runs back in where ever I am. "DONE!"
Me: "Wow. Really? Your room is clean? If I go in there, will I be happy or sad?"
Sam: "Happy! It's clean."
Me: "That's great. So, you made your bed, and---"
Sam cuts me off: "Oh. Wait, hold on!" Runs back to her room, starts the Dora song again, and manages to reappear even faster than the first time. "My bed is made now!"
Me: "You are super speedy! So, the pillows are on?"
Sam: "Yep yep!" (This is her latest affirmative answer to anything--a super fast "yep yep." It's adorable, we love it.)
Me: "Great! And your comforter is pulled up and smoothed out?"
Sam: "oops. Hold on." Again, she runs off and sings Dora. I start to wish there was another clean up song known to preschooler-kind. This time lasts maybe 5 seconds, so she probably found a toy to play with and got distracted. "Okay," she runs in, breathing hard from all the dashing, "the comforter is up, the room is all clean. You'll be happy."
Me: "Yeah! I'm so glad you cleaned it up! I will come to inspect it soon. I can't wait to see the nice clean dresser--you remembered not to pile everything from the floor on the dresser right?"
Sam: "ummmm, hold on." You guessed it, we repeat the cycle again. As this time, she takes piles off the dresser. When she runs back, we repeat this cycle again with piles in the corners, dirty clothes piled in front of the hamper, clean clothes spilling out of drawers, and books stacked pretty much everywhere but the book bin. Maybe a few more times if she's been playing princesses or blocks, since apparently "clean up the blocks/figurines" translates to "clean up one block/figurine, then announce your are finished. Repeat for every single one on floor." After she has completed a metric mile running back and forth between her room and mine, I decide it's time to inspect her room.
What I find is a comforter pulled up awkwardly over an entire menagerie of stuffed animals, making it look like a small mountain range, decorative pillows stacked on top of each other upside down and sideways, a mountain of books in the book bin that will start cascading to the floor any second, at least one dirty shirt in front of the hamper blocking the closet door, and an entire line of toys peeking out from under the bed that obviously didn't qualify as "out" since they are 1 mm inside the bedframe and are therefore invisible to the naked eye.
Oh, and one four year old completely bursting with pride. "Isn't it great!? Are you so happy!?" She asks jumping and clasping her hands in rapture.
And I am so happy. Because even if it was like pulling teeth and herding cats--simultaneously--she did it herself. Her floors and surfaces, formerly completely covered from view, are clean, and she made the effort. I know this is the best she could do, and I am proud and happy.
But no way am I stupid enough to look inside that closet. I'm going to ride the good emotions while they last.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Infomal Education
A couple weeks ago I was taking the kids to spend the day at what we call "the dinosaur museum," because for all it's other merits on geology, the history of earth, and Arizona's history and natural beauty, all we really care about are the dinosaurs. Especially the robot T-rex that opens and closes its mouth.
I'd never taken Sam before, and I'd been promising for weeks. Since I'm too cheap to pay another $10 bucks so Daniel could go with us (seriously, seems a little steep for people who I wasn't expecting to give a flying fig about 99% of the exhibits, but I digress), it was just me and the kiddos.
It was also a bit of a drive to a different town. On the way there, Sam said, "Hey, mom, maybe on the way back from the museum, we could swing by the aquarium and check that out." (FYI, the aquarium is in yet another city the other direction, but that's not the point).
I said that one major activity was enough for the day, and pointed out that it would be too expensive to go both places, because they both cost a bit of money. I can honestly say that fact that I find fish and sea life totally disgusting did not factor into the decision at all.
Sam sighed and said "Does the 'quarium cost 18 monies?"
Surprised, I answered, "Yes, I think that's exactly what it costs. How did you know that?"
Sam replied, "I know SOME stuff, mom. I know some stuff."
I guess she does, but I'm still mystified as to how.
A few days later in the grocery store Sam pointed at some of the sugary cereals we are trying to quit buying and wean off of.
"Hey mom, can we get this cereal? It is a good source of fiber AND whole grains!!!"
Again, with the crazy "knowlege" out of nowhere? I had an idea where she heard this slightly misleading info, however, but I asked how she knew that anyway.
Sam looked up at me and said "Well, I watch a lot of commercials."
That's just fabulous. Way to make me feel like super mom, Sam. Thanks. I really wish it didn't cost extra for the kids cable channels without commercials. Because, lets face it, I'm not going to take away all the TV, that's just crazy talk! I'd never shower alone again (even with the TV, odds are about 70% I'll get a visitor staring at the glass door asking for a snack or something). If I ask for privacy, but Sam considers it "really important" she's come barging in with her crochet blanket over her head, so I can have my privacy. When I ask her how she runs in like that without bumping into things, she says she can see through it. When I ask how I'm getting privacy if she can in fact see through it, she asks why I would want her to bump into things and looks as me like I'm the crazy person here. Then I sigh and vow to wake up at 5am before Daniel leaves to get a solo shower. The next day, I will not get up at five. It's a fun little game we play.
Anyway, it may not be what I think she's absorbing, and it may not be what I want her to be picking up, but yes, Sam is always learning. The only problem is, after she busts out random trivia knowledge like how much the local aquarium costs, it becomes even harder not to lose it when she says she "forgot" she was supposed to put her toys away after seventeen reminders. Or when she says she forgot that we discussed her bursting in with a blanket on her head is not actually "respecting mom's privacy" after all.
I know what her little brain is capable of, and so does she--making mom's brain explode.
I'd never taken Sam before, and I'd been promising for weeks. Since I'm too cheap to pay another $10 bucks so Daniel could go with us (seriously, seems a little steep for people who I wasn't expecting to give a flying fig about 99% of the exhibits, but I digress), it was just me and the kiddos.
It was also a bit of a drive to a different town. On the way there, Sam said, "Hey, mom, maybe on the way back from the museum, we could swing by the aquarium and check that out." (FYI, the aquarium is in yet another city the other direction, but that's not the point).
I said that one major activity was enough for the day, and pointed out that it would be too expensive to go both places, because they both cost a bit of money. I can honestly say that fact that I find fish and sea life totally disgusting did not factor into the decision at all.
Sam sighed and said "Does the 'quarium cost 18 monies?"
Surprised, I answered, "Yes, I think that's exactly what it costs. How did you know that?"
Sam replied, "I know SOME stuff, mom. I know some stuff."
I guess she does, but I'm still mystified as to how.
A few days later in the grocery store Sam pointed at some of the sugary cereals we are trying to quit buying and wean off of.
"Hey mom, can we get this cereal? It is a good source of fiber AND whole grains!!!"
Again, with the crazy "knowlege" out of nowhere? I had an idea where she heard this slightly misleading info, however, but I asked how she knew that anyway.
Sam looked up at me and said "Well, I watch a lot of commercials."
That's just fabulous. Way to make me feel like super mom, Sam. Thanks. I really wish it didn't cost extra for the kids cable channels without commercials. Because, lets face it, I'm not going to take away all the TV, that's just crazy talk! I'd never shower alone again (even with the TV, odds are about 70% I'll get a visitor staring at the glass door asking for a snack or something). If I ask for privacy, but Sam considers it "really important" she's come barging in with her crochet blanket over her head, so I can have my privacy. When I ask her how she runs in like that without bumping into things, she says she can see through it. When I ask how I'm getting privacy if she can in fact see through it, she asks why I would want her to bump into things and looks as me like I'm the crazy person here. Then I sigh and vow to wake up at 5am before Daniel leaves to get a solo shower. The next day, I will not get up at five. It's a fun little game we play.
Anyway, it may not be what I think she's absorbing, and it may not be what I want her to be picking up, but yes, Sam is always learning. The only problem is, after she busts out random trivia knowledge like how much the local aquarium costs, it becomes even harder not to lose it when she says she "forgot" she was supposed to put her toys away after seventeen reminders. Or when she says she forgot that we discussed her bursting in with a blanket on her head is not actually "respecting mom's privacy" after all.
I know what her little brain is capable of, and so does she--making mom's brain explode.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Memory
Yesterday, Sam was waxing nostalgic about her summer in Utah during lunch.
"Hey, Mom. Do you remember when we were in Utah, and I ate that red snowcone and lots of junk food at the party, and then I came down in the night and threw up all over you in your bed?"
Uhhh, vividly. And some stops on Memory Lane needn't be revisited, Sam. Thanks, though.
Of course, during the same lunch she asked me why food turns into poop and then wanted to know how that process works, so unbelievably enough, I actually began wishing to go to back to talking about her Tiger's Blood snow cone vomit.
Sometimes, I have to either bust out laughing or let out a deep sigh from my toes when I look at my life. I usually choose the laughter, which is probably why Sam seems to have more rather than less of these moments as time goes on. She's working her audience.
"Hey, Mom. Do you remember when we were in Utah, and I ate that red snowcone and lots of junk food at the party, and then I came down in the night and threw up all over you in your bed?"
Uhhh, vividly. And some stops on Memory Lane needn't be revisited, Sam. Thanks, though.
Of course, during the same lunch she asked me why food turns into poop and then wanted to know how that process works, so unbelievably enough, I actually began wishing to go to back to talking about her Tiger's Blood snow cone vomit.
Sometimes, I have to either bust out laughing or let out a deep sigh from my toes when I look at my life. I usually choose the laughter, which is probably why Sam seems to have more rather than less of these moments as time goes on. She's working her audience.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Turnabout is Fair Play
Sam loves to get her brother's attention by screaming "PEYTON!!!" at the top of her lungs. It gets him to look or come over about 50% of the time, not that Sam is going to try to find a more efficient method any time soon.
Peyton has decided he's a little tired of it.
Last week, when Sam bellowed "PEYTON!!!" he bellowed right back:
"PEYTON!!"
It was the first time I've ever heard him say his own name. Now, if he'd yelled back at me like that, it would probably irritate me to no end, but in this case, I just couldn't stop laughing. Sam looked so confused.
Of course, Sam isn't the only victim of Peyton's mimicry. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs trying to get Daniel to drop down some laundry for me, so I yelled "Daniel!"
Suddenly, Peyton appears next to me at the bottom of the stairs and yells "Dan-o!"
It looks like we have to be careful what we shout at our house, and maybe when I yell up the stairs, I should stick with "Daddy" instead of "Daniel" unless I'm okay with my husband and son being on a first name basis.
He is growing up so fast!
Peyton has decided he's a little tired of it.
Last week, when Sam bellowed "PEYTON!!!" he bellowed right back:
"PEYTON!!"
It was the first time I've ever heard him say his own name. Now, if he'd yelled back at me like that, it would probably irritate me to no end, but in this case, I just couldn't stop laughing. Sam looked so confused.
Of course, Sam isn't the only victim of Peyton's mimicry. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs trying to get Daniel to drop down some laundry for me, so I yelled "Daniel!"
Suddenly, Peyton appears next to me at the bottom of the stairs and yells "Dan-o!"
It looks like we have to be careful what we shout at our house, and maybe when I yell up the stairs, I should stick with "Daddy" instead of "Daniel" unless I'm okay with my husband and son being on a first name basis.
He is growing up so fast!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Early Intervention Therapy
While Sam is pretty good about cleaning up after herself, she prefers to do so accompanied by whining, and several attempts to quit long before the job is done. She ascribes to the kid philosophy that if there are 13 Barbies on the floor, and she picks up 2 of them, her room is magically "clean." She also has so many "treasures" that have to be visible in her room at all times, that we finally had a long talk and purged the number of stuffed animals she can actually sleep with down to 10. Before the purge, she was pushing 40, and I was afraid she'd fall out of bed in a bid to make room for yet another stuffed Easter duck. For the record, I have absolutely no memory of 90% of these ducks entering our home. Where did they all come from? I blame the grandparents.
In other words, Sam, like virtually every other four-year-old in America, behaves like a hoarder.
I'm not at all concerned about this being lifetime behavior at this point (as a former collector of vast treasures, and messy room keeper myself), but at the same time, I figure it's never too early to explaining the hows and whys of keeping things clean to kids. Plus, my husband (possibly the only kid in history to travel through the preschool period without hoarding and messy tendencies) always appreciates a good word--cough, cough, sermon, cough--on the benefits of tidiness. I figure Sam is better off hearing it from me instead of her father, who gets all glassy eyed with religious fervor when he speaks about Windex and Clorox, and lets not forget Armor-All, the patron saint of proper car care.
It was with all these things in mind that I didn't turn the channel immediately when Sam wandered downstairs during an episode of one of those "Hoarders" shows. Full disclosure: I'm not sure which one it was, "Hoarders" or the other one exactly like it but not called that on TLC, so we'll just call it "Hoarders." I figured I'd wait to see if she noticed it or had any questions. After a few minutes, I caught her watching and she started asking me about it.
So, we had a really good talk. We talked about why it's important to clean up our things, and how we don't want our house to be more comfy for bugs than people (because unfortunately it was a very infested episode). We talked about how we have to try to make sure not to love our things more than people in our homes, and that is really hard for some people. We talked about how Daddy and I want her to learn to clean up her own things, because someday she'll be big and grown up and we want her to know how to take care of her stuff long before she has her own house. We discussed what it would feel like to come home to a house full of bugs and stuff vs. coming home to a house that is clean and peaceful and full of people that love you. It was a good talk, and she had lots of questions.
She also hopped right to and has been cleaning things much better and without complaining lately! What a difference 15 minutes of a reality show can make! I was even thinking that I might be able to persuade her to prune her collection of egg cartons--each filled with exactly 12 "special rocks" from the yard--down to a more reasonable amount of space taken up in her closet. Like, maybe only 10 cartons. The possibilities were endless!
Then, today on the way to preschool as we wound through our old neighborhood, Sam looked out the window and asked thoughtfully,
"Mom, what do you think? How many of these people's houses are super nasty? Like if they moved, would there be tons of bugs?"
So for all the good we got out of the episode, Sam really is just looking around wondering how many people are secretly disgusting. Which, I've got to admit, is pretty much what I get out of "Hoarders" and those types of reality shows too--how many people in this world are more messed up than me?
All our new found love of a clean home comes with a side of smugness I guess.
Not that any of that is going to stop me from pulling out an episode of "Toddlers and Tiaras" if Sam ever accuses me of being a bad mom. Every time I do NOT spray tan my children or make them wear false teeth, I'm earning that smugness, darn it!
In other words, Sam, like virtually every other four-year-old in America, behaves like a hoarder.
I'm not at all concerned about this being lifetime behavior at this point (as a former collector of vast treasures, and messy room keeper myself), but at the same time, I figure it's never too early to explaining the hows and whys of keeping things clean to kids. Plus, my husband (possibly the only kid in history to travel through the preschool period without hoarding and messy tendencies) always appreciates a good word--cough, cough, sermon, cough--on the benefits of tidiness. I figure Sam is better off hearing it from me instead of her father, who gets all glassy eyed with religious fervor when he speaks about Windex and Clorox, and lets not forget Armor-All, the patron saint of proper car care.
It was with all these things in mind that I didn't turn the channel immediately when Sam wandered downstairs during an episode of one of those "Hoarders" shows. Full disclosure: I'm not sure which one it was, "Hoarders" or the other one exactly like it but not called that on TLC, so we'll just call it "Hoarders." I figured I'd wait to see if she noticed it or had any questions. After a few minutes, I caught her watching and she started asking me about it.
So, we had a really good talk. We talked about why it's important to clean up our things, and how we don't want our house to be more comfy for bugs than people (because unfortunately it was a very infested episode). We talked about how we have to try to make sure not to love our things more than people in our homes, and that is really hard for some people. We talked about how Daddy and I want her to learn to clean up her own things, because someday she'll be big and grown up and we want her to know how to take care of her stuff long before she has her own house. We discussed what it would feel like to come home to a house full of bugs and stuff vs. coming home to a house that is clean and peaceful and full of people that love you. It was a good talk, and she had lots of questions.
She also hopped right to and has been cleaning things much better and without complaining lately! What a difference 15 minutes of a reality show can make! I was even thinking that I might be able to persuade her to prune her collection of egg cartons--each filled with exactly 12 "special rocks" from the yard--down to a more reasonable amount of space taken up in her closet. Like, maybe only 10 cartons. The possibilities were endless!
Then, today on the way to preschool as we wound through our old neighborhood, Sam looked out the window and asked thoughtfully,
"Mom, what do you think? How many of these people's houses are super nasty? Like if they moved, would there be tons of bugs?"
So for all the good we got out of the episode, Sam really is just looking around wondering how many people are secretly disgusting. Which, I've got to admit, is pretty much what I get out of "Hoarders" and those types of reality shows too--how many people in this world are more messed up than me?
All our new found love of a clean home comes with a side of smugness I guess.
Not that any of that is going to stop me from pulling out an episode of "Toddlers and Tiaras" if Sam ever accuses me of being a bad mom. Every time I do NOT spray tan my children or make them wear false teeth, I'm earning that smugness, darn it!
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