Mr. Darcy, Unleashed

This is for any Mr. Darcy fans out there.  Beware - there is one VERY LOUD curse word that my children have unfortunately learned from this video.  But I promise you, it is not at all gratuitous.

Shhhh!

I'll have time to chat later; right now I am busy readying Rachel and Susie for our homeschooling group's annual family camping trip.  For 2 days and nights, Larry and the girls will be sleeping in a tent, using dirty toilets, and eating hotdogs and canned soup with ten other families.

Gosh, what a shame I can't go...

Meanwhile, Brian will be away at the local Boy Scout camporee for the weekend, leaving only David (aka the Silent Teen/Computer Genius) here at home. 

Oh, fellow moms, imagine the quiet!  The blessed quiet!  I can feel every molecule of my body relaxing at the very thought.  I don't know about you, but I don't mind housework so much as I mind the interruptions.   So this weekend, while scrubbing the tub and organizing the clutter, I'll be focusing my entire being on the task at hand rather than anticipating the inevitable "Mommy!" that falls upon my ears approximately every 10 minutes during a typical day.

Like this, only I'll have a toilet brush in one hand and Lysol Wipes in the other

And, yes, I do love and appreciate time with my children.  The dosage has been rather high lately, is all.   And a weekend camping trip seems like a more practical solution to that problem than my vague plan of running away to a convent somewhere and spending the rest of my life in silent contemplation.

Besides, I don't know if convents take Jews.

[Meditation image: AU Health and Wellness]

Mostly Mozart

Okay! Larry has returned, bearing truly marvelous chocolate; I fixed the broken toilet all by myself (meaning, I waited 2 days and then tried flushing it again and nothing bad happened); and no bats got into the house while Larry was gone.

I call that a win-win-win, don't you?

These chocolates are awesome; but, not being conversant in German, I don't know what's in them.  Tastes like marzipan plus some sort of liqueur plus something else...maybe I'll bring the box to the girls' art teacher and have her translate it for me.

Or maybe not, because then I would have to share...

In Which I Am Left Alone To Ponder My Victimhood

Hey, it's another one of those fun weeks where Larry gets to travel to interesting places around the world on business while I stay home waiting for another bat invasion.  Try not to be jealous - not every gal is as lucky as I am.  Just think!  I can feed the kids pizza tonight and not even feel guilty about it. 

I'm thinking I should just put the local pizza place on speed dial, already.

This is NOT our toilet. But I bet it works better.

And, naturally, the minute Larry left, one of the toilets stopped functioning correctly.  Now, normally, this would not be a problem.  After all, we have 4 (yes, 4!) toilets in this townhouse of ours.  Unfortunately, the toilet that went on the fritz is NOT the toilet that resides in the bathroom with the non-working sink.  So now we have to use the toilet in the master bath and then walk all the way over to the main bathroom to wash our hands.


I know!  We suffer.  I blame the Obama administration.  If it hadn't coopted me into being such a dependent victim, maybe I could figure out how to use the toilet plunger correctly. 




[Toilet image: Pix O'Plenty]

I Prefer Whistling

A lot has been written about the importance of giving children chores -- all about how it makes them feel more responsible and capable to be contributing to the household, blah, blah, blah.  And, even though my personal experience has given the lie to those theories, I still insist on my kids doing their fair share around the house, if only to make sure that I don't feel like the household slave.  I also cherish the hope that, by teaching my boys how to do laundry and wipe down bathrooms, I will earn the undying devotion of my future daughters-in-law. 

But, as always, practice and theory do not sit well together.  Yes, I am able to sit here checking my Facebook page as my 7-year-old finishes up her household tasks; but all is not as paradisiacal as it might seem.  Tell me, people, can it truly be worthwhile to make a child wipe down the table and sweep, if that means I am then subjected to a very shrill* concert of songs she makes up as she completes her chores?

*Fingernails-on-a-blackboard shrill, in case you were wondering...

I'm thinking that perhaps the answer to that question is NO.




[Girl sweeping image: KidClipArt]