Observation...

You know those really, really soft "minkie" blankets that all of us with kids seem to have several of? Did you ever notice that when you wash a whole load of them together, when they are dry, it's impossible to keep a grip on all of them as you carry them out of the laundry room? No matter how hard you try, they slither out of your grasp and fall on the floor. Then you trip over them and fall flat on your face, and the entire house shakes when you land. No? Just me? Well, then, I'll be under that rock over there, if you need me for anything.

Are you sitting down?

...Because this announcement is BIG. And shocking. Today...I fixed something! I fixed the washer, to be exact! I admit, when I say "fixed", I mean that Chris walked me through checking the circuit box over the phone, and I figured out that the fuse had tripped the circuit breaker, or whatever it is that happens, and I flipped the switch back, thus "fixing" the washer and garage door opener. Truthfully, I couldn't care less about the garage door opener, but laundry was piling up, and desperation is the mother of invention. Or the mother of nervous break downs.

Wherein I am once again set up by a preschooler and my eldest wears the pants in the family

Two stories for the day. First, on the way home from school, Timothy was babbling on, as usual. He does this so much that I can answer mechanically, as I may have mentioned before. I find that I follow his orders very well. So, when he told me, "Laugh, Mama!", I laughed. This laugh was apparently too fake for him, so he came back with, "No, not like that, like Hahahahaha!". I tried again, and again he wasn't thrilled with my efforts. Finally, since the situation was actually starting to amuse me, I laughed long and hard. Without missing a beat, he piped up from the backseat, "What are you laughing at, Mama?"

Second, a case of not putting two and two together. These days, I find myself lucky to be able to put one and one together, so clearly, two and two is beyond me. I vaguely recall Gabe telling me a few weeks back that he put on some jeans to wear to school and they were too big and too long. I had just bought him some new ones that I found on clearance so I thought nothing of it. I just told him to stick them in the back of his closet to save for next winter. At about the same time, my favorite Levis had disappeared after laundry day. If you've seen my closet, and I sincerely hope you haven't, you'll know that this house does not contain walk-ins. They're more "wedge-ins". Chris and I share one. And I like clothes, too well, if not too wisely. In my poor vague brain, I kind of assumed my jeans were shoved to the back of the closet, and that's why I hadn't seen them lately. It was only today, as I did the winter to summer clothing switch in Gabe's closet that I discovered my jeans, rumpled and crammed on a hanger, in the very back of his closet. Looking back, I can only assume that this was a laundry day when I had to work in the evening and had asked Chris to help by putting the jeans away when they were dry. He has often complained that it's getting harder to tell my clothes from Gabe's. Truly, Gabe and I have matching t-shirts from last season's soccer, and if they aren't both in the laundry together, even I have to think hard about whether I'm folding mine or his. I guess it's time to get out the sharpie and start labeling everything!

I have boys...

...And they look all cute and innocent. Especially when they're playing in the back yard.

Well, not entirely innocent. They are boys, after all. Their primary goal as such seems to be to shoot projectiles at...anything. Each other, the cats, their mother's behind...and once I came out and found the dog entirely coated in silly string.

Then they come inside and expect me to do their laundry. Have you ever seen such grass stains in your life? There isn't enough Shout in the universe!

They also like to eat chocolate pudding pops. This is Timothy asking for another pudding pop. He is trying very hard to convince me that he didn't get to eat his. Uh huh.

Of course, after they take baths, they're not so bad. They do cute things like play Candyland and wear cats as headgear. I suppose I'll keep them. Not that I have a choice. There's only a two-week return policy on them, from what I hear, and they don't start smelling like wet dog until they're at least two years old. By then it's too late.

Eulogy for my brown tunic top...

This is a completely pointless thing to write about, and I feel that I should warn you of that from the start. Marley was dead, as dead as a doornail...sorry, that was the wrong warning. Warning: Stupid, completely pointless and arbitrary blog to follow! (That was for all you CPaPs from Ravelry, if there are any reading!) Here goes!

My mother bought me the most adorable brown tunic top a few weeks before Christmas. It is (was) long-sleeved with a satin bow, and long enough to wear as a very short dress. Note that I did NOT wear it as a very short dress, but it looked excellent over jeans. I wore it for the first time last week.

I should stop and say, for those who don't already know, that proper laundry etiquette is practically an obsession with me. Loads are sorter by material, color and ability to hold onto cat hair. All stains MUST be pretreated, then checked after washing but before drying to ensure proper stain removal. All tags MUST be read. This being said, last week I committed a laundry faux pas of epic proportion. I sorted laundry one day, but didn't finish until the next. Because of this, I forgot that my brown tunic top was in a load with Chris' dress shirts. As a result of my forgetfulness, I failed to take the top out of the washer and "lay flat to dry" as instructed. Instead, I dried it with the dress shirts. When I took out the load, I was dismayed to find that my brown tunic top is now only long-sleeved and dress-length if a munchkin is going to be wearing it. It is now half-sleeved and hip length.

Oh, poor brown tunic top! How I will mourn you! How I enjoyed the day I wore you! How I wish I hadn't forgotten and dried you like a common dress shirt!

There, that's enough eulogizing, if that's a word. Hmm...spell-check recognized it, so I guess it is. There's a lesson to be learned here. Never dry rayon! (Unless of course, you have some munchkins you need to clothe!)