A Laugh to Share

There’s no “meat” to this post and I am not sharing a single cleaning-related tidbit. I just spent a few minutes laughing aloud at the comments on this thread over on my Facebook page and thought you might like a good laugh as well in case you missed it!

In a moment of sheer mind-boggling frustration after calling into the living room, “Someone needs to go let Presley in from the backyard!” I wrote this cry for help:

I need help. Serious help. Actually, four out of five of my family need it. Y’know how we all swore as kids that we’d never ever mix up our kids’ names? And then how we all do? Well, our entire family is CONSTANTLY calling my daughter by our puppy’s name and our puppy by my daughter’s name. Seriously, it’s crazy how often it happens. It’s not just the normal amount. It’s like the names have completely switched places in my brain. Does anyone know a psychological trick to help me STOP calling my daughter Scruffy?? I’m afraid I’m going to do some serious damage!! (Halfway kidding, but really wanting ideas to help me stop!)

Seriously, all of your stories are so FUNNY! (And they make me feel better about my own name-replacement-issues!)


Go here to read the thread. It should be visible for you even if you aren’t on Facebook since it’s a public page.




I Only Thought About the Games

Wise Words from a 12 Year Old at ASlobComesClean.com

My oldest, a 7th grader, started playing football this year.

At age 12, this is the fulfillment of his Life Dream.

But it’s different than he expected.

Even though he knew what to expect.

We’d talked to him about the realities he’d face. That practices were going to be hot, and hard. And not necessarily fun.

He was as mentally prepared as he could be, and he’s always been one to have a good attitude, so he’s been (mostly) loving it.

But a few days ago, he said, “Mom, I’ve realized that when I dreamed about playing football, I only thought about the games. Now that I’m doing it, I realize it’s all about the practices. The games are only a small part.”

Wisdom from someone still shorter than me. (At least for the next few days.)

When I dreamed of having my own home, of being a mom, I only thought about the parties. The playdates. The moments when we’d sit in the living room (on my perfectly matched furniture) and laugh while eating artistically-plated snacks.

But having a home, being a mom, being hospitable . . . isn’t about the parties. It’s about the practices. It’s about doing the dishes and vacuuming the floors and picking up the socks that never seem to make it into the hamper. Those are the things I didn’t picture. I knew about them. Logically, I would have told you that of course I understood the importance of each of those daily tasks.

But I didn’t. I didn’t realize that those daily tasks are it. They are the heart of being a mom and a homemaker.




Looking Everywhere But There

I’m all for clever solutions.

But sometimes even the cleverest don’t work for me.

I spent at least five minutes looking for my dustpan last weekend.

Any guesses where it was?





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