Mar 262011
 

My husband and I have known each other for over a decade.  We met through work, dated for about a year and a half, got engaged and then were married another year and a half later.  So after knowing each other over ten years, nearly eight years of marriage, having had three children, two homes, two dogs, and more goldfish than I’d care to admit murdering owning, I realized today that my darling husband, even after all this time, can still make me blush.

So as I stood there today in my PJ pants and pink fuzzy socks, the refrigerator light illuminating behind me, I was caught off guard not only by the sound of my husband entering the kitchen, but also by the immediate warmth I felt in my cheeks.  With just one glance, just one look from this man, even after all this time and I was blushing.

Slowly, I lowered the bottle of Ranch dressing, swallowed what remained of my pride the mouthful of Ranch I had just squirted into my mouth, and just stood there totally caught Ranch-Handed blushing like a bride even after eight years.

Don’t judge me. It was nearing the expiration date and before I made a whole salad I just wanted to make sure it was still good…at least that’s what I told my husband.

In other unrelated news, my daughter, once she saw her dino-disaster gone viral, tried to explain away my last post. If you didn’t see the last post you can  View the photos here before seeing the video below:

One last thing, thank you so much for everyone who’s voted for me at Circle of Moms, Top 25 Funny Mom Blogs!  Voting ends in just two days, so please keep those votes coming!  All you need to do is click the following link and then the “thumbs up” sign next to my name.  Thanks again!  Vote here: http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/funny-moms

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Nov 282010
 

On occasion I find the smallest task suddenly becomes overwhelming.  Sometimes it is with cause and other times it is without it.  This last week, for me, it was the laundry.  “Really, Susan? The laundry?  I have real problems,” you might say.  And to that I’ll just say, that we all have “real” problems and as I repress the hell out of mine, they manage to manifest in other ways, like through the damn laundry. Anyway, my point to this post is that sometimes when life seems to be piling up and stress is building and even the laundry is conspiring against you (multiplying through osmosis or something while you sleep), it’s good to just take a step back, look at the situation, and write some bad poetry.  No, really. Well, it works for me anyway.

My husband had been traveling for a week and just returned home early Wednesday morning, so housework had gotten away from me while I was manning the fort solo.  Then I had some extras sheets from my Mom who came down to help me from killing the kids me entertain the kids, a suitcase from my husband, two of the kids were sick and I had to wash all the bedding plus their curtains (humidifier made them funky), plus my holiday throws, pillows, towels, etc. etc.  So basically my laundry room looked like a disaster area with piles and piles (even the piles had piles) of laundry.  I was so worried about being overcome by the laundry, which must have a mind of its own since it was obviously reproducing, that I tied a rope around my waist and another around the couch in the adjacent room before I went in; and at least I could attempt to pull myself free.  So as I spent my weekend feeling repressed and overcome with anxiety about the laundry, I began to make little rhymes in my head and jotted a few down on paper.  You’ll be able to find these, I’m certain, attached to the commitment papers when my husband takes me to the nut house:

Laundry-Smaundry

You are no fun

You are never done

Rinse and spin

I’ll never win

Dark and light

a housewife’s plight

You agitate

Oh! how I hate

the laundry.

Ode to Laundry

Such futility deadens the soul

Cycle that never seems to end

Thankless task takes its toll

Constant onslaught, unable to mend

Segregated and solitary piles stand

Some are dark, some are light

All are soiled and must be made clean

The job is mine, no one lends a hand

With no resolution, it’s not worth a fight

Sounds like a nightmare, or the housewife’s dream

Laundry Haiku

The endless cycles

You define futility

Wash, Dry, Fold again

So as I battle my S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) and fight to keep the holiday spirit among all the stress it can bring, I am promising to put myself in an occasional time-out.  It’s amazing how a glass of wine and a couple of silly poems can help lift my spirit…now, I’m off to switch the laundry…again.

 

 

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