A Tale of Laundry, Cocoa Puffs and Thinly Disguised Urban Warfare

How much laundry can a one family go through in a single weekend? Excellent question. So glad you asked:

By midday Monday, this was what I had already washed and folded.


This was what I still had left to do. And yes, I had actually been caught up on laundry that Friday. I maintain that our dirty laundry breeds when no one is watching. Or, my guys change clothes three times a day just to punk me. Either way, I’m about to teach the Heathens to fold their own dang clothes, because this is just frapping excessive.

In unrelated news, I’ve been in school-supply-shopping-hell for two days now, and rescue is nowhere in sight. I feel like we’re competing in a cross between a scavenger hunt and Survivor. We went to three stores yesterday, and only completed about 90% of the list…for just ONE of the Heathens. Navigating the overly crowded aisles, which were clogged with equally snarly parents, was like a reality show gone wrong. Even the most genial southern gal loses her patience when she has to wait 10 minutes just to approach the crayon display. Some parents may find it acceptable to block the aisles, while their kids undergo an intensely existential debate about the best color for their safety scissor handles. Me? Not so much. My school supply shopping strategy is reminiscent of Supermarket Sweep.

I nearly had my first meltdown when I realized that one teacher wanted $20 worth of pens…JUST pens. That does not include the pencils or the red ink pens…nope, this is $20 worth of black erasable pens for my 5th grade child. If my budget wasn’t hurting before, it’s certainly on life support now.

Today, we continue on our epic quest to find notebooks in the following colors, as required by the ridiculously specific school supply list: red, blue, green, yellow, purple, navy, orange and (wait for it) lime.




Needless to say, I’m dangling a cocktail in front of me like a carrot, as a reward for making it through school supply shopping without pulling a Linda-Blair-in-the-Exorcist routine.

The only bright spot in my week has been Bear discovering the awesome power of breakfast cereal:

I know what you’re thinking. What kind of mother is proud of her kid for eating overly-marketed sugary puffs with little to no nutritional value? The fact that I am excited about this should give you a clue as to just how DANG PICKY my picky eaters really are.

Clearly, we are descending into madness.

I blame the lime notebook.

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