No More Apologies

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! I'm sorry I screamed at you!" Carter screamed to his father.

Pondering the Complexities of Urine Puddles

Today I'm going to totally be on it. It's true. I've wrote out a list of everything that I'm going to do. It ranges from going to the post office to folding laundry. I've already drank two mugs of mojito mint green tea, but I feel that might not be enough for what I have planned today. Seeing as we don't have any Diet Pepsi left in the house, I might just have to make an emergency run to the Burger King down the street and get a large one. I know, the price of buying a soda at a fast food joint is enough to buy me a liter at the grocery store. Well let me tell you something--you can get off of your six pack of budgetary lectures, because I have The Husband to tell me those things.

Anywhoo, I've put in a load of laundry, loaded and run the dishwasher, made my bed, and put the Soft Scrub in the toilets for a very-near-future scrubbing. Which brings me to the question that keeps plaguing me: Why, why, why must there be little drips and dribbles of urine somewhere on each toilet? I guess I could blame it on Carter--he just barely turned four and his urinary skills are sub-par. However, my instincts tell me that there are three more older contributors to this bodily fluid phenomenon. I am not one of them. My fluids are contained-yo!

From my previous post you would know that we had a party at my house. Previous to the party, I cleaned the place up pretty good. After all the excitement, I cleaned up as well. The toilets were pee free as of last week. Sadly, I know it's time for a deep clean when the earthy scent of urine starts to mingle with the exotic aroma of my Island Paradise Air Wick. That is the perfume that greeted my nostrils this morning as I used the hall bathroom. It was the smell of a housewife called to action!

To be honest, I don't really mind a good deep clean every couple of weeks. It is time for me to turn on, tune in, and take out the trash. I think what bothers me most is the obliviousness, whether authentic or faked, to my efforts. Why wouldn't my loved ones want to make my work a little easier? Why can't the men of my home control their aim better for their dear mother, and beloved wife? If they did, the toilet would do it's awesome job and just flush the pee away leaving no trace of "eu de hobo" in the bathroom . Is it laziness? Is it a physical problem they should see a professional about? Am I being insensitive because it's so easy for me to make the excretory target?

As the Soft Scrub slowly makes its journey down the three toilet bowls of our house, the question forever remains:

Why is it that certain males just can't get all of their urine into the toilet bowl? And, if a puddle or drip does happen, how hard is it for them to just clean up after themselves so I don't have to?

Now that I got that out of my system, it's onward and upward!

[Charise holds scrub brush directly into the air as if holding the glowing flame of Lady Liberty]

Saturday Evening Post

Last Sunday Carter turned four years old. It's been really amazing as each year passes, that I, a noble faired, long-haired, leaping gnome, have been able to keep each of my three children alive and kicking. I'm pretty proud of myself for getting up each day, making sure they are fed and watered, clothed and sheltered, and for the most part, properly hygienated. Cody and Colton for fourteen years, and Carter now, for four.

It was a lovely affair. Carter chose to have and "Angry Birds" themed party. For any of you reading that don't know what I'm referring to, congratulations--you probably have a very fulfilling and active life. For those of you that do know what I'm referring to, congratulations--you know what it is like to live with addiction. I'm not judging.

In the past, birthday dates would sneak up on me and The Husband. We would postulate back and forth about whether or not we should go all the way and have a party...with balloons. Inevitably, we would succumb to our slacker-selves and decide on taking the kids out to dinner, or out of town in lieu of an actual birthday party...with people. Well, this year we made the leap. Carter told us what he wanted, we consulted with one another, and finally The Husband said, "You better just send out the invitations before planning anything, because if you don't, we will back out and not have a party...with balloons and people." So, I made up a guest list, and shot off the invites through Punchbowl. And what do you know? People RSVP'ed. Funny how that works.

Our little Angry Bird-day party went down without any major occurrences. In fact, it was downright pleasant. I made decorations, barbecued, decorated a cake and socialized with people. There were even balloons! It was a success. It was so much of a success, that no sooner had the last guest stepped out the door, before Carter started planning his next party--a Spiderman party. With a Spiderman cake.

Haha! Fat chance young lad. In the four years you have known me, haven't you figured out I don't do action figures? Only iPod apps.