there are days that start perfectly. the kids are not total loons. i can get myself dressed and ready to go on time. there’s gas in the car. money on my timcard. no line-up at tim hortons….and these days happen, oh, about once every 3 years. most of my mornings are like the one i had this morning.
halfway through brushing my teeth, i realize, “hey, my toothbrush isn’t pink!!!” i have no idea whose toothbrush i used this morning. but, if you’re missing a pink colgate 360, i can hook you up. (right after i lose my breakfast) and then i went to grab my brush. now, see, this is the problem with having a 7-year-old teenager…the product thievery. the conditioner i want always seems to NOT be in the shower.
(ps…i’m OBSESSED with Herbal Essenses. my shower is beginning to look like a Shopper’s Drug Mart…i’ve got at least one in every color and scent..
i’ve even got the one for curly hair, even though my hair is not even remotely anything but stick straight. and the one for frizzy hair just smells so awesome. i believe they really are all the same, they just have different smells. and i’m addicted. seriously. it’s a problem)
my brush. my lipgloss. my hair dryer. my flat iron. my jewelery. my elastics. you name it, she’s gone all swiper the fox on me…
so, this morning i went down to look for my missing brush. in nothing.
NOTHING but what god gave me.
oh, hello, my nanny upstairs making herself a cup of coffee. oh, hello, i wasn’t expecting to see you upstairs so early. oh, hello, had i known you were going to be up here i would have, um, covered up my bare-assedness and my bare-boobedness.
ahem.
i couldn’t find my timcard…which, yes, i know, sucks…i also didn’t have any change…so when i went to pay…oh, yes, not enough money. where are the old dudes who buy me free coffee when i need them? hmm?? so, i scrounged through my giant purse. and came up with enough money…in nickels and dimes and pennies. and total mortification.
so…how’s your morning going so far???? 😉
out of the mouths of babes…take 839…
husband, (to me): did you call your mom?
Isabella: you call your mom!!
husband: no, you call your mom
Isabella: i can’t call my mom. she’s dead.
apparently, in addition to getting an eyeful of the full-ali this morning, my nanny has been teaching my children about death. and she told Isabella that her father died because he didn’t eat. this was a ploy to encourage her to eat, so, you know, she doesn’t, um, die. like her father.
WHAT? wait…WHAT?
by the way, have you been by my Juice site lately??
we are pleased to announce that our hellish trip to Moveable Type was a disaster and brought us full circle back to typepad. the good news for you? you don’t have to sign in to comment! and the good news for me is that i can actually get in and can actually post!
so come stop by and say hi!
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