Sorry, I got you here under false pretences. I read an article on blogging recently and it said that the title of the blog is what entices readers, and if you have lists or a sexual connotation in the title, it will increase readership. We shall see. Of course, what wasn't written in the article but was probably implied, was that the subject matter of the blog should reflect the title, which I can assure you is not going to happen in this post !.
After such a brilliant start, I'm not sure where to go from here. Usually I write the post first and then throw on a title, I am going to have to give some serious thought to this one.
Meanwhile my "Mother Of The Year" award is in serious jeopardy. Horror of horrors, Grady didn't have his gym uniform today. Despite the multiple pairs of gym pants and shirts he has hanging in his closet it would appear - unbeknownst to me - that only one of each item of clothing actually fit him. Said clothes have been languishing in a plastic bag for several days. Apparently he wore them on Friday but had to change for the Mother's Day Tea, hence bringing them home in a plastic bag. I have repeatedly told my offspring - and my husband too for that matter - that if they want something washed, it has to make it down to the laundry room. For most people not a difficult task, but for my family seemingly Mission Impossible. Ethan Hunt could learn a few maneuvers from me when it comes to doing laundry.
So anyway, this morning we have the screaming meanies because Grady's uniform wasn't ready. He did what any self respecting 10 year old would do and went back to bed in a snit, apparently taking it upon himself to take the day off school. Not in my playbook you don't. That uniform was in and out the washer and dryer so fast it would make your head spin. It was cutting it a bit fine and I had to tell him to man up and deal with the still damp pockets, but I was hustling them out the door on time, or at least I was until I realised Grady didn't have any socks on, at which point I lost it.
Me: "Grady, where the hell are your socks?"
Grady: "I don't have any."
Me: "What do you mean you don't have any ? There are loads of (clean) pairs in the laundry basket. Why didn't you put them on ?. You've had all morning."
Grady "I"m not walking around the house in socks, if I don't have my pants. It will look weird"
Seriously, now he decides to be a fashion plate ? He of the Sponge Bob boxers, and Star Wars t-shirt combo ?
Adding socks to that ensemble would make it weird ? I'll tell you what is weird, and that is me, standing on the door step mouthing obscenities at my children because they are driving me crazy.
Fast forward to this evening. Sid & Grady get in to it. Grady was the provocateur and as such got the brunt of the reprimand (which is my politically correct way of saying he got in shit). He starts in on how tough his life is with parents like us .. I know I was surprised too ! So I decided to head him off at the pass, tossed him $50 and told him to pack a bag and I'd take him to the train station. That shut him up pretty quick. I do like to keep my children on their toes.
To harken back to the title, in a recent survey it was stated that men who helped their wives with housework, had more sex on average. Just putting it out there .....
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