predict-a-mom

blazer: American Eagle via thredUP
sweater: Style & Co. via thredUP
boots: Hunter via eBay
purse: c/o Caitlin

Ohhhhh look. Another leggings + boots + tunic sweater ensemble. Let's all clap it out for Grace's reliable predictability. I know. And it's not even Winter Proper yet. Silent scream.

The other day Simon laughed as he told me that he'd woken up on Sunday morning in the same inside out and backwards shirt he had worn all day Saturday. I didn't laugh because I do that all the time. I bet a lot of stay-at-homers do that too, right? I hope. If it's comfy and stretchy and suitable for sleeping ... why change, I say.  And then I sprinted out the door to Target about .00000001 seconds after Simon offered to watch the kids while I grabbed some dinner/cookie baking supplies. A trip to Target alone is one of the most serene experiences for me in my current life stage and again, I'm guessing I'm not alone. We moms know the alternative all too well that involves cherub lugging and appeasing and everythinging so even if Target is buzzing with all the holiday crazies - it still smells downright euphoric to a free bird flying. Anyway, it got me thinking about all the blessed ways in which I've become a little bit of a happy cliché of a mom. Let me pelt you with my thoughts ...

I drive a minivan and I don't like it. I love it.

It's habitual for my 4pm face to look identical to my 7am face. Like absolute hell.

I don't say, "going to the bathroom" ever. It's an automatic, "going potty" every single time.

I probably say, "I'm just really tired" to whomever will listen 99 times a day.

The mail? I check it eight seconds after the mailman has walked off the premises. And five times before - just in case.

As far as kids and their attire goes - I have a strict, "no stain - no change" policy that can last a scary number of consecutive day-night-day-night-day-night-I-can-keep-going-I-assure-you.

When the kids are awake the world is one mini tantrum away from crumbling into a million pieces and promptly ending. When the kids are asleep, yes of course this is the easiest job in the world.

I washed our cloth shower curtain liner a few weeks ago and have gone into the bathroom to admire my toil every single day since. Damn it feels good to be an efficient homemaker.

Every morning I make a nice cup of coffee. And every night Simon finds it sitting on the counter with exactly two sips gone.

Sometimes I wear my yogas and a hoodie and a puffy face to buy groceries because who really cares? And sometimes I wear a painted face, an outfit that's trying far too hard, and Saturday night in college hair to buy groceries because I do. 

I brown some meat, chop some tomatoes + avocados + onions, open a container of sour cream, a package of tortillas and a can of salsa and oh, look! It's gourmet taco Monday. Leftovers will follow for the next two nights if I can't stretch it to three (where we say hello to gourmet nachos).

Showers when I'm home alone with the kids: three minutes. Showers when Simon is home to watch the kids: twenty three minutes.

Blog posts start to sound vaguely familiar and annoyingly repetitive because they are. Almost exactly. 


And now I'm off to check the tangible snail and heat up the comida.
See ya.