Doing the Things That Need To Get Done, and the Weekly Menu

I ran across this comic on Reddit today and it is pretty much how I feel right now.

Comic by Bluechair
Comic by Bluechair

My least favorite chore is washing dishes. I hate it because I can wash all the dishes, but unless I’m home alone (which rarely happens), there will inevitably be a dirty dish on the counter in the next 30 minutes. I can spend an hour cleaning the kitchen and no more than 6 hours later it is a huge mess again. The only solution is to be constantly washing dishes and wiping things down as if I were some kind of dish washing robot.

I think it’s actually driving me insane. I don’t want to be a dish-washing robot. I want to be a person.

But this is my “job”, as it were. Keep the house, because someone’s got to. There really isn’t a way out of doing your chores, no matter if you are 10 years old or 35.

So in the end, I do the very tasks I despise as a way of keeping my mind off the fact that I hate doing them so much. Somehow, it usually works. But other times it makes me feel even crazier.

Can I get an AMEN?

Here’s what we’re having for dinner this week:

Monday: Coq au Riesling and Broccoli Salad with Bacon and French Bread
Tuesday: Roast Beef Sandwiches with leftover Broccoli Salad
Wednesday: Deer Steaks, Roasted Squash, Salad
Thursday: Spicy Chicken Soup
Friday: Baked Salmon, Caesar Salad, Parmesan Pasta
Saturday: Shakshuka

For the Maturing Mom: My PMB Guest Post (& Weekly Menu)

Today Portland Moms Blog posted a piece I wrote about becoming a mom of older kids.

There isn’t a word in the English language that accurately describes changing from being a mom of young children to being a mom of older children. A mom who’s done making more kids and is now concentrating on growing up the ones she’s got.
While the English language isn’t going to honor us moms of not-babies-anymore, I will.

maturing mom older kids

Continue reading “For the Maturing Mom: My PMB Guest Post (& Weekly Menu)”

Here’s to Ten Years

I have now spent 3,652 days as Mrs. The Husband. There is not one single day out of those 3,652 days that I have wished not to be Mrs. The Husband.

Although not every day was easy, they were all worth it.

24135963851_b0a0ddc57a_o

When we were back in Fargo for our trip last week, we took a quick trip up to the church at which we were married.

All I wanted was a picture with that one window in it. The Husband took it in one shot.

He’s good. But I knew that.

Ten years…I hope it’s just the beginning.