Dino Mom

Sometimes I feel like a dino-mom.

Ancient and over the hill. Big and scaly. Roaring and cranky, too.

But, then my little dino-child comes around with a curiosity for all things dino.


“Mommy, what’s this?”

“Who’s that?”

“Why? Why, Mommy, why?”

She skips and dances, humming a tune. She throws her arms around me and professes her love for my dino-mom self.

Then, I smile and think that maybe being a dino-mom isn’t too bad.

Maybe a dino-mom is the best kinda mom to be.

I then go about my day less grouchy, less roary and somehow less ancient.

Later on, I sit down to share a cup of coffee with the T-Rex-mom up the street.

‘Cuz, you know, there’s always a bigger and badder dino on the block.

Kinda made me look like a harmless newt.

Geriatric Washer and Dryer

As you know, I have been struggling with the laundry lately. I’ve been stalked by laundry, seduced by laundry and just driven mad by it.

It’s the hamster wheel of my life.

“Wash it. Sort it. Fold it. Put it away. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.”

Then, my washing machine began to complain.

“My back. My aching back. You never give me a break,” she squawked.

She was a granny of a washer, hand in hand with a grandpa of a dryer. Not quite the duo I needed to help with a young family and spring cleaning.

So, I decided to send them packing to the old folk’s home for appliances. They didn’t complain as we loaded them into the van. They looked happy to come face to face with their retirement years.

As for their replacements, well, I got a couple slinky little numbers over at smarter.com. They have really cheap washers and dryers, I’m telling ya.

You’ll find top brands like Whirlpool, GE and LG. The prices are tops. And, the models are young and eager to please.

‘Cuz if you are going to run with this rowdy crowd of dirty socks, you’ve got to be built like a workhorse.

Good thing I got a good price.

Birds, Bees and Some Naughty Laundry

I was once again grumbling over a hill of dirty socks, per usual.

The sweat was pouring down my face as I wrestled the darks and roughed up the whites. The teetering laundry pile was far higher than I had seen it before. I had been working on it all morning and barely made a dent. I surmised that the clothes must have had their way with one another because the rate in which it multiplied was maddening.

It was true, some laundry mating must have occurred.

And, I knew what I had to do.

I needed to find the Pappa of the bunch and promptly send him to Dr. Snippity Snip.

I dug and I dug, finally finding what I suspected to be the culprit.

He lay there, immodestly clinging to a pair of lacy panties.

A pair of flannel boxers, fly open wide, he was.

I grabbed him by the waistband and said, “No more fun for you, Pal!”

He responded with surprise, “Hey, lady, I was just getting to first base!”

I marched out to the garage and opened the trashcan.

He started to squeal. “Why you raining on my parade? What did I ever do to you?”

I looked him in the fly…er…eye….before saying, “The work around here is never ending! You and that funny business in the laundry basket are making me old before my time!”

Then he started to soften a bit. “Ah, doll. I never knew. How about a little foot massage? I can fix you up with a pair of athletic socks.”

I gave him another look and began to succumb to his charms.

“A foot massage?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured me. “I’m in good with the whole sock crew. I can make you feel real good, little lady. “

Before I knew it, that rascal had convinced me to bring him back inside to continue with his date with the lacy unmentionables.

And, now, I’m sitting here with a single, one eyed, unmated sock named Gladys rubbing my feet while I listen to the laundry pile writhe and moan.

Kinda makes for an interesting afternoon.

A Valentine's Yowza

My kindergartener runs out of her classroom at the end of each day with reckless abandon. Her backpack is bouncing and her jacket is falling off as she giggles and jumps her way into my arms. Her mood is contagious. Her little sister and I hold each of her hands and the three of us hop-skip to our van, laughing the whole way. They each beg me to swing them around and I oblige, lifting each one into the sky before helping them into their car seats.

What is so funny?

I don’t know.

But, I enjoy the moment.

Of course, the day quickly returns to laundry and Mattel madness once we return home. But, for a few glorious moments each day, we experience a bit of glittery magic.

Later that afternoon, I decided to sprinkle some magic on hubby.

I skip and jump my way into his arms as he returns home from work and I cover him with kisses. My laughter is without reason. I hold his hand and skip-hop into our living room. I turn and face him and beg him to swing me in the air.

The result?

Hubs was confused when he did not find the usual lady in sweat pants hissing over a mountain of laundry, of course. But, being the man he is, he seized the moment. I am not one to kiss and tell. But, I can say results were had.

Yowza!

May you find yourself skip-hopping somewhere hand in hand with someone you love today, too. Happy Valentine’s!

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