New Year, Who Dis?

Its 2019, but I still remember when I had trouble remembering to write 1988 because I was stuck in 1987. That must have been grade 4, or thereabouts. Today I am in grade turning 40.

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Grown up but not mature.

I had a great year, highs and lows, of course. I wrote a list because I couldn’t remember shit all that I had done for the last 8 months of the year and it was a good list, personal achievements and lots of time with family and friends.

We have our new years resolutions figured out – nothing too serious but mostly about being serious about shit that needs to get done, as per usual. So I have spent the last few hours “getting organized” for being organized and that has taken me through to afternoon tea time, so …

The boys have another 1000 miles of cycling on their goals, as well as personal Goodreads challenges. I’m not going to set a bigger reading goal because the house is generally a bit of a mess, so I shouldn’t add more reasons not to do housework to my life, but I am also keeping the 1000 mile goal, which should get me out of the housework 2-3 times per week. Laundry can suck it!

So turning 40 this year means finally growing up, I guess…? I mean more than having kids and paying bills and driving a car with insurance. It probably means playing more of Cards Against Humanity, actually. We did that with friends last night and it was a great way to ring in the new year.

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What would CAH say about turning 40? Probably something about shitting in a bucket. Welp, there’s a first time for everything.

Happy new year!

The Duality of Stay at Home Parenthood

Life is an enigma, wrapped up in a mystery, or a dirty towel, at the best of times, but there are some things that are so perfect in their hypocrisy, as to be astounding.
One of these conundrums is laundry. It must be done, over and over, is never ending, can feasibly or probably be the EXACT SAME THING or things more than once, in a day if you are very unlucky. If the process stops, there is a rapid break down in world order.
“Oh honey, let the towels fold themselves tonight,” said no one ever.
H: “Why are you doing more laundry?”
M: “So I can, *sigh*, do more laundry.” Laundry is one of those staircases that goes in a circle. Are we going up or down? The only clear answer is that we are going insane. Penrose stairs, that’s apparently what they are called. Well, I have a Penrose laundry. Are the baskets growing or shrinking? Clean or dirty? Half empty or half full? The answer, clearly, is that laundry should go do itself, in no uncertain terms.
My kitchen also has a case of the Penrose Stairs. I clean it in order that more mess can be made, as often by me as by anyone else. I clear the benchtops in order to use them for something else. Rarely is there an opportunity to clean for cleaning sake. More likely for shit sake. Husband might beg me to do it, but there would be no clear space for his grovelling elbows.
I won’t even mention the bathrooms. Good grief!