View Making Light, I've been alerted to an insidious plot to make our already internationally inferior chocolate even worse. Save the chocolate! Go to Don't Mess with Our Chocolate and tell them not to rewrite the definition of what chocolate is!
The deadline for comment is April 25, so please hurry.
Goofy was just singing "Shake, shake, shake your peanuts" to me from the television. Yes, the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is on.
Interesting fact! The T is difficult to enunciate clearly in song.
Me: Hey, are you hungry yet?
Sasha: I am TEN THOUSAND hungry.
I will now SMITE YOU with the cuteness. Prepare to be smitten!
About a week ago, I found myself listening for Sasha, who was playing out in the back yard, while balancing Maya on my hip with one hand and stirring a risotto with the other. Salmon was baking in the oven, and green beans were cooking in the microwave, and dinner was pretty much ready as soon as Matt walked in the door.
While I was doing this, a thought occurred to me: I could never have managed to make a dinner like that, and certainly before Matt was home, when Sasha was six months old. What's changed? Making dinner hasn't, and if anything my number of obligations is higher rather than lower, so I guess the only thing that's changed is... me.
I'm not sure how it is, or why, but everything seems easier this time around. Even taking into account there are two children to keep track of rather than just one. Curious. I wonder if this is the experience of others, as well?
My kitchen is: Well, I need to cycle the dishwasher. But things have been slowly getting better... we've canceled the cleaners because summer camp is ZOMGWTFBBQ expensive, but I've been doing a pretty good job of making the house cleaner than they did, anyhow. It takes diligence in recurring tasks, which is the thing I am worst at in the whole world, but I have some hope that I'll get the hang of it.