I’m having one of those put-upon-housewife/mother days where I feel chained to the stove. It’s not that bad, really, but I’m touchy because every time I turn my back the kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it.
Me: What. The. Hell.
“We made sandwiches.”
Me: Thanks for not cleaning it up.
“I was about to but you always swoop in there and get to it first.”
Me: It’s been this way for three hours. How long am I supposed to calmly wait?
“I’m calmer than you are.”
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-f-f-f-f-f-uckkkkkyooooooouuuuuuu!!!!! (I didn’t actually say that.)
This isn’t an exact conversation, more of an amalgam of many conversations I’ve had over the years, often in my head. My greatest fear is that I will raise boys who will make someone miserable one day, someone they love. But I also resent being reduced to the role of shrill harpy that is always yelling at the guys to pick up their shit.
I don’t have to be shrill or yell, you say? Come on over here and show me how reasonable you are after living in a house with four males (not including the male cat and dog).
Perhaps a public blog isn’t the best venue for airing my grievances, you say? I’ve got that covered. No one in this house reads my blog! ha-HA!
I’m coming unhinged. I better cut to the chase.
Today’s haul. I almost skipped it today because I was feeling overwhelmed. And then a couple friends emailed me a little rah-rah and I thought, I can’t disappoint my 12 followers!
My lovely neighbor has a very hard time coming over empty-handed. These are silicone baking molds. I don’t bake. You know what I love? Supermarket sheet cake. I loooove it.
Random Lego container pieces. I’m sure the mates will turn up and I’ll be thrilled to toss them, too. Also some kind of pastry piping thing, a stupid airplane/candy toy and a book light.
Another snowglobe. My boys love them, until they forget they exist. A blown-glass stir stick from a set my grandmother had. I still have the glasses but the pitcher is MIA. Tiny glasses. Casey picked them up to put on his hippo. Hahahahaha cute. Gone.
This was an experiment. It’s a hand-built porcelain vessel with “scales”. It was a total bitch to make and still came out riddled with cracks. I screwed the pooch on the glaze, too. Never walk into the glaze room feeling “experimental”. FREE
I was inspired by The Secret of Roan Inish to make this little cradle. There was a wooden cradle, built like a boat, in the film that was home to a Selkie. I reproduced it in stonewear and, ignoring the advice of Andrew, picked up a hot glue gun and shells. I’m so ashamed. FREE