The Twicer

I've become the thing I've always dreaded. Well, that's a lie. I've never really dreaded becoming it. I didn't even know it existed until a few years ago when I even discovered blogging. "IT" is the twice-weekly blogger.

That's right, I'm a lame blogger who can't pull random thoughts out of my sad little brain and condense them into semi-coherent passages more than twice a week. That's OK, though. I'm all right with it. I can accept my blogger failings. Sometimes I just have to be outside gardening when the Northwest weather finally turns warm and sunny after nine months of rain and gloom. Other times I may be spending too much time looking for things I don't really need on ebay, or getting caught up on the latest with "Poor Little Lindsay! I blame her father for this!" and other celeb gossip.

I only hope that you, Gentle Reader, can accept my failings as well. Sob, please accept me as I am!

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Another "twicer" event is the Cleaning Lady. (Cue that "angels singing" or choir sound). She and her sister come to my humble abode twice a month to keep me and my family from living in squalor. Believe me, it's a very small price to pay, at any price she'd charge. Hubby didn't even give me a hard time about it, since I am the "housewife" and that was on the list of job requirements when I signed up for the job. (Wait, you other housewives didn't get a list of housewife job requirements? Hmm. I'll have to double-check that.)

Anyway, twice a month, I scramble around the house, tidying up on Cleaning Day Eve. That's one of the tricks* of life -- you have to clean for the cleaning people. See, if they show up with the house in its normal state -- toys everywhere, Hubby's laundry basket in the middle of the bedroom, shoes lying around here and there, dishes piled in the sink and on the counter, laundry piled up in the laundry room -- they can't clean the stuff they came to clean. So, I have to pick everything up and put it away, or sometimes just hide it in piles in the closets.

That was what I did on Monday night, Cleaning Day Eve. I got the rooms tidy (not clean. There's a big difference between tidy and clean!) and even had the check written and on the console table, ready to go. Now, I wouldn't have to scramble at all on Tuesday morning!

Tuesday, I got up early, showered and dressed, and got the boys their breakfasts with plenty of time to spare. It was looking like I might actually get Hutton to speech therapy on time, until I remembered that I hadn't picked up his nighttime diaper and pajama bottoms from the bathroom floor that morning, which I wanted to do so the Cleaning Lady didn't have to touch them. (Hutton's morning routine, which he often forgets and needs to be reminded to "Go use the potty and get dressed!", is to get up, go use the potty, leave his pajama bottoms and nighttime diaper on the bathroom floor, put his pajama top in his hamper, and get dressed in the clothes I laid out for him the night before.)

WARNING: CRAPISODE TO FOLLOW! (I posted this after reading Kim's blog today.)
The diaper left on the bathroom floor was dirty with poop, but no poop was still in the diaper. I looked in the toilet. Wow! What a big step for Hutton! He dumped the poop into the toilet! (Now I just need him to stop pooping into his diaper at night. That makes for smelly laundry the next day, believe me!) Unfortunately, he also put in a bunch of baby wipes as well and the toilet was clogged. The poop alone probably would have done it, and it may have. I didn't actually see him put baby wipes in the toilet. The Cleaning Lady was due in 20 minutes. To plunge and be late to speech therapy, or just leave a note, and still be late? I left a note saying, "Do not touch! Toilet clogged. Will plunge later."

And we were late. But at least I had a nice excuse to give the speech therapist! Nothing shows respect for someone's time like a good poop excuse.


*I was going to use the word "ironies" here, but after the Alanis Morrisette song, I really hate the misuse of the word irony or ironic, and I couldn't think of the right word. So, if any of your human thesauruses can think of the right word, please let me know!