There Was DUSTING.

Okay– I’ll admit it.  I’ve been guilty of… of…

HOUSECLEANING!  
*scream*  *shudder*


Forgive me.  I know, I know, my trademark is that I don’t give a royal housecleaning crap, but… well, I had to.  I’ve excavated the kitchen table TWICE in one week, and then?  And THEN?  I ORGANIZED. It was horrible– traumatic even.  I went through stuff, I threw shit away.  I… (oh gods… so hard to even say!) 


 I DUSTED! 

Stivie and Zoomboy, hiding Chicken who  didn’t want her picture taken.

 I know.  I know.  Don’t think less of me, okay?  But I had to.  We had company on Tuesday, and then company today on Easter Sunday, and I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I had to organize the yarn space and make sure our new vacation pictures were out and sweep the carpet and the kitchen floor and… 


Yeah.  I did.  I succumbed to the notion that I AM the woman, and housecleaning WAS my venue, and I made my house a home.  I’m not proud.  It was a (really) dirty job, but somebody had to do it.  

Everybody inside, because it was a little too  bright.  Note dusted shelf.  I know, you can’t see it, but it’s there.

And since I was also shopping and organizing Easter and dealing with kids who had to dye eggs and bake cupcakes and seemed to think that vacation was a good time for cuddles?  


Well, yeah.  It’s been a while since my last blog.  I’m sorry.  But don’t worry– it’s not going to happen again for a LONG, LONG time.  Swear.  

Squish, looking radiant with the sun in her amazing hair.

Has already found all eggs.

My ginormous son and his precious sister.

And that brings us to today–which was really sort of nice.  I know, I know– Easter, it should be, right?  But Easter is a production for four kids– five if you count the fact that Chicken’s friend, Stivie stayed over last night, because her mom was working and her family was all busy elsewhere.  Stivie got a basket too, and my kids got new clothes and stuffed animals.  (Zoomboy got a prosimian, which is a lemur– he was so proud, he used that word until I had it memorized!)  And then, to make things even more hectic, I had planned an Easter dinner, (which I am quite obviously NOT cooking at this moment) and my friend, Wendy, who was coming over with Chris, her very adorable young suitor (and yes– we call her a cougar, why do you ask?) had to change her plans and asked if she could come over in the morning instead.  ZOMG.  Suddenly, instead of dinner, which I can sort of do only because I’ve practiced, I was cooking BRUNCH!  I managed–and it wasn’t bad.  My favorite discovery was that if you roll up purchased almond paste in whomp-biscuit croissants and then cook them, you have… mmmfmmmppfmmm… yeah.  Nom.  Nom nom nom nom nom… FAT!  But it’s still nom!

Anyway, so we had Easter brunch, and now everyone’s chilling, eating potato chips which I’d planned to have before dinner, but I’m cooking ham and green beans and mashed potatoes tomorrow, so they can have them now.  And there were baskets (and for once I went LOW KEY on the gifts, if not on the candy for the five bajillion Easter eggs) and there were Easter clothes and there was happiness.

Mate and I, doing ritual fist bump for managing to be grownups for one more holiday.  Go us!

 And then, my favorite part of the day–especially considering that we’d gone to bed at 2:30 a.m. and woke up at 7 a.m.  Yup.  You guessed it.  Naps.  There were NAPS.  Me and Mate, together as the gods intended, FAST A-FRICKIN’-ASLEEP.  


Now THAT’S what I call a holiday.