What do water, milk, lemon juice, anchovy paste and wasabi have in common?
They are all the ingredients to Gavin’s latest invention: ANTI-BUG SMELL!
This blog post could also be titled, “You Know Your House is A Total F*ing Mess When…”
In fact, about that, since this is my blog, I will take this opportunity to digress about how it feels to have a messy house. First of all, (although I always use the term sparingly), I am actually proud of myself for prioritizing my efforts lately. Working on a new condo purchase, recertifying the kids’ daycare (a relentless task actually), doing my JOB and the accompanying gigs to support the family AND being MOM have all ranked over the strength it takes me to manage the household. (My apologies to my husband, for whom “wife” has hardly blipped on the radar lately either.) My sister even came over last night and got to enjoy my company while I stayed SEATED, like, the WHOLE TIME (which was heretofore unprecedented). So I am proud of myself for cultivating enough maturity to “let it go” and accept what is GOOD ENOUGH, even if not perfect.
But I just need to complain that it HURTS. Having a dirty, messy, disorganized, out of control home HURTS in the way it hurts when you feel really icky and stinky after some really grungy project and haven’t washed your hair in ages and REALLY REALLY need a shower. It is unsanitary, inefficient, untenable and somewhat unsafe. In a word: a sacrifice. All I want is a little empathy people. Of course the good loving folks in my life offer platitudes like, “Don’t worry about it. It’s FINE. Don’t clean on MY account. Doesn’t bother ME!” Well, I just want to say, it is NOT fine. It bothers ME! But, also, I accept it. For NOW. Flies and all.
SO, imagine my delight this morning when my son divines to “make a smell that bugs won’t understand… so they will smell it and FLY out of the house! … And then you won’t have to kill them. Right Mamma?” Right, Baby.
Here he is, The Inventor, with his Invention:
And speaking of Invention, as in, “Necessity Being the Mother Of”… my husband, the Chef, also trouble shot a gap this morning. Specifically a V8 Gap. That is, sometimes you wanna find a some V8 around the house to aid in mixing up a little “Hair of the Dog.” (Such as a Bloody Mary of course.) After stumbling around the kitchen for a bit (and making us pancakes and tea), he sits down at the breakfast table with a suspicious looking cocktail. “Salsa?” I ask. He nods. “And hot sauce,” he adds. “And ketchup.”
Hey, desperate people do desperate things. I’m not gonna judge. Here we are with our respective beverages at breakfast. Apparently my mug says it best:
Gavin is actually drinking his first “Party in my Mouth Juice,” on account of it being Saturday and my “whatever” attitude right now. In a tepid effort to clean out the fridge, I gave him the rest of the Margarita Mix (non-alcoholic of course). What did he have to say about it? “It really DOES taste like a party in my mouth! [Burp-Burp-BUUURP.] Aaahhh. It’s a GREAT day! (then singing) Every little thing, is gonna be alright… It’s a great day! Right Daddy?”
Right, Baby. (o=