Introspection and a Dirty Reflection

This weekend, like most, was pretty busy. I took off early on Friday to hustle up and clean for the previously mentioned shower. After the shower and a nap with E, we went to have a playdate night with the Turnips. Sunday, with Doug not feeling so sporty and not having slept well, we skipped church (cue mounting guilt) then had an informal brunch with my family at our house with leftover shower food. E and I had the luxury of staying home the rest of the day, playing and vegging. That's the "glass is half full" quick rundown of the weekend. But as many of you know, I am the queen of the glass is half empty. Have you heard my theory on this pessimism? Ask me sometime. It will rock your world.

So here is the pessimistic, and much funnier, rundown of the weekend:

• I didn't so much clean my house as I did a "fool Mama job" (patent pending Ginger, the originator, and Holly & Michelle for sharing).
  
  
• As I was scrubbing the toilet, I had to think really hard when was the last time I scrubbed a toilet (I'm gonna miss my cleaning lady), thus once again reaffirming my less than stellar domestic qualities.
  
  
• I was attacked by a miniature, black, psychotic pug named Homer when I attempted to take away the 3-day old toast wrapped in a papertowel he stole out of my van while I was restrapping E's seat. I screamed out loud when he attacked my foot. Homer, I hope you had a hard time pooping out those papertowels. And One Step Ahead, thank you for making a kick-ass seat protector because what I saw underneath that carseat was disgusting.
  
  
• It apparently wasn't my weekend to take on small, black, disgusting things. A ROACH (NASTY!) was on my wall in the living room (CRINGE! GIRLY SQUIRM!), and when I attempted to kill it with my flip-flop it FLEW AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!....Memories of Holly in the Maple House.....And there I was, jumping up and down, windmilling my arms, waving a flip-flop, and spitting (???) at the roach. By the time I finally killed him (VICTORY!), I had scared another life out of Carl Wheezer, and shaved a few years off mine. And I may have strained my neck.

And as if that all wasn't enough, I found time for some introspection. And I need to better myself in so many ways, not the least of which are domestic. But I'm not a total failure. I have passed on my weirdness to my child, who upon seeing my curly hair today told me, "Mommy, your hair is CRAZY!" You gotta love that kid.

Oh, and Priss went to the Vet this morning. The massive hair shedding and scabbies are not from fleas, but from STRESS. Yes, that's right, at our house, even the cat seeks treatment for stress.