Life and Other Huge Messes

I haven't updated my blog in a month, but that's nothing.

The laundry baskets in my house are overflowing--some with dirty laundry, some with the clean-but-unfolded kind. The unmatched socks drawer is undoubtedly crammed full of pairs... if I could only find the time to match them up.

The powder room floor is swamped with de-rolled toilet paper, courtesy of Esme Rose.

The entry landing is strewn with Craisins and tiny bits of rice cake, courtesy of I-don't-know-who.

The basement looks like a second-hand shoe store exploded in it, from when I started sorting all of our accumulated, hand-me-down, girls' shoes into "too-small for Esme," "too big for Esme," and "not on any child of mine" piles.

The toy room looks like a refresher-course in "obeying means all-the-way" just waiting to happen. Somehow, when I asked the kids to "Put the princess dresses away" earlier today, it seems they must have heard, "Toss them into a big, gauzy heap somewhere sort of near the dress-up box."

The kitchen linoleum is flecked with all kinds of stickiness and grime.

Our master-bath is grody, our bedroom is strewn with items from the still half-packed duffle bag I took to a women's retreat this weekend, our new crop of library books is scattered widely over the living room...

And, outside, the sun is shining. And the weather is gorgeous. And I put it to you: when the stern winter winds finally give way to playful breezes gently wooing us outside, how am I supposed to accomplish anything inside? And why does it always seem that just as I finally have our winter routine down pat, summer arrives to shake me all up and turn me inside-out and upside-down?

Being a little short on answers to life's great mysteries today, I will not attempt to solve my own riddles. Instead, in keeping with the messy appearance of my home, I'll let this be a good, messy post with a bunch of unrelated pictures that have been sitting on my camera for the last month randomly strewn about where a conclusion should be.


Matthew, wearing on his head the bowl that Meg carried around "just in case" during her tummy bug. (Don't worry; it was clean.)


"La, di, da..."


"Oh, hi, Mommy. Um, yes, I know I'm not supposed to stand on chairs, but I, ah... I..."


"Being the baby of the family and all, I just assumed I could get away with it."


Smoochin' my littlest.


When Esme dumped the entire container of foam shapes from Grandma, it made a lovely confetti.


1, 2, 3 little stooges.


Meg's head adorned with the "hair tattoos" Aunt Dacia gave her for Christmas. This was our second go-round with these, and they looked MUCH better this time than the first.


Esme, just awakened from a nap, with some serious sun flare behind her.


Esme, five or eight shots later, just awakened from a nap, with some serious sun flare behind her, telling me, "Enough already with the camera, Mama!"


Mrs. Gruner's meat sauce was a hit!


The Parisian Princess...


...and Popeye.