Shout It Out!

At camp carpool pick up the other day, a counselor stopped to talk to me about Little E.

UH-OH.  A short list of hot topics popped into my brain.

1) INCESSANT THUMB SUCKING (STILL)

2) COMPLETE DISREGARD FOR USING A TOILET ON A REGULAR BASIS (STILL)

3) LAZINESS THAT HASN'T BEEN SEEN ON SUCH A LARGE SCALE SINCE GARFIELD

But it was none of these.  She surprised me with a new one.

LITTLE E WAS VERY UPSET TODAY WHEN WE PLAYED A GAME AND HE GOT MUD ON HIS SHIRT AND ARMS.

My external dialogue was all very understanding and sympathetic.  I turned around in the car to tell Little E that it was fine if he messed up his camp clothes as they were just that, camp clothes, and that any dirt on his arms could be washed off with a good bubble bath. I nodded knowingly at the teenager counselor.  Yeah, I got this.

My internal dialogue was much different.

DAMN STRAIGHT! I'M SO TIRED OF DOING LAUNDRY. OF BUYING SHIRTS THAT GET WORN ONCE AND ARE STAINED WITH SOME MYSTERIOUS FOOD/FLUID/GOO THAT NEVER COMES OUT AND I HAVE TO THROW THEM OUT. (the one and dones, as I call them).

Even though I am mostly a SAHM, I'm quick to point out that if you rearrange those letters, you get SHAM, which basically summarizes my cooking and laundress skills.  

I can hard boil the sh*t out of some eggs and divide my laundry into lights, darks, and towels, but that is where the domesticated goddess magic ends.

So, I applaud you, Little E, for taking a stand for your mother against mud and popsicles and whatever else you get on your witty old navy t-shirt.