About a year ago (back before the baby, and the chickens, and the goats, and the cow and I was writing posts like this and this and this), a lady who reads my blog praised me on being “so organized.” When I told Jon about this encounter, he asked “are you sure she was talking about your blog?”
You see, like any proud and somewhat self-absorbed person who keeps a journal on a public forum for all the world to see, I like to talk about all the good things going on in my life. My accomplishments and my successes. The kids accomplishments and successes. I rarely talk about the times when Jon comes home to find me alternately crying and yelling in frustration, ready to curl up in a corner with a bag of Oreos and a half-gallon of grass-fed A2/A2 raw milk. But the reality is that most often my cooking looks like this (and this and this) and my kitchen (and just about every other room in the house) looks like this and my memory can best be described like this.
Today the kids and I left for music lessons without their musical instruments. You’d think out of the seven of us old enough to know better, one of us would have remembered the most important thing we needed to pack, but really I’m surprised it’s taken this long for it to happen. Fortunately, we didn’t get all the way to lessons before we realized our mistake. Unfortunately, we got almost all the way there and missed most of my daughters private lesson.
Seriously, why hasn’t a TV network picked us up yet? I really think the show would be an instant hit for all those who enjoy watching the newest addition of reality train wrecks each week. I can guarantee you there will be strife, controversy and entertainment for those who thrive on disaster and overall calamity.
The Clampetts meet the Duggars… and a little bit of Hoarders.
The Duggars: the Dysfunctional Version
7 Kids and Counting on vodka to get me through
Oh… just look through the archives and you’re bound to find something.