Bridget has declared it so, and I like it.
A day when we all kick back and appreciate that we are doing our best and that more often than not, our best is good enough. A day when we acknowledge all of those around us who are doing the same. One day a year where we proudly wear the crown of best wife, mother, daughter and friend. One when guys can be the best husband, father, son and friend. A day when we all make a secret pact to be happy with who we are. (And if we aren’t, we’ll promise to do better.)
Didn’t get to these on Friday, then found some more this week that just have to be shared, so here we are. It’s beastly hot here, spent the day near the park sprinklers, then came home and set up the little wading pool in the back. Boys are spent, and I’m not far behind as the heat drains me, especially in the first few days of swelter.
- Chicken Nuggets and French Fries: Confessions of a Mother and a Chef (by Allison Robicelli) — A great essay on the expectations we put on ourselves and our kids, and how reality beats them into something else entirely. Well said!
I just added a contest at the bottom, don’t miss it!
I hate folding laundry. Hate it. I don’t mind running the loads through, though I’m pretty haphazard and fast about it all. My husband will be glad to tell you I suck at really getting things clean, and it’s true that I overload the machine just to do fewer loads, and everything gets washed hot and rinsed cold. Except the handwashing, which gets done about every 6 months. Michael wished he had his special hand-decorated dress shirt clean to wear to a party on Friday, but alas it’s been waiting to be hand washed since it’s inaugural wearing many months ago.