It Was The Best of Mother's Days, It Was The Worst of Mother's Days...

Holidays have never been my favorite days--too many sad memories going back too many years. But any Sunday when all the kids are here--and now J.Q. too--turns out well in the end. Sunday dinner was way too much work for my special day, so we ordered out from a new bbq place we recently found. Their ribs are almost as good as Mr. Pseudonym's, and the New Jersey Pulled Turkey Buzzard, I predict, will revolutionize smokehouse cuisine in the United States.

It was wonderful watching J.Q. gnawing his first rib bone. He didn't know it was something to eat at first, but he was sitting on Aunt Sar's lap and observed her voracious rib attack, so he figured things out and couldn't be separated from his own greasy wand for quite some time after that.

Daisy the Terrier was circling the table with moist, longing eyes during dinner, as usual. She was given handouts, also as usual, and was happily running back and forth between the yard (prime rib bone burying ground) and the dining table for half an hour or so.

J.Q. was finally washed up and crawling around on the kitchen floor. Dinner was finished, and leftovers were being put away. No one was eating, and Daisy wasn't begging, but she took exception, for some reason, to the baby crawling near the table and knocked him over with a sudden burst of growling and snapping. J.Q. was frightened and crying; we were all upset, even though Daisy is a small dog. There wasn't a mark on J.Q., and I don't think the dog actually attempted biting, but it was still awful. Daisy was banished to the back yard for a while and seemed suitably ashamed when she came in, but we will be doubly vigilant over the baby-dog interaction around here from now on.

On a happier note, Priscilla made out like a BANDIT this year! Lots of flowers (roses and impatiens) from the younger daughters, a Tea For One pot and Belgian chocolates from the oldest and a Flip-It floor cleaner from Mr. Pseudonym. PLUS, my birthday is just three days away, so I may rake in more plunder later in the week. I get one week of greed per year and enjoy it thoroughly!

I asked Himself to get me the floor cleaner because I'm convinced that the proper array of housecleaning gizmos will eventually yield me a clean house. I have a traditional vacuum, a Clorox Ready-Mop, a Shark cordless 9.6v hand vac, a RoboMaid Robotic Sweeping Machine from Europe, every possible cleaning powder/solution available and now my dry/wet hard floor cleaning machine. Just one problem, though--my kitchen floor always looks as if a lunch wagon has crashed into a cage full of cats.

I've never gotten the hang of keeping a clean house (or even a reasonably neat house) (or even a slightly cluttered house) (or even a house that will look better when the Mrs. thereof is released from the institution for the criminally insane). I feel terrible about this, but about the best cleaning method I've thus far come up with, after 35 years of marriage, is to keep the vacuum cleaner, a bottle of Windex, a can of furniture polish and some cleaning rags prominently displayed about my living room so that, if anyone comes over, it will look like I've just started to clean. I might actually get away with this if it weren't for that heavy layer of greasy dust covering the vacuum cleaner.

At least I used to have the kids to blame for the condition of my house. But now they're all off on their own. Maybe it's all the pets (Daisy The Disreputable Terrier, cats: Onyx, Jean, Peanut & Buju, rats: Pokey & Sprinkles, fish: Flippy, Floppy & Flapjack), maybe it's my ADD, maybe it's a time warp of some sort - I just don't know. But I am sorely ashamed of this hovel. *sigh*

Gotta run and read my Flip-It manual. Happy Mother's Day to all, and to all a Good Night!