Today I ran around the city searching for a plain white t-shirt for Alex to wear. It's his costume for his recital tomorrow. We found white tanks, colored t-shirts, and white t-shirts in every size except Alex's. Finally, my nerves got to me. Alex was trying to channel his inner shopping cart daredevil and send me into early heart failure. Spain needed a diaper change and couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to eat. Our choices were the tshirts that showed Alex's belly button or the shirts that covered his knees. I grabbed the shirt that went to knees, threw it in the cart and sped to the checkout lane as fast as I could.
When we were back at home, I tenatively started dinner. I was waiting for the sweet husband to call when he needed to be picked up from the office "camping trip".
Guess what's flammable-
I stuck it under the broiler and set the timer. My brother called, and the next thing I know the garlic bread was on fire. It was like a huge vampire hating candle.
Wash. Dry. Sun. Fold. Hang. Put away. Sort. And repeat.
I have socks stuffed into random cervices. The carseat box that I haven't taken to the basement, has become a perfect place to hide socks. Same for the changing table, and my yarn basket. Oh and the basket that holds the phone chargers... In case you can't tell, matching socks is not my favorite activity. In fact, I liken it to putting a incomplete puzzle together. It's just not satisfying because you can never finish it.
Doing laundry is like washing dishes. You are never really finished.
Always always always check the oven before you begin heating it. For future reference, a bag of chips will melt, when allowed to stay in a hot oven. And the smell may turn you off of nachos for a while.