A Little of the Day

Was that powdered yellow mustard poised over my pumpkin muffin batter instead of ginger? Yup. Did I notice just in time? Yup. Whew. We still haven't recovered from my accidental vanilla creamed spinach. We weren't ready for mustard pumpkin muffins.

How about this?

Joseph: Mom, do you remember when I was working on my math at the dentist?
Me: Yes.
Joseph: Well, I got this really weird feeling....
(I immediately panicked, thinking he was getting sick.)
Me: Oh? (as calmly as possible)
Joseph: ....like I was starting to like math.

Have I ever mentioned how much Joseph does not like math?

Awhile back, I asked if Brian would be able to put a timer on our downstairs bathroom exhaust fan. In a windowless basement bathroom, an exhaust fan isn't really a luxury, unless you happen to enjoy a basement filled with overpowering toxic fumes. Let's just say, I am not willing. Our exhaust fan is amazing. Its power level is just a touch below that of a jet engine. It gently vibrates the upstairs floor and all the chairs with its rumble and roar. The boys never seem to notice and will happily leave the fan running for hours, leaving my nerves utterly shattered or sending me racing into the basement to make it stop. For Christmas, I got a bathroom fan timer purchased and installed by my husband who understands and loves me enough to know that would actually be a gift I would like.

It works perfectly. I really, really like it.

By typing this deep and weighty blog entry, I have successfully managed yet again to avoid assembling my grade records for Joseph into some semblance of organization rather than their current scribbled-in-a-spiral notebook condition. Ironically, I used to thrive on spreadsheets. I trained other company employees to use them. I wrote really gorgeous, complex formulas. I was actually soothed by pouring myself into a multi-tabbed, perfectly linked spreadsheet. Now, I have procrastinated since September on making a simple list of grades. Who am I?