What's On My Counters?
If Facebook and Instagram are to be believed, there are women in our country who have clutter-free, artfully decorated, visitor-ready houses at all times. I suspect Mary Poppins floated in on her black umbrella, sang "Spoonful of Sugar" in a full-throated soprano, and the debris of daily life magically marched into its assigned drawers and cubbies of its own accord.
I'm still waiting for her to get to my house. I have two children under age 4 and a husband who works odd hours, so my musical experience is more like Jakob Dylan repeatedly singing the line "this place is always such a mess, sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn" from "One Headlight." Toys and dog hair litter the floor, you can write cursive (if schools still teach it) in the dust on my bookshelves, and the counter tops are a veritable treasure trove of miscellany.
One of the biggest collectors of stuff is the kitchen. Like the heart of the body collects cholesterol, the heart of my home collects clutter. So I'm introducing an exciting new segment titled "What's On My Counters?" It's part Where's Waldo book, part Hoarders episode. Today you get an exclusive, unedited look at my kitchen island, which includes:
1. A mostly empty empty bottle of water.
2. A coupon book I was "encouraged" to buy as a school fundraiser.
3. Coupons for Dairy Queen. Because hot fudge fills deep needs.
4. Baby Doll's pants.
5. A decorative tumbler, broken and glued back together, now home to (A) four toy road cones, (B) a toy boulder, (C) the balloon off of a plastic cake decoration, and (D) a toy Do Not Enter road sign -- all choking hazards I've fished out of the baby's mouth.
6. Two porcelain Boston terriers, both with pieces missing. Victims of the children's wrath and reason I had to ask out loud "Where did the head to this dog go?"
7. A button that fell off an art project the preschooler brought home. He decorated a tennis shoe with glitter and buttons, because he's got style.
8. A key that may or may not go to one of my dad's four vehicles parked in southeast Texas, which I should probably get around to getting rid of since he's been gone for eight months.
9. Tube of Blistex the preschooler stole out of my car and rubbed all over his cheek.
10. Scented Play-Doh sent home as a treat from a classmate's birthday. Preschooler reports "It's stinky."
11. Stack of three overdue library books, one poetry book I've read, one poetry book I haven't yet gotten to (and at this rate may never), an album the baby snatched and tried to eat containing the last remaining pictures of my mom's wedding, and year-old birthday party invitations I keep meaning to put in the preschooler's baby book.
12. Two pairs of socks: one per barefoot, willful child.
13. A Bed Bath and Beyond mailer, because what I definitely need is MORE STUFF.
14. A plastic spoon my son dips into my morning hazelnut latte.
15. An election button.
16. Tip off a springy door stopper which the baby tried to swallow. Twice.
17. A pacifier that hasn't pacified the baby in at least 9 months, but is sometimes used as a teething toy and/or answer to the question "What did I just step on?"
18. Two pads of sticky notes, for better marital communication.
19. The remote control to a Mickey Mouse car.
20. Notebook of the baby's schedule, both for our own edification and because sometimes I honestly can't remember whether I've fed her, let alone what.
21. Three pens.
22. The remains of a balloon animal the baby chomped and popped. RIP, inflatable red dog. We hardly knew you.
23. Stool dairy, so we can joyfully track the frequency and consistency of the preschooler's bowel movements. Who said parenting was boring?
24. Paperwork from the preschooler's 3-year well-child exam in August, which I also keep meaning to put in his baby book.
25. Three burp cloths. At least they're folded.
If you have Mary Poppins's number, please message me. I need all the help I can get.
I'm still waiting for her to get to my house. I have two children under age 4 and a husband who works odd hours, so my musical experience is more like Jakob Dylan repeatedly singing the line "this place is always such a mess, sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn" from "One Headlight." Toys and dog hair litter the floor, you can write cursive (if schools still teach it) in the dust on my bookshelves, and the counter tops are a veritable treasure trove of miscellany.
One of the biggest collectors of stuff is the kitchen. Like the heart of the body collects cholesterol, the heart of my home collects clutter. So I'm introducing an exciting new segment titled "What's On My Counters?" It's part Where's Waldo book, part Hoarders episode. Today you get an exclusive, unedited look at my kitchen island, which includes:
1. A mostly empty empty bottle of water.
2. A coupon book I was "encouraged" to buy as a school fundraiser.
3. Coupons for Dairy Queen. Because hot fudge fills deep needs.
4. Baby Doll's pants.
5. A decorative tumbler, broken and glued back together, now home to (A) four toy road cones, (B) a toy boulder, (C) the balloon off of a plastic cake decoration, and (D) a toy Do Not Enter road sign -- all choking hazards I've fished out of the baby's mouth.
6. Two porcelain Boston terriers, both with pieces missing. Victims of the children's wrath and reason I had to ask out loud "Where did the head to this dog go?"
7. A button that fell off an art project the preschooler brought home. He decorated a tennis shoe with glitter and buttons, because he's got style.
8. A key that may or may not go to one of my dad's four vehicles parked in southeast Texas, which I should probably get around to getting rid of since he's been gone for eight months.
9. Tube of Blistex the preschooler stole out of my car and rubbed all over his cheek.
10. Scented Play-Doh sent home as a treat from a classmate's birthday. Preschooler reports "It's stinky."
11. Stack of three overdue library books, one poetry book I've read, one poetry book I haven't yet gotten to (and at this rate may never), an album the baby snatched and tried to eat containing the last remaining pictures of my mom's wedding, and year-old birthday party invitations I keep meaning to put in the preschooler's baby book.
12. Two pairs of socks: one per barefoot, willful child.
13. A Bed Bath and Beyond mailer, because what I definitely need is MORE STUFF.
14. A plastic spoon my son dips into my morning hazelnut latte.
15. An election button.
16. Tip off a springy door stopper which the baby tried to swallow. Twice.
17. A pacifier that hasn't pacified the baby in at least 9 months, but is sometimes used as a teething toy and/or answer to the question "What did I just step on?"
18. Two pads of sticky notes, for better marital communication.
19. The remote control to a Mickey Mouse car.
20. Notebook of the baby's schedule, both for our own edification and because sometimes I honestly can't remember whether I've fed her, let alone what.
21. Three pens.
22. The remains of a balloon animal the baby chomped and popped. RIP, inflatable red dog. We hardly knew you.
23. Stool dairy, so we can joyfully track the frequency and consistency of the preschooler's bowel movements. Who said parenting was boring?
24. Paperwork from the preschooler's 3-year well-child exam in August, which I also keep meaning to put in his baby book.
25. Three burp cloths. At least they're folded.
If you have Mary Poppins's number, please message me. I need all the help I can get.
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