when good moms go bad

Wrapping up la purga and the house is finally getting to be more like what I want it, but I am a bit stir crazy and sick of cleaning. This is not a good combo for me as being a domestic goddess does not come natural to me. It is not a gene I inherited. So I am acting the part for the time being, fooling no one who actually knows me, and today the facade cracked a bit.


I took Thing #1 and Thing#2 to Bed Bath and Beyond the other day and in between telling T1 to not pop wheelies with T2's stroller and praying they didn't knock over any displays we bought a $40 box of Space Cubes. I knew I had reached a new low in my adult life as I was actually excited for this purchase. Sigh, and to think I used to have that reaction for actual fun things. Anyway, I digress, I bought the bags that claim to be part of a storage evolution and promise to save me space while protecting my crap, um, I mean my really important things.


So when I finally get around to pulling the Jumbo Cube out of the box today I am busy marveling at the sheer size of the thing. Its a giant ziplock baggie. And I think to myself:

Dang this thing is so big you could, like, fit a body in here!

I wasn't really envisioning any particular body, merely commenting that it is substantial enough in size that a person could fit in the thing. But the sudden scurrying down the hallway alerted me to the fact I had apparently made this morbid observation out loud and Thing #1 had overheard me and possessed the good sense to abandon ship and go hide in his room for a little while.


So subtle suggestions about body disposal do not escape his spidey senses apparently. Good to know.


Filing that useful knowledge away for future reference, I proceeded to stuff a bunch of blankets into the Jumbo bag and feel that even though I may not be a domestic goddess appearing to be a potentially homicidal mother keeps the older kids in line.