Incognito

Recently I removed all the icons from the back of my minivan window as not to be so recognizable tooling around town. Since there are hundreds of Honda minivans, I can now camouflage myself amongst the rest (though blogging may throw my anonymity out the window). As I was scraping off the faces of the five of us, I couldn’t get the littlest one off without extra effort and a new razor. She’s like a booger I can’t get off my finger, the one always hanging on my leg with a sucker or M&Ms frothing in her mouth. She’s a sticker with extra gum and her tenacity might be both her best gift and worst enemy (like her mom).

Now all I have on my van to differentiate me from the masses is a subtle shout out for the man who is willing to take constant grief to try to regain some semblance of good after eight years of disarray - whilst trying to turn it into something positive for us all (even pleasing the ones who dislike him the most, in my …. meek opinion).

......And some notes for the babysitter: Keep ‘em alive, relatively happy and if you feed them sugar, do it on your time not just before I get home. And I know all the tricks, I too used to wipe butts for cash and dry-heave (sometimes not so dry) at other kid’s dirty diapers. FYI; the older kids can now tell time and will let me know if you toss ‘em down early, if you’re texting or on the internet the whole time and if they skipped brushing their teeth. Oh, and if you want to be asked back again, throw me a bone and put the dishes in the washer and let my dog out to pee every now and again. Then we’re solid and you can move in when you’re mad at your parents.

P.S. I write much better than I speak. So if you think my writing stinks, you’ll think I’m a blithering idiot while chatting.