«Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to bid farewell to our dearly departed dishwasher. She stopped functioning peacefully after a long and happy life full of hot water, suds and memories of delicious meals. In lieu of flowers, we ask that you help with the dishes.»
Moment of hesitation before my heretical statement, “No, it is not real.”
Hmmm, mind racing, chest compressed by stress and a lump in my throat is accumulating as I try to determine if Starscream was a victim of my efficient but secret system of toy management:
“Mommy, can I have a hamburger after Church? Please?”
He sat down next to her as she was taking out the hot panini sandwich she had for him in her purse.
“Mommy, do you know how long it took me to smile for this picture!!!!”
On the best day, I feel like I have spun out of my own orbit a hundred times. Running from work to home, making supper, taking care of any household chores and then rushing to whatever sport/activity on the schedule for the night. I am out of breath simply recounting what an average day sounds like for most parents.