Some of the many things I f@#king love to do for you
If there is one fucking thing I love to do, it’s your laundry. I mean, yes, obviously, I LOVE washing and drying. I love sorting, too. But what I really love is scream-cying at you to please put your dirty laundry in the laundry hamper and not on the floor right next to it… and then? OMG! I really love it when you angrily dump all your dirty clothes in the hamper along with the clothes that are still clean and folded and sitting on your chair from the last laundry day. Together. Because it’s too difficult to separate the clean from the dirty by that point. I get that. I get it, and I love it.
Look How Happy...
I know it may sound like I’m being sarcastic, but believe me I’m not.
If there are two things that I love, it’s finding old, moldy cereal bowls with spoons stuck in them behind your bed. Surrounded by candy wrappers, dustbunnies, wadded up Kleenex and random sheets of paper. And that shirt you’ve been missing for a month that you’ve been yelling at me about daily. It’s a banner day when I discover those same candy wrappers on the floor of the living room next to the remote that was left on the floor for the dog to chew the buttons off of. Because you know what? That’s exactly where that shit goes!
This is basically your bathroom at all times
is basically your bathroom at all times
No, I’m serious! Seriously!
If there are three things I love (I know! I’m getting crazy, right? I could just go all day about the things I love! There are just so many of them!), it’s….well, I don’t even know why I didn’t lead with this, because really I love it just about more than anything. I love cleaning up the bathroom after you. God, I love that. I love chipping the blobs of toothpaste out of the sink and from around the sink. And scrubbing the toothpaste spit off the mirror. And backsplash. And don’t even get me started on the toilets! Ha! And the shit you leave in the trash can (no pun intended, lol!) and next to the trashcan because it’s hard to always have good aim when you’re on the pot and the trash can is right next to it.
BONUS JOY: When you can’t find something that I’ve asked you literally 5 latrillion times to put away in its special place but you never do. And then you cry? and tell me it’s my fault? and also your sister’s fault? and refuse to participate in the rest of the evening’s activities, but also refuse to look for it?
Dinner time is sacred family time. (For screaming!)
Dear precious darling daughters, verging on pubescence, hormonal and tentative, insecure yet always indignantly righteous. The family dinner has always been our special time to gather around the kitchen table, share humorous stories from the day, sample new recipes I’ve picked out my new Cooks Illustrated, and nourish our bodies, minds and souls, bonding as the happy, wholesome, fully-functioning, nonwhackjob family that we are.
I love the new and special ways you find to add zest to the evening meal. The spicy things you to do liven up the convo, from bitching about the way your sister is looking at you to complaining about the fact that the green thing is oozing into the beige thing on your plate. I can never predict the truly special evenings when one or more of you will suddenly announce that you’ve become vegan/vegetarian/paleo/too-fat-to-eat/too-angry-or-upset-to-eat/not-at-all-hungry (until after the table is cleared, at which point you become ravenous, you little rascals!). But those times are sure something!
But you know what I love the most? The fact that you still can’t drive, are too young for boyfriends, and many years away from adulthood, combined with the fact that you are too old to wet the bed, can wipe yourselves, can be alone unattended for increasingly long periods of time, and are almost always pretty interesting to talk to.
I really, truly do love that.