IT’S FLASHBACK FRIDAY!
Today’s Flashback Friday was originally posted on March 2oth of last year
and it is STILL RELEVANT.  Wish I could claim that it was not, BUT…

I am concerned about future interaction with my children. At this point in my life I am the all-knowing-all-seeing-mother-of-the-world.

I see that changing fast. SUPER fast. The kids are already hitting me with questions that, quite frankly, I can’t answer. Technical questions. SCIENCE questions.

I am just going to go ahead and be honest with you – science was not my best subject in school. Truthfully, I squeeked by. Barely.

And although I would consider myself a morning person, science questions thrown at me before noon unravel me faster than anything.

For example, the other morning the Jedi approached me with this little inquiry:

“Mom, what does DNA stand for?”

“Who?”

“DNA, Mom. What does it stand for? What IS it?”

“Um, DNA?”

“Yeah. DNA. For real?” (As opposed to what? For NOT real?)

Okay, I won’t lie. I had to Google it. Google, by the way, is my favorite modern day invention. (Besides chicken nuggets and Splenda.)

“DNA stands for DeoxyriboNucleic Acid.”

“What? What’s THAT?”

(Google, Google, Google…) “It is the genetic material of a cell.”

“What is a cell?”

(Oh, man! For the love of Pete… Don’t know that one either. Googling…)

“A cell is the very smallest unit of living matter. All living things including plants and animals are made up of cells. Cells are made of atoms, which are the smallest units of matter. There are many different kinds of cells….” (At this point he is bored and totally not listening to me but I am fascinating myself.)

“Okay, okay. Thanks, Mom. Sheesh.”

SHEESH!? I think it is worth repeating – Young Jedi is eight. Eight! (I’m in for a ride, aren’t I?) For the record, he thought DNA stood for Deadly Nicotine Apple. (Tee hee hee!  I love it when I am smarter….)

I’m participating in FLASHBACK FRIDAY put on by Texan Mama! Yeehaw! Hope you enjoy this golden blog oldie.  I’m sure SOMEONE out there can relate!

My husband is a good man. He puts up with A LOT.  He and I are opposite in so many ways.

He is a detail man.  An everything-has-a-place-man. An if-you-put-things-right-back-where-you-found-them-we-wouldn’t-have-this-problem-kind-of-man. I am NOT. I try. But I am more of a free spirit when it comes to organization, especially when it comes to housework. And, of course, my husband is essentially right. (Albeit in a housework-utopian-society-kind-of-way.) But, as for me, there is always SOMETHING that comes up to thwart my efforts.

Let’s go on a journey through 10 minutes of the mess and chaos of my life shall we? One example – a pair of my running shoes that has not yet made it back into the closet. So, theoretically, I should have been able to take them off my feet and toss them into the closet. Oh, I mean, lay them gently into the designated running shoe cubby. Yeah.

So here is what happened instead. I took them off…  At that precise moment, my son yelled dramatically from the other room. I sprint over to him and find that he and his brother are pounding each other over a Light Bright design. I settle the argument and notice hundreds of Light Bright pieces all over the floor. Oh dear. (Dad won’t be amused by that.) So we make a game of it and pick them up. In the middle of that the phone rings. It is my friend reminding me it is my turn to bring snack to soccer. I run down the stairs to see if I even have something that would qualify as a snack. Nope. Put it on the list of things to do. I then notice the laundry is finished. I put a new load in and take the other out and begin folding it. Kids come running downstairs and want a drink. I get them a drink. They spill juice everywhere and I clean it up. I begin emptying the dish washer because I can’t even put the juice cups away due to the overflowing sink with dirty dishes in it. I am halfway through this task when hubby comes home.

So this is what my husband sees: Kitchen a mess. Sticky floor. Laundry strewn everywhere. Light Bright pieces not picked up. (Because they decided to dump them out again while I wasn’t looking.) And then, of course, he tripped over my shoes. Yeah, those shoes. The ones that should have been put away as soon as I took them off my feet.

And then he says…. “Jen. Why don’t you just put these away right when you take them off?”