Today I heard my husband in the other room lecturing the kids about clogged toilets and the importance of using toilet paper conservatively.  Of course I immediately identified this as 1) a family bonding experience, 2) an important teachable moment.  I shuffled my fuzzy slippers into the room to show my parental solidarity.  Poised like June Clever in pearls (and holey sweats) I added: “That’s right boys.  Your dad makes an important point.  Now how many squares should you use?”

 

Seems to me that one day you are looking longingly into your boyfriends eyes over a mean and sexy cheese course at Gary Danko, and the next, you share a name, three children and a passion for free-flowing toilets. One day you’re dancing on the bar at Julie’s Supper Club and the next devising your unified front regarding screen time and violin practice.  Sexy lingerie move over for Costco flannel paints with elastic waste band (and that’s the day time wear).  Brain cells devoted to the etymology of words and Camus, move over for the memorization of Goodnight Moon and Pat the Bunny.  One day: Oakland Coliseum catching The Dead. Next: The Wiggles.

 

If my life were a movie David Bryne would walk into my living room singing “you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife.  And you may ask yourself…  how did I get here?!”  Exactly how I feel.