Owen and his blanket are close. I'm talkin' closer than PB & J and that's close. He's a little like Linus from Peanuts. So, as Mommy, it's an adventure sneaking a chance to wash the infamous blanket. And there is only ONE blanket. Yes, who knew he'd love THAT blanket so much? There are actually several other blankets, but that's what they are, other blankets (they don't get used).
This morning we woke up late, which was awesome because I love to sleep. One of my favorite pass times, as a matter of fact. I made pancakes (no funny shapes today, just plain old pancakes) and Owen had a big breakfast. I didn't have to do any cartwheels to get him to eat, which left me time to enjoy my cup of coffee. Win, win so far, right? That's what I thought.
As the morning moves on it's, of course time for my daily duties as a wife (no folks, we're not married yet but that's what I am) and mother. I start at one end of the house and move to the other everyday. It's just easier. I grab Owen's blanket and think to myself, now's the time to wash it. We haven't long been up, it's time. I usually don't wash it in the middle of the day because I'm not allowed. Yup, I just said that.
I'm the boss sometimes, but most of the time, Owen is.
Did I really think of all this before washing the blanket? I SURE DID. It's amazing the 1,000 (if not more) motherly questions that run through my mind on a daily basis.
Long story shortened, I threw the infamous attachment IN the washing machine, IN the middle of the day. BIG MISTAKE. HUGE. What prompted a need for the blanket? No idea, but it happened and the fit followed. During the said fit, we went to the back porch and opened the washer and there was the blanket, short this side of the rinse cycle. We tried to understand that it would be a few more minutes before "bwank, sometimes, bank" could be dried. Nope. Didn't matter.
On the way back in the house a finger pointed to the brand new tent (that was supposed to be wrapped by yours truly by now and I'm slightly behind [as always], so...) and said, "mine!".
There was no turning back. The tent was his and I'm officially bad at Christmas gifting. Every single year, I do the same thing: buy gifts and give them before Christmas. I would like to be one of those Christmas in July shoppers, but it's impassible or impossible. Both fit me like a glove.
Moving on....
The tent? A hit! The infamous blanket? Dry, and back in baby's arms. The house? Cleaned from one end to the other once (so far today). Me? My job here has just begun.
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