Today I’m latching another bit of contrition to the mommy confession train. Monday I confessed my frozen dinner sins and learned I am definitely not the only microwave happy mom in the universe. So, let’s see how many of you have a sneaky relationship with the trash can.
Yes, the trash can is my friend. My very, very GOOD friend. It’s the only receptacle I can count on to keep my house in any semblance of order.
Gez, Rhenna—get to the point.
Okay, okay! Stop pushing me! It’s Wednesday and I’m tired already.
When my husband and kids aren’t looking, I throw their stuff away. If I’m REALLY stressed out, I don’t even wait until they’re not looking.
That really makes me sound like an ass doesn’t it? But in my defense, I married a man who’d save a thumb tack if he thought he might need it five years from now and have two little girls who bring home enough artwork in one week to fill a small storage shed. If it weren’t for my stainless steel best friend with the handy foot opener, I wouldn’t be able to find the coffee maker, let alone my sanity.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t trash gifts or things I know are special. But those Happy Meal gadgets? Broken toys? The Tupperware full clump of grass my oldest just had to have to feed the roly poly she found on the driveway? The stick the youngest found in the backyard that looks like a bow? The box from the latest Amazon delivery now decorated in Crayola marker rainbows?
That’s just a sample from one day.
And don’t get me started on my dad. He lives with us in his own little man cave—an area of the Morgan Asylum I’ve resolved to boycott on the basis of smell.
So? What about you? Are you the type that saves everything “just in case?” Or are you practiced at the mommy slight-of-hand? Do you even bother being sneaky? Or do you declare open season on any object left unattended?