I'm Not Perfect

Sometimes it is helpful, comforting, and to be honest, rewarding when you know that someone isn't perfect. For example, I feel better knowing that Hottie Hubby has a hard time resisting chocolate. This human frailty in him makes my mistakes less magnified.

I know, it's sick and twisted.

Jordan Rubin, author of the Maker's Diet, has a big bowl of ice cream once a year. That comforts me when I have ice cream once a week.

But before I further tell you that I am not perfect . . .

Let me introduce Elias. His mom is pretty granola. Elias was born naturally, like his sister. But this time, the doctor wasn't even present to catch him!

Babies have a lot to teach us.

Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk,
so that by it you may grow up in your salvation
1 Peter 2:2

It was pretty fun to capture Elias with Willow, who will actually be making a new debut soon (thanks Dad!).

This was my first opportunity to try and capture the nuances of a baby.


And it was like candy for me to hold this precious bundle. Memories flooded my head, and thankfully not my chest! (Breathe Hottie Hubby . . . the baby bug hasn't hit me yet.)

OK back to my topic.

If you live with me, are related to me, or even see me driving, you KNOW that I am not perfect.

However, I know that our lifestyle can be intimidating to people. This explains why no one ever has us over for dinner. They think they have to go buy a cow and slaughter it themselves, grow some healthy bacteria, bake fresh bread, and deliver manna for our meal. But what they forget is that . . .

I am not perfect.

Next to the question, "How do you have time to do what you do?" people ask, "What is your one vice?" They want to feel good about themselves, too. See!!!! I am not so demented.

Well, today's not perfect post isn't a habitual regression into my old ways, but an exception. After meeting Elias for the first time, the Granola children were expressing some discomfort in their bellies. Not being near the "city," we did the best we could, at the time, and in the time frame I had to make a decision.

We ate real fast food.

My mother-in-law was going to alert the media. She couldn't remember the last time she sat with me in a fast food restaurant.

People often worry that their children won't behave in a nice restaurant. I have never worried about this. I worry about how my children will behave in a fast food joint. We don't frequent them enough for them to know the behavior "code."


Mr. Smackdown left his manners at home. I did not teach him to lick his plate, ummm I mean paper bag.

I repeat, I am not responsible for this behavior. (Drinking out of the milk carton and licking the plate all come from Hottie Hubby.)

Mr. Me-Too used his fingers a little too much.


I sincerely hope his hands were relatively clean.

No, we didn't wash our hands before we ate. Come on . . . truth be told, you don't wash your hands before you eat out at a fast food restaurant. Don't get germ-a-phobic on me. I'm just not afraid to admit it. We wash our hands a home, but sometimes when we are out . . . it just doesn't happen, unless we have been somewhere grimy with lots of kids.


Mr. Smiley drank from a straw for the first time . . . at a fast food restaurant.



Do you realize how hard I have been working on this at home?


Look how pleased he is with himself.

So that has been our day. Random.

And for those of you who were worried about our carpeting . . . we finally got a vacuum. I'm working on a giveaway. Keep saying your prayers! Oreck here we come!



i+am+not+perfect fast+food drinking+from+a+straw vacuum giveaway oreck

I want to Win . . . the Dyson DC25 All Floors

I ruined my fur eating, crumb sucking, insect gathering, dirt bagging appliance. My vacuum is in such a disgusting state, that I don't even want to touch it. My vacuum is very sick. I put her in the garage.

And I am telling you this because I REALLY want to win a Dyson Vacuum Cleaner from 5 Minutes for Mom.

It all started when we picked up Mussie's sister, Sadie, last weekend. (For those of you who don't know Mussie, she is our furry lion hunter dog.)

In a matter of two days, Sadie acquired a common female condition, the dreaded bladder infection. The reason that I know this is because she peed and bled on the carpeting in several locations.

Of course not one to use chemicals (that would be way too easy), I poured some baking soda on the pee to soak it up and freshen the carpeting. (It works for puke, why not pee?)

Here is the problem. When you pour baking soda on puke, it soaks up the expelled stomach contents better than a towel and takes the stain out of the carpeting.

Mental note for next time, pee doesn't dry as quickly once it is in contact with baking soda. But having three active boys, one of which crawls, I needed to vacuum the now yellow baking soda up. After all, Confucius say, "Never eat yellow snow."

I momentarily thought that maybe this wouldn't be such a good idea as I began lifting the baking soda off of the carpeting with the same vacuum that used to clean my husband's little boy bedroom. . . but Mr. Me-Too needed back into his room for a nap where this dog transaction first occurred. Thankfully my MIL's vacuum suctioned it all up without leaving a crumb.

The other two piles were allowed to saturate the baking soda. 24 hours later, plenty of time for the carpeting to dry, I vacuumed the rest of the baking soda hills.

Man it smelled funny around that appliance. It also didn't seem to have its normal suction power. I took the hose nozzle off of this beast and noticed that some baking soda had caked around the tubing. No problem. I grabbed a crayon conveniently lying on the floor and helped the baking soda move further down the tube with a Crayola push. Situation under control. I proceeded to vacuum up the rest of the pile and then moved on to a new mom task.

Yesterday, I got struck with a desire to tiddy up my house and vacuum downstairs, where Sadie had only pooped 3 times, not peed. When I turned the vacuum on, the foulest smell poured forth from that green machine that used to be called my vacuum cleaner.

I wanted to hurl.

I mustered up the courage to once again look inside the vacuum hose. The baking soda that was once white, then yellow, had now turned black.

MOLD!!!!!

I panicked!

I had vacuumed! What nasty filthiness had I infected my entire downstairs with? What small bacteria or mold would settle on Mr. Smiley's precious hands as he crawls around only to later enter his mouth?

And this is why I need to win the Dyson DC25 All Floors. Check out the 5 Minutes for Mom Giveaway!


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