Moms According to Walmart

I'm on the mailing list, so I got this email last week. Take a minute to digest it:

When I think "Moms Come First" I don't usually think about cleaning products. If you tell me I come first, it shouldn't mean I'm first to CLEAN the house. 

Really Walmart? 

When I think of making my "life a little better," it doesn't include a cleaning product. What comes to my mind is winning the lottery, having a day off or getting a raise at work. Maybe the thought of having a magical cleaning fairy at my disposal comes to mind, but certainly not ME doing the cleaning. The less work I have to do, the better I think life is, LOL!

And why is it ONLY for moms? Do dads not clean? When dads use this product, does it make their life more difficult? So many unanswered questions, Walmart!
Surely you can do better!

Life in a Rube Goldberg Machine

So I was lazy this morning (my first mistake) and just handed the kid a bowl of rice krispies while I went to the kitchen to make my breakfast. 

When I got into the living room, there were rice krispies all over the floor, so I had to clean those up. Then I got my breakfast. Then I fed him some more. Then I decided to take off his diaper, like I do every morning, but this time unexpected poo pellets came out. So I reached over to grab a napkin to pick up the poo pellets and knocked my glass of juice off the table. So I then I had juice and poo pellets all over the floor. This excited the child greatly, because anytime there is liquid to be stepped in, it calls out his name. 

So I made the poo pellets a priority, took those and ran into the kitchen to get cloths to wipe up the juice all while yelling, "don't step in it!" 

Went back and cleaned up the juice while a bare-bummed poopy child tried to climb on my back and jump on the couch. Prevented both from happening. With the juice cleaned up, I was able to grab the child and clean him up. Went back and washed the whole floor with the mop. Went back into the kitchen to rinse out the juice-covered cloths and found a big ass mofo centipede having a party in my sink. Took out the electric fly swatter and zapped the crap out of all its mofo nasty legs and threw it outside, cursing at it all the while. Hung up the laundry and that was the end of the chaos...for the moment.

The whole chain reaction of events makes me feel like I live in a Rube Goldberg machine.