I Am A Paper Towel

I spy something with my too-large-for-my-face eye.
It's a mess.
The same variation of the crap I pick up Every. Single. Day.

I know if I really analyzed this for one holy, hot minute, I'd know that this problem comes down to my lack of parenting skills. But I'm pretty adept at deflecting those kinds of thoughts.

But this morning, I sat on my couch and looked around.
And I realized this: I'm the quicker-picker-upper.
I am a paper towel.
For legit.

When you boil it all down, that's all there is.
This mantra: I got a college degree so I could pick up after my family, all day long.
Without anyone ever noticing.

Again.
I am a paper towel.

Good grief, that's awesome.


**Here's a thought: Let's start a support group for us Paper Towel Moms. We'll call ourselves The Towlettes. You with me?

Our first order of business will be an "off-site retreat". Far, far away.
You know, to set up the rules for our club.
And maybe get a massage.
Being a Paper Towel is exhausting.