And I think, as of tonight, I have utterly failed.
Take for example what happened earlier this evening.
I had discovered both pairs of Jack's uniform pants had holes in the knees.
Not little holes. Not I-can-use-a-patch-on-them holes.
But ripped-clear-from-seam-to-seam holes that show the entirety of his knee.
He has roughly two weeks left of school.
Do I really want to fork out $20 just so he can rough up another pair of pants?
Not so much.
But could I find a needle? No.
I found some huge baby huey sized diaper pins and did a hack sewing job on the knees.
They look un-kempt, puckered, and ghetto-licous but I got 'er done.
It's not pretty, girls, but it's all I have in me at this point.
Then while folding the laundry I realized I had no clean underwear for one of the boys.
(Names excluded to protect the (not really) innocent.)
And then it dawned on me.
This could only be because he has not given me any underwear to wash.
This could only be because he has been sporting the SAME pair of underwear all week long.
So I asked him, "Why haven't I washed any of your underwear?
Have you been wearing the same underwear all week?"
His answer was an ebullient grin.
Yes! He had been wearing the same underwear all week long.
A triumph for all boy-kind!
He had evaded the "change-your-underwear-every-day" law and it had taken his mother all week long to ferret out the truth.
I've lost my ferreting skills. A sad and sorry state of events.
And an even sorrier state of events?
I don't want to ferret out dirty underwear truth anymore.
These boys need to get a cleanliness revelation and apparently, it isn't coming from me.
At dinner this evening, I realized I had forgotten the one thing I wanted to get at Trader Joe's. Blister peanuts.
I have been using them for trail mix and I am in love with them.
Forgetting where I was and who I was with, I exclaimed rather suddenly,
"Oh, man! I forgot my peanuts!"
With unfettered glee, all 4 boys, husband included, burst out laughing.
Then the children proceeded to start chanting,
"I forgot my peanuts. I forgot my peanuts."
At this point, the 4 year old laid an all knowing hand on my shoulder and said,
"Mom, that's another word for privates."
Which sent the boys into gales of laughter and tales of other things they might have forgotten which I will not mention here.
So the question is....
Are my children neat? No.
Are they semi-clean? Nope.
Are they well mannered? Not even close.
This day is a complete wash.
It's time to hit the chocolate, people, and hope for a better tomorrow.