First of all, I finally made the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Seriously amazing. I was truly proud of myself.
|Last toothless picture.|
|"You have crossed the boundary from entertaining to weird."|
I do want to share a couple of thoughts I had this month along with a funny story:
1) I had to fill in for a housekeeper this month, and when I arrived at the condo to start cleaning, the family was still there working on getting out the door. They invited me in to start cleaning while they headed out, and I overheard this conversation between the mom and daughter.
"Mom! Why can't I wear it?"
"Because we are classy people."
Boom. That was it. No wordy explanation, no 'because I said so,' no bashing people who do wear that. Why don't more mothers try to teach their daughters to be classy in their words, dress, and actions? It thrilled my heart to hear a mother trying to teach her daughter to be a lady. Please don't read this as an appreciation of snobbery, because it was not that at all. It was simply good taste.
2) While sitting at the table with my mom and dad enjoying the perfect chocolate chip cookies my mom told me that I'm like Mary Poppins. Jokingly I said, "Why? Because I'm 'practically perfect in every way?'" To my surprise she said 'yes.' I almost never feel that I'm good enough at anything, and I was so tickled to hear my mom say that. My dad piped in by saying that there's no such thing as a perfect parent, but that I'm pretty close. That almost made me cry. Granted, I haven't had to do too much parenting, but I seem to be doing a good job so far. My favorite thing about that conversation was the wrap-up from my dad, "You never know whether or not you were a successful parent until you see your children as parents." I am so pleased that I have helped my parents feel successful because they have been terrific parents and deserve to feel that way.
3) I work nights, and one night Mr. Mitchell had to work a night shift at Home Depot, and my mom had to go do Relief Society visits. That left my dad as the babysitter. He was sitting downstairs with the baby who was very upset, and my dad couldn't seem to figure out why. Then I hear this conversation:
M: Are you okay down there?
D: Well, I'm not the one crying!
M: Ok. Just wanted to see if you needed help before I left.
A few seconds of silence...
D: MARLEAH!! MARLEAH!! Are you still there?
After my shift I found out that C.G. had a very poopy diaper, and my dad does not do poopy diapers. Unfortunately, my mom had slipped away by the time he realized that was the problem. He didn't know where the wipes were, and didn't want to interrupt me, so he used tissues to wipe the baby's bum. Then he fed the baby 30 something banana puffs (instead of the sweet potatoes waiting upstairs) and put him in bed after 9pm (instead of 7:30pm). I heard this story and had a good chuckle over it. C.G. and my dad were both alive and well, and that's what counts.