Doesn't everybody clean house like this?? :)
Today I proved, once again, that I am indeed losing my mind. At this point, even though I haven't said much on here (the blog) about being pregnant with our 3rd child, I figure you've all figured it out. If not . . . surprise! :) (It was a surprise to us, so it should be a surprise to you too!) With my first child, Micah, I definately noticed I was scattered . . . more than normal. With Ella, my second, there were some who mentioned I was becoming more and more like my mother. (Whom I absolutely adore and pray I can be even a TEENY bit like . . . and yet, she's the first to admit she's also lost her mind.) :)
Now the third time . . . yes, I am definately headed down the path to insanity. Each day brings a new opportunity for me to embarass myself - often publicly - and to hopefully bring a bit of levity to the day of those around me fortunate enough to witness my complete loss of mind. Today was no exception. Today was our cleaning day - there are people coming over tonight and I figured they probably wouldn't enjoy wading through the breakfast cereal my kiddos have left crumpled around on the carpet. And so, I brought out my dyson. My favorite cleaning tool. Not only is it a vacume and therefore capable of making me exceedingly happy (I'm a little neurotic - I like STRAIGHT lines, all in the same direction in my carpet and I'm the happiest when I achieve this goal) but it also is THE vacume of vacumes. The day we purchased our Dyson is a day we celebrate annually . . . ahh . . . Target, you've made me so happy - thank you for the additional percentage off on that very special day. :)
Unfortunately, today I thought my Dyson had let me down. The beater bar on the front wasn't beating. (At least I didn't think it was . . . ) I had laid it down and checked - nope, no beating. I studied the vacume for a while (and admired its beauty and suction strength) and decided to call the number that was so conveniently displayed on the side of the vacume . . . the Dyson Help Hotline . . . yes, that's what I'd do. For surely there was something gravely wrong with my Dyson and I was in dire need of help. I'll leave it there and let the following image explain what happened next. Once again, I have proven to myself (and the Dyson Help Hotline people) that I have indeed lost my mind.
And because I can't do ANYTHING without the help of my little princess . . .