Completely awesome, but kids, don’t try this at home. Because it’ll give your parents a frickin’ heart attack!

via 69105

Mind you, on something like this Sandy Summit wooden playset it’s not such a big risk.

I’m not “That Mom.”

You know, the one with the immaculate house, no matter what hour of the day or time of the week. I knew a couple of those mothers from a former playgroup, but I never got up the courage to ask them if they had outside help, or if the spotless everything was all them.

I consider myself to be “casually dating” housework.

I tend to flake out if something better comes along, and we’re definitely not in a committed relationship.

But seriously, from the moment the Munchkin was born, I took those pregnancy books to heart that reminded you that infancy was special and time-consuming and that the dirty dishes in the sink could wait.

Uh, flash forward six years and I’m still doing it.

My house tends to be clean, since the Munchkin has dust allergies, but laundry is my Achilles heel.  To say that I hate it would be a vast understatement.   I’m ok with the washing and the drying part, it’s the folding that really gets to me. I would pretty much rather do anything than fold laundry, including just staring up at the ceiling.  Which has happened an embarassingly large number of times.

Eventually it gets done, as it must, since one cannot live picking their way through mountains of unfolded laundry.

But if only I could just break up with laundry! If I could just sort of tell it that it’s all my fault, and that it just isn’t working for me anymore.  Laundry didn’t do anything wrong, I just need a break.

And then ideally I would promptly delete laundry’s number from my speed dial and never talk to it again.