Heather Anne

My sister called yesterday, and I’m sorry to say the first words I said to her were, “Hey, Je—Get her head out of your mouth! Margaret, drop the puppy! PUT HER DOWN!”

“So,” Jenn asked. “How’s that stay at home mom thing going?”

The truth is: I hardly recognize myself since I left my job. I’m doing things I would have never done before, like laundry four times a week and dishes every day, and—get this—cooking from recipes. I have also taken to talking about our dogs’ poop, like that is ever acceptable. Every afternoon, I end up telling Amy when and where the dogs went, and how, and… God, I can’t even talk about this. It’s important because we have to keep our eyes on Scout’s bowel movements for the vet, and also because we need to try and deter her from crapping the floor.

There are other things, subtle things, too, that have changed since I became a mother of three. Well, mother of two, really; the cat practically runs her own business out of our sun room. Yesterday Amy came home from work and said, “Oh, you’re all dressed up. What’s the occasion?”

I was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops, which I quickly pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re usually in your pajamas by 5:00,” Amy said.

I tried to blow it off like it was no big deal, but she’s right: I usually am in my pajamas by 5:00. Yesterday, however, I needed to wear jeans, because, see, I can’t eat M&Ms at room temperature; I only like them if they’re warm. And the best way to get them warm is to stick them in your pocket. And pajamas don’t have pockets. So I put on jeans. To warm up chocolate candy.

I should probably sit and ponder this sad state of affairs, but I have to go now. I haven’t folded laundry in, like, 45 minutes.