Phillip and I attended the required marriage preparation classes at church before our wedding. We sat through these with fake-interested smiles on our faces, ignoring the couple who said they'd never had a fight in twenty-some years of marriage (PLEASE) and wanting to crawl beneath the tables for The Intimacy Talk. We totally tuned out the people who came to talk to us about finances because whatever, like we needed to take these stupid classes ANYWAY. But boy do I wish I had listened up for the money stuff, people. I have been in charge of the family finances for about a year now and I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM DOING.

I'm not entirely sure what my deal is, since I somehow managed to financially survive years Eighteen to Twenty-Three (those being the post-parents pre-Phillip years) on my own just fine. I paid my own bills, did not sink into credit card debt, paid my rent on time and deposited my very own paychecks. In other words, I was a Big Girl wearing Big Girl Money Pants.

Dear Swine Flu,
I am hauling my precious babies to the pediatrician's office tomorrow where they will be injected and sprayed with tiny bits of you, all to protect them from what the newspapers are leading me to believe is The Next Bubonic Plague. I am a little bit terrified, not least because I am taking two children to the pediatrician BY MYSELF, and I do hope you are going to behave yourself and leave them alone. Deal?
Respectfully,
Maggie Cheung

Dear My Eyebrows,
Now if YOU get swine flu, that's fine by me. About half of you needs to disappear anyway. Remember when we used to have a standing date with the nice waxer lady? Yeah, those were the days.
Wearily,
Your Owner

I'm not a very observant mom. Actually, a better way to put that is: I am not observant AT ALL. I'm rarely the first person to notice if one of my kids has a bump or a scratch, and when I'm in the throes of dealing with a whiny, unhappy kid, it hardly ever occurs to me that he might not be feeling well. I'm much more apt to assume he's just being a brat. I know, I know. That's, like, forty Mom Demerits.

Both of my kids have been out of sorts for a while now. It started with runny noses. Molly had it first and I thought, "Teething!" because one time I heard someone with authority say that a runny nose without any other symptoms often means teething and I REMEMBERED. I have no idea if it's actually TRUE, but there I was feeling oh so proud of myself for 1) noticing and 2) coming up with a diagnosis. Parenting win! Then Jack came down with a runny nose and I had to reevaluate -- unconnected grossness, or a cold making it's way through my family?

This week I will let a strange man into my house when my husband isn't home. I will greet him with heaps upon heaps of kisses and shouts of delight because he will be bearing gifts of mops and sponges and environmentally-friendly cleaning supplies. He is coming over to CLEAN MY HOUSE.

A few weeks ago, an old friend blasted an invitation to all of her Facebook contacts: her green cleaning service was in need of some fresh houses for training purposes. Was anyone interested in housecleaning at a wildly discounted rate? I just happened to spot this message when I was using Phillip's computer and it took me all of .002 seconds to draft a reply. It went something like, "YES PLEASE. HOW ABOUT THIS AFTERNOON?"

I'm not a great cook. I have a dinnertime repertoire of about four or five dishes, and these I can usually manage not to burn or otherwise destroy. I have a really hard time THINKING of things to cook let alone ACTUALLY COOKING them, so I am proud to tell you that the slow cooker pot roast I tried tonight was a resounding success. The Internet told me I couldn't go wrong with a crockpot, but I hadn't really tested its abilities until tonight when I presented my husband with a steaming platter of meat and potatoes. A few bites later Phillip turned to me and said, "You can make this tomorrow night too." That giant glow you saw out your window at 6:30 p.m. Pacific Time was my thrilled and beaming face.