Don't Sweat the Small Stuff- Featuring Pizza-YUM!

School time again.  This year there are 2 little people to get up, get shoes on, brush teeth, find socks, then put shoes back on, pack lunches, remove apple sauce, repack lunches and finally walk to school.  Every week day we hit the same routine, yet it never becomes old hat.  Mornings have nothing on evenings.  Soccer, homework, reading, dinner, baths, bed.  Sound familiar?   The big stuff in some houses, becomes small stuff in mine. Let's take for instance- dinner. 




Picture me(if you will) with my apron on, coming to the table with the pot roast and potatoes of yester-year, bun in the hair lipstick on, table set with my children sitting, hands in the lap, smiling. 


Now erase that June Cleaver moment and picture the real deal.  I come in racing from the train, the dog is barking, the kids are yelling, my mom is delivering whatever news from the day that is super important as the door is shutting on her rump because she can't get out fast enough.  A little voice in my head says- take me with you.....then the singing starts.  My kids can make up some songs, usually about eating.




Jillian is upset this day, because the teacher would not let her eat the powdered donuts I sent for snack(jeez they were serious about healthy snacks). Anyhoo- I have to focus on dinner.  In my head, I make the quick timing calculation on how long it would take to defrost the chicken I forgot to take out this morning whilst packing yummy healthy snacks.  My subconscious is three steps ahead of me as I hear the woman on the phone say, "Pick up or delivery?".  Yes, my reply is delivery, 2 pizzas and a bottle of gingerale(hubs upholds the no cola rule). Thirty minutes later, ding-dong(if the door bell actually worked) and there he is in all his glory, my knight in shining (under)armour, Uncle Bob with hot pizza and soda. 




Yes, my kids call him Uncle Bob.  No he is not their uncle.  He is the pizza delivery man.  Don't judge.  He visits more than my childrens' real relatives.  If you are a mom, you get the direct message here.  We are not all perfect.  I know what I am good at and I play to those strengths. Often this means laundry is on the floor- not the washer, dishes are in the sink -not the dishwasher and Uncle Bob is bringing dinner and I am okay with that, so you should be too(if you like to fold clothing- see me).


What are your strengths?  Are you playing to those or are you sweating over pizza for dinner - again?