Mom’s work is truly never done

Something tells me the biggest ingredient in this lunch bag is love. Taught her well!

There’s nothing like a little perspective to reorder one’s priorities, yes?

I’m taking a brief business trip tomorrow — I’ll be back by Thursday, but you’d think it was a month. The whole house is in an uproar. The other two people who live here typically ignore my every request, but since yesterday they’ve been begging me not to go.

It seems no one but me can possibly cook a couple of meals, pack a few lunches, make a bed, wash some towels or keep track of appointments and which day to put out the recycling (it’s Wednesday night, in case one of you two is reading).

Tonight I taught Jazzercise, so I handed the reins to Catherine and Basil a day early and came home to find Basil making a 30-minute project out of emptying the dishwasher and Catherine assembling their lunches.

(Never mind that I killed myself yesterday washing and cutting up fruit, and making several salads so they’d have healthy choices; she was making PBJ on white bread for them both. And my mother would be proud: The “chef” got an extra heaping glob right off the spoon.)

She packed it all nice and neatly, and even labeled Basil’s bag. I’m sure the people at the Post Office will get a kick out of it.

Afterward, she whispered conspiratorially to me: “He’s such a baby. He had to check that I used the STRAWBERRY jelly.”

Welcome to my world, Catherine. Welcome to my world