My sister is ten years older than I and has four boys. She had her fourth and final boy six and a half years before I even had my first child.
She's way ahead of me in this motherhood game.
Once upon a time, in my other life (You know, the one where I wore makeup, had my nails done and went to the coffee house at 10 p.m. if the mood so struck me. That would be the "Pre-Baby Era".) I used to marvel and even wonder aloud how the heck my sister's kitchen floor got SO dirty.
I mean, my floor was never that dirty. Hubby, the cat and I kept our floor very clean. In fact, I cleaned it at least once a week. And I had a job! She was home all day, leading a life of leisure. Why couldn't she manage to sweep, for crying out loud?
Oooooo. I was a snooty little thang.
But alas, it has come full circle. My sister has the last laugh.
Behold, what I swept up in my kitchen floor today: