You’d think, for a mom, I’d be doing laundry or loading the dishwasher… or something other than blogging. Well, since you are here I feel I should be upfront with you; in essence warn you about expectations. As I say to my husband, expect nothing and you will grin ear to ear when I pull through with a newly-Swiffered kitchen floor or a lemon-scented toilet bowl.

I am not only bad at keeping house, but I may just be the worst housekeeper on this planet. I know, how is possible for a SAHM to not see the piles of mail or the whites and colors that are left unsorted in the hallway? Here’s the answer: I’m a perfectionist with a side of “clean freak” and, unlike Cinderella or Snow White, there are no animal friends in the forest to help me out. No, only a 5-year-old Daddy’s girl with her hand on her hip. That’s right…I’ve got Murphy’s Law on my side.

Now, if you are a tasky mom that has breakfast on the table, lunches packed for your pink-pigtailed twins and your shopping list written out…by 6:30am…you and I would be a “Wife Swap” dream come true for ABC. And, come to think of it, my husband as well. Shhh…don’t tell him. We’ve been married for over 11 years and I don’t want him to find out…well…now!

The other part of the equation is that I am pregnant. So really, regardless of sweet twittering birds and dancing mice,  anything lemon-scented is going to make me hurl. Murphy has his hand in on this pot too. Yes, a week ago I was diagnosed with Diabetes Type II.  I’m basically a hormonal, carb-craving pregnant lady who can’t look at chicken, pork or beef without getting naseaus. It makes for a good sitcom. And no, like I told my daughter yesterday, I am NOT visiting the zoo anytime soon! With Murphy on my side, I’d most likely be found running from Petunia the pig in the petting zoo, stuffing quarters into the feed dispenser on the way out for something to munch on so I wouldn’t yak.