Martha, I am not.

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Being a mother, wife, teacher, among other roles, leaves little time for Marthaness.   I fancy myself as put together, organized, an overall “with it” gal.  Drop by unannounced and you may just fall into my black hole or witness first hand my “secrets”.  So I have decided to come clean, a soul cleansing of sorts.  As I type, I am already feeling freed.

*Chicken “stock” usually comes from a cube.

*Fresh basil means a 6 month old tube.  At least, I think it’s from last summer…

*Occasionally we have weeks where we choose our daily outfits from the folded laundry baskets.  At least all are folded, right?  And do I get extra points that the baskets are individually labelled?

*Often, fresh salsa is a tub from the fresh produce section.  Kind of like homemade?

*My sewing “kit” is a partially rusted needle, an assortment of old buttons, and various pieces of thread that periodically accompany spare buttons.

*Fresh produce is out numbered by its frozen counterparts.

*Grass fed beef means we had hamburgers on the lawn.

*I do not own a pair of rubber gloves, let alone a pair for each cleaning caddy.

*Baby wipes often replace dust wipes, dust spray, paper towel, and makeup removers.

*From scratch cake is more like I scratched my head while deciding between the box cake mix or purchasing a premade cake.

*My sewing machine is a tube of no sew glue.  In fact, my daughter’s curtains were made with a tube and a half.

*We have not used a clothes iron in years.  Do not even know where it is?  Instead we just hang up the items on hangers and let gravity do the work.

*Recipes are mere guidelines.  I hate following directions.

The mental list goes on, but the soul cleansing has started.  Just in case, a word to Martha – please do not stop by without calling ahead.  The sink may be full, faces unwiped, toilet needing a scrub, numerous food crunchies underfoot, and me without my Super Hero Mama apron on.

Martha, I am not.

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