Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!

I've gotta make this quick. (I'm running on extra God-given nap time with the kids, here.)

If validation is cool, consider these ladies Miles Davis.

Hey, It's Okay . . .

. . . to wonder if everything we (my husband and I) own has a five to six-year operation life. (Everything and its MOTHER is breaking around here, and it isn't even kid-related breakage.)

. . . to be sick of being sick for the SECOND time this summer with some sort of nasty cold plague.

. . . to not care if people hear you hacking up a lung like an old man through open windows (in the car or the house—it doesn't matter).

. . . to not have yet washed the outfit that your daughter puked in back on Friday (she had a sinus-drainage, mini-puke incident in the car).

. . . to stick it out through a cold shower for fear that if you get out, the water heater will really be at the end of its life, and you will not get back in the shower again. (And, by golly, you really need a shower.) (It turns out that was a good judgment call, by the way.)

. . . to be insanely ecstatic that you were actually able to get that stupid cat into the cat taxi—and scratch-free.

. . . to put faith in people. Sometimes.

. . . to not understand what the crap is so fascinating about the toilet. (Henry will NOT stop getting into it at EVERY possible opportunity.)

. . . if you're just now watching Season 6 of House on Netflix.

. . . if there's still a cat or newborn baby-sized hole in the floor of your basement covered with a box of 40 pounds of floor tile.

. . . to hate chipmunks.