May or May Not Monday

May or May-Not Monday: Where you can divulge the secrets of life's mishaps without feeling like a failure. So go on... own up. I may have...

I may or may not have done absolutely nothing to fix the failures reported previously in my house cleaning. I still have rocket ships on my living room window (mostly because it makes me smile) and all the over crayon markings on the windows. I still have two toys left in my hallway. And although I did in fact buy the paint for my hallway on Saturday, the hallway is still 14 different colors of beige. You would think admitting these things to the world -- though it may be a small viewership, would cause me to have a fire under me and get things done though I did steam my downstairs carpets yesterday. But nope, accountability is not a motivator. Guess that reveals one more thing to me about who I am.

My children may or may not have decided to call their Daddy only by his first name.  It does sound ridiculous when we are out an about and the kiddos are directing Brandon what to do and not Daddy. I feel lucky that I am still Mommie.

I may or may not have only gotten dressed to take my kid to and from school. And I may or may not have changed immediately into sweats the moment we arrived home for the day. I may or may not have even bothered to change my youngest out of pjs for most of the week. It makes for much less laundry and him a happy camper. At this point, I am having to wash every load of laundry twice on hot and extra long with extra borax to get it clean. So I am more than happy to have a little less to clean.

I may or may not have decided this week I would like to retire to Santa Maria, California. A sleepy beach town in southern California to spend my days sounds just about right during this chilly winter. Have you  noticed that I have decided to retire two different places in the last two months? Sedona being the other place on the list. What does it say about me that I am dreaming of a place 30 plus years away?? Perhaps that I was created a gypsy in my Army upbringing.

I may or may not have completely "ruined" my cooktop with the cooked milk. I have scrubbed for hours and even my husband scrubbed for half an hour yesterday and it isn't coming off. Though I have managed to stave off the tears over spilled milk.