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So, Team Bug (which is what we sometime refer to our family as*) lost this week to household chores to the tune of $40, a bag of dirty diapers and what will be a month’s worth of recyclables.

Tuesday is Street-Cleaning Day here on our little street.  We forgot to move our car and got a 40 (40!!) dollar ticket in a bright green envelope that just screams “irresponsibility!” (I was hoping it would scream “infant in the house and very tired parents!” but no.)

Wednesday is Recycling Day — well, every other Wednesday, which is why, in 2 weeks when they pick it up again, we’ll be putting a month’s worth of recycling out on the curb.  In the meantime, it accumulates in our kitchen (which doesn’t have room for a month’s worth of recycling).

Thursday is Diaper Day.  Taylor’s mom very graciously gave us 6 months of diaper service when the Pea (the Pee?) was born.  (If you’re following along and doing the math, that means she’s actually given us 7 months and we’re almost out of time, folks!)  It’s like magic:  you put a bag of dirty diapers out on your porch on Thursdays and by the afternoon there’s a neat little bag of clean, folded, white diapers all ready to go.  We still get clean diapers even though we forgot to put out our giant load of icky diapers (and whoowee, has the icky gone up since we started solid foods), but we’re stuck with our giant load of ick until next week when hopefully our heroes remember to put it on the porch.

I mentioned to Taylor how we struck out this week and he graciously recognized that these three chores fall much more onto his side of the division of household labor.  For my part, I only reminded him about the recycling — the other two fell out of my head as well.

All is not lost, though.  We’ve got to get our gear on for another week.  Game on.

*We also refer to us and my side of the family as “Team Bun,” which is derived from the Cantonese term for “dessert” and is another in a long line of bilingual jokes in my arsenal.  I really must get t-shirts and pennants made.


She has the most wonderful wrist pudge, like little bracelets on each arm, sweet and delicate.

From the Field

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