So What Did You Do Today Honey?

You know the 'ol soap opera and bon bon joke? Well, I never bought into that one. I did however, wonder how a woman could be home ALL DAY, with no appointments, obligations or demands on her time, and still not manage to have the dishes and laundry done.

Now I know.

Why yes, that is half a roll of paper towels coming
from the kitchen. Thank you for noticing.

For those of you who are still wondering, let me tell you about one afternoon last week. After returning home from our shopping trip (no, not the mall - the grocery store. *rolls eyes*) we settle in to eat lunch. As usual, Grace requested PB and J, so I made two quick sandwiches, threw in a side of cottage cheese and peaches, secured them to their chairs and proceeded to put away the groceries. Luckily, I grabbed a spoonful of peanut butter while making lunch - otherwise I may have had no lunch at all.

As I put away the groceries, Mark busied himself with the cottage cheese. He immediately dropped his spoon. Being the genius innovator that he is, he lost no time in using his  hands to shove fistfuls of white goop into his face. Grace was busy peeling apart her sandwich so she could lick the jelly off one side and scrape the peanut butter off the other before shoving it into her face.

"Trust me. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

As the children proceeded to make a complete mess of themselves, I silently thanked them for not flinging food like they did at breakfast. Mark is still mastering a fork. While he is getting quite good at stabbing items, the process of bringing it to his mouth is more like a catapult motion over his right shoulder. Pancake bits found their way into a number of places. I'm not sure I've discovered them all just yet.

As I put the last of the groceries away, Mark's high pitched squeals reminded me that neither of them had drinks. I walk the house looking for the sippy cups from this morning. Blue cup under the coffee table. Check. Pink cup... pink cup? Oh, of course. Pink cup in the bathroom cupboard where the Elmo underwear resides. Naturally. Take them both back to the kitchen for a quick rinse and refill. Notice that the kids are about halfway through and I haven't put away the lunch fixings, emptied the dishwasher or eaten lunch. Okay, move faster.

I quickly empty the dishwasher, silently thankful once again that the children were strapped down. The last time I attempted this chore, the children were roaming free. One got stuck after pulling out the bottom rack and catching his foot in the grid trying to reach the water pitcher in the back. Luckily, he left enough room for his sister to stand on the edge of the door and begin jumping. All of this in the four seconds it took for me to put three plates in the cabinet. Not today though; today they were happily tilting their plates heavenward as they drank the last bit of peach juice from the compartmentalized plastic.

"What? I left room for Grace to stand on the door too!"

Hmmm.... if their plates are upside down, I haven't much time left. I have learned if the kids eat all of their food, it does not necessarily mean they are finished. It is at this point I see Grace drinking milk from her cup and spitting it into her plate. Meanwhile, Mark is fishing in his chair for bits of sandwich that escaped the first go round. I pause from dishes to remind Grace that spitting is not acceptable and remove her plate. (I have also become adept at dodging sticky little hands intent on grabbing my shirt if I get within six inches at mealtime.)

The plate is almost rinsed off when I hear "Pee pee mommy!" I head over, intending to wipe her hands prior to sending her toward the bathroom. After seeing the carnage the PB and J has left in its wake, I instead decide to follow her to the bathroom along with instructions not to touch anything.

I have her wash her hands before using the potty. I also wipe her face and torso down a bit while I have the chance. She goes potty, then jumps up and runs out of the bathroom - free from the lunch chair and anxious to play. I call her back to remind her there are a few other steps to using the bathroom... at a minimum she needs to put some underwear on.

I head back to the kitchen to find Mark happily crushing his peach and cottage cheese encrusted plate onto his head. I send up more thanks that short hair releases food particles easily. The plate gets rinsed and put in the dishwasher and I head over to give Mark the equivalent of a sponge bath.

Mark is released into the wild while I wipe down two chairs, a tray, and a kitchen table. During this time the kids manage to throw every toy out of the playpen, remove three pots and pans from the cupboard and take the broom I need into one of the bedrooms. My stomach has sent only one signal reminding me that a spoonful of peanut butter does not constitute lunch.

Blessedly, nap time immediately follows lunch. I've been home almost an hour. There are toys, pans and brooms scattered throughout the house. The dining room floor does its best impression of teen acne angst with its strawberry jelly and cottage cheese covering. That's when the dryer buzzes with shirts needing to be hung up.

I'm tempted to open the dishwasher door, just to show that I have indeed accomplished something. The closed door mocks me - there is nary a hint of my putting away dishes and groceries. There's no evidence of meal prep or clean up. Clothes sit wrinkling in the dryer as a testament to my laundry handicap. I'm certain I have been busy the last hour...

Mark screams indignantly in the playroom. I walk in to find Grace looking innocently at Mark. She's embracing three toy trucks as though their very existence depends on her protection. Mark holds nothing - a scene that looked quite different two minutes ago. No, I didn't see it - I know.

"Hmmm. He seems a little dramatic don't you think? I've
no idea why he's crying. Best send him off to bed..."

It's definitely nap time.

A quick diaper change and Mark will be ready for bed. I hear Grace closing all the hallway doors as I get him ready. As I'm finishing up, I hear "Pee pee mommy!" (Didn't you just go?) I know the bathroom door is closed, and Grace cannot open it without help because it sticks.

I can't leave Mark on the changing table, and I've not got his pants back on. I should put him in the crib but by this time my brain fails me. I set him on the ground to go help Grace. It is then I discover the entire contents of the linen closet have been brought out into the hallway. "Grace!" I scold her as I usher her towards the potty. She does her thing while I clean up the linens. Once again, she returns sans underpants. I ask if she wiped, which she assures me she did. I am equally sure that she didn't. I tell her to go back and wipe. I have almost finished putting the linens away when I look up to see that Grace has brought the toilet paper to me. By "brought" I mean she has unrolled the TP from the bathroom all the way to the end of the hall. Well, at least she's obeying...

After re-rolling the paper, wiping a bottom, clothing said bottom, and washing three pairs of hands (What?  You think Mark doesn't get in on the toilet action?) I pick Mark up, put on his pants, turn on his fan, turn off his light, give him his blankie and a quick hug and put him to bed. Whew. I then follow Grace to her room, get her tucked in and head back to the kitchen, sidestepping brooms, pans and toys the entire way.

I reflect on my younger, single, child free self. I had no idea what having small children entailed. On the bright side, even after missing lunch I won't go hungry - I can always eat my words.

Another Week Gone...

This week Mark tried to overschedule us again... I guess he's practicing for when he gets his MBA and has to schedule and attend meetings all the time.

Alright, let's get this party started!

Hello? Um, yes, can I speak to your biggest
head honcho muckity-muck?

Yes, that's right. Meetings at 10, 2 and 4 on
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Hey! He hung up on me! Hmph. Maybe I should have
wiped the drool off my chin before calling.

Since we didn't have to worry about meetings, Gracie helped me mop:

First we mopped the dining room.
(Ignore the fact that her pants are
wet up to the knees...I did.)

Then she helped with the kitchen floor.
(The water is rising on those pants.)

And lastly, she mopped the dishwasher.
She's very thorough. And wet to her bottom.

We also had fun playing with ordinary objects around the house. For some reason, they are much more entertaining than the myriad of toys strewn about:

Mark is enjoying learning to stack things.

Shhh... he's concentrating very intently here...

By jove, I think he's done it!

Grace also found some sorting tasks to do:

First we separate all of the plates and put
post-it notes in them. Then we step on them.

After that, each section gets a paper
cup, lovingly stolen from Mark...

And then a ball gets dropped into each one.
Remind me again why we spend money on toys?

Grace also colored and played with stickers. When she ran out of her first page of stickers, she asked for more. Apparently I wasn't quick enough in retrieving the stickers, because she ended up finding her own:

In this instance, I will choose to label my child
"resourceful" instead of "stinker".

We also had our first "real" babysitter this week. Mommy and Daddy went out and left the kids with a sitter from church - someone who was actually not related to us, and happily took our money at the end of the night. And you know what? We were happy to give it to her. We had a great time. The kids had a great time too. Can't wait to do that again!

Auntie Kim and the cousins also came to visit for a short time, and they dropped off a dress for Gracie to use when she grows into it. It's a 6x. It took about three seconds for my two year old to request to wear the dress that should be four sizes too big. To me it looks perfect.

She looks like a princess!
(Well, minus the shirt sticking out from underneath.)

I hope you all had a wonderful week filled with chores getting accomplished, meetings getting  canceled and resourceful people making your life a little more interesting. At the end of it all, I hope you found time to snuggle up to someone and just relax a little too.

T.V. time, blankies and milk. Life is good.

Floor Solutions

I hate mopping floors. Today I realized it is not for lack of effort, but simply because I have been using the wrong tools. I have one of these:


Mine is not this festive. Maybe it should be.

And this:



My latest purchase. Apparently not my last.

Two of these:

Failed me miserably. And is missing the "automatic" button.

 

Was even worse. (I didn't know that was possible.)

And in moments of true desperation... sometimes this:

These, dear readers, are pot scrapers.
They do wonders - but you have to be awfully
close to the floor to use them.

The light dawned as my Swiffer effortlessly smeared the strawberry filling of a cereal bar across the linoleum. The broom had smashed the bar into the nooks and crannies of the vinyl just moments earlier. As I pulled out the pot scraper and went to work on fossilized banana bits, I worked out a plan. It's only $1,039:

Well, hello Jack! It's good to see you.

Look for it on an Amazon wishlist near you...
and I'm sure it's worth every penny.

Supervisor And Home Maker: An Inside Look at the Job of a SAHM (Part Two)

Welcome back! Our cliff hanger from last time left you wondering:

Will our SAHM get the kitchen clean before lunchtime?
Will Gracie escape the clutches of her high chair?
Why haven't we heard anything from Mark?
Will the Cheerios on the floor ever get swept up?

Poise those fingers over that mouse as we bring you the final installment of "SAHM: Why Nothing Ever Gets Done Around Here"!

Uh.... peep?

Experienced supervisors know that you do not unstrap the toddler from the high chair before going to check on another employee. Instead, you immediately search for your second staff member, hoping to find him happily engaged in his work. Unfortunately, you find him at the water cooler. And by water cooler, I mean toilet. When you took your daughter to the bathroom earlier, you left the door open. You gently remind your water soaked employee that the toilet bowl is not a kiddie sized sink, and is not to be used as a face washing station. You then explain that if this happens again you may have to write him up, and then detain him in the playpen that has been reserved for insubordinate employees.

You wash his hands and face with anti-bacterial soap, change his shirt, and send up thanks that while the toilet water was definitely dirty, at least you had flushed the toilet this time.

On the way back to the kitchen, you happily note that your two year old is not screaming her head off, wanting to be released from her plastic prison. As you turn the corner, you realize it's because said two year old can reach the salt dispenser on the table - even with all five high chair straps firmly fastened. If she were training for an Olympic medal in gymnastics, you would be beaming with pride. Instead, you give her the same lecture about playpens that you just gave your other employee, and grab the damp dish cloth.

Yes, I know this is not salt. That doesn't mean it hasn't happened.
I only have so much time to photograph my children's misbehavior.

You wipe down her hands and face, and release her from that wonderful invention you strap small children into to keep them from going anywhere. This is considered culturally acceptable because it's designed to appear that restraint harnesses are required in order for them to eat - and who am I to say differently?

You wipe down the kitchen table, which looks like a major snowstorm just blew through. That's when you hear the kids happily removing the three utensils you'd managed to place in the dishwasher. Unfortunately, between the two of them there are four hands. And one of them is empty. Naturally, the empty hand is used to shove the baby and take the spatula from him.

Supervisors often have to deal with employee conflict. Luckily, our SAHM has a lot of experience in this area since it happens constantly.

Sit baby upright, remove spoon from hand. Ignore high decibel screaming, as it is unclear if it is a result of being pushed, or having utensil removed from clenched fist. Give two year old the playpen lecture again. Resist urge to take photograph of child with butter knife and spatula in hand, and create "Wanted: Armed and Dangerous" poster. Remove said knife and spatula, before Wanted Poster is actually required. Ignore screaming, as it is unclear if it is a result of being lectured or having utensils removed from clenched fists.

You now send both employees to the play room with instructions to work harmoniously. You chuckle to yourself as you approach the kitchen, and wonder how much longer you can survive before you finally go insane and eat every item in the break room fridge, whether it's been labeled with another employee's name or not. A bottle with the name "Mark"? Make mine a double.

On the way back to the sink, you pick up your toddler's plate, fork, high chair tray and sippy cup.  You wonder if anyone would notice if you just threw them away...

You actually finish loading the diswasher before you realize that almost ten minutes have passed and not a single employee has come in to complain. Not one scream has come from the "office". Nary a peep. You fight visions of what happened the last time you didn't hear a peep as you race toward the play room, praying everyone is still conscious.

Hey Mark! Do you know why they
call this the "sleeper hold"?

You delight in your supervisorial skills when you find your newest team member happily chewing on the sock the other employee has just removed. You wonder if it has a slight egg yolk flavor. Your tallest employee has climbed onto the top of the table and is busying herself by chewing on her newly exposed toenails. You head to the kitchen with a spring in your step. Everyone is conscious, no one is screaming, you have a fully loaded dishwasher and your toddlers toenails have been clipped. Could "Employee of the Year" be far behind?

You wash, dry and replace the high chair trays. You put soap in the dishwasher and actually remember to turn it on. You grab the broom, sweep up Cheerios, toast crumbs and what appears to be dehydrated corn. You look at the clock and congratulate yourself that it has only taken an hour to load one skillet, one spatula, one butter knife and the breakfast dishes of three people. You might be in line for a promotion with that kind of efficiency.

You head to the playroom, ignoring the banana bits stuck to the linoleum, the toast crumbs hiding under the high chair cover, and the fact that there is an egg yolk handprint in the center of your back. You've got an entire hour to play before the lunch hour begins. Who wouldn't love this job?

If the above scenario wasn't enough to satisfy your curiousity, please contact us for consideration for our intern position. If you are awarded the job, you will receive no pay, no lunch breaks, no ruined clothing allowance, and your fourteen hour work day will leave you with no sense of accomplishment. Apply now!

Supervisor And Home Maker: An Inside Look at the Job of a SAHM (Part One)

Last week my mother asked which I thought was harder: being a stay at home mom or a working mom. I answered, a little sheepishly, being a SAHM. Prior to staying at home, I couldn't understand what was so difficult about getting basic chores done. All I saw were FaceBook status' about playdates, lunches with friends and enjoying sunny days at the park.

What I didn't know what that all of those had been arranged because if mom and the kids stayed in the house for one more moment, someone would have ended up in a crib or playpen all day (probably mommy).

Think of being a SAHM as the equivalent of being a supervisor at work. You have people that you constantly need to check on, follow up with, and evaluate.

Of course, there's an exception. Instead of checking on your employees each hour, you check on them every ten minutes (or less). Instead of keeping them from sending out bad information or messing up product, you're trying to keep them from killing themselves. Or each other. The younger your subordinates, the more often they have to be monitored. Therefore, a chore that you would normally complete in ten to fifteen minutes now takes half an hour. Or more.

Still not following? Let me provide you with an example:

Your two employees are happily strapped into their respective high chairs. The newest employee is drinking the last of the milk from his bottle. The more seasoned employee is munching on eggs, toast, and remnants of yesterday's dinner surreptitiously saved under the high chair cover. (For those of you who are not parents, this is probably buttered corn kernels, now the consistency of raisins. Or something equally gross. And chewy.) You have just completed your own breakfast and use this as an opportunity to clean the kitchen and do the dishes. This task should take about fifteen minutes.
Correction: This task should take a normal adult, with no other obligations or distractions, about fifteen minutes.

You start by rinsing your dishes and clearing the counter. Just as the butter makes its way back into the fridge, you hear the distinct sound of a bottle hitting the floor. As the refrigerator door closes, the crying begins. You walk over, pick up the bottle, and give it back to the baby. You also notice that your two year old is practicing her "sharing" techniques. Very, very nice... except the baby will choke if he gets his applesauce covered hands on her discarded egg whites.

Move high chairs further apart. Step on Cheerio, smashing it to bits and leaving oat carnage in your wake. Go back to cleaning counter.

You manage to get the counter wiped down and the skillet in the sink before your two year old announces: "Mommy! Pee Pee!". You head over with a damp washrag and quickly wipe down the two egg yolk covered hands threatening to soil your shirt as you help her down from the chair. You head to the bathroom, and once again wonder if giving M&Ms as a reward are a good idea, since she's eaten more chocolate than eggs this morning.

*Note: A good supervisor knows that you must keep your employee morale high if you want to see results. And when it comes to potty training, you desperately want to see results.

After strapping your associate back into her high chair, you resume work on the skillet. You try to supress the excitement of being able to open the dishwasher without having to fend off the small intruders who always attempt to climb onto the door. And eat the knives.

You get a plate, spatula and two utensils into the machine before the baby starts to fuss. Actually, he's been fussing for awhile. He dropped his bottle. Again. It's because he's no longer interested in eating, and now wants to get down and play. You dampen a paper towel and head over to wipe his hands. And face. And eyelashes. And the back of his head. And his left foot.

If you're a parent, this requires no explanation. If you're not, well... here:

You let your underling down from the high chair so he can... go do whatever it is underlings do. As long as he doesn't fuss, break something, or get into mortal danger, you don't really care. You've got one clear counter and a sink full of dishes to worry about. Speaking of which, you've added a baby spoon, bowl, bottle and high chair tray to the pile. Which makes the counter look far less clean than it did two minutes ago.

As you scrape banana crust from the tray and wonder again how he manages to get food everywhere but his mouth, your two year old decides she is also done. You know this because she has taken all the food off of her plate, and put the plate upside down on the top of her head. You begin to wish you had scrambled the eggs, instead of cooking them over easy. You walk over to remove the plate from her head, which has stayed neatly in place despite her attempt dodge you. Egg yolk is helpful like that.

As you put the food back on the plate, your toddler gives you a great big hug. Affectionate? Yes. Sanitary? No. You reach for yet another paper towel, and decide a wash rag would do a better job on those egg-yolk covered fingers. And face. And head.

And then you realize you haven't heard a peep from the baby.

Stay tuned for the next episode of "Supervisor And Home Maker: Why Nothing Ever Gets Done Around Here."

Since I deprived you last week by not posting anything (my mother informed me that this had been duly noted and she was going through withdrawals) I'll post part two on Wednesday. Or Thursday.

These things sometimes take longer than they should you know.

Another Week Gone...



Do you think mom realizes that almost every picture
was taken in the kitchen this week?



Well, we are pretty good at making messes in here!

Mommy did spend a LOT of time in the kitchen this week. I finally cooked the remaining three turkeys I bought at Thanksgiving markdown prices, as well as cleaned up after the two Munchkins incessantly. Mark is moving on to more foods, such as banana and toast, and that translates to more cleanup.


Did I do that?



Oh yeah, I guess I did!



Don't worry, I'll help clean up!

Grace also has her food eating habits that keep me busy in the kitchen. While she knows better than to purposely drop any food on the floor, she is quite enamored with putting food on the table. Or windowsill. Or anywhere she can reach from the high chair, which has resulted in her being an "island" in the middle of the dining room, in an effort to keep food (and cleaning) from spreading out of control.

I had to take a picture of her goldfish line up however, as it is so typical of Grace and her obsession with lining things up and organizing. Here she is taking the fish out of the cup holder on the highchair, and placing them on the table:


One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish...



Here they are, all lined up and ready to be eaten!

And when she ran out of goldfish, she didn't mind... she just kept putting "pretend" goldfish down!


Here's another one for the line...
uh, I think we're out of goldfish!

Moving out of the kitchen for a moment... I finally was able to successfully put Grace's hair in pigtails! Unfortunately, she wouldn't stand still long enough for me to get a good shot, so I had to settle for this.


Yes sweetie, a crooked part is in vogue right now. Promise.

Well, I actually did get a picture when she was relegated to being locked behind the gate while I returned (once again) to the kitchen:



Really, this picture needs no caption.

I didn't feel too badly (just a smidgen) about taking a picture of her crying, because I felt like crying too. Two minutes prior, I had been doing the dishes, and when I turned the water off, I heard the slight crinkling of plastic... not a good sign. Sure enough, Grace had been sitting in her toy stroller, casually taking things out of the pantry (which she knows she's not supposed to do!) and I found she had opened and emptied an entire bag of nuts onto the floor:


And now you know why things never quite get
finished around here...

Luckily, Mark had been right by my side, so he didn't get close enough to eat anything. And Grace? Well, I can tell you that she doesn't appear to be allergic to walnuts. In case you were wondering.

Speaking of Mark by my side... he's going through the same stage that Grace did at this age. He wants to be right next to me, especially if I'm trying to empty the dishwasher, cook dinner, or do anything else that requires me to take a step. He will hold onto my pants for dear life, and I will slowly walk from one place to the next while he attempts to keep up. It's not very efficient, but it does entertain.

He also likes it when I wear pants that have a pull string, as he can combine his two favorite activities: standing and chewing on strings.



Don't worry, I'm a pro at this.



Not quite as tasty as the string on the pull-along
dog toy, but it will do.

Lastly, I picked up Mark's professional pictures that I told you about a few weeks ago. As promised, here is an adorable picture that would make it to the front of any baby catalog in the country... if they knew it existed.

Oh yeah. Future GQ model right here ladies!

I hope if you spent lots of time in the kitchen, it was enjoying the fruits of someone else's labor. If not, at leat you know you can come here to commiserate. Have a wonderful week and try not to go nuts!

Another Week Gone...

This week has been... exciting. You'll probably get to the end of this post and wonder if you missed the exciting part. You didn't. It's just that my sense of accomplishment has definitely been skewed by my new status as SAHM. I'm coming up on the one year mark in a couple months, and I'm finally getting the hang of it. I think.

Last weekend, I was DONE. FINISHED. Tired of living in a disorganized house that seemed to be messy all the time, and took twice as long as it should to do the everyday tasks of life. So, I pulled up my mental bootstraps and determined that this was the week. And you know what? I did it! I organized my kitchen cupboards, medicine cabinet, bathroom storage, and hall closet. And it feels goooooood.

I also made a MAJOR score at the Target season end toy sale. This is just the kind of thing that made me jealous when I was a working mom. When a great sale or event was taking place, I missed out because I was tied to a desk. I still sometimes wonder why I gave up the comfort of that desk... but for the first time ever, I have birthday and Christmas gifts for the kids ahead of time - and the savings cut our gift bill for the year in half.

Yeah, it's been an exciting week.


As I was doing all this shopping, I realized this is
probably the last year I will be able to throw toys in
our cart without my kids realizing what is going on...

Okay, so I know you only come to the blog on Friday to see the antics of two redheads, and occasionally their parents, so here goes:

Mark must have read my last blog post, because not only did he repeat his "Daddy" performance Monday night, he also said "Mamamama" at me. Twice. As I sat on the floor with Grace this morning, he said "Mama, mama, mama" from the time he left his lookout at the fireplace until he had pulled himself up onto me - using my hair as leverage. I didn't mind the whole hair pulling thing too much. *beams*

On Monday, my readers voted that yes, Dada was Mark's first word, but Mama is definitely second. (No matter what Grandma DeeDee and Papa say...)

Mark also threw in this milestone for good measure:


Oh yeah, I'm standing behind the toy
all by myself....



...and walking! Look out world!

He's going to be walking on his own before the end of the month if I don't find some way to tie him down more often.

Gracie was a big helper in the kitchen:


See Mommy? The sponge holds enough water
to wet the kitchen counter AND floor!

It didn't take me long to realize allowing a two year
old to hold a ceramic spoon holder over a cast iron
sink was probably a bad idea...



Mom, I'm not going to get anything done if you
keep asking me to look at the camera...

And she helped herself to the hat drawer:


You hafta pull the strings here to pop it
on your head just right!

Mark: "Are you sure it goes on this way?"
Gracie: "What can I say? It has no strings!"

We have lots of cute pictures of Grace at bathtime or in her bath towels, and I wanted some cute ones of Mark as well, so I asked Daddy to grab the camera and take some shots:


Peek a Boo!

Okay, enough with the puppy on my head...

No, seriously. How do I get this thing off??

Mark wasn't as into the bathtime photo shoot as much as Gracie was at his age. He also wasn't into as much as Daddy was. I swear the man took forty photos. He thought he was a fashion photographer on a supermodel cover shoot. I had to put my foot down.

This is my "Thanks for taking photos of the baby. You're really annoying me now. Put the camera down before I do something I'll regret" look:


"Trying to be nice even though I want to strangle you
with the camera strap right now..."

It didn't work. So I moved on to my "You are a dead man if you snap one more photo. STOP. NOW." (through clenched teeth) look:


Mark added another word to his repertoire that night: "Whoa."
(And he was thinking: "My Daddy sure is brave!")

We don't have a photo of what happened next. Evidence like that is always erased before it falls into the wrong hands.

Hope your week was exciting too, and you didn't have to do any talking through clenched teeth. If you did, I hope you erased the evidence!