I spent a precious chunk of time this morning hunting for 19-month-old Estelle's croc. I still have not found it. I am the keeper-together-of-things in our house. No one else regularly inventories toys, toy pieces, shoes, socks, ectcetera, but me. In my overtaken Mommy brain, concerns for the mundane, such as household items inventory, occupy a significant slice of gray matter real estate.
(Insert pie chart of my brain usage here)
Sometimes I feel badly about the smallness of my thoughts and the time I spend on activities that seem so unimportant in in the face of life and death and other people's big accomplishments and money-making. But if I don't keep the order of our household, chaos waits patiently, ready to overtake our family life, so I do this unpaid-in-money job for our basic well-being and hunting for that effing Croc is part of it.
