Stuff. Stuff. Stuff.

We have too much stuff. In fact, our stuff has stuff. Our stuff's stuff has even been getting busy with our stuff and had a little incestuous affair resulting in grandbaby stuff. Stuff. Everywhere.

We live in a 1000 square foot townhome. All this stuff poses a bit of a problem. As in, sometimes I look around and wonder if this is our house, or if we have moved into the stockroom at Toys R' Us. Stuff. Everywhere.

Once in a while I get tired of looking at all the stuff and I do this wondrous little cleaning thing where I take the stuff crammed into one place and shove it into another place. Alexis' room is frequently the destination for the stuff since 99.9999999% of the excess stuff is her stuff. The kid hardly uses her room anyway (I refuse to acknowledge that she seems to be broken of her need to sneak into our room at night because if I acknowledge it she will immediately revert to her old ways). She really doesn't care if there is a six foot tall tower of toys being held in place by Cookie Monster's nose. Or maybe there were a couple of those towers. OK, there were at least a dozen. WHATEVER.

Anyway, the key word there is "were." You see, we are house hunting, and the process is reaching the point where I can almost smell the need to put our place on the market. It smells a little bit like fear and panic because OMG WE HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF. This weekend I reached Level 10 on the Panic Scale and decided to tackle Mount St. Ridiculous Amounts of Kid Stuff.

Mr. Husband helped me out in the best way he possibly could--he kept Alexis downstairs while I shoved every toy I could get my hands on into plastic tubs. I packed. And packed. And packed. And conquered all of the piles. Guilt was pouring from me as I stashed toy after toy that Alexis really does play with. The damn kid plays with just about everything in this house, and often. It's sort of like she knows how to manipulate me into never getting rid of a single thing. Ever.

When all was said and done, guilt was replaced with a new wave of fear. What was Alexis going to say? It's not like I could expect her not to notice that three aisles of toys had magically disappeared. And you just know she could pinpoint the exact location of baby doll #714 in that pile of stuff.

I figured I was screwed.

Yet, bed time came, and Alexis didn't seem to notice the giant void in her room where once the stuff stood. I thought I might just be off the hook.

Oops.

Apparently the kid had a delayed reaction to all of her stuff disappearing. Tonight, a full 24 hours later than expected, Alexis walked over to her bookshelf. And froze in place. She looked down at the floor then she looked at me. She glanced towards the wall then glanced at me. Her head spun round and round before she finally looked me straight in the eye and said, "Where's all my stuff?"

Good thing there is still a Christmas tree up in her room. "Hey, look! It's shiny lights!"

She's definitely my daughter, because that little trick totally worked.

The Big Box Stores are Trying to Get Me in Trouble

I had a plan. It was a good one, too. I had a very good plan for Mother's Day this year. I'm not entirely sure how it has become my job to procure Mother's Day gifts for Mr. Husband's moms (yes, plural), but it is, and this year I had it all figured out good and early. Unfortunately, a plan isn't quite the same as actually following through and taking care of those little gifts, and now I'm screwed.

I waited too long and now need to revert to Plan B.

Since both moms live a little far away, I kind of have to get my ass in gear like RIGHT NOW. Whatever is acquired will need to be shipped no later than Wednesday. I figured I would start the games with a little internet searching, with the idea that if I can find something online, I can just get it shipped straight to the lovely women who very much so deserve something spectacular.

So, I searched Target.com. And found this.

In case you can't read THAT FREAKIN APRON, it says, "I can only please one person each day. Today is not your day. Tomorrow doesn't look good either."

Gee, thanks, Target. Way to give me a brilliant idea, if my mission is to have my mother-in-laws never speak to me again.

The rest of the search results I came up with on Target's site were your stereotypical boring gift baskets, paperweights, and crappy jewelry, so I figured I would check Wal-Mart.com. I found this:

Um, that's a book. A book that is entitled, "The Mother's Day Murder." I'm pretty sure it accurately describes what would happen if I were to give anybody that apron from Target.

I think I'll go back to my homemade gift plan. It's just going to have to get there late.

Psst . . . if anybody *ahem*MrHusband*ahem* is trying to figure out what to get me for Mother's Day, may I suggest a lovely hanging basket from you-know-where? Or, how about some fun stuff to go with Mr. Canon? Me likey this little lens, and HOOOBOY would I love you for buying me a super fun external flash. If you want to make me be practical then you should go with the replacement thingy I need, or the filters that I've been complaining about (even just the one UV Filter). If you really love me, though, you'll buy me a Spork and a fisheye lens. Spork + fisheye lens = true love. ;-)

Conveniently Ignoring the Part of the Day that Involved the Penguins