My life is a TV show

Sometimes I feel like my life is syndicated programming. Like when I am in the grocery store, and CJ just won't listen to me, as if he has suddenly lost all hearing in his ears. And as he runs away from me with the glass jar of spaghetti sauce, I at least know that when I get home to review the tape, some lady with a strong British accent will give me some pointers and advice on better disciplining him. Or when I sit at my cluttered desk, instead of picking up everything around the office, I hope someone will waltz in and tell me that under fifty bucks, they will transform this space into a fabulously hip organized room fit for the pages of Martha Stewart Living. But as the family went shopping this afternoon, and I left my husband and CJ to return some things I came back to see CJ riding the carousel with his dada up there on a horse next to him. He was saying something to CJ that was making him crack up, and then my life was a sweet hour long show, where the biggest problem is that someone didn't feed the dog, and the happy family ate dinner together every night. And it made me happy to think we would have such great commercials at our breaks, like Hallmark, or Master card. They both saw me, and as they turned the corner, I heard my husband say to CJ, "wanna trick mama?" When they came into view, CJ had his daddy's sun glasses and sweatshirt draped on his head, and my husband had CJ's tiny little sweatshirt plopped on his. Neither were laughing. I was laughing hysterically. And I thought, I can only hope there are lots of reruns!

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