There are certain problems that most parents will have to deal with at some point in their lives. Sometimes, those problems are easy to overcome and we might not really give them much thought. At other times, they can be difficult or perhaps even impossible to correct. Perhaps you have found yourself in just such a situation and it can be difficult until you are able to see the other side. I think that is where this mother found herself when she felt the need to write a review for Kleenex. It’s an honest review that may just be TMI.
I want to start this off by thanking Kleenex for selling these in 36-packs. I’ve put it on subscription, and if they want to start selling a 72-pack, sign me up. I have three reasons for needing this much Kleenex, and their names are Liam, Samuel and Hank.
This is how it goes in this house. First the Kleenex disappears. Then the toilet paper. Then they go for fabrics. And you don’t want it to get there, unless you’re ready to invest in a five gallon drum of Fabreeze.
This used to be a good Christian home. But it’s not about moral judgment anymore. I’m way beyond that. I’m in survival mode. If I don’t find absorbent paper products, I’m going to find my dish towels hidden in the basement, stiff as aluminum. The other day, I almost cut my hand on a sock. I am sorry to speak so frankly, but with three teenage boys, a woman has got to be practical.
The funny part is, they think they’re being sneaky, with their 45-minute showers and sudden need for “privacy,” as if I’m going to walk in on them journaling. They slink around the house like unfixed cats, while I try to announce my location at all times. No one needs to ask me to knock anymore. I knock on walls. I practically wear a cow bell. I’m not looking to catch anyone by surprise, believe me. I’m just trying to get through this.
The other day my husband was watching me unload the groceries, and he asks me, all sweetness and light, “Honey, what’re you doing with all that Kleenex?”
I about knocked him off his chair.
