Whenever my man is out of town, his mom calls me at the beginning of the week to ask how she can help me. Today she took the punk for 7 hours (!) so I could have some time alone with the basher. She also brought me a huge canister of Starbucks hot chocolate mix, which I am now enjoying in the mug she brought me from Hilton Head a few weeks ago. (I have accumulated a collection of mugs, mostly from Starbucks' around the country, and I always choose my mug according to my mood. For instance, when I'm missing Little Sis, I drink from the Serendipity III mug she brought me from New York. When I wish I could get away, I choose the mug I bought on my last girl weekend in Las Vegas.)
The punk "helped" Grandma Lynn organize her attic and played keep-away with the dog:
I worked up a sweat on my cleaning spree, played on the floor with a smiley baby, and made dinner (deep dish chicken cordon bleu, butternut squash, and garden salad), which we later enjoyed together: Grandma, Papa, the punk, and me. Even the basher got in on some of the squash action.
Today (and everyday) I am grateful for my mother-in-law.
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