Mom Humor: Where'd They Come From? - MetroFamily Magazine
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Mom Humor: Where'd They Come From?

by Heather Davis

Reading Time: 3 minutes 

Friends, I need your help. I’ve got quite a conundrum and I cannot come up with a likely explanation. Help me, won’t you? Let me begin with a little bit of history. 

The weekend was glorious. We decided to take advantage of the weather and spent the majority of our Saturday and Sunday outside. We even ate outside. With our most sincere and deeply heartfelt apologies to Mother Nature, we used disposable plates and utensils. It was nothing short of amazing. And it was a good thing we did, too, because we hit the ground running on Monday.

Bright and (sorta) early Monday morning, we scooted out the door (with no time to spare, as is our norm on any given Monday morning). We each grabbed a cheese stick or a granola bar or a protein bar for breakfast and ate it on the road, I’m assuming. The girls may have actually taken it and bartered or traded with someone whose family was willing to wake up early enough to drive through the donut shop. 

I assume they either bummed lunch off of their friends or ate school lunch. Either way, I can guarantee that they didn’t bring any of it home. 

Immediately following school, my husband and I launched into divide and conquer mode.  He took the baby girl (who’s now 13 and five-foot-eight-inches tall) and left her at pitching lessons while I took the older girl (who’s taller than I am but can’t drive … yet). I dropped her off at a study group. I then dropped off the dry cleaning, then I picked up the younger kid since my husband had a meeting. 

I drove through and got a super-ecstatic meal for the kid before taking her to meet some friends at the library to work on a project. At that point, it was time to pick up the older girl. Because I bought her sister a super-ecstatic meal at her sister’s favorite fast food joint, I was somehow obligated to buy her a meal at her favorite fast food joint before taking her to the bowling alley where she and her friends were participating in a bowling fundraiser to help the kids. And earn service points for honor society. And bowl for free. But, really, to help the kids. 

Are you keeping up with my night? Because I am not. Where was I? Oh yeah. A kid was at the bowling alley. Another kid was at the library. My hubby was at his meeting and I was now almost late for my meeting. Good thing it was a dinner meeting because my kids didn’t share their fries with me. 

I raced to my meeting place and jogged into the meeting room, just as a plate was set at my seat. I picked up the fork, tossed the napkin in my lap and ate the whole thing without taking a single breath. When I grabbed the last bite off of my fork, I slammed it on the table and yelled, “Done!” Apparently, I have trouble slowing down. 

During the meeting, my husband texted and confirmed that we still had two daughters who needed to be picked up at taken home. He swung by the library and picked up one kid (I was hoping she was ours), then couldn’t find our other kid at the high school. 

I texted back, in all caps BOWLING ALLEY just as said child texted me in all caps WHERE ARE YOU?

Through a frenzy of texts, my husband found our older daughter (or at least a close facsimile thereof) and headed home at about the same time as my meeting adjourned. I stayed back to visit with a few friends, now that my heart rate had slowed and our evening seemed to settling down. Also, the person next to me hadn’t eaten their cheesecake and I knew if I stayed back long enough, I could eat it. This is exactly what I did.

Walking to my car, I got three texts. One each from our daughters and my husband. All of them said the same thing: Home. In 15 minutes, I would join them. Ahhhh … what a Monday. It was the Mondayest of all Mondays for sure. 

I walked from the garage into the home, lowering the garage door behind me. I hung my purse and jacket in the hallway, I put my keys on the key hook and stepped into the kitchen where I was greeted by a sink full of dishes. 

Friends, we hadn’t eaten at home since Friday. Friday night I loaded the dishwasher. Monday evening, my double sink, extra deep, was full. That’s my mystery. That’s what I need help with.  

How, in the span of 15 minutes, did my sink get full when we hadn’t eaten at home? 

If you can help me out, I’d like for you to meet me in the laundry room. I have another conundrum there …

Heather Davis is a momma, a writer and a ponder-er of great mysteries. You can keep up with their lives and check out Heather’s books at

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