I had often bemoaned how my obsessive nature with cleanliness would never be fully realized because, well, I now have a 6 year old part-time.  On top of the two dogs, two cats, and two fish.  And Bryan.

BUT IT HAS COME TO FRUITION, PEOPLE.

I cannot begin to share with you the excitement I felt this weekend.

While at Toys ‘R Us, we were looking for ANYTHING to kill time.  Our house was being shown to potential renters, and we had to evacuate at an odd time, with no real plans for the day.  We ended up where The Boy would stay entertained and quiet.. the video game section.

Now, I have spoken before on how I hate the GameCube that resides in our house.  It monopolizes EVERYTHING and seems to control the sun, the moon, the tides, and The Boy.  I hate it.  HATE. IT.

But I decided to browse the game section for the GameCube.  We were just killing time, after all.

A strange, new game caught my eye.  Mainly because it was almost fifty bucks, and I had to know WHAT sort of game warranted a credit card payment.

Sounded stupid.  “Control the mini robot as he does his daily chores.”

I scoffed as I showed it to Bryan.  He gave me a look that I didn’t understand at the time, but now I know it’s because he knew what joy I would really find in it.  He pointed, “Yeah, it’s on demo over there.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Chibi-Robo.  Now, yes, I hear that there’s some larger story that is endearing and whatnot.. but GUYS, THIS GAME GIVES YOU POINTS FOR CLEANING!  I literally pushed The Kid off of the machine so I could seriously understand that joy that this game promises.. and it delivers, as well.

It was incredibly engrossing.  The graphics were very amusing, and again.. it makes light of what could be a debilitating disease, so a big ups there.  Also, maybe this will entertain me enough to keep me from sweeping three times a night..

We were minutes away from dropping him off at his mother’s family gathering.  As the family’s suzuki wandered through the “swamp” lands, his voice crept up from the backseat: “Are you going to come see my plants?”

I glanced at Bryan.  “Um.. no, honey, I think I’m just going to stay in the car.”

“You don’t know any of those people, huh?” he said.  He’s smarter than we give him credit for.

“Nope, sure don’t,” I said.  “That’s why I’m gonna stay in the car.”

He was quiet for a minute.  “You know, they’re your family now,” he said.  “You have a whole new family!!”

This was getting awkward and uncomfortable.  “I do have a new family now,” I said, my legs trembling from balancing on this thin ice.  “You’re part of my new family.”

“Cause you’re my stepmom!”  Score one for the redhead in the backseat.

“Yep,” I said.

“I’m really lucky to have you as my stepmom,” he said.  “I’m really glad I got you.”

Cue Sarah’s heart melting.

I’m pretty independent.  You might know that already, because you’ve clearly read here a time or two.

I also don’t need any sort of .. coddling.  I don’t need you to agree with what I do, nor do I (frankly) care if you agree or not.

I stood in line for two-point-five hours today to get tags for my new car.  I had applied for the personalized license plate, had my reservation number in my hand, etc.  I was READY.  Had my paperwork, my check mostly filled out, and I was ready to get the hell on.

So I finally got called to the desk.  As I was prepared for, the woman behind the counter had a slight attitude problem.  Hey, I’ve worked in customer service arenas from strip clubs to call-centers, so I understand that it SUCKS.  I understood her plight.  She had my sympathy.

When I said I wanted a personalized tag, she rolled her eyes.  Um, okay.  Dude, this is my first NEW car.  I don’t need your “oh, another rich white woman wanting to be different” judgement.  I reached past the multitude of photos of what looked like five kids at different ages and handed her the tag form.

“MOXIE?!” she asked.  “What in the world is that?!”  Again with the eye roll.  This time, accompanied by a hmph.

I contemplated the many ways I could demean her right then and there, how I could probably bring her to tears or, at the very least, begin a fight that could make the 12 o’clock news, and instead, I just smiled.

“You can look it up later, honey,” I cooed.  “I just need a tag.”

“You ain’t gotta get all snotty about it,” she said.

I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” I conceeded.  “You are absolutely right.  I didn’t mean anything by that.  I’m just running late for work, and I gotta put in my eight hours before the daycare closes..”

Her face softened.  “You got babies?”

I smiled.  “Not mine; I’m a step.”  Her face contorted into what might possibly have been a smile.

“God loves stepparents,” she said.  “My stepdaddy was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

I grinned.  “Stepparents are just as lucky to have the stepkids, you know.”  She giggled.

“Honey, I know you need to get out of here.  We’ll just have you pay the licensing fee today, okay?  And I’ll have your tag mailed to you.”

I hesitated.  “But what about the taxes..?”

“You got enough on your hands,” she said.  “We’ll just put those on next year.  Now, that means you’ll have a bit more to pay next year, but the price of the vehicle will go down,” she said.

I winked.  “You have a great day, now, and hug those kids, okay?”

She started mumbling something about precious children as I walked away.  And in my head, I heard Keboobalah whispering, “Now THAT, my dear, was moxie.”