Spelling Error

When I was about 8-years-old I wanted to go sledding one winter day.  My mom said I couldn't go until my jobs were done.  She then left to run errands in town, trusting me to finish my chores before playing.  So I decided to be an overachiever and fold the laundry in addition to my regular chores.  Before I ran out the door to go romp in the snow, I wrote a note for my mom so she would be very aware of what I had done, should she return home while I was gone.  The note I wrote said something to the effect of, "Mom, I did my jobs and folded the shits.  I'm sledding up at the sledding hill.  Love, Me".  By "shits" of course I meant "sheets".  But those darn spelling errors can sneak right up on ya.  My husband is a prime example.  His name is Brian.  Not that long ago he posted a funny comment on Face Book but referred to himself as "Brain".  He now has a new nickname.  Getting that "a" and "i" mixed up when typing is an honest mistake.  I can't tease him about it too much because my mistakes trump his by far.  As a cheerleader in highschool I was assigned to be the head cheerleader at a wrestling match.  We had a routine cheer that we would chant occasionally and we would spell out the name of the wrestler for our school.  You can imagine the confusion when I started to cheer, "L-U-C-K......Luke!.....Luke!"  Once again, a couple of letters was all it took to support the everlasting negative ditzy reputation of all cheerleaders and prove that I had not grown out of my bad spelling habits.  The reason I tell these stories is because the question is "not if, but when" will I post a huge spelling mistake on my blog for all to see?  Chances are, there is already one on here.  So bear with me.  Be patient.  I swear I'm not that stoopid.

Scarred

My boys were looking through their photo albums from when they were infants and my 3-year-old says to me, "Mom, am I a girl or what?"  I looked at him and laughed as I asked, "Why?"  He pointed to a picture in his album and said, "Then why I wear that?"  I look back at my early years of parenting, (and often the present) and question my judgement.  These poor four children of mine have been the victims of bad hair cuts, bad ensembles and who knows what else, all thanks to me.  Now my 3-year-old son questions his gender based on a cheesy outfit that I scarred him with as an infant.  It's quite funny if you really think about it.  And to tell the truth, I'm certain that they will continue to be scarred by my bad judgement and inadequacies in the future.  These four little monkeys don't stand a chance!

Soap

Is soap self cleaning?  For instance, if you visit someone's house and go to shower or wash your hands and there is clearly a used bar of soap, does it make you nervous to use it?  Will you get germs from whomever used it first?  And what if there is a hair on it?  Do you dare touch the hair to get it off or do you tip-toe around the hair and hold it under running water hoping the hair will slide off?  What part of the body did that hair come from?  And who's body did it come from?  And did the previous user of the soap lather bubbles on their hands and then distribute it to their body parts, or did they vigorously rub that exact bar on their unmentionables?  So many questions.  Am I the only one who gets a little squirmish from a used bar of soap?  I don't wear other people's underwear, so why should we share soap?  But that brings me back to my original question.  Is soap self-cleaning?  Cuz if it is then the problem isn't the soap.  The problem is that I need therapy.