Name Labels

I am frequently startled to realize how damned domesticated I am. This was not my intention, growing up. Don't get me wrong--I not only don't think there's anything wrong with being a Domestic Goddess, I think it's a complex and creative undertaking, part Michaelangelo, part cat-juggler. And while no one in my household goes hungry (despite their opinions in the matter) and the house is not a complete disaster, I am under no illusion regarding my "mad mothering skillz" (as Jonquil put it once. But, here I am. I'm trying to ramp up for my trip to Glasgow next week. Younger Daughter is done with day camp, and Girl Scout sleepaway doesn't start until Friday, so I have her amusement (as well as Sarcasm Girl's) to consider. Then there are all the things which need to be tweaked and packed for YG's camp trip.

Name Tags. Nothing says motherhood like sewing on those little white labels with your camper's name on them. Which is what I'm going to be doing tonight. Because of course, most of last year's clothes-with-name-tags are too small, or too uncool, and must therefore be replaced and labeled. It's not an onerous chore, just one of those that wakes you up thinking, "Wow, how damned domesticated am I?"