Only those of you who were into '90s music will possibly get that poorly-metered, lame reference to the Backstreet Boys' big hit. Sorry guys.
I am starting a year-long pilgrimage to take back what is mine: my house.
Since my high-risk pregnancy turned into a "lay around most of the time and get 40 lbs fatter while wallowing in depression and the kids mostly took care of themselves when we weren't having school on my bed" pregnancy, and I gave birth to my sweet velcro baby, my house has gone to the land where all letters 'h', 'e', and used hockey sticks reside. It looks like a brontosaurus ate an entire dump full of toys, clothes, papers and junk, then methodically threw up in each room of my house.
No. More. I am DONE.
I have a plan. It's a good, sane, accomplishable plan.
Go here to read about it and do it with me, if you like!