Jane, his wife

It's just a typical day here in my house, I got the kids off to school, the baby down for his nap, worked out, folded laundry, packed a picnic, picked the kids up from school, took them to the park for said picnic and playtime.  

Do you see a shower or a meal anywhere in there?  No?  Because there wasn't one in any significant way worth mentioning, at least not in the true sense of the words "shower" or "meal".  By shower I mean spending more than thirty seconds under running water to wash my body and hair rather than what I usually do which is throw my hair up in a bun and shower leaning slightly backward so it doesn't get wet while I frantically wash the rest of me hoping no one wakes up or loses an eye during my absence depending on the hour.  The shower I dream of also includes time to dry my newly washed hair rather than letting it air dry into its usual rat's nest and having time to put an outfit together that actually includes things that button or zip. By meal, I mean preparing food for myself that takes more then three minutes in the microwave or can not be eaten by the handful - hopefully it includes some produce.  It also involves sitting down to eat so I can relax and enjoy it, tuning into my body's hunger cues to know when I'm finished instead of turning around five minutes later and asking myself, "Holy crap.  Where the did that whole bag of Goldfish go?"

These are the times I am green with envy over the life of Jane Jetson.  Sure she had a cleaning robot (love ya, Rosie!), but that's not the only thing in her household that I covet.  Obviously, the beds that make themselves and the self-loading dishwasher rock, but the machine I love the most is that shower/dressing machine.  Jane would step onto one end of the conveyor belt in her robe with those few hairs they drew askew and lines under her eyes to make her look tired and you'd watch as she was washed, brushed and dressed by mechanical arms until she popped out the other end with perfectly coiffed hair, in the purple mini-dress we know and love, with her rings-of-Saturn bangles gracefully encircling her wrists.  My GOD what I wouldn't pay for a machine like that.  I'd burn my collection of over-worn yoga pants and broken in baseballs caps in a hot minute.

Second to the appliances in her home in my jealous fantasy is the food.  While you all know I love food, during the week with my kids, food is purely for nourishment.  I don't have time to devote attention to all my kids, never mind my food.  So I spend my weekdays eating Lean Cuisines and carrots with hummus since they're not terrible for you and quick.  Do you remember those food pills the Jetsons took?  Genius!  No cooking, no clean up, calorie controlled and nutritious - sign me up!  Of course the weekends are a different story and I'd be pissed if brie and chocolate cake only came in capsule form, but  I can not tell you how many times I've been stuck out somewhere with all three kids, starving because I didn't have time to grab something, wishing I could pop a Garden Salad with Grilled Chicken pill instead of having to choose between finishing my daughter's PB&J or stealing the baby's Gerber Puffs.

So Jane, I hope you appreciate how awesome your imaginary life is, because I spend way too much time doing so for a person over the age of nine.  Your flying car doesn't impress me though, because I know if I had one it'd just be an airborne version of the rolling trash can I currently drive.  And I'm not sure how safe rock-hard, stale bagels would be with all that turbulence.