In the spirit of full disclosure...

...an open letter to my dear, sweet, tolerant husband:

Dear Darren,

As you may or may not be aware, there have been quite a few discussions flying about the blogosphere these past couple of days regarding the myth of the "perfect" wife and mom. I, of course, felt I had absolutely nothing to contribute because as we all well know, I am quite...welllll...perfect. (Ahem.)

So imagine my sheepish surprise when I walked into our bathroom this afternoon and noticed, apparently for the first time in several weeks, the decorative Christmas towels we still had hanging on the towel rack about the toilet. Christmas towels! February begins tomorrow! It just goes to show how much attention this "perfect" housewife pays to the bathroom! I laughed to myself as I thought, "Well, I'll be! Would you look at that! How hilarious would it be to post a picture of those on my blog..."

So, I'm standing there, with camera in hand, trying to find just the right angle and lighting, when in walks Meghan carrying....

....Ummm, here's where it starts to get bad. Really, really bad.

You know that old, well worn Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Wildflowers you love so much? The one with field notes dating all the way back to 1983 printed fastidiously in the margins? The one you still refer to often? The one that little Miss Meggie has, of late, become quite fond of, too?

Well.

I was, as I said, completely engrossed with the task at hand: getting a shot of those towels. As often happens when I've got my camera, I was only marginally aware of the fact that Meghan had even walked into the room, and totally oblivious to what she held in her hand.

Until I heard it splash into the toilet.

At which point, lightning quick but not quick enough, I grabbed it right back out, sopping wet and dripping all over the floor...

...your book. The book.

I'm so, so sorry. I dried it off as best I could, fanned out the pages, and set it tenderly in a small shaft of sunlight on the table in our bay window. I think it can be salvaged. I know it has more character.

And now you know...as does the rest of the world, or at least whoever else reads this...that I am imperfect, after all. I neglect our bathroom. And our daughter, too, apparently.

At least when I've got my camera in hand.