Things couldn’t be more opposite in my home.

Take my closet, for example.

My husband’s side is the epitome of neat, baseball hats stacked like Legos, shoes aligned perfectly with laces tucked inside, shirts arranged by season, sweaters folded with the sleeves crossed in the same direction, and so on. It’s really kind of sickening, at least for some one like me, who is lucky to have more than 11 articles of clean clothing actually placed on a hangar.

I’m a little more spontaneous, or whimsical.

I go with the flow, and hope that somewhere along the way it all works out. Greg is a planner, and frets when his plan goes astray. I’m a multi-tasker, and somehow manage to maneuver around hurdles that present themselves. So our closet looks like half masterpiece, half trainwreck. Maybe my mess and his orderly ways cancel each other out, after all we married each other, right?

Our boys are similar.

Griffin is sentimental and always has some heartfelt phrase to share. I remember telling him how great his grandparents were to me, and what a good childhood I had, etc. He stopped me and said, ‘Kinda like I have good parents, right?’ Aww, shucks, that’s almost enough to make me forget he was grounded. ALMOST.

And then you have the flip side of the coin, my four-year-old. He’s a little more rough around the edges, as I like to say. He’s the same kid who, at barely three, insisted on putting himself in his carseat, saying ‘I can do it myself.’

And so it’s no surprise that I took Hayden out to dinner last week while big brother and Greg were at tackle football, and found myself enjoying the one-on-one time with my son. I told him it was ‘nice to have a little mommy-son date’, but he was all like, hey now, don’t get any ideas.

Hayden shot me a look and instantly said, ‘This is NOT a date, Mom. This is just a regular dinner. Regular, ok?

Got it.

Makes for an interesting household.