If yesterday had been performance review day at my office, I would probably be writing this from a cardboard box underneath an overpass next to a van down by the river. Luckily, my employers are both under 3 feet tall, and I'm not afraid of them, no matter how much they complain about my management style.

Yesterday was one of those days when I gave stay-at-home moms everywhere a bad name. The kind of day when I let MJ watch TV until 10:30 a.m. before making her come to the table for breakfast, and let the baby sleep longer than usual while I read the paper. It was the kind of day when nothing got picked up, no tasks were crossed off my to-do list, no plans were made and lots of heretofore non-negotiable rules about crayons, crackers and cups of water went largely unenforced. It was the kind of day that, upon being asked what was for dinner, I trudged to the pantry -- knowing that we were out of bread, milk, meat, chicken and cheese (I hadn't gone shopping, either) -- and presented the menu: a box of Aunt Jemima Complete Pancake and Waffle Mix.

It was a Just Add Water kind of day.

Sometimes, you just have to let go of getting everything right all the time, every day, so you can get up the next day, look around at the mess your laziness created and realize how much you're needed.

So every now and then, I find myself just letting go ... and embracing the Just Add Water theory of parenting, wherein the path of least resistance is always taken, the concoction requiring the least amount of ingredients is created and a lot of time is spent in the pursuit of doing nothing much at all. On those days, I ignore the American Academy of Pediatrics' warnings on excessive television viewing even more than normal. MJ's lunch might be a slice of cheese, canned green beans and a piece of bread -- assuming we have those three things. I might even look the other way while she fingerpaints with her yogurt. ("Look Mommy! I painted a picture of Daddy!") If anyone to whom I am married -- I don't want to name names -- comes home and complains about the fact that I let a 3-year-old "read"(i.e., shred) his <em>Popular Science</em> magazine, I usually mention something about carrying his children for nine months, labor pain, general suffering, etc.

When I waste time, it shows up in very visible ways, it's true. Nobody likes to walk across the kitchen floor, crunching Rice Krispies and smushing brown banana on his way to a fabulously gourmet pancake mix dinner. (Or frozen pancakes, if the mix is also gone.) People also like to have clean socks and underwear to wear to work, I have found. ("Um, is anybody going to do laundry anytime soon?") And I do have a guilty conscience when I let things slide a bit.

Every now and then, being lazy is OK. Maybe even healthy. You know, except for that goop stuck on the wall the next day, which no longer looks like peanut butter. You might want to get on that.

Beth appears every Tuesday on TriangleMom2Mom. Read more about Beth at her blog MotherBunker.