This morning, bright and early, Hayley had her tonsils removed. This was her choice, but after having strep and tonsillitis for many years, she decided enough was enough and arranged to have her surgery. Since she's old enough to do that now, I didn't have much say about it, but I went along to provide support, a ride, and pay the bills.
The only thing in the world that could get Hayley up before the crack of noon had kicked in - nerves - and she was up a full hour or two before we needed to leave. Comfy clothes, check. Glasses, no contacts, check. Removal of all jewelry including heinous new gauges in her ears, check. We were off!
When we arrived for check-in and were answering questions, I noticed a bunch of stuffed animals in bags behind the receptionist. As we filled out forms, she rummaged around and produced a teddy bear, which Hayley snatched to her chest like the toddler she is. Then, she signed her own consent forms, very adult-like.
When we were taken into the pre-op room to wait, I explained how the operation would work. "They take this big fork thing and stick it down your throat and twist until your tonsils pop off." LOL! Nothing like some sick humor when the nerves are kicking in. Just one of the many services I provide! She changed into a gown, much chagrined that she couldn't keep her bra on, and struck a sexy pose, like no one else can wearing two cotton gowns with strings and a pair of grey fuzzy hospital socks.
As she bounced and twitched in anticipation, I explained that once the blue cap came out, it was all over. She said "I hope they give me morphine. I love that stuff!" Um......
The nurse arrived with the blue cap which means "mom leaves now" and she took my baby to rip out her organs.
And then I waited. And got coffee. And texted. And used my phone so much checking my email and Facebook, and taking selfies that I immediately deleted, that the battery nearly ran out and I had to go tell them that my phone might not work any more so they better send someone out to let me know when she was ready.
And then I remembered I was going to film her in case she said anything funny while coming out from anesthesia, but my phone wouldn't work any more so I decided to use her phone and they came to get me. And she didn't say anything funny at all!
Soon enough, we were headed home where I made her chocolate pudding and she went to bed. I charged my phone and set alarms for every four hours. Because I am taking no chances with this one - I WILL make sure meds are on board and on time. For the sake of all who know her and love her.
And then I made a Chinese chicken salad for Arlie's gymnastics banquet tonight, which I'm sure isn't Chinese at all. The salad, not the banquet. And I ate lunch. And I was very, very tired.
And then I walked by the bathroom mirror and saw my grey roots and thought, damn it! I have been meaning to color my hair for days now but I keep forgetting until I walk past a mirror. So, then I thought if I'm going to color my hair and have to get in the shower anyway, I might as well work out, because why waste a perfectly good shower when I could do something good for my heart first, and then I thought fuck it. I'm going to take a nap.
And that is the story of our morning. I'm going to nap while my baby naps. Great advice I got at that very same hospital when she was an infant. But only for 24 minutes because then it's time for the powerful meds who's names being with hydro and oxy. For Hayley, of course. Not me. Psh.
Showing posts with label teens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teens. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Hell in a hand basket.........
Today I have a migraine. And I had to take my two youngest to get braces, which entailed a lot of waiting around, making a $700 payment with my credit card (because who has $700 lying around in their checking account? Oh, you do? Let's talk after, k?), then taking the newly-metaled kids to Panera for lunch. I suggested soft food - mac and cheese - but Harrison chose a gigantic hamburger, fries and two apple pies from McDonald's which he then took into, and ate, at Panera. Arlie had soup and a turkey sandwich and I'll admit it was kind of hilarious to watch her eat. She looked like she was having some type of seizure with all the facial gyrations she was doing. We went home for a short while before I had to run out again to take her to gymnastics, and, on the way, pick up her two carpool buddies at school.
My head was feeling kind of spacey/woozy and I was SO tired. The heat in the car and the Christmas music damn near put me to sleep at the wheel but I pressed on. I considered taking a nap in the parking lot, but needed a few things from Target, and had to pick up Hannah in short order, so I just went to Target. I was sort of dazed and confused, tired and cold, and just wanted a bed or a warm bath or something.
After picking up and dropping off kids here and there and finally arriving home for the night, I announced that the pork chops I was planning for dinner wouldn't be a good choice for the new braces and we were having pudding instead. Because I bought the mother lode of pudding, yogurt, soup and ice cream yesterday at the store. Soft foods, yay!
I was putting some snacks into a little snack basket I keep out in the kitchen when I found a piece of paper folded in quarters stuffed in among the granola bars and popcorn. It was a permission slip for a field trip that my son had brought home for me to sign. When I said "Hmmm, what's this? Does this need to be signed or something?" he produced another copy from his pocket, also folded in quarters. Well. At least he remembers what he forgets. Or something.
Then, I went to throw the original permission slip in the recycle and remembered that it was garbage night. And my son, who's job it is to do the garbage, was playing on his iPad. The Satan of all distractions. The evil force of nature that should never be brought into any self-respecting home with a teenager. Money is not the root of all evil. It's the iPad. So, of course I yelled at him for not doing the garbage - which he then couldn't do because he had to go to band practice. "I'll do it when I get home!" he said, swinging his bass out the door. Yeah. Right.
As I walked back to the table, I noticed a box of vanilla wafers that has sat, opened, on the kitchen table for three days now. Hannah got them out and has been told no less than three times to put them away, but there they sit. Undoubtedly stale by now.
Then, my phone started ringing and it was Hayley at work saying she had a "bad cough" and would I have any reason to go up to the mall so I could bring her some cough drops? Um. No.
Harrison's guitar is sitting in the corner by the back door - definitely not the place it belongs. But it was so much easier to just lean it against the nearest solid object than to walk it ten feet back to the living room where the guitar stand sits. He managed to get his backpack in the right place, but his bag of "goods" from the orthodontist office is sitting in the middle of the floor.
And this is why our house goes to hell in a hand basket on a daily basis. I suppose I could clean it all up, but then how would they learn? And I have this headache.........
This is why I eat cookies for dinner. Don't judge. You drink your wine. We all have our vices. Pass the Advil.....
My head was feeling kind of spacey/woozy and I was SO tired. The heat in the car and the Christmas music damn near put me to sleep at the wheel but I pressed on. I considered taking a nap in the parking lot, but needed a few things from Target, and had to pick up Hannah in short order, so I just went to Target. I was sort of dazed and confused, tired and cold, and just wanted a bed or a warm bath or something.
After picking up and dropping off kids here and there and finally arriving home for the night, I announced that the pork chops I was planning for dinner wouldn't be a good choice for the new braces and we were having pudding instead. Because I bought the mother lode of pudding, yogurt, soup and ice cream yesterday at the store. Soft foods, yay!
I was putting some snacks into a little snack basket I keep out in the kitchen when I found a piece of paper folded in quarters stuffed in among the granola bars and popcorn. It was a permission slip for a field trip that my son had brought home for me to sign. When I said "Hmmm, what's this? Does this need to be signed or something?" he produced another copy from his pocket, also folded in quarters. Well. At least he remembers what he forgets. Or something.
Then, I went to throw the original permission slip in the recycle and remembered that it was garbage night. And my son, who's job it is to do the garbage, was playing on his iPad. The Satan of all distractions. The evil force of nature that should never be brought into any self-respecting home with a teenager. Money is not the root of all evil. It's the iPad. So, of course I yelled at him for not doing the garbage - which he then couldn't do because he had to go to band practice. "I'll do it when I get home!" he said, swinging his bass out the door. Yeah. Right.
As I walked back to the table, I noticed a box of vanilla wafers that has sat, opened, on the kitchen table for three days now. Hannah got them out and has been told no less than three times to put them away, but there they sit. Undoubtedly stale by now.
Then, my phone started ringing and it was Hayley at work saying she had a "bad cough" and would I have any reason to go up to the mall so I could bring her some cough drops? Um. No.
Harrison's guitar is sitting in the corner by the back door - definitely not the place it belongs. But it was so much easier to just lean it against the nearest solid object than to walk it ten feet back to the living room where the guitar stand sits. He managed to get his backpack in the right place, but his bag of "goods" from the orthodontist office is sitting in the middle of the floor.
And this is why our house goes to hell in a hand basket on a daily basis. I suppose I could clean it all up, but then how would they learn? And I have this headache.........
This is why I eat cookies for dinner. Don't judge. You drink your wine. We all have our vices. Pass the Advil.....
Friday, October 26, 2012
Slob.......
Today I took Hannah to an orthodontist appointment at 9 a.m. Upon arriving at the office, the first thing I noticed was a grown man wearing pajama bottoms, a t-shirt with a coat over it, and flip-flops with socks. He was unshaven, clearly having just rolled out of bed (this was confirmed later when he mentioned to one of the office staff that he received a message that his appointment was earlier than planned so he "rolled out of bed" and hurried to the office so he wasn't late). And I call bullshit on that. How hard is it to throw on some pants? Shoes? Or take off the socks and just wear the flip-flops? Brush your hair?
I'm so sick of seeing people in their pajamas in public. It's not only the epitome of lazy, but it's also gross. I don't want your ass sitting all over chairs in public with your nasty pajamas on that you've probably been wearing four or five nights in a row, and have all your bed germs on them. Ew! Plus, are you going to just wear them home, lounge around in them all day and then crawl back into bed with them on? Sicko. Now they have "public" germs on them. Just wrong.
I hear my teenagers refer to it as "scrubbing." As in "I'm scrubbin' it today!" while wearing sweats, a sweatshirt, slippers that "double" as shoes because they have a semi-stable sole, and a "messy bun." Seriously? A messy bun is just another word for "bed head." We all know your hair is unwashed; pulling it up into a semi-bun and plucking out a few strategic strands does not disguise that fact. One time I went to my son's classroom wearing sheepskin slippers because I had them on at home, and ran out of the house before I realized I had them on, and not shoes. I was mortified. But then, I realized no one even noticed and they probably thought I was just "scrubbin'" that day.
I don't have a job where I have to wear fancy "work" clothes, but I do wear nice jeans, cute tops, matching jewelry. My day off, I live for my yoga pants, but I pair them with a nice top. I wouldn't be caught dead at the bus stop in flannel pajama bottoms and duck slippers; even when I stayed home and didn't "have to" dress for anyone or anything, I still put on real clothing and made an effort to tame my Medusa curls.
I mean, to each his own, but how hard is it, really, to just put on clothes and "get ready" for the day? I feel gross when I don't shower in the morning, and, although I'm a sport when it comes to camping with no showers, I live for baby wipes and a "spit bath" and nothing feels better than that first shower after a couple days in the camper. I don't know how people skip showers and wear the same clothes for days. Especially if you don't HAVE to.
Don't get me wrong - pajama day is fun! But not every day. And not in public. Especially if you're over the age of 18. Seriously. Just get dressed.
I'm so sick of seeing people in their pajamas in public. It's not only the epitome of lazy, but it's also gross. I don't want your ass sitting all over chairs in public with your nasty pajamas on that you've probably been wearing four or five nights in a row, and have all your bed germs on them. Ew! Plus, are you going to just wear them home, lounge around in them all day and then crawl back into bed with them on? Sicko. Now they have "public" germs on them. Just wrong.
I hear my teenagers refer to it as "scrubbing." As in "I'm scrubbin' it today!" while wearing sweats, a sweatshirt, slippers that "double" as shoes because they have a semi-stable sole, and a "messy bun." Seriously? A messy bun is just another word for "bed head." We all know your hair is unwashed; pulling it up into a semi-bun and plucking out a few strategic strands does not disguise that fact. One time I went to my son's classroom wearing sheepskin slippers because I had them on at home, and ran out of the house before I realized I had them on, and not shoes. I was mortified. But then, I realized no one even noticed and they probably thought I was just "scrubbin'" that day.
I don't have a job where I have to wear fancy "work" clothes, but I do wear nice jeans, cute tops, matching jewelry. My day off, I live for my yoga pants, but I pair them with a nice top. I wouldn't be caught dead at the bus stop in flannel pajama bottoms and duck slippers; even when I stayed home and didn't "have to" dress for anyone or anything, I still put on real clothing and made an effort to tame my Medusa curls.
I mean, to each his own, but how hard is it, really, to just put on clothes and "get ready" for the day? I feel gross when I don't shower in the morning, and, although I'm a sport when it comes to camping with no showers, I live for baby wipes and a "spit bath" and nothing feels better than that first shower after a couple days in the camper. I don't know how people skip showers and wear the same clothes for days. Especially if you don't HAVE to.
Don't get me wrong - pajama day is fun! But not every day. And not in public. Especially if you're over the age of 18. Seriously. Just get dressed.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The fourth long day.....
I had to write this post on the fifth day, because on the fourth day, I was too tired to keep my eyes open. On the fourth long day of the busiest week of the year, while my husband was busy out in the woods "not" hunting elk, I woke up early to take Hannah to a school assembly. I kind of figured I'd just drop her off, take a few pictures during the performance, then we'd be off and running in a half hour or so. Not. We arrived at 8:20 to find out the assembly didn't start till 9. So I got to sit with the drama kids waiting for their performance at the pep assembly, AND it turns out the performance was the very last thing on the agenda. Good times. But what I learned was that high school NEVER changes. Same groups, same cliques, same "popular" and "not popular" stuff. Nope - don't miss those days at ALL.
After the assembly, I picked up Hayley, who was house/pet sitting for a friend of mine. We dropped her off at work, and then Hannah and I went to Tully's for coffee and breakfast. It was lovely to just sit and enjoy coffee, even though I knew my time was limited because my mom and sister were driving here from Boise to see the kids' performance tonight, and my house was a pig sty! Gah! We arrived home around noon and I had exactly two hours to: do three loads of laundry, clean up Harrison's room and change the sheets on his bed, same to Arlie's room, vacuum the upstairs, pick up the downstairs, dust, and text the other kids the chores I needed them to do upon arriving home. I picked Hayley up from work and left minutes later to take Hannah to her school appointment. An hour later, we left there, arrived home for about ten minutes to change and were out the door again for call time.
My job last night was "kid wrangler" backstage. Let's just say it wasn't my favorite job.
After the show, everyone went to Applebee's. I wanted to go home since my mom and sister were now sitting at my house, with no one home, making fudge (yay!). But the kids wanted to go, so I had a mudslide drink with double kahlua. We arrived home at midnight, visited for a bit with the family, tasted the fudge, and then went to bed.
Well. They went to bed. I discovered that I'd left a HUGE pile of clothing and towels that needed to be folded on my bed. I REALLY didn't want to fold them at 1 a.m. so I pushed them all over to Jeff's side and crawled in. Finally a good reason for him to be gone!
On an unrelated note, I cut my finger on something in Harrison's room while I was cleaning it. It was more of a little, tiny slice, really, no big deal. Except I kept "catching" it on everything so I tried to trim the excess skin, but that didn't work. It was apparent that I needed a fingertip bandage. Which we don't have. And the thing is, I know we had some at one point. You know how you buy that box of fingertip bandages for that ONE time you cut your finger and then it takes you six or seven years to use it all up? Guess my seven years was up. So, I concocted this fingertip bandage of my own, using several different bandaids, but nothing worked. I don't even have a normal-sized bandaid. Clearly, it's bandaid shopping time. I don't even know why I just told you that story.
And since I'm writing this in the morning after the fourth long day, I will say that I had to get up early this morning.....again. I have had about five hours of sleep a night for the past several nights, so I was really hoping to sleep in this morning. But no. I had to go pick up Shade. The demon from Hell. I was not looking forward to this AT ALL, but Jeff asked if I could pick him up this morning so we didn't have to pay for boarding over the weekend. I agreed (but only because money was involved. Not love). At the vet, they gave me Shade's "report card" which said things like "I played well with ALL the dogs" and "I was a good, quiet boy!" WTF? They could not have been talking about OUR Shade? I even got a picture of Shade lying nonchalant next to a lovely golden retriever who seemed unfazed by the fact that he was in such close proximity to the Devil himself. When Shade came trotting out on his leash, he was indifferent to me. He couldn't get himself into the car so I had to struggle to help him. He weighs about 75 lbs! As soon as he was in the car, I could feel my stress level rising - his obnoxious noises, his disgusting breath....and I realized the sense of peace and calm I'd had every time I passed his empty kennel this past week. He wasn't home five minutes when he started barking and making noise while everyone was still trying to sleep. Back into the kennel he went. Get used to those bars, kid. (Bonus points for who can tell me what movie that line is from)!
The hunter returns today. Just in time to make pizzas for the cast party tonight. When I mentioned this to him he said he "owes" me one. I'd prefer my payment in the form of a massage or a weekend away, thank you. :) He won't be bringing home an elk, or any other form of nourishment for the family. I'm just hoping he doesn't bring home lyme disease or hantavirus. I can hardly wait to see (and smell) him - the mountain man, returned after the long hunt.
And now I just really want to sleep. But it's show day - again. A matinee and a show tonight. Call is at noon. Maybe I'll just shut my eyes for a minute...................
After the assembly, I picked up Hayley, who was house/pet sitting for a friend of mine. We dropped her off at work, and then Hannah and I went to Tully's for coffee and breakfast. It was lovely to just sit and enjoy coffee, even though I knew my time was limited because my mom and sister were driving here from Boise to see the kids' performance tonight, and my house was a pig sty! Gah! We arrived home around noon and I had exactly two hours to: do three loads of laundry, clean up Harrison's room and change the sheets on his bed, same to Arlie's room, vacuum the upstairs, pick up the downstairs, dust, and text the other kids the chores I needed them to do upon arriving home. I picked Hayley up from work and left minutes later to take Hannah to her school appointment. An hour later, we left there, arrived home for about ten minutes to change and were out the door again for call time.
My job last night was "kid wrangler" backstage. Let's just say it wasn't my favorite job.
After the show, everyone went to Applebee's. I wanted to go home since my mom and sister were now sitting at my house, with no one home, making fudge (yay!). But the kids wanted to go, so I had a mudslide drink with double kahlua. We arrived home at midnight, visited for a bit with the family, tasted the fudge, and then went to bed.
Well. They went to bed. I discovered that I'd left a HUGE pile of clothing and towels that needed to be folded on my bed. I REALLY didn't want to fold them at 1 a.m. so I pushed them all over to Jeff's side and crawled in. Finally a good reason for him to be gone!
On an unrelated note, I cut my finger on something in Harrison's room while I was cleaning it. It was more of a little, tiny slice, really, no big deal. Except I kept "catching" it on everything so I tried to trim the excess skin, but that didn't work. It was apparent that I needed a fingertip bandage. Which we don't have. And the thing is, I know we had some at one point. You know how you buy that box of fingertip bandages for that ONE time you cut your finger and then it takes you six or seven years to use it all up? Guess my seven years was up. So, I concocted this fingertip bandage of my own, using several different bandaids, but nothing worked. I don't even have a normal-sized bandaid. Clearly, it's bandaid shopping time. I don't even know why I just told you that story.
And since I'm writing this in the morning after the fourth long day, I will say that I had to get up early this morning.....again. I have had about five hours of sleep a night for the past several nights, so I was really hoping to sleep in this morning. But no. I had to go pick up Shade. The demon from Hell. I was not looking forward to this AT ALL, but Jeff asked if I could pick him up this morning so we didn't have to pay for boarding over the weekend. I agreed (but only because money was involved. Not love). At the vet, they gave me Shade's "report card" which said things like "I played well with ALL the dogs" and "I was a good, quiet boy!" WTF? They could not have been talking about OUR Shade? I even got a picture of Shade lying nonchalant next to a lovely golden retriever who seemed unfazed by the fact that he was in such close proximity to the Devil himself. When Shade came trotting out on his leash, he was indifferent to me. He couldn't get himself into the car so I had to struggle to help him. He weighs about 75 lbs! As soon as he was in the car, I could feel my stress level rising - his obnoxious noises, his disgusting breath....and I realized the sense of peace and calm I'd had every time I passed his empty kennel this past week. He wasn't home five minutes when he started barking and making noise while everyone was still trying to sleep. Back into the kennel he went. Get used to those bars, kid. (Bonus points for who can tell me what movie that line is from)!
The hunter returns today. Just in time to make pizzas for the cast party tonight. When I mentioned this to him he said he "owes" me one. I'd prefer my payment in the form of a massage or a weekend away, thank you. :) He won't be bringing home an elk, or any other form of nourishment for the family. I'm just hoping he doesn't bring home lyme disease or hantavirus. I can hardly wait to see (and smell) him - the mountain man, returned after the long hunt.
And now I just really want to sleep. But it's show day - again. A matinee and a show tonight. Call is at noon. Maybe I'll just shut my eyes for a minute...................
Friday, September 7, 2012
The third, long day.........
Today I got up before my alarm AND I had everything I needed for the day already packed and sitting by the door, AND I had time to make a smoothie for breakfast, AND I took two pink cookies in my lunch, so the day started out pretty awesome. It was my "longer" day at work, so I got a lot of stuff done after the kinders left, and then I ran to Target to return the pants I bought for Harrison yesterday (see yesterday's post!), then Costco to pick up the poster I had made of the kids' choir for the lobby. Then, I came home and actually had a few minutes to eat something, check my email and Facebook, and.........the best part ever.........I got to lay down for an hour and I may have just fallen asleep for a few minutes! The bad part about that is I was sleeping because my head hurt. A lot.
So, I woke up in time to remind the kids to get ready for the show, and that we needed to leave in a half hour. Harrison was on his iPad and ignored me. I noticed he had failed to completely clean up a spot of dog barf on the carpet (because of COURSE the dog barfed since my husband isn't here to clean it, and of COURSE it was the dog who NEVER barfs. Except when I'm home and my husband is not, apparently). Anyway, Harrison had to re-clean the spot and I reminded him, again, to get everything together. Finally, at 5:30 Arlie and I headed to the car and I asked Harrison if he was ready. He assured me he "just" needed to "grab" his things from upstairs.
We arrived on time, but of course, that had to be cursed, because minutes after we arrived, Harrison realized he had grabbed the wrong shirt from the dryer (he was supposed to have all his stuff put together, not grabbing stuff from the dryer!). I had to drive all the way back home and get the correct shirt. 45 minutes round trip (and we only live 6 miles from the school, but it was rush hour, after all!). Made it back a few minutes before curtain and all was well. Except for Harrison, who will not see his iPad for many, many days.
The show went off without a hitch. Well, there were some hitches. Like mics that were not turned on, lights that didn't go up or down on time, and some awkward moments with the emcees, but otherwise it was a good show! We didn't get home until after 11, but thank you, Taco Bell, for being open late because we were craving tacos something wicked. And of course I had to edit and upload photos so here it is, almost 1 a.m., and I'm not even in bed yet. Have to be back at the school by 8:15 for an assembly performance. Take Hayley to work by 10. Take Hannah to her consulting teacher appointment, pick up Hayley from work, and then get the kids back to the theatre for another show tomorrow night (during which I will volunteer as "kid wrangler" which means I have to keep the kids' choir in line - mwahahah!). Oh, and did I mention that I have family coming in unexpectedly for the show? I'm super excited but my house isn't guest-ready. And likely won't be. Because when would I clean it? I just hope they can overlook our slovenly ways. I wish I had a maid.
Update on the husband front - he sent me a picture of an owl, and texted that he hiked a bazillion miles today and "accomplished his goal of seeing elk". Um. I thought the goal was to shoot an elk. With a bow and arrow. Okey doke. He also mentioned he hiked 10 hrs and burned 4500 calories (because only my husband would be out in the wilderness but still have his heart rate monitor on him!). Well, la-di-dah. He's missing his bed, hot shower, and apparently (but in third place) me.
Toodles. Time to crash.
So, I woke up in time to remind the kids to get ready for the show, and that we needed to leave in a half hour. Harrison was on his iPad and ignored me. I noticed he had failed to completely clean up a spot of dog barf on the carpet (because of COURSE the dog barfed since my husband isn't here to clean it, and of COURSE it was the dog who NEVER barfs. Except when I'm home and my husband is not, apparently). Anyway, Harrison had to re-clean the spot and I reminded him, again, to get everything together. Finally, at 5:30 Arlie and I headed to the car and I asked Harrison if he was ready. He assured me he "just" needed to "grab" his things from upstairs.
We arrived on time, but of course, that had to be cursed, because minutes after we arrived, Harrison realized he had grabbed the wrong shirt from the dryer (he was supposed to have all his stuff put together, not grabbing stuff from the dryer!). I had to drive all the way back home and get the correct shirt. 45 minutes round trip (and we only live 6 miles from the school, but it was rush hour, after all!). Made it back a few minutes before curtain and all was well. Except for Harrison, who will not see his iPad for many, many days.
The show went off without a hitch. Well, there were some hitches. Like mics that were not turned on, lights that didn't go up or down on time, and some awkward moments with the emcees, but otherwise it was a good show! We didn't get home until after 11, but thank you, Taco Bell, for being open late because we were craving tacos something wicked. And of course I had to edit and upload photos so here it is, almost 1 a.m., and I'm not even in bed yet. Have to be back at the school by 8:15 for an assembly performance. Take Hayley to work by 10. Take Hannah to her consulting teacher appointment, pick up Hayley from work, and then get the kids back to the theatre for another show tomorrow night (during which I will volunteer as "kid wrangler" which means I have to keep the kids' choir in line - mwahahah!). Oh, and did I mention that I have family coming in unexpectedly for the show? I'm super excited but my house isn't guest-ready. And likely won't be. Because when would I clean it? I just hope they can overlook our slovenly ways. I wish I had a maid.
Update on the husband front - he sent me a picture of an owl, and texted that he hiked a bazillion miles today and "accomplished his goal of seeing elk". Um. I thought the goal was to shoot an elk. With a bow and arrow. Okey doke. He also mentioned he hiked 10 hrs and burned 4500 calories (because only my husband would be out in the wilderness but still have his heart rate monitor on him!). Well, la-di-dah. He's missing his bed, hot shower, and apparently (but in third place) me.
Toodles. Time to crash.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
The second, long day..........
So, today was just as long as yesterday. Which doesn't surprise me because they're all 24 hours, no? The kids started school today so I made sure to block out some time to take the requisite pictures with the requisite sign (that we've had for YEARS!). Then, I sent them off, smiling and happy, to start a bright, shiny new year of school. HA! Kidding! I sent them off with grimaces, sleepy and nervous, to the way-too-early bus. I barely got into the house when I got a "we forgot our lunches!" text. Crap. I raced up to the bus stop in the van and the driver was loading the last kids. I motioned frantically for them to come and get their lunches but they just looked mortified to be caught in the "dork forgot their lunch" moment and looked helplessly at me from their window seats. WTF? The bus drove off and I circled back around to the house with the lunches, leaving them on the porch for my ex to pick up and deliver (saved by the dad).
Then, I was ten minutes late for work. BUT I was a total badass so it didn't matter. Here's why. I was supposed to bring in pictures of my family to do "show and tell" today (which was really a lesson in how to do show and tell for the kids). All my pictures are on my computer and I didn't have ANY time last night or this morning to put something together, so I just grabbed my whole laptop and took it to work with me. When I got there, no one was around yet, so I plugged in my computer and put together a powerpoint presentation of my family in TEN MINUTES! And it was the VERY FIRST time I've ever done a powerpoint. I mean, I'm lucky I even knew where to FIND it on my computer. Rockstar!
I mentioned that I needed to leave immediately after work to run an errand, but got caught up laminating some stuff and left 15 minutes late. I raced to Target to buy black pants for Harrison for the show this weekend. While I was there Hannah texted me that she needed black sweats. I scooped up two pairs of black pants for Harrison, the sweats, and, ok, a couple of lip tints for myself. I scurried home to pick up Hannah and take her to rehearsal. Dropped her off and headed to Walgreen's to pick up a prescription. And, ok, a couple more makeup items for myself. By this time the jr high kids would be getting home, so I drove back to the house to collect them and take them to a little "first day of school" coffee outing. But first I stopped by the thrift store to find some black shoes for Harrison. Total score! Not only did I find black shoes, I found black pants (hello, returning the 29.99 pair and the 24.99 pair I picked up at Target!), and two whole bags of other clothes for a grand total of $20. This included a fancy dress for Arlie, a jacket, sweater, top and skirt for me, the pants for Harrison, the shoes, AND, the find of the day, the most horrendously patterned dress with the tag still attached ($80!) for 2.50. Hello, Halloween costume for me! :)
But I digress. I LOVE THE THRIFT STORE!
Then, we headed to Starbucks where I dropped more cash for coffee and treats than for all those clothes combined. By the way, the new salted caramel cake pop is divine. The kids unloaded a mound of papers on me to sign, fill out, and read. We went home for a few minutes to change and then raced to rehearsal (after I looked at the clock and said "HOLY SHIT! Is it really 5:10? We've gotta GO!").
Rehearsal. Wow. Lots of tension. STRESS with a capital "S". The kids ran their numbers, there was lots of discussion, we waited for Harrison to run his number with the high school cast. I took a group picture of the kids (after reminding them to gather for the group picture and then having half of them change out of their costumes before we got the picture! Argh!). Arlie and I ran to QFC for some dinner stuff around 7. I just ate my sandwich, which was a hot panini at 7, but a mushy mess at 9:30. Oh well.
I got home, edited the group picture, ordered a poster to pick up tomorrow at Costco so it will be ready to put in the lobby for the show, and made a mental note of all the extra supplies the kids need now that school has started (A 120-page spiral? Wow, that's specific. And a 1 inch binder for just your class? After I bought the huge zippered binder for "all" the classes?). Now I get to make lunches, clean up the kitchen, put together the essential items for tomorrow, and, hopefully, finally get some sweet sleep.
Jeff texted me earlier from elk camp saying he was tired and at camp "waiting for night to come". Whaaattt?
Whatever. I have pink frosted cookies I bought at the store. So there.
Then, I was ten minutes late for work. BUT I was a total badass so it didn't matter. Here's why. I was supposed to bring in pictures of my family to do "show and tell" today (which was really a lesson in how to do show and tell for the kids). All my pictures are on my computer and I didn't have ANY time last night or this morning to put something together, so I just grabbed my whole laptop and took it to work with me. When I got there, no one was around yet, so I plugged in my computer and put together a powerpoint presentation of my family in TEN MINUTES! And it was the VERY FIRST time I've ever done a powerpoint. I mean, I'm lucky I even knew where to FIND it on my computer. Rockstar!
I mentioned that I needed to leave immediately after work to run an errand, but got caught up laminating some stuff and left 15 minutes late. I raced to Target to buy black pants for Harrison for the show this weekend. While I was there Hannah texted me that she needed black sweats. I scooped up two pairs of black pants for Harrison, the sweats, and, ok, a couple of lip tints for myself. I scurried home to pick up Hannah and take her to rehearsal. Dropped her off and headed to Walgreen's to pick up a prescription. And, ok, a couple more makeup items for myself. By this time the jr high kids would be getting home, so I drove back to the house to collect them and take them to a little "first day of school" coffee outing. But first I stopped by the thrift store to find some black shoes for Harrison. Total score! Not only did I find black shoes, I found black pants (hello, returning the 29.99 pair and the 24.99 pair I picked up at Target!), and two whole bags of other clothes for a grand total of $20. This included a fancy dress for Arlie, a jacket, sweater, top and skirt for me, the pants for Harrison, the shoes, AND, the find of the day, the most horrendously patterned dress with the tag still attached ($80!) for 2.50. Hello, Halloween costume for me! :)
But I digress. I LOVE THE THRIFT STORE!
Then, we headed to Starbucks where I dropped more cash for coffee and treats than for all those clothes combined. By the way, the new salted caramel cake pop is divine. The kids unloaded a mound of papers on me to sign, fill out, and read. We went home for a few minutes to change and then raced to rehearsal (after I looked at the clock and said "HOLY SHIT! Is it really 5:10? We've gotta GO!").
Rehearsal. Wow. Lots of tension. STRESS with a capital "S". The kids ran their numbers, there was lots of discussion, we waited for Harrison to run his number with the high school cast. I took a group picture of the kids (after reminding them to gather for the group picture and then having half of them change out of their costumes before we got the picture! Argh!). Arlie and I ran to QFC for some dinner stuff around 7. I just ate my sandwich, which was a hot panini at 7, but a mushy mess at 9:30. Oh well.
I got home, edited the group picture, ordered a poster to pick up tomorrow at Costco so it will be ready to put in the lobby for the show, and made a mental note of all the extra supplies the kids need now that school has started (A 120-page spiral? Wow, that's specific. And a 1 inch binder for just your class? After I bought the huge zippered binder for "all" the classes?). Now I get to make lunches, clean up the kitchen, put together the essential items for tomorrow, and, hopefully, finally get some sweet sleep.
Jeff texted me earlier from elk camp saying he was tired and at camp "waiting for night to come". Whaaattt?
Whatever. I have pink frosted cookies I bought at the store. So there.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The first, long day.........
Today was my first day back at work after a long, lazy summer. Sleeping in WAS the norm, and everything was relatively unscheduled. It was fun to be a kid again. Today, I had to be a grown-up. Which we all know sucks. :)
So, I went to work (thanking GOD I only work part-time because 1. I need at LEAST the other half of the day to drive my kids all over Hell and Creation, and 2. I work with special-needs kids, which feels like working a ten hour day every 30 minutes!), and after work I raced home to pick up the girls by 1:30 so Hannah could be at rehearsal by 1:45 (ish). Dropped her off, and headed to the junior high to pick up Harrison who was working as a "Web Leader" helping incoming 7th graders become acquainted with the school (and singing the praises of the nacho cheese sauce at school which is "real, not rubbery. You don't even have to peel off the first layer to get to the cheese!" Thank you, Jesus, for real lunchroom food.). After dropping him off at home, I received a text from Hayley that said "My bike broke and I can't ride it home." Because we're down one car, she had to ride her bike to work today. But, alas, it "broke" (read, the chain fell off!) so she could not ride it home. Back down the hill I went to pick her and the broken bike up and deposit both back at home.
Finally I could run my errands! I desperately needed to go to the dance supply store and get Hannah new character shoes because she LOST hers (and she will pay dearly!) and new jazz shoes because hers were full of holes and her performance is this weekend. Arlie also needed tap shoes and new jazz shoes, and these nifty little things called "foot undies". They are basically a thong for your foot. Slutty feet. Anyway. Getting to this place was a death-defying feat as it is located off a VERY busy highway and you have to veer over an on-ramp and swerve into the parking lot at breakneck speed to avoid being broadsided by a pickup truck, then narrowly avoid hitting the car leaving the parking lot just as you are driving in. Well, maybe that was just me. We spent about 30 minutes trying on shoes in a stuffy upstairs room and then went downstairs to plunk down $220 for four pairs of shoes! Good Lord in Heaven.
We then had to take the shoes back to the high school so Hannah could try them on. Thankfully, they fit, so I'm hoping I don't have to return to the store and make another stunt move to get into the parking lot. After the shoe drop (haha, see what I did there?), we headed to the music store to pick up the newly repaired flute ($95) and the piccolo which needed a complete overhaul to the tune of $295 which we declined. A very nice lady, who had THREE flute degrees (really?), worked on the piccolo for us (for FREE!) and got it working just fine. So, now Arlie has both a flute and a piccolo for band tomorrow (and a promise from nice lady to provide private lessons next month).
We also stopped by the dance studio to sign up, but no one was there. So, that's another thing I have to do tomorrow!
We finally got home and I was STARVING! I whipped up a tater-tot casserole and realized I had ten ears of corn I bought several days ago that weren't getting any fresher. So, I shucked corn while literally shaking from hunger, and added that to the dinner menu (along with watermelon which has become a staple around here!). What's this? A home-cooked meal after a long, long day? SUPERWOMAN! Eh.
And now I have to assemble some photos because tomorrow is my "show and tell" day at kindergarten where I "show" pictures of my family and "tell" the kids about them. I also have to fill out a sports packet, get a package ready to mail, get my clothes ready for tomorrow, make lunches, do some laundry, and make sure the kids are ready for school tomorrow (which mostly consists of changing the date on our "first day of school" sign we use every year in pictures!). Oh, I also did some legit work for my husband on his computer, with directions texted to me from a remote campsite, and I made a couple of appointments/phone calls while waiting in the car.
But, most importantly, it's Dance Moms night so all this shit needs to be done by 9 because after that I'm watching my smut, and enjoying my fleur de sel caramels my husband had shipped overnight to me from San Francisco for our anniversary. And then I'll sleep a few hours and do it all over again.
Being a kid is FUN! Kids, quit bitching about going to school and that one stupid science teacher you have! You could be paying your own bills! I'll leave you with this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPi2s1K_pgU
Happy Tuesday! :)
So, I went to work (thanking GOD I only work part-time because 1. I need at LEAST the other half of the day to drive my kids all over Hell and Creation, and 2. I work with special-needs kids, which feels like working a ten hour day every 30 minutes!), and after work I raced home to pick up the girls by 1:30 so Hannah could be at rehearsal by 1:45 (ish). Dropped her off, and headed to the junior high to pick up Harrison who was working as a "Web Leader" helping incoming 7th graders become acquainted with the school (and singing the praises of the nacho cheese sauce at school which is "real, not rubbery. You don't even have to peel off the first layer to get to the cheese!" Thank you, Jesus, for real lunchroom food.). After dropping him off at home, I received a text from Hayley that said "My bike broke and I can't ride it home." Because we're down one car, she had to ride her bike to work today. But, alas, it "broke" (read, the chain fell off!) so she could not ride it home. Back down the hill I went to pick her and the broken bike up and deposit both back at home.
Finally I could run my errands! I desperately needed to go to the dance supply store and get Hannah new character shoes because she LOST hers (and she will pay dearly!) and new jazz shoes because hers were full of holes and her performance is this weekend. Arlie also needed tap shoes and new jazz shoes, and these nifty little things called "foot undies". They are basically a thong for your foot. Slutty feet. Anyway. Getting to this place was a death-defying feat as it is located off a VERY busy highway and you have to veer over an on-ramp and swerve into the parking lot at breakneck speed to avoid being broadsided by a pickup truck, then narrowly avoid hitting the car leaving the parking lot just as you are driving in. Well, maybe that was just me. We spent about 30 minutes trying on shoes in a stuffy upstairs room and then went downstairs to plunk down $220 for four pairs of shoes! Good Lord in Heaven.
We then had to take the shoes back to the high school so Hannah could try them on. Thankfully, they fit, so I'm hoping I don't have to return to the store and make another stunt move to get into the parking lot. After the shoe drop (haha, see what I did there?), we headed to the music store to pick up the newly repaired flute ($95) and the piccolo which needed a complete overhaul to the tune of $295 which we declined. A very nice lady, who had THREE flute degrees (really?), worked on the piccolo for us (for FREE!) and got it working just fine. So, now Arlie has both a flute and a piccolo for band tomorrow (and a promise from nice lady to provide private lessons next month).
We also stopped by the dance studio to sign up, but no one was there. So, that's another thing I have to do tomorrow!
We finally got home and I was STARVING! I whipped up a tater-tot casserole and realized I had ten ears of corn I bought several days ago that weren't getting any fresher. So, I shucked corn while literally shaking from hunger, and added that to the dinner menu (along with watermelon which has become a staple around here!). What's this? A home-cooked meal after a long, long day? SUPERWOMAN! Eh.
And now I have to assemble some photos because tomorrow is my "show and tell" day at kindergarten where I "show" pictures of my family and "tell" the kids about them. I also have to fill out a sports packet, get a package ready to mail, get my clothes ready for tomorrow, make lunches, do some laundry, and make sure the kids are ready for school tomorrow (which mostly consists of changing the date on our "first day of school" sign we use every year in pictures!). Oh, I also did some legit work for my husband on his computer, with directions texted to me from a remote campsite, and I made a couple of appointments/phone calls while waiting in the car.
But, most importantly, it's Dance Moms night so all this shit needs to be done by 9 because after that I'm watching my smut, and enjoying my fleur de sel caramels my husband had shipped overnight to me from San Francisco for our anniversary. And then I'll sleep a few hours and do it all over again.
Being a kid is FUN! Kids, quit bitching about going to school and that one stupid science teacher you have! You could be paying your own bills! I'll leave you with this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPi2s1K_pgU
Happy Tuesday! :)
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
It's not my fault you're irresponsible.........
Today I forgot an appointment my daughter had at 1 p.m. She texted me asking if it was still on and I replied yes, and could she ask her sister to take her? I was visiting a friend and knew her sister didn't have to work until later in the day. I was willing to get her if that didn't work out, but it did and she was dropped off, albeit late, to the appointment. I received a phone call shortly after from my eldest, asking if I would be picking her sister up from the appointment. Since it was only an hour, I said no, she could wait for her sister. She immediately gave me a litany of excuses ranging from "I haven't even showered yet" (um, hello? It's 1 p.m.) to "I wasn't planning on spending an hour of my day doing something for YOU!" (well, I wasn't planning on spending 19 years doing everything for YOU, but here we are) and "what am I supposed to DO for an HOUR?" (I suggested some self-reflection on how she could do more for others). She then told me I was "irresponsible", "she's YOUR daughter!" and "it's not my job to take up the slack for you screwing up".
Whoa. The joy continues.
Well, I'm off to happy hour with my husband! :) Hope the kids find something to make for dinner tonight.
Whoa. The joy continues.
Well, I'm off to happy hour with my husband! :) Hope the kids find something to make for dinner tonight.
The one where the mom loses her mind.........
Today was Jeff's 44th birthday. It snuck up on me - I couldn't believe it was July already! I had ordered him some backpacking/hunting type things as gifts, only one of which arrived in time for his actual birthday morning. I picked up double chocolate muffins the night before, because in our house, the "birthday fairy" (me) decorates the table and puts up balloons and puts your gifts on the table so it's the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning. So, I had to scramble a bit because I didn't plan ahead. But all was well, and the birthday morning went off without a hitch (even though it was just the two of us, because no one else could be bothered to get up that early to say happy birthday).
Then, came the party part. We invited over our two best neighbor friend/couples for appetizers, drinks and cupcakes. I had planned what I'd make, purchased (most of) the ingredients, and had a plan for getting the house cleaned for the party. That "plan" included the kids, as it should have, since they LIVE here and should be helping out anyway, right? Wrong. I asked Hannah to vacuum. For four hours. Over and over I asked and reminded and finally said "I need your help now". All of which were met with grumbling, whining, "just a sec" and other avoidance techniques. When she finally did make motions to do it, it was not without grumbling about being "the only one" who "ever" does anything. And I lost it.
A blogger friend of mine said "even Superman had his kryptonite" and I guess this was mine. I am sick to DEATH of my kids whining, grumbling, eye-rolling, debating, tantruming, etc. when they are asked to simply contribute to the household chores. I've held hour-long debates about why someone shouldn't have to vacuum the upstairs (which takes 15 minutes, tops). I've been called nasty names and accused of being "OCD", "you care too much what other people think", "maybe if you didn't yell at us, we'd do it" all over asking for the garbage to be taken out or the dishes to be done. I'd like to qualify this by saying my house is NOT picture-perfect and never will be. My standards are very relaxed. I don't ask much, but what I do ask is ALWAYS met with negativity. And I'm just DONE.
Nasty words flew from both of our mouths. Things neither of us should have said, and all over a simple request to vacuum. What a sad, sad example of how things roll around here. In the end, she retreated, I vacuumed, and did ALL of the other cleaning, party prep, household chores. Needless to say, nothing was ready when the guests arrived and my girlfriends ended up helping me get things finished off. Definitely not the way I planned for the day to go. Especially the part where Jeff arrived home early to a kitchen in disarray, the bedding in the wash, and all he wanted to do was come home early and take a nap. I had planned to have a clean bed, planned to be a lot farther along in the food prep process, planned to NOT be in yoga pants and a sweaty shirt, not showered, at 4 p.m. I had not planned to reach my breaking point when I got the final whine about vacuuming.
This evening, after scrambling to find sheets for the bed (flannel, that's all I had clean!), I told Jeff I could not imagine making such a production over chores when I was younger. He said "what's the difference?" to which I could only reply "my mom would have smacked me!" Now, I don't want to debate corporal punishment here, but I'm sure the threat of being smacked was not the only motivator. I just knew that some things were not debatable. And chores were one of those things. Not to mention I would have NEVER called my mom the names my daughter called me. Would my mom have called me the names I called her? Probably. The bottom line is that my mom would NOT have put up with that kind of behavior, and I knew better than to cross the line. With my kids, it appears there are no lines.
I've modeled the behavior I expect. We have rules and chore lists - both of which seem to be ignored more often than not. Which makes me the constant enforcer. The drill sergeant. And I'm so sick of it. I honestly do not understand 1. why anyone would want to live in filth, 2. why it's such a big deal to spend a few minutes each day picking up after yourself and doing some chores for the good of the household and 3. why all the rules seem to be "negotiable". I stick to my guns. I dole out punishments when warranted. I put up chore charts, I remind, I nag, I ignore, I leave things on the floor for days hoping someone will notice and pick it up but no one ever does.
The kids share a bathroom and it's filthy. Not just cluttered, because it's certainly that, but it's disgusting. Towels stacked five feet high tower in the laundry basket, and the floor is covered with a layer of clothing (rule: no leaving your clothing in the bathroom), and more towels. The counter is covered in cosmetics, bottles, toothbrushes, smears of toothpaste. Hayley leaves her contact wrappers all over the countertop. No one ever puts the toilet paper ON the roll. Perhaps the effort of unwrapping the paper is just too much and putting it on the very difficult contraption called the toilet paper holder is impossible for their minds to grasp? The shower walls are covered in hair. How hard is it to just rinse that away after your shower? Arlie complains about it all the time and doesn't even want to shower in that bathroom. I don't blame her. I wouldn't.
We have a rule of no eating in the family room. Yet today I found three pop cans, two bowls, various plastic wrappers, a spoon and a plastic take-out container in there. There is no way in the world I have time to police who the offender is. And no one would 'fess up to it in a million years.
When the toilet is clogged, "no one" ever did it. Instead of plunging it, they will use another bathroom and ignore the clogged toilet for days, unless I happen upon it and fix the problem. They've all been taught basic plunger techniques so there's really no excuse. Dog messes will remain "unseen" until I notice it and then it's as if I've asked them to cut off an arm when I demand they clean it.
Our dishes rule is "rinse and put in the left side of the sink". They're not even required to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, for cryin' out loud, and do you think they can follow that rinse and to the left rule? Not a chance. Some days, Jeff refuses to cook because he can't get to the sink for all the dishes piled on both sides. Bedrooms floors are covered in clothing that is sometimes clean, sometimes not. I've actually seen them dump baskets of clean clothes on the floor because I demanded they return the baskets to the laundry room. The clothes lay in a heap so long they can no longer tell which are clean and which are dirty so they will just rewash them. And dump them back on the floor.
I wash, dry and fold the towels. I only ask that they bring the dirty towels into the proper receptacle in the laundry room. They don't. I wash the ones I use and put them neatly in the linen closet. When they have exhausted that supply, they reach for beach towels. When those are gone, they use hand towels and complain that there are "no towels" clean. Back to that five-foot pile of towels in their bathroom. All they have to do is move them a few feet and they could be washed, dried, folded and put away by ME. What service!
The kids do their own laundry. Which means they don't do it. And here is where I admit a huge mistake - buying them clothing. I have bought them way too many clothes, because they can go weeks without washing and still have things to wear. And when they run out, they've been known to just pilfer out of the parents' closet. Without permission.
It makes my kids very angry when I say this, but the truth is, Arlie is the only one who consistently follows the chore list and the rules. She does her chores not because she loves to do chores, but because she enjoys a clean living space. And because it's a requirement of our household. No questions. So, why can one child do it and not three others? Priorities and choices. My three spend almost all day in front of a screen, so I know they have plenty of time to keep things neat, follow the rules, and contribute to a tidy household. They just choose not to. It's summer and they have very few obligations, but they spend a good portion of each day sleeping, laying around, and eating. They rarely go outside. They never exercise. Any attempt to "force" these issues is met with World War 3. Screaming, dramatics, long, drawn-out missives on why they can't do it. It's utterly exhausting.
So, I would like to know - what chores do your kids do? What are the consequences to not doing the chores? How is it policed? Because I am sick of hearing the whining and excuses. It should not be such a debate or such a big deal. Certainly a simple request to do a simple chore should not result in the screaming match that greeted my husband when he arrived home early on his birthday. Is it really too much to ask? What I do know is this: I need a vacation. I suggested today that my three kids should spend the next week at their dad's. Let him see how lazy they are. Not that it would make any difference, because a week is barely enough time for the novelty to wear off. And getting the girls to spend a week there would be like pulling teeth,. Plus, it would be vacation, not a lesson. So, what's the point, really?
All I wanted was for today to be a fun birthday celebration for Jeff. We did have fun, and laughs, when all was said and done, but the stress I went through just to try and do it all myself with no help from anyone else was NOT worth it for me. Next year, we'll just go out to dinner like everyone else. Parties and gatherings used to be our "thing". We were the "fun house". But the effort required to host is just too much for one person, so I'm hanging up my hat, until someone else decides to come forward and help just for the sake of being part of a family. Isn't that what it's really all about? Helping others just because it's the right thing to do? How does that lesson get taught? Where am I going wrong?
Then, came the party part. We invited over our two best neighbor friend/couples for appetizers, drinks and cupcakes. I had planned what I'd make, purchased (most of) the ingredients, and had a plan for getting the house cleaned for the party. That "plan" included the kids, as it should have, since they LIVE here and should be helping out anyway, right? Wrong. I asked Hannah to vacuum. For four hours. Over and over I asked and reminded and finally said "I need your help now". All of which were met with grumbling, whining, "just a sec" and other avoidance techniques. When she finally did make motions to do it, it was not without grumbling about being "the only one" who "ever" does anything. And I lost it.
A blogger friend of mine said "even Superman had his kryptonite" and I guess this was mine. I am sick to DEATH of my kids whining, grumbling, eye-rolling, debating, tantruming, etc. when they are asked to simply contribute to the household chores. I've held hour-long debates about why someone shouldn't have to vacuum the upstairs (which takes 15 minutes, tops). I've been called nasty names and accused of being "OCD", "you care too much what other people think", "maybe if you didn't yell at us, we'd do it" all over asking for the garbage to be taken out or the dishes to be done. I'd like to qualify this by saying my house is NOT picture-perfect and never will be. My standards are very relaxed. I don't ask much, but what I do ask is ALWAYS met with negativity. And I'm just DONE.
Nasty words flew from both of our mouths. Things neither of us should have said, and all over a simple request to vacuum. What a sad, sad example of how things roll around here. In the end, she retreated, I vacuumed, and did ALL of the other cleaning, party prep, household chores. Needless to say, nothing was ready when the guests arrived and my girlfriends ended up helping me get things finished off. Definitely not the way I planned for the day to go. Especially the part where Jeff arrived home early to a kitchen in disarray, the bedding in the wash, and all he wanted to do was come home early and take a nap. I had planned to have a clean bed, planned to be a lot farther along in the food prep process, planned to NOT be in yoga pants and a sweaty shirt, not showered, at 4 p.m. I had not planned to reach my breaking point when I got the final whine about vacuuming.
This evening, after scrambling to find sheets for the bed (flannel, that's all I had clean!), I told Jeff I could not imagine making such a production over chores when I was younger. He said "what's the difference?" to which I could only reply "my mom would have smacked me!" Now, I don't want to debate corporal punishment here, but I'm sure the threat of being smacked was not the only motivator. I just knew that some things were not debatable. And chores were one of those things. Not to mention I would have NEVER called my mom the names my daughter called me. Would my mom have called me the names I called her? Probably. The bottom line is that my mom would NOT have put up with that kind of behavior, and I knew better than to cross the line. With my kids, it appears there are no lines.
I've modeled the behavior I expect. We have rules and chore lists - both of which seem to be ignored more often than not. Which makes me the constant enforcer. The drill sergeant. And I'm so sick of it. I honestly do not understand 1. why anyone would want to live in filth, 2. why it's such a big deal to spend a few minutes each day picking up after yourself and doing some chores for the good of the household and 3. why all the rules seem to be "negotiable". I stick to my guns. I dole out punishments when warranted. I put up chore charts, I remind, I nag, I ignore, I leave things on the floor for days hoping someone will notice and pick it up but no one ever does.
The kids share a bathroom and it's filthy. Not just cluttered, because it's certainly that, but it's disgusting. Towels stacked five feet high tower in the laundry basket, and the floor is covered with a layer of clothing (rule: no leaving your clothing in the bathroom), and more towels. The counter is covered in cosmetics, bottles, toothbrushes, smears of toothpaste. Hayley leaves her contact wrappers all over the countertop. No one ever puts the toilet paper ON the roll. Perhaps the effort of unwrapping the paper is just too much and putting it on the very difficult contraption called the toilet paper holder is impossible for their minds to grasp? The shower walls are covered in hair. How hard is it to just rinse that away after your shower? Arlie complains about it all the time and doesn't even want to shower in that bathroom. I don't blame her. I wouldn't.
We have a rule of no eating in the family room. Yet today I found three pop cans, two bowls, various plastic wrappers, a spoon and a plastic take-out container in there. There is no way in the world I have time to police who the offender is. And no one would 'fess up to it in a million years.
When the toilet is clogged, "no one" ever did it. Instead of plunging it, they will use another bathroom and ignore the clogged toilet for days, unless I happen upon it and fix the problem. They've all been taught basic plunger techniques so there's really no excuse. Dog messes will remain "unseen" until I notice it and then it's as if I've asked them to cut off an arm when I demand they clean it.
Our dishes rule is "rinse and put in the left side of the sink". They're not even required to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, for cryin' out loud, and do you think they can follow that rinse and to the left rule? Not a chance. Some days, Jeff refuses to cook because he can't get to the sink for all the dishes piled on both sides. Bedrooms floors are covered in clothing that is sometimes clean, sometimes not. I've actually seen them dump baskets of clean clothes on the floor because I demanded they return the baskets to the laundry room. The clothes lay in a heap so long they can no longer tell which are clean and which are dirty so they will just rewash them. And dump them back on the floor.
I wash, dry and fold the towels. I only ask that they bring the dirty towels into the proper receptacle in the laundry room. They don't. I wash the ones I use and put them neatly in the linen closet. When they have exhausted that supply, they reach for beach towels. When those are gone, they use hand towels and complain that there are "no towels" clean. Back to that five-foot pile of towels in their bathroom. All they have to do is move them a few feet and they could be washed, dried, folded and put away by ME. What service!
The kids do their own laundry. Which means they don't do it. And here is where I admit a huge mistake - buying them clothing. I have bought them way too many clothes, because they can go weeks without washing and still have things to wear. And when they run out, they've been known to just pilfer out of the parents' closet. Without permission.
It makes my kids very angry when I say this, but the truth is, Arlie is the only one who consistently follows the chore list and the rules. She does her chores not because she loves to do chores, but because she enjoys a clean living space. And because it's a requirement of our household. No questions. So, why can one child do it and not three others? Priorities and choices. My three spend almost all day in front of a screen, so I know they have plenty of time to keep things neat, follow the rules, and contribute to a tidy household. They just choose not to. It's summer and they have very few obligations, but they spend a good portion of each day sleeping, laying around, and eating. They rarely go outside. They never exercise. Any attempt to "force" these issues is met with World War 3. Screaming, dramatics, long, drawn-out missives on why they can't do it. It's utterly exhausting.
So, I would like to know - what chores do your kids do? What are the consequences to not doing the chores? How is it policed? Because I am sick of hearing the whining and excuses. It should not be such a debate or such a big deal. Certainly a simple request to do a simple chore should not result in the screaming match that greeted my husband when he arrived home early on his birthday. Is it really too much to ask? What I do know is this: I need a vacation. I suggested today that my three kids should spend the next week at their dad's. Let him see how lazy they are. Not that it would make any difference, because a week is barely enough time for the novelty to wear off. And getting the girls to spend a week there would be like pulling teeth,. Plus, it would be vacation, not a lesson. So, what's the point, really?
All I wanted was for today to be a fun birthday celebration for Jeff. We did have fun, and laughs, when all was said and done, but the stress I went through just to try and do it all myself with no help from anyone else was NOT worth it for me. Next year, we'll just go out to dinner like everyone else. Parties and gatherings used to be our "thing". We were the "fun house". But the effort required to host is just too much for one person, so I'm hanging up my hat, until someone else decides to come forward and help just for the sake of being part of a family. Isn't that what it's really all about? Helping others just because it's the right thing to do? How does that lesson get taught? Where am I going wrong?
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Twitter's A-Flitter
Here's the thing with social networks. Once you post something, EVERYONE can see what you say. My last post was a bit of a nod to that, and this one is no exception. Only this time, the person lives in my house and it's a Twitter rant.
June 9:
One day back home & my mom is already yelling at me, ordering me around, and treating me like a child.#leavemealone
Well, I DID say "you have one week to get your room organized". I didn't yell it. It could be considered an "order", I suppose. And she IS a child, at least as long as I'm supporting her, so I guess if having rules and expectations is treating one like a child, then...guilty!
One day home and I already want my own space back.#HomeForTheSummerProblems
I want your space back, too. I could use an office, or a yoga room, or my own escape.
Trying to clean my room with my mom yelling at me is difficult...#stressed
So is trying to clean the WHOLE HOUSE while you continue to put crap outside your door and on the counters. I'm a little #stressed too.
At this point, one of her Twitter friends offers her a garage to rent. Sounds like a fair trade!
Literally feel dead.#TiredForNoReason #ProbsABenadrylHangover
You can't "literally" feel dead. Because if you did, you'd BE dead and then you wouldn't feel. Duh. And the Benadryl? She insisted she needed it to sleep. Of course, getting up before 4:30 in the afternoon works, too.
My mom asks me to help her clean/decorate for the stupid cast party today, and them does nothing but yell & criticize me.#doityourself
Actually, I did do it myself. With the help of her siblings who were kind enough to actually help me and not Tweet about how much they hated it. For the record, I asked her to hold one end of a tablecloth for me so I could stretch it out over the table.
Also, my siblings have the radio absolutely BLASTING and my mom won't tell them to turn it down.#headache #getmeoutofhere
We did have the radio up loud. I turned it on myself. We were cleaning and the vacuum was running and it was loud and fun. Made things a little more bearable for all. It wasn't hurting anyone and we intended to turn it down when guests arrived, which we did. Also, I'm 44 and she's 18 and last time I checked, it was the OLD person who always wanted the music turned down.
I need an apartment. Stat.
Yes, she does! Unfortunately, being unemployed with only a minimum-wage summer job doesn't allow for much in the rental market. I say before you start saying what you "need" you'd better be sure you can afford to fund it.
We need quiet hours at my house.#getmeoutofhere
This is not a dorm, and it's never quiet. Get used to it.
Note to my family: if you have to scream at the person next to you to have a conversation, the music is too loud.#turnitdown#NOWWWW
Again with the music. It was not that loud. And I'm a mom, so that's saying something.
One if the guests outside has a FUCKING WEIRD LAUGH.#LikeAWitchWithAHeadCold
Now she's insulting our guests? Perhaps if she were out socializing with us, instead of watching "Modern Family" on her computer (aka best friend), she would know what the laughing was all about.
My mom told me that the van had a flat and that I had to take it to get fixed. Now she's talking shit about me to the other moms.#thefuck
Yes, indeed, I did inform her that she would need to allow for extra time to get the tire fixed before her noon dentist appointment. I reminded her of this because (see previous) she generally does not wake up before noon. Her answer was "I'm not going to have enough time." and "Can't Jeff do it?" Sadly, Jeff and mommy both have to work in the morning. Because it's Monday. And we have jobs.
(Editor's note: I have to skip one of the posts because it's rude and insulting to one person and I do not want this person to get their feelings hurt by my rude daughter)
I need all these people to leave so my wifi gets stronger. They're all using it right now.#firstworldproblems #lazypeopleproblems
The only good thing about this post is that she does acknowledge that hers are #firstworldproblems and that she's lazy. She "needed" the WiFi so she would watch "Modern Family" on her laptop. Meanwhile, the room is still full of boxes and clothes and crap and remains unorganized and a mess.
All I can say is SERIOUSLY? We just racked up nearly $20,000 in student loans for you to attend your first year of college and this is what we get the first weekend home?
This is a sad state of affairs. I spent the second weekend in a row flying solo because my husband was out of town and I had more than my share of kid drama, dog drama and general chaos and I was so tired tonight I was near tears. I don't even have words for this type of disrespect.
And later tonight, she helped her sister with a project. Of course, there was the requisite begging and drama, along with an offer of money to help from the little sister (which I forbid!). But she ended up helping her, like a big sister should, out of the goodness of her heart, without expecting anything in return. Why can't she be like this all the time?
June 9:
One day back home & my mom is already yelling at me, ordering me around, and treating me like a child.
Well, I DID say "you have one week to get your room organized". I didn't yell it. It could be considered an "order", I suppose. And she IS a child, at least as long as I'm supporting her, so I guess if having rules and expectations is treating one like a child, then...guilty!
One day home and I already want my own space back.
I want your space back, too. I could use an office, or a yoga room, or my own escape.
Trying to clean my room with my mom yelling at me is difficult...
So is trying to clean the WHOLE HOUSE while you continue to put crap outside your door and on the counters. I'm a little #stressed too.
At this point, one of her Twitter friends offers her a garage to rent. Sounds like a fair trade!
Literally feel dead.
You can't "literally" feel dead. Because if you did, you'd BE dead and then you wouldn't feel. Duh. And the Benadryl? She insisted she needed it to sleep. Of course, getting up before 4:30 in the afternoon works, too.
My mom asks me to help her clean/decorate for the stupid cast party today, and them does nothing but yell & criticize me.
Actually, I did do it myself. With the help of her siblings who were kind enough to actually help me and not Tweet about how much they hated it. For the record, I asked her to hold one end of a tablecloth for me so I could stretch it out over the table.
Also, my siblings have the radio absolutely BLASTING and my mom won't tell them to turn it down.
We did have the radio up loud. I turned it on myself. We were cleaning and the vacuum was running and it was loud and fun. Made things a little more bearable for all. It wasn't hurting anyone and we intended to turn it down when guests arrived, which we did. Also, I'm 44 and she's 18 and last time I checked, it was the OLD person who always wanted the music turned down.
I need an apartment. Stat.
Yes, she does! Unfortunately, being unemployed with only a minimum-wage summer job doesn't allow for much in the rental market. I say before you start saying what you "need" you'd better be sure you can afford to fund it.
We need quiet hours at my house.
This is not a dorm, and it's never quiet. Get used to it.
Note to my family: if you have to scream at the person next to you to have a conversation, the music is too loud.
Again with the music. It was not that loud. And I'm a mom, so that's saying something.
One if the guests outside has a FUCKING WEIRD LAUGH.
Now she's insulting our guests? Perhaps if she were out socializing with us, instead of watching "Modern Family" on her computer (aka best friend), she would know what the laughing was all about.
My mom told me that the van had a flat and that I had to take it to get fixed. Now she's talking shit about me to the other moms.
Yes, indeed, I did inform her that she would need to allow for extra time to get the tire fixed before her noon dentist appointment. I reminded her of this because (see previous) she generally does not wake up before noon. Her answer was "I'm not going to have enough time." and "Can't Jeff do it?" Sadly, Jeff and mommy both have to work in the morning. Because it's Monday. And we have jobs.
(Editor's note: I have to skip one of the posts because it's rude and insulting to one person and I do not want this person to get their feelings hurt by my rude daughter)
I need all these people to leave so my wifi gets stronger. They're all using it right now.
The only good thing about this post is that she does acknowledge that hers are #firstworldproblems and that she's lazy. She "needed" the WiFi so she would watch "Modern Family" on her laptop. Meanwhile, the room is still full of boxes and clothes and crap and remains unorganized and a mess.
All I can say is SERIOUSLY? We just racked up nearly $20,000 in student loans for you to attend your first year of college and this is what we get the first weekend home?
This is a sad state of affairs. I spent the second weekend in a row flying solo because my husband was out of town and I had more than my share of kid drama, dog drama and general chaos and I was so tired tonight I was near tears. I don't even have words for this type of disrespect.
And later tonight, she helped her sister with a project. Of course, there was the requisite begging and drama, along with an offer of money to help from the little sister (which I forbid!). But she ended up helping her, like a big sister should, out of the goodness of her heart, without expecting anything in return. Why can't she be like this all the time?
Sunday, April 1, 2012
I'm bored!
It's the weekend......and you know what that means? Mom, I'm bored? Bored, you say? I wish I knew how to be bored. Bored is wasted on the young. I remember being bored, but I can't for the life of me figure out how or why I was EVER bored as a child. I had the whole world at my feet! Hours of unsupervised playtime! I could leave home on my bike and return when I felt like it, or when it got dark, whichever came first. But I and my peers also possessed something our new generation of young seem to have lost. Evolution seems to be phasing it out. It's called imagination.
Today two of my kids were actually laying on the floor, complaining about being bored and expecting me to do something about it. Helpfully, I suggested they could do some spring cleaning which was immediately rejected. I offered them the opportunity to go through their picture drawers - deep drawers where I've tossed all their pictures and some school mementos into (what? I love doing that!). No dice. I even suggested they take their cameras and go on a photo safari, taking pictures of "signs of spring" (see how helpful I was offering a theme?). There was a tiny spark of interest but it dimmed as quickly as it had burned. I said it was really THEIR job to learn how to entertain themselves and my child said she didn't know how. Truly, is this now a learned behavior? Is necessity no longer the mother of invention?
When I was "bored" as a child, I would retreat into my room and lay on my bed and draw. Nothing made me happier and the best gift I could ever get was blank white paper which I filled with hundreds of drawings of people. In my head, there was always a story going; instead of writing it down, I drew it. Sure, it made no sense to anyone else. But I didn't draw for anyone else. I drew for me. It was my entertainment. I also loved playing with Fisher Price Little People. Or just sticks of different sizes that could be my pretend "family". As a teen, I would read, make photo albums, write notes to friends, write letters, listen to music, take a walk, hang out with friends doing nothing, bake. I could always come up with something and I didn't ask my parents to entertain me. I KNOW I lamented that I was "bored" many times, but I don't remember getting a suggestion of what to do unless it included the vacuum cleaner or a container of Comet.
I firmly believe that too much screen time has seeped our kids' imagination from their brains. Without a screen, they are lost. At any given time they have a cell phone, a computer, an iPad, a TV. Once they exhaust their options on those, they have no clue where to turn. But inside the house we have books, arts and crafts, music, games. And outside there's a world of possibilities. Still, today they wanted to "go somewhere". When I suggested several parks, they said "and do what?" (umm...play?). When I suggested a short hike, they said there was "no place good around here". So, we didn't go anywhere. Because we couldn't agree on what to do. Which was just fine with me, because my "to do" list will never be completely done and I was plenty busy. I clipped coupons and paid bills. What fun! And I still have "homework" from my job to do. It involves coloring (hey, I work in a kindergarten!) and do you think they want to help me with that? Nope. Now, I ask you, who doesn't love to color?
I guess they might as well enjoy being bored while they can. For all too soon, they will be so busy they won't have time to be bored. They will WISH for a day when all the chores are done, and everyone is fed, and everyone has clean clothes and there's food in the pantry, and the floors are clean, and the bills are paid, and the house is spotless, and they find themselves suddenly and utterly struck by paralyzing boredom. And by the time they begin to think about what to do with all that delicious, unexpected time, the baby will cry and the dog will throw up on the rug and a glass will break, and the doorbell will ring, and someone will be hungry and, likely as not, someone will be pulling on their leg saying "I'm bored!"
Today two of my kids were actually laying on the floor, complaining about being bored and expecting me to do something about it. Helpfully, I suggested they could do some spring cleaning which was immediately rejected. I offered them the opportunity to go through their picture drawers - deep drawers where I've tossed all their pictures and some school mementos into (what? I love doing that!). No dice. I even suggested they take their cameras and go on a photo safari, taking pictures of "signs of spring" (see how helpful I was offering a theme?). There was a tiny spark of interest but it dimmed as quickly as it had burned. I said it was really THEIR job to learn how to entertain themselves and my child said she didn't know how. Truly, is this now a learned behavior? Is necessity no longer the mother of invention?
When I was "bored" as a child, I would retreat into my room and lay on my bed and draw. Nothing made me happier and the best gift I could ever get was blank white paper which I filled with hundreds of drawings of people. In my head, there was always a story going; instead of writing it down, I drew it. Sure, it made no sense to anyone else. But I didn't draw for anyone else. I drew for me. It was my entertainment. I also loved playing with Fisher Price Little People. Or just sticks of different sizes that could be my pretend "family". As a teen, I would read, make photo albums, write notes to friends, write letters, listen to music, take a walk, hang out with friends doing nothing, bake. I could always come up with something and I didn't ask my parents to entertain me. I KNOW I lamented that I was "bored" many times, but I don't remember getting a suggestion of what to do unless it included the vacuum cleaner or a container of Comet.
I firmly believe that too much screen time has seeped our kids' imagination from their brains. Without a screen, they are lost. At any given time they have a cell phone, a computer, an iPad, a TV. Once they exhaust their options on those, they have no clue where to turn. But inside the house we have books, arts and crafts, music, games. And outside there's a world of possibilities. Still, today they wanted to "go somewhere". When I suggested several parks, they said "and do what?" (umm...play?). When I suggested a short hike, they said there was "no place good around here". So, we didn't go anywhere. Because we couldn't agree on what to do. Which was just fine with me, because my "to do" list will never be completely done and I was plenty busy. I clipped coupons and paid bills. What fun! And I still have "homework" from my job to do. It involves coloring (hey, I work in a kindergarten!) and do you think they want to help me with that? Nope. Now, I ask you, who doesn't love to color?
I guess they might as well enjoy being bored while they can. For all too soon, they will be so busy they won't have time to be bored. They will WISH for a day when all the chores are done, and everyone is fed, and everyone has clean clothes and there's food in the pantry, and the floors are clean, and the bills are paid, and the house is spotless, and they find themselves suddenly and utterly struck by paralyzing boredom. And by the time they begin to think about what to do with all that delicious, unexpected time, the baby will cry and the dog will throw up on the rug and a glass will break, and the doorbell will ring, and someone will be hungry and, likely as not, someone will be pulling on their leg saying "I'm bored!"
Saturday, March 3, 2012
You're doing it wrong......
Today, for your reading pleasure, I will provide a tutorial for all the things you are obviously doing wrong around the house. Through careful research and observation, I have learned what is, clearly, the "right" way to do things, because I am outnumbered in my home by people who do them this way.
First of all: cereal. If you enjoy cereal from time to time, you have probably observed the obviously faulty packaging. The cereal itself is packaged in a waxy bag that, once opened, can no longer be closed. In fact, just the opening part is challenging, and one must rip and/or cut it with scissors in such a way that most of the cereal will now fall INTO the box instead of OUT of it. Very disconcerting. Then, the box itself has a design flaw in that one is expected to push a tiny tab of cardboard into an equally tiny slit in the cardboard on the other side of the box. IMPOSSIBLE, I say! My genius children have discovered a way to get around these confounding problems. They simply leave the box open and the bag gaping. That way, the next time they want cereal, they don't have to take ANY extra steps to get to the flakes inside the box. What if they become stale, you say? No problem! They simply don't eat the cereal, leave the box standing wide open for months, until which time mom pours the stale wares into a giant ziploc bag labeled "duck food". Yay for feeding the ducks! I think next time I go to the store, I'll buy the most expensive box of cereal and just pour it directly into the retention pond at the end of my block. Same difference.
Now, let's move on to cheese sticks. Those darn things are SO convenient. They are low-fat, nutritious, and conveniently packaged in an easy-to-open plastic wrapper. Now, I prefer to open the package slowly as I bite each piece of cheese and when I'm done, place the plastic wrapper in a proper trash receptacle. My children, however, prefer to rip the whole thing off at once, devour the cheese and throw the wrapper on the floor. Yes, the floor. This astounds you? Clearly this is the proper place to put a cheese stick wrapper, because there's been one on my floor since yesterday morning. In the hallway. Nestled in a bundle of dog hair. A mere few feet away, my kitchen is spotless. But, alas, there is dog hair and a cheese stick wrapper in the hallway. Who put it there? That is the great mystery. Why? Because it's the right way to do it! How long will it lay there? Until I, and only I, stoop over and pick it up. Because no one else in this house can see it.
Now, here's how you do laundry. You wear your clothes until you have nothing left. Then, you borrow underwear from your stepdad's drawer because you are too lazy to wash your own, and you don't want to go commando. You stop wearing socks, insisting that the "no-sock" look is now in fashion, and you pull a sweatshirt out of the dirty laundry numerous times until that fateful day when you get an actual obvious stain on it that you can't hide and now you're really f*cked. What to do? You hoodwink your mom into believing you no longer have any clothes that fit. You mention this when you're at Target, exactly when you're passing the display of t-shirts that are on sale for $8 each, and after getting mom to buy a couple of those for you, you mention that your jeans don't fit and here are a pair on sale, and by the way, you could use some new underwear. Mom, under the influence of the hazy glare of Target lights and screamin' deals, buys you what accounts for a new wardrobe and you get a few more weeks' worth of clothing without ever having to touch laundry soap. Eventually, though, you WILL have to wash something. So, the best way to do it is to cram everything into the washer (lights and darks be damned), and make it really, really full so that when the spin cycle starts, everyone in the house resorts to "duck, cover and hold" because the whole-house shaking MUST be an earthquake. But no, whew, it's just the washer going off-balance again! After the clothes are dried, leave them in the dryer indefinitely and use that as your personal closet until someone finally puts your clothes in a basket because THEY need the washer and dryer. After that, use the basket as your closet, and if, by some rude chance, someone actually dumps your clothes onto a clean blanket on your floor because they need the basket, do NOT, by any means, finally hang and/or fold anything! Simply walk all over the clothes for another two weeks until you decide they are "gross" and need to be washed again. Repeat washer-stuffing process or trick mom into a shopping trip to Target. Repeat. Repeat.
Here's another fun cleaning tip for the bathroom. Whilst brushing your teeth, it's always fun to try and dribble a spitty blob of toothpaste directly into the sink, or, even better, ON the spigot. Leave it there indefinitely, adding blobs from time to time and see what a fun sculpture you can build with just toothpaste and your own spit! What? You were rinsing it down all this time? Fool!
And lastly, here's a fun decorating tip for the kitchen and surrounding area. Every time you open a package or unwrap a piece of candy or gum, leave the wrapper (or those colorful tear-off strips) lying around all over - the counters, table, floor, coffee table. These will add a pop of color to your otherwise boring decor, and provide a nice little treat for the dog from time to time, which can result in the most amazing and colorful dog poopies you've ever seen! In addition, they sometimes blow off the counter, mix with dog hair and make colorful "dust bunnies" (or "dust puppies"?) which scurry up and down your hallway in a most amusing fashion. And if they're lucky, they will stake a claim and take up permanent residence, like the cheese stick wrapper currently in my hallway. Come by and say "hey" to our newest resident!
I hope this has been helpful. I hope you have not been straining yourself by doing foolish things like closing cereal boxes, picking up trash off the floor, wiping up toothpaste accidents, and doing laundry regularly. That would just.....make sense. And who wants to be sensible in this crazy world?
First of all: cereal. If you enjoy cereal from time to time, you have probably observed the obviously faulty packaging. The cereal itself is packaged in a waxy bag that, once opened, can no longer be closed. In fact, just the opening part is challenging, and one must rip and/or cut it with scissors in such a way that most of the cereal will now fall INTO the box instead of OUT of it. Very disconcerting. Then, the box itself has a design flaw in that one is expected to push a tiny tab of cardboard into an equally tiny slit in the cardboard on the other side of the box. IMPOSSIBLE, I say! My genius children have discovered a way to get around these confounding problems. They simply leave the box open and the bag gaping. That way, the next time they want cereal, they don't have to take ANY extra steps to get to the flakes inside the box. What if they become stale, you say? No problem! They simply don't eat the cereal, leave the box standing wide open for months, until which time mom pours the stale wares into a giant ziploc bag labeled "duck food". Yay for feeding the ducks! I think next time I go to the store, I'll buy the most expensive box of cereal and just pour it directly into the retention pond at the end of my block. Same difference.
Now, let's move on to cheese sticks. Those darn things are SO convenient. They are low-fat, nutritious, and conveniently packaged in an easy-to-open plastic wrapper. Now, I prefer to open the package slowly as I bite each piece of cheese and when I'm done, place the plastic wrapper in a proper trash receptacle. My children, however, prefer to rip the whole thing off at once, devour the cheese and throw the wrapper on the floor. Yes, the floor. This astounds you? Clearly this is the proper place to put a cheese stick wrapper, because there's been one on my floor since yesterday morning. In the hallway. Nestled in a bundle of dog hair. A mere few feet away, my kitchen is spotless. But, alas, there is dog hair and a cheese stick wrapper in the hallway. Who put it there? That is the great mystery. Why? Because it's the right way to do it! How long will it lay there? Until I, and only I, stoop over and pick it up. Because no one else in this house can see it.
Now, here's how you do laundry. You wear your clothes until you have nothing left. Then, you borrow underwear from your stepdad's drawer because you are too lazy to wash your own, and you don't want to go commando. You stop wearing socks, insisting that the "no-sock" look is now in fashion, and you pull a sweatshirt out of the dirty laundry numerous times until that fateful day when you get an actual obvious stain on it that you can't hide and now you're really f*cked. What to do? You hoodwink your mom into believing you no longer have any clothes that fit. You mention this when you're at Target, exactly when you're passing the display of t-shirts that are on sale for $8 each, and after getting mom to buy a couple of those for you, you mention that your jeans don't fit and here are a pair on sale, and by the way, you could use some new underwear. Mom, under the influence of the hazy glare of Target lights and screamin' deals, buys you what accounts for a new wardrobe and you get a few more weeks' worth of clothing without ever having to touch laundry soap. Eventually, though, you WILL have to wash something. So, the best way to do it is to cram everything into the washer (lights and darks be damned), and make it really, really full so that when the spin cycle starts, everyone in the house resorts to "duck, cover and hold" because the whole-house shaking MUST be an earthquake. But no, whew, it's just the washer going off-balance again! After the clothes are dried, leave them in the dryer indefinitely and use that as your personal closet until someone finally puts your clothes in a basket because THEY need the washer and dryer. After that, use the basket as your closet, and if, by some rude chance, someone actually dumps your clothes onto a clean blanket on your floor because they need the basket, do NOT, by any means, finally hang and/or fold anything! Simply walk all over the clothes for another two weeks until you decide they are "gross" and need to be washed again. Repeat washer-stuffing process or trick mom into a shopping trip to Target. Repeat. Repeat.
Here's another fun cleaning tip for the bathroom. Whilst brushing your teeth, it's always fun to try and dribble a spitty blob of toothpaste directly into the sink, or, even better, ON the spigot. Leave it there indefinitely, adding blobs from time to time and see what a fun sculpture you can build with just toothpaste and your own spit! What? You were rinsing it down all this time? Fool!
And lastly, here's a fun decorating tip for the kitchen and surrounding area. Every time you open a package or unwrap a piece of candy or gum, leave the wrapper (or those colorful tear-off strips) lying around all over - the counters, table, floor, coffee table. These will add a pop of color to your otherwise boring decor, and provide a nice little treat for the dog from time to time, which can result in the most amazing and colorful dog poopies you've ever seen! In addition, they sometimes blow off the counter, mix with dog hair and make colorful "dust bunnies" (or "dust puppies"?) which scurry up and down your hallway in a most amusing fashion. And if they're lucky, they will stake a claim and take up permanent residence, like the cheese stick wrapper currently in my hallway. Come by and say "hey" to our newest resident!
I hope this has been helpful. I hope you have not been straining yourself by doing foolish things like closing cereal boxes, picking up trash off the floor, wiping up toothpaste accidents, and doing laundry regularly. That would just.....make sense. And who wants to be sensible in this crazy world?
Saturday, January 14, 2012
In defense of the minivan.......
I know a few moms of young kids (Sydney, ahem) and a few moms-to-be who are still young and idealistic enough to say "I will NEVER drive a minivan!" We've all been there, we veteran minivan moms, back in the day when we had a cute body, a cute baby and a cute little car to drive around. Then came more kids. And let's face it, once you hit three kids, you NEED a minivan.
Why? you ask. Let me tell you a little story. Back in 1995, when I was nearly nine months pregnant with my second child, I was driving around a Honda Civic with no air conditioning. I loved that little car, and the gas mileage couldn't be beat, but I was very pregnant. It was summer. I was hot and cranky. I wanted a new car. Being proactive and a planner, I researched my options and VERY reluctantly decided on a minivan. It was all the rage. My friends had them. Why not join the club? Except I said I'd NEVER drive a minivan. So, to console myself, I bought a red one. Red means fast. Red means cool. Red means "look at me, I'm a mom in a minivan!" So much for planning.
But then.....I started to like that minivan. Plenty of room to buckle kids in and out of car seats, plenty of room for the arsenal of diaper bags, snacks, activities, extra blankets, stuffed animals and pacifiers that accompanied us on a long trip to.....the grocery store. Plenty of space in the back for the burgeoning grocery load that came along with my growing family. Plus, the seats folded down for that occasional trip to Home Depot for a large piece of plywood or Toys R Us for that big swingset for the backyard. Handy!
But the true beauty of the minivan is...........the road trip! We started to drive to Idaho a lot to visit family and there was plenty of space for all of our travel needs and then some. As the kids got older, camping trips were included. That van was packed to the gills with camping needs, kids' feet perched on sleeping bags, a cooler separating squabbling siblings. We even added a car-top carrier! Modern-day Beverly Hillbillies.
We still drive that red minivan, although it's on its last legs (wheels?). We upgraded to a brand-spankin' new minivan in 2007. That van has doubled as a bus, a camping vehicle, a hotel, and a truck. On long trips, there's nothing more peaceful than space between siblings and a DVD player. It has something like 843 cup holders and all manner of pockets and compartments in which to lose mittens and french fries. The seats fold down and stow away in the floor of the van. The back has a recessed compartment deep enough to hide a teenager crouching down, waiting to scare the bejeezus out of her unsuspecting siblings when they settle themselves in the back seat. The doors slide open and shut with the touch of a button and there's one on BOTH sides of the van (unlike our older van which has just one, manual sliding door. A neighbor child once stood on the side of the van with no door looking confused and asked how to get in the van. When I explained there was only one sliding door she looked at me disdainfully and said "Oh, you have one of those oldy-timey vans!").
With a minivan, we can cram eight kids, four days' worth of camping gear and three dogs into it's cavernous interior. We can haul six teenagers and two adults to a football game. We can put a movie on, flip a switch and have the kids don wireless headphones while we adults up front indulge in our favorite music or enjoy a conversation in complete peace. If it only came with one of those handy dividers like taxi cabs, we'd be set! The kids could beat each other senseless in the back seat and we'd be none the wiser in our soundproof booth up front.
Our minivan has a handy rack that can hold four bikes, a top that can support two kayaks, and a hitch that can pull our camper over hill and dale to various destinations. It's essentially our second home. I have stashed in the van both food and water, extra makeup, first aid kits, enough reusable grocery bags to last a lifetime, an arsenal of DVDs and CDs, sunscreen, a garbage bag for each row, extra gloves, napkins, an emergency kit, extra dog leashes, coupon books, flashlight, multipurpose tool, extra coats, beach towels and handiwipes. If needed, we could live in the minivan. For six hours. Give or take.
I normally drive the nice, newer minivan, but I occasionally find myself driving the old one. It's the same age as my high school junior. That van holds a lot of memories. Driving my newborns home from the hospital. The time my oldest got mad at me and threw her entire orange soda at me while I was driving (there are still stains on the ceiling). The time I slammed the van in park in the middle of traffic to rush around, yank the sliding door open and kill an ant that was threatening the life of my toddler (or at least it seemed so from the screams). The van that was so stuffed with crap on a trip across the mountains that one of the kids accidentally kicked out a Nintendo DS into a parking lot, never to be seen again. The van that suffered a broken headlight the first month we owned it (likely from someone backing into it in a parking lot) that has NEVER been fixed. That van saved my freezing ass more than once on a camping trip when I was so cold I thought I'd die and retreated to the relative warmth of the van (and it's inadequately long bench seats). I've spilled more coffee in that van than I care to mention. I've hauled so many kids on so many trips - to the beach, park, playground, vacations, school. I once drove that van away while my own daughter was putting her backpack in it, thinking she was already in the car!
The van was purchased when my oldest was just two and it became her first car. I don't even want to know what all went on in that van before she left for college, but I will say I've never seen a dirtier vehicle, nor found so many disgusting things in it (two month old Taco Bell anyone? It's just a little fuzzy). It smelled like a rotting corpse. My daughter consistently ran it out of gas and was involved in a four-car accident last Valentine's day. But the van is still going strong. Scars and all. It has a cracked engine head......so it could "die" at any given moment, but we rather enjoy limping it along until it craps out on the highway one day.
My point is this: if you have three or more children, get a minivan. For your own sanity. So they can bring friends along. So you can drive the carpool. Invest in an entertainment system. So, when you're hauling your offpsring along on a 300 mile road trip, you can enjoy the open road while they are glued to a DVD. It's peaceful. It's fun. It's roomy. Get over yourself. Just get a minivan.
Why? you ask. Let me tell you a little story. Back in 1995, when I was nearly nine months pregnant with my second child, I was driving around a Honda Civic with no air conditioning. I loved that little car, and the gas mileage couldn't be beat, but I was very pregnant. It was summer. I was hot and cranky. I wanted a new car. Being proactive and a planner, I researched my options and VERY reluctantly decided on a minivan. It was all the rage. My friends had them. Why not join the club? Except I said I'd NEVER drive a minivan. So, to console myself, I bought a red one. Red means fast. Red means cool. Red means "look at me, I'm a mom in a minivan!" So much for planning.
But then.....I started to like that minivan. Plenty of room to buckle kids in and out of car seats, plenty of room for the arsenal of diaper bags, snacks, activities, extra blankets, stuffed animals and pacifiers that accompanied us on a long trip to.....the grocery store. Plenty of space in the back for the burgeoning grocery load that came along with my growing family. Plus, the seats folded down for that occasional trip to Home Depot for a large piece of plywood or Toys R Us for that big swingset for the backyard. Handy!
But the true beauty of the minivan is...........the road trip! We started to drive to Idaho a lot to visit family and there was plenty of space for all of our travel needs and then some. As the kids got older, camping trips were included. That van was packed to the gills with camping needs, kids' feet perched on sleeping bags, a cooler separating squabbling siblings. We even added a car-top carrier! Modern-day Beverly Hillbillies.
We still drive that red minivan, although it's on its last legs (wheels?). We upgraded to a brand-spankin' new minivan in 2007. That van has doubled as a bus, a camping vehicle, a hotel, and a truck. On long trips, there's nothing more peaceful than space between siblings and a DVD player. It has something like 843 cup holders and all manner of pockets and compartments in which to lose mittens and french fries. The seats fold down and stow away in the floor of the van. The back has a recessed compartment deep enough to hide a teenager crouching down, waiting to scare the bejeezus out of her unsuspecting siblings when they settle themselves in the back seat. The doors slide open and shut with the touch of a button and there's one on BOTH sides of the van (unlike our older van which has just one, manual sliding door. A neighbor child once stood on the side of the van with no door looking confused and asked how to get in the van. When I explained there was only one sliding door she looked at me disdainfully and said "Oh, you have one of those oldy-timey vans!").
With a minivan, we can cram eight kids, four days' worth of camping gear and three dogs into it's cavernous interior. We can haul six teenagers and two adults to a football game. We can put a movie on, flip a switch and have the kids don wireless headphones while we adults up front indulge in our favorite music or enjoy a conversation in complete peace. If it only came with one of those handy dividers like taxi cabs, we'd be set! The kids could beat each other senseless in the back seat and we'd be none the wiser in our soundproof booth up front.
Our minivan has a handy rack that can hold four bikes, a top that can support two kayaks, and a hitch that can pull our camper over hill and dale to various destinations. It's essentially our second home. I have stashed in the van both food and water, extra makeup, first aid kits, enough reusable grocery bags to last a lifetime, an arsenal of DVDs and CDs, sunscreen, a garbage bag for each row, extra gloves, napkins, an emergency kit, extra dog leashes, coupon books, flashlight, multipurpose tool, extra coats, beach towels and handiwipes. If needed, we could live in the minivan. For six hours. Give or take.
I normally drive the nice, newer minivan, but I occasionally find myself driving the old one. It's the same age as my high school junior. That van holds a lot of memories. Driving my newborns home from the hospital. The time my oldest got mad at me and threw her entire orange soda at me while I was driving (there are still stains on the ceiling). The time I slammed the van in park in the middle of traffic to rush around, yank the sliding door open and kill an ant that was threatening the life of my toddler (or at least it seemed so from the screams). The van that was so stuffed with crap on a trip across the mountains that one of the kids accidentally kicked out a Nintendo DS into a parking lot, never to be seen again. The van that suffered a broken headlight the first month we owned it (likely from someone backing into it in a parking lot) that has NEVER been fixed. That van saved my freezing ass more than once on a camping trip when I was so cold I thought I'd die and retreated to the relative warmth of the van (and it's inadequately long bench seats). I've spilled more coffee in that van than I care to mention. I've hauled so many kids on so many trips - to the beach, park, playground, vacations, school. I once drove that van away while my own daughter was putting her backpack in it, thinking she was already in the car!
The van was purchased when my oldest was just two and it became her first car. I don't even want to know what all went on in that van before she left for college, but I will say I've never seen a dirtier vehicle, nor found so many disgusting things in it (two month old Taco Bell anyone? It's just a little fuzzy). It smelled like a rotting corpse. My daughter consistently ran it out of gas and was involved in a four-car accident last Valentine's day. But the van is still going strong. Scars and all. It has a cracked engine head......so it could "die" at any given moment, but we rather enjoy limping it along until it craps out on the highway one day.
My point is this: if you have three or more children, get a minivan. For your own sanity. So they can bring friends along. So you can drive the carpool. Invest in an entertainment system. So, when you're hauling your offpsring along on a 300 mile road trip, you can enjoy the open road while they are glued to a DVD. It's peaceful. It's fun. It's roomy. Get over yourself. Just get a minivan.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The (dis)order of things........
I've come to the conclusion that it's virtually impossible to keep a house clean. Oh sure, you can CLEAN a house, but can you KEEP it clean? Not with kids and dogs and a kitten. I thought having one child away at college would surely cut down on the mess. And while the bedroom stays clean (but only because I spent three days, three precious days that I will NEVER get back, of my life cleaning it), and there are fewer ice-cream bowls and cups next to the computer, the general orderliness, or lack thereof, of the house is frightful.
For instance: at this very moment there are swim goggles on my bathroom counter. One of those large packaging tape dispensers is on the kitchen counter. The family room floor contains these items: a jacket, a pair of socks, candy wrappers, a large clump of dog hair, a video game and a stuffed monkey. Tonight I sorted socks and came up with five pairs and a basket of mismatched socks the size of a six-quart crockpot. From where I'm sitting I can see a blue feather boa, a pair of coveralls, a textbook, a bag full of bags (you know, the reusable variety? They are ever so useful when they are sitting in the entryway of my house and not with me at the store.), a Halloween skull, a bag of tealights, and a coupon for a free pizza. Within my arm's reach, I see a Victoria's secret bag, a gift bag, a coupon insert from the paper, a notepad, two bills, a bank statement and a Target bag full of candy (mostly wrappers) from trick-or-treating.
Sometimes I wish I were Amish. They don't have a lot of crap. We are the exact opposite of Amish. While the Amish favor a simple life with few material goods, we favor a life of chaos filled with crap. How much better my life would be if I simply had to choose between the blue and the brown dress each day. Instead, I have a dresser drawer with at least ten pairs of jeans in that don't even fit me! The really scary part is that I regularly "purge" stuff - clothes, household goods, craft items, even food. I always have a few large bags to give away when the donation trucks roll into the neighborhood. And we still have more.
George Carlin says we need "a place for our stuff". We get more stuff, and we buy a bigger place. I'm stopping at this house. This is the biggest house I ever hope to live in - from here I wish to continue to downsize until all I have left is a double-wide trailer and a toaster oven. Ok, not really. I still need shoes. But the point is, we all seem to have too much stuff. And that creates disorder and chaos and general discontent. Take my daughter's room, for instance (not the college daughter - her room is clean, remember?). My other daughter. Who is in high school. Who has a lot of clothes. And crap. And does not have any sense of order or organization. She is content to spend her days trodding upon her clean clothing, throwing candy wrappers on the floor and never dusting her room. Once I cleaned her room and found a spider in a pile of stuffed animals. I told her she would have spiders crawling on her while she slept (she was much younger then, so what? Scaring is a great parenting tactic!). That did not entice her to change her ways. Not at all. In fact, I'm certain she has spiders crawling in her room on a regular basis but does she care? She does not. Her room is a dark cave of despair. And she loves it. She crawls into her bed overflowing with Pillow Pets and a down comforter that "snows" feathers every time it moves and cocoons herself in her own disorder.
I get a little crazy when things get too bad. I grew up the worst of all pack rats. I could not bear to part with anything, ever. My room looked......well, like my daughter's room. I would spend a whole day about four times a year cleaning my room and then I'd be so proud, I'd make my whole family come and look at it. Once, in an attempt to win me over with humor, my mom posted a different poem each day, outlining how to clean my room, to my door. I laughed but did not get the hint. It wasn't until I was in my own apartment with roommates that I began to care at all what my room looked like. I like order and neatness as much as the next person, but I've found that my efforts are erased within minutes. I'll wipe off the kitchen counter and my husband will set his icky lunch box on it. Or a dog hair appears. And another. And another. The other day one of my kids put their SHOES on the kitchen table! Their shoes, with their sticky, germy, bacteria-ridden soles touching the place where we EAT! Who DOES that?
I honestly don't know how other people do it. I walk into their houses and see things in order, the white carpets neatly vacuumed with perfect vacuum lines, nary a dog hair on the counter. Do they walk around with Lysol wipes and attack every indiscretion as it happens? Do they restrict their kids from touching anything, having any clothes or toys, throw away all their artwork? Do they have dogs that simply never get muddy feet?
I would say "I give up" but I can't. I mean, I don't want anyone to report me to CPS or feature me on an episode of "Hoarders". But I really do not know how to keep a house clean when children, animals and a husband live in it. I told my husband last week that I wanted my own apartment. I don't think he bought it. I mean, I'm actually fantasizing about a new vacuum. My old one isn't working so well and the cheap replacement I bought is no match for our filth. I NEED the latest version of my old one. I actually get giddy when I go into the cleaning aisle at the grocery store. Today I bought antibacterial wipes and toilet bowl cleaners. I yearn for a clean and sparkling house that actually smells like "spring breeze" and not "dog breath". And yet, given the choice to clean my bathroom or waste an hour on Facebook, I'll choose the latter. I WANT a clean house, I just don't want to do it myself! Because I know no matter how much effort I put in, it will be ruined in a matter of minutes, hours or days. And who has time for that?
For instance: at this very moment there are swim goggles on my bathroom counter. One of those large packaging tape dispensers is on the kitchen counter. The family room floor contains these items: a jacket, a pair of socks, candy wrappers, a large clump of dog hair, a video game and a stuffed monkey. Tonight I sorted socks and came up with five pairs and a basket of mismatched socks the size of a six-quart crockpot. From where I'm sitting I can see a blue feather boa, a pair of coveralls, a textbook, a bag full of bags (you know, the reusable variety? They are ever so useful when they are sitting in the entryway of my house and not with me at the store.), a Halloween skull, a bag of tealights, and a coupon for a free pizza. Within my arm's reach, I see a Victoria's secret bag, a gift bag, a coupon insert from the paper, a notepad, two bills, a bank statement and a Target bag full of candy (mostly wrappers) from trick-or-treating.
Sometimes I wish I were Amish. They don't have a lot of crap. We are the exact opposite of Amish. While the Amish favor a simple life with few material goods, we favor a life of chaos filled with crap. How much better my life would be if I simply had to choose between the blue and the brown dress each day. Instead, I have a dresser drawer with at least ten pairs of jeans in that don't even fit me! The really scary part is that I regularly "purge" stuff - clothes, household goods, craft items, even food. I always have a few large bags to give away when the donation trucks roll into the neighborhood. And we still have more.
George Carlin says we need "a place for our stuff". We get more stuff, and we buy a bigger place. I'm stopping at this house. This is the biggest house I ever hope to live in - from here I wish to continue to downsize until all I have left is a double-wide trailer and a toaster oven. Ok, not really. I still need shoes. But the point is, we all seem to have too much stuff. And that creates disorder and chaos and general discontent. Take my daughter's room, for instance (not the college daughter - her room is clean, remember?). My other daughter. Who is in high school. Who has a lot of clothes. And crap. And does not have any sense of order or organization. She is content to spend her days trodding upon her clean clothing, throwing candy wrappers on the floor and never dusting her room. Once I cleaned her room and found a spider in a pile of stuffed animals. I told her she would have spiders crawling on her while she slept (she was much younger then, so what? Scaring is a great parenting tactic!). That did not entice her to change her ways. Not at all. In fact, I'm certain she has spiders crawling in her room on a regular basis but does she care? She does not. Her room is a dark cave of despair. And she loves it. She crawls into her bed overflowing with Pillow Pets and a down comforter that "snows" feathers every time it moves and cocoons herself in her own disorder.
I get a little crazy when things get too bad. I grew up the worst of all pack rats. I could not bear to part with anything, ever. My room looked......well, like my daughter's room. I would spend a whole day about four times a year cleaning my room and then I'd be so proud, I'd make my whole family come and look at it. Once, in an attempt to win me over with humor, my mom posted a different poem each day, outlining how to clean my room, to my door. I laughed but did not get the hint. It wasn't until I was in my own apartment with roommates that I began to care at all what my room looked like. I like order and neatness as much as the next person, but I've found that my efforts are erased within minutes. I'll wipe off the kitchen counter and my husband will set his icky lunch box on it. Or a dog hair appears. And another. And another. The other day one of my kids put their SHOES on the kitchen table! Their shoes, with their sticky, germy, bacteria-ridden soles touching the place where we EAT! Who DOES that?
I honestly don't know how other people do it. I walk into their houses and see things in order, the white carpets neatly vacuumed with perfect vacuum lines, nary a dog hair on the counter. Do they walk around with Lysol wipes and attack every indiscretion as it happens? Do they restrict their kids from touching anything, having any clothes or toys, throw away all their artwork? Do they have dogs that simply never get muddy feet?
I would say "I give up" but I can't. I mean, I don't want anyone to report me to CPS or feature me on an episode of "Hoarders". But I really do not know how to keep a house clean when children, animals and a husband live in it. I told my husband last week that I wanted my own apartment. I don't think he bought it. I mean, I'm actually fantasizing about a new vacuum. My old one isn't working so well and the cheap replacement I bought is no match for our filth. I NEED the latest version of my old one. I actually get giddy when I go into the cleaning aisle at the grocery store. Today I bought antibacterial wipes and toilet bowl cleaners. I yearn for a clean and sparkling house that actually smells like "spring breeze" and not "dog breath". And yet, given the choice to clean my bathroom or waste an hour on Facebook, I'll choose the latter. I WANT a clean house, I just don't want to do it myself! Because I know no matter how much effort I put in, it will be ruined in a matter of minutes, hours or days. And who has time for that?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
And the love keeps coming...........
It hasn't been the best of days around the old homestead. Yesterday evening we attempted to have a family meeting. Before we even started I heard this:
- Are we moving?
- Did one of you get fired?
- Is this going to ruin my day? Because I've had a really good day so far.......
- Is this going to end up with everyone mad? (side note: yes, it did. Sadly.)
Then, I launched into a carefully planned diatribe about chores, responsibilities, rules and budgets, with a little monetary incentive/reward program thrown in that was really a win-win for everyone. Here's the deal. Kids get paid a small amount each day they complete chores correctly and without being reminded. At the end of the week, if all went well, they are eligible for a bonus. Violations mean you pay us back. We can't afford a lot, but this would garner each kid roughly $30-35 a month if they just do what's expected of them in the first place. After the unveiling of the plan here is what I heard:
- So, you're basically going to just take all our money? (Talk about planning for failure!)
- This won't work because we don't have any money! (Duh, you have to earn it first!)
- Arlie's going to get all the money. (Well, hard work DOES equal good pay. And Arlie works hard).
Then, as always happens, there was the barrage of "well, she..." and "it's not my...." and "you always..." and "I never...". And things went downhill from there. And this is what I heard:
- You think she's SO perfect and she's not even your kid. Why don't you just adopt her? (Ouch.)
- This is bullshit. (If I swore at my mother, she'd have smacked my mouth. So sad that's no longer socially acceptable.)
- Shut up! (Excuse me?)
And I got mad. Because, personally, I don't think kids should swear at their parents and tell them to shut up. Call me conservative. And also? It's human nature to get defensive and angry when your weaknesses are pointed out. Things like laziness and lack of motivation. Generally when we get mad and defensive it's because of someone other than the person talking to us. It's the one in the mirror.
It's not like we're asking for hard labor. No one is digging ditches or sweating in a coal mine. I mean, really, check this out - we have the audacity, in this house, to expect our kids to do their own laundry. And to NOT throw their clothes on the floor. And occasionally scrub a toilet. And rinse their dishes. And pick up their socks. And not eat in the family room. And not take things that do not belong to them. These, my friends, these are the horrors I subject my children to. And I offered to PAY them. What was I thinking?
So, I exited the flaring tempers and retreated to my room. And had a nice, hot bath and was in bed by 9 p.m. But before that, I saw this:
All I wanted was one good day. Just one. I guess I don't even deserve that much. Why am I even alive if I can't do anything right? I'm done feeling like a worthless piece of nothing. So done.
That was my daughter's actual Facebook post after the fiasco. The drama.
And now? I just don't feel like doing much for them. The self-centered attitudes and inability to see beyond their feet that are propped up in front of the TV just astound me. I wish they knew how hard life would get. How doing chores is insignificant compared to all the trials they will face in life. I don't want them to have a hard life, but if you never feel pain, how can you know what feels good? If you never fall, you won't know the joy of getting back up. If you never fail, you can't revel in your success.
We give our kids chores because it helps prepare them for "real life". But what about kids who just don't get it? Real life will smack them in the face with a force so astounding it will take their breath away. And maybe knowing how to wash a load of clothes or dust a shelf won't make or break them. But if they can't even sit for a half hour with an ounce of respect and listen to solid guidance, if they can't see how doing their small part makes the whole so much better, then what will they learn? When will they learn it?
They say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So, maybe starting today, I will just do whatever I want. For example, I never feel like making dinner. Perhaps I'll stop doing that. I NEVER feel like making their lunches. I could skip that too. I rarely feel like driving them anywhere or picking up after them or letting them have their friends over. Think of the time that will save me! All that delicious, beautiful time to just do what I want and never worry about the consequences. I could stop cleaning my bathroom, and never wash my clothes, but that would make me uncomfortable, so I guess I'll have to exert a teensy bit of effort. But doing for others? Not so much. I'm afraid I only have enough energy to be kind to me right now. I've taught them well. They'll figure it out. And if not? Then, maybe that lesson will finally be learned.
- Are we moving?
- Did one of you get fired?
- Is this going to ruin my day? Because I've had a really good day so far.......
- Is this going to end up with everyone mad? (side note: yes, it did. Sadly.)
Then, I launched into a carefully planned diatribe about chores, responsibilities, rules and budgets, with a little monetary incentive/reward program thrown in that was really a win-win for everyone. Here's the deal. Kids get paid a small amount each day they complete chores correctly and without being reminded. At the end of the week, if all went well, they are eligible for a bonus. Violations mean you pay us back. We can't afford a lot, but this would garner each kid roughly $30-35 a month if they just do what's expected of them in the first place. After the unveiling of the plan here is what I heard:
- So, you're basically going to just take all our money? (Talk about planning for failure!)
- This won't work because we don't have any money! (Duh, you have to earn it first!)
- Arlie's going to get all the money. (Well, hard work DOES equal good pay. And Arlie works hard).
Then, as always happens, there was the barrage of "well, she..." and "it's not my...." and "you always..." and "I never...". And things went downhill from there. And this is what I heard:
- You think she's SO perfect and she's not even your kid. Why don't you just adopt her? (Ouch.)
- This is bullshit. (If I swore at my mother, she'd have smacked my mouth. So sad that's no longer socially acceptable.)
- Shut up! (Excuse me?)
And I got mad. Because, personally, I don't think kids should swear at their parents and tell them to shut up. Call me conservative. And also? It's human nature to get defensive and angry when your weaknesses are pointed out. Things like laziness and lack of motivation. Generally when we get mad and defensive it's because of someone other than the person talking to us. It's the one in the mirror.
It's not like we're asking for hard labor. No one is digging ditches or sweating in a coal mine. I mean, really, check this out - we have the audacity, in this house, to expect our kids to do their own laundry. And to NOT throw their clothes on the floor. And occasionally scrub a toilet. And rinse their dishes. And pick up their socks. And not eat in the family room. And not take things that do not belong to them. These, my friends, these are the horrors I subject my children to. And I offered to PAY them. What was I thinking?
So, I exited the flaring tempers and retreated to my room. And had a nice, hot bath and was in bed by 9 p.m. But before that, I saw this:
All I wanted was one good day. Just one. I guess I don't even deserve that much. Why am I even alive if I can't do anything right? I'm done feeling like a worthless piece of nothing. So done.
That was my daughter's actual Facebook post after the fiasco. The drama.
And now? I just don't feel like doing much for them. The self-centered attitudes and inability to see beyond their feet that are propped up in front of the TV just astound me. I wish they knew how hard life would get. How doing chores is insignificant compared to all the trials they will face in life. I don't want them to have a hard life, but if you never feel pain, how can you know what feels good? If you never fall, you won't know the joy of getting back up. If you never fail, you can't revel in your success.
We give our kids chores because it helps prepare them for "real life". But what about kids who just don't get it? Real life will smack them in the face with a force so astounding it will take their breath away. And maybe knowing how to wash a load of clothes or dust a shelf won't make or break them. But if they can't even sit for a half hour with an ounce of respect and listen to solid guidance, if they can't see how doing their small part makes the whole so much better, then what will they learn? When will they learn it?
They say if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So, maybe starting today, I will just do whatever I want. For example, I never feel like making dinner. Perhaps I'll stop doing that. I NEVER feel like making their lunches. I could skip that too. I rarely feel like driving them anywhere or picking up after them or letting them have their friends over. Think of the time that will save me! All that delicious, beautiful time to just do what I want and never worry about the consequences. I could stop cleaning my bathroom, and never wash my clothes, but that would make me uncomfortable, so I guess I'll have to exert a teensy bit of effort. But doing for others? Not so much. I'm afraid I only have enough energy to be kind to me right now. I've taught them well. They'll figure it out. And if not? Then, maybe that lesson will finally be learned.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
How do you support me?
I was asked this question by one of my offspring today. When I answered "I work full time" I heard "other than financially" as the answer. So, I got to thinking about the many "non-financial" ways I support my kids. For example:
- I give you tools for success. If you don't choose to use them, I can't do anything about it.
- If I tell you honestly that it wasn't your best singing voice or the jeans are too tight, I'm saving you from having someone else tell you in a more brutal way.
- Besides enduring hours of labor to birth you, I've lost countless hours of sleep either taking care of you, worrying about you, or doing something for you.
- All those times you needed a ride? That was me.
- Who else took you to the doctor, the dentist, and nearly every other medical appointment you've ever had?
- I stayed up late reading your essay, quizzing you, typing something for you, or standing over the sink burning paper to make it look "old" for your project.
- Those stylish clothes? I schlepped through the stores to get those for you.
- Hours upon hours of dance lessons, gymnastics, swimming, baseball, softball, basketball, rehearsals...that was me waiting and watching, often with a couple of your siblings in tow who were whining that they were bored, hungry or tired.
- Every Halloween costume. Ever.
- Christmas? I decorate, bake, buy, wrap and create the magic that you love so much.
- The vacations and camping trips? I arranged those.
- All the food in the house? I make it magically appear.
- I washed thousands of loads of your laundry until I decided you were old enough to do it yourself.
- Sick at school? Forgot your gym clothes? Late? I'm the mom-mobile!
So........if I get mad at you for being late, or not doing your homework, or slacking off on your chores, consider the fact that, as your mom, I don't get the option of taking a day off. So you say you didn't ask to be born? Well, sorry. Can't exactly put you back.
Just because I'm not blowing sunshine up your ass every minute of every day, doesn't mean I'm cruel, or unsupportive, or worse, a "bitch". How lucky for you that there's someone in this world, who, even when you're at your worst, loves you the most. Someone who would listen to your rants and still want to make you happy. You can say all you want, try hard to be the martyr, or lay on the heaviest guilt trip, but I'd still donate a kidney or give you my bone marrow. Heck, I'd give you my life. Because that's what moms do. Who supports me?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Weekend Wrap Up
Well, the three-day weekend "all by myself" is over and although not every minute of it was spent by myself, a lot was accomplished and some stuff turned out fun and unexpected. Here's how it turned out:
What I did NOT do:
- clean the microwave or fridge (but I really need to!)
- wash the dogs (but I knew I wouldn't do that!)
- finish the books I'd already started (I decided to "abandon" them, that's teacher speak for stop reading them because they were just way too boring)
- design my website (but that was overly ambitious anyway)
- take fall photos (but only because the leaves have not turned enough yet to make pretty pictures)
- exercise (but I worked my ass off so maybe that counts a little?)
- pick up the house (well, I DID, but not until today so I couldn't enjoy it ALL weekend)
- read the Sunday paper (but it's only 9 p.m. so I might still have time.........)
But here's what I DID do:
- a bunch of laundry
- went through my keepsake bin and actually tossed some stuff
- organized and purged some craft stuff (but not all of it, so it's a work in progress)
- watched two movies (but I had a stack of twelve - haha!)
- started a new book
- wrote....well, blogged....
- took pictures of the kitten (but she moves around a lot so I only got a couple of good ones!)
- finished decorating for Halloween (and had all the candles burning when Jeff and Arlie got home!)
- baked (once)
- remembered to feed the animals - every day! (p.s. there's no frog)
And here's all the bonus stuff I did:
- had lunch with a friend on Friday (and Hannah came too)
- went to Fred Meyer with Hannah and ended up getting way more stuff than I planned
- went to dinner at Olive Garden with another friend (and enjoyed a spectacular sunset on the way there)
- stayed in bed until 11:30 on Saturday morning
- made my own "coffee shop" breakfast
- went through Harrison's clothes and filled a bag with giveaways
- picked up Harrison, got lunch at McDonald's (frappes included!) and went to Bothell Landing to feed the ducks and do an impromptu photo shoot
- watched movies while I went through craft stuff and keepsake stuff
- woke up to the kitten scratching my back (ouch)
- went through Jeff's clothes and filled a bag with giveaways
- went through the laundry room and got rid of a bunch of stuff
- had a heart attack when Hannah showed up unexpectedly from her choir retreat while I was talking to myself in the laundry room (hahaha!)
- had lunch with a friend
- spent the afternoon cleaning, organizing and basically getting a lot of things under control that have been making me crazy for a long time
- made lunches for tomorrow
- lit candles and made everything all warm and homey (yay!)
And it was a very, very good weekend.
Friday, October 14, 2011
How convenient!
Today, just for a few minutes, I'd like you to stop what you are doing and think about how convenient everything is today. Your life is SO easy compared to, say, the pioneer woman's life. Take bread, for instance. This morning I wanted a pastry from the coffee shop. But, being too lazy to get in my gasoline-powered vehicle and DRIVE to the coffee shop (a walk that takes about 45 minutes, mind you), I decided to create my own pastry. I pulled a tube of crescent rolls out of the fridge to begin. Now, think. Who ever would have thought that one day we'd have perforated bread in a tube? Seriously? I filled the pre-formed triangles with chocolate and butterscotch chips. Think again - chips? Sweet treats already pre-formed into little drops? Can you believe there was a time when chocolate was a rarity, if one ever even had the pleasure of enjoying it? I mean, if your father wasn't a chocolatier in France, or your ancestors weren't the ancient Mayans, you might never have tasted chocolate once upon a time. GASP!
You probably took a nice, hot shower this morning. Besides the miracle of hot water being delivered into your home through an intricate series of pipes, you likely used another amazing product - body wash. Think of it, not too many years ago, one had to actually use a bar of SOAP to get clean. Now, we indulge in creamy, anti-aging, exotic-scented liquid body wash squirted directly from a plastic bottle onto a nylon pouf, and create bubbles upon bubbles. Did you know that soap used to be made using lye and rendered fat? No? Well I knew this because my husband, The Renaissance Man, recently made his own soap using rendered fat (yes, the icky stuff we pour off taco meat) and lye, which came in a bottle with a complicated chemical name that I'm not even going to try to spell. And, once you introduce this chemical process, the fat is no longer fat and the lye is no longer lye because it's gone through a process called saponification (or something like that) and it is now, officially, soap. See? It was so easy for YOU to just open a bottle of Caress body wash.
Today, everything is fast. We have smart phones and computers and iPads that deliver information in an instant. Except when there's a glitch and it takes four nanoseconds loner than normal. Then, we get all mad. We say things like "stupid computer" and "not so smart now, are we phone?". Or maybe that's just me. But the point is, we expect EVERYTHING in an instant. We microwave our food. When was the last time you stood and stirred something for 45 minutes? I haven't made a delicious pot-pie recipe in years because it requires 45 minutes of constant stirring the sauce, and who's going to just STAND there for 45 minutes stirring sauce. I mean, maybe if you were listening to a book on your iPod or watching a show on your under-the-cabinet-installed TV with cable in your kitchen. But to just STAND there and COOK? WTF?
Once upon a time families gathered around a wood-encased radio to listen to their "programs". Then, we got big, ol' black and white TVs that weighed about three tons and had "rabbit ears" to adjust the clarity. Now, we have flat-screen TVs mounted to our walls and if we don't have time to watch a show, we can just DVR it for later, AND skip the commercials. Personally, I don't have a DVR. If I miss a show, too bad for me. Lucky for me, if I really want to see something I miss, I can also watch it "on demand" or on the internet. Instant gratification. All the time.
The other day one of my kids said they were hungry. I said "make some macaroni and cheese or Top Ramen". They looked at me like I had two heads and said "But that takes SO LONG!" If it's not a Hot Pocket or frozen burrito that can be heated up in under two minutes, they're not interested. I will add here that boiling water takes about five minutes. Top Ramen can be made in about seven minutes and macaroni and cheese in about ten. But that takes TOO LONG!
When I was in school, if our pencil became dull, we had to place it into a manual sharpener and crank the handle to get a nice, sharp point. I always wanted a pencil sharpener at home. I thought that would be the ultimate luxury, because there was nothing quite so gratifying as a freshly sharpened pencil (disclaimer: I spent most of my childhood drawing....hours on end....I'm pretty sure my family thought I was autistic. But that's another story.) We never had a pencil sharpener at home, but now, in my own home, I have an electric pencil sharpener that I just stick a pencil into and it emerges all pointy and sharp. The worst part is the two or three seconds that you have to WAIT while it sharpens. I'm not embarrassed to admit that the other day I bought a hand-held pencil sharpener and sharpened about 200 colored pencils by hand. It was very gratifying.
Once upon a time mothers spent their time taking care of their own children. Then, came the age of working mothers and a mother had to carefully consider her child-care options, interviewing countless nannies or touring several daycare centers in order to make the decision that would be the right fit for the family. Now, we have daycare in the grocery store and "drop in playcare" where moms can just check their kids in like a shirt to the laundry and go off to pursue their own interests while perfect strangers attend to their most treasured offspring. How convenient is that?
We are the Convenience Age, no matter what other monikers society has given this generation. Instead of inviting a friend over for coffee that we make in our own kitchens, we have a coffee stand on every corner, and we drive with our paper coffee cups bobbling in our laps, slurping down our caffeine on the way to work or the doctor or to pick the kids up from soccer. We have instant oatmeal and drive-through prescription pick up. We are moving at the speed of light. So, I challenge you, this weekend, to do ONE thing "the slow way". Get up and change the channel. Simmer a soup slowly on the stove top. Hand-sew the hole in that shirt you've been meaning to get to for ages. Play a board game. Or hey, if you're really ambitious, make your own soap using rendered fat and lye. Whatever. Just do something slow. This instant!
You probably took a nice, hot shower this morning. Besides the miracle of hot water being delivered into your home through an intricate series of pipes, you likely used another amazing product - body wash. Think of it, not too many years ago, one had to actually use a bar of SOAP to get clean. Now, we indulge in creamy, anti-aging, exotic-scented liquid body wash squirted directly from a plastic bottle onto a nylon pouf, and create bubbles upon bubbles. Did you know that soap used to be made using lye and rendered fat? No? Well I knew this because my husband, The Renaissance Man, recently made his own soap using rendered fat (yes, the icky stuff we pour off taco meat) and lye, which came in a bottle with a complicated chemical name that I'm not even going to try to spell. And, once you introduce this chemical process, the fat is no longer fat and the lye is no longer lye because it's gone through a process called saponification (or something like that) and it is now, officially, soap. See? It was so easy for YOU to just open a bottle of Caress body wash.
Today, everything is fast. We have smart phones and computers and iPads that deliver information in an instant. Except when there's a glitch and it takes four nanoseconds loner than normal. Then, we get all mad. We say things like "stupid computer" and "not so smart now, are we phone?". Or maybe that's just me. But the point is, we expect EVERYTHING in an instant. We microwave our food. When was the last time you stood and stirred something for 45 minutes? I haven't made a delicious pot-pie recipe in years because it requires 45 minutes of constant stirring the sauce, and who's going to just STAND there for 45 minutes stirring sauce. I mean, maybe if you were listening to a book on your iPod or watching a show on your under-the-cabinet-installed TV with cable in your kitchen. But to just STAND there and COOK? WTF?
Once upon a time families gathered around a wood-encased radio to listen to their "programs". Then, we got big, ol' black and white TVs that weighed about three tons and had "rabbit ears" to adjust the clarity. Now, we have flat-screen TVs mounted to our walls and if we don't have time to watch a show, we can just DVR it for later, AND skip the commercials. Personally, I don't have a DVR. If I miss a show, too bad for me. Lucky for me, if I really want to see something I miss, I can also watch it "on demand" or on the internet. Instant gratification. All the time.
The other day one of my kids said they were hungry. I said "make some macaroni and cheese or Top Ramen". They looked at me like I had two heads and said "But that takes SO LONG!" If it's not a Hot Pocket or frozen burrito that can be heated up in under two minutes, they're not interested. I will add here that boiling water takes about five minutes. Top Ramen can be made in about seven minutes and macaroni and cheese in about ten. But that takes TOO LONG!
When I was in school, if our pencil became dull, we had to place it into a manual sharpener and crank the handle to get a nice, sharp point. I always wanted a pencil sharpener at home. I thought that would be the ultimate luxury, because there was nothing quite so gratifying as a freshly sharpened pencil (disclaimer: I spent most of my childhood drawing....hours on end....I'm pretty sure my family thought I was autistic. But that's another story.) We never had a pencil sharpener at home, but now, in my own home, I have an electric pencil sharpener that I just stick a pencil into and it emerges all pointy and sharp. The worst part is the two or three seconds that you have to WAIT while it sharpens. I'm not embarrassed to admit that the other day I bought a hand-held pencil sharpener and sharpened about 200 colored pencils by hand. It was very gratifying.
Once upon a time mothers spent their time taking care of their own children. Then, came the age of working mothers and a mother had to carefully consider her child-care options, interviewing countless nannies or touring several daycare centers in order to make the decision that would be the right fit for the family. Now, we have daycare in the grocery store and "drop in playcare" where moms can just check their kids in like a shirt to the laundry and go off to pursue their own interests while perfect strangers attend to their most treasured offspring. How convenient is that?
We are the Convenience Age, no matter what other monikers society has given this generation. Instead of inviting a friend over for coffee that we make in our own kitchens, we have a coffee stand on every corner, and we drive with our paper coffee cups bobbling in our laps, slurping down our caffeine on the way to work or the doctor or to pick the kids up from soccer. We have instant oatmeal and drive-through prescription pick up. We are moving at the speed of light. So, I challenge you, this weekend, to do ONE thing "the slow way". Get up and change the channel. Simmer a soup slowly on the stove top. Hand-sew the hole in that shirt you've been meaning to get to for ages. Play a board game. Or hey, if you're really ambitious, make your own soap using rendered fat and lye. Whatever. Just do something slow. This instant!
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