Birth Order, KP, The Help, and Laziness

Okay, first things first, you need to go read my sister's blog over here.

Then you need to realize that I am hoping she will bring lots of eggnog to Thanksgiving next week, and I will provide Captain Morgan spiced silver rum.   And then we will pretend we are pirate wenches as we make some Christmas crafts Mom has planned for us.  Dawn will be the good one, and she will no doubt be cleaning the kitchen as we are living it up and letting her assume her God given role as older/responsible sister.  And while that role may sound sarcastic, you can't beat birth order, and she is undoubtedly chosen to be the oldest.  Therefore, she is the most responsible.  Poor her.


You know, I used to feel bad when my siblings talked about how spoiled I am as the youngest sibling.  Then I decided that I have no control over birth order.  And if I was spoiled, then it wasn't my fault.  So now my response to the fact that Dawn was never allowed to have Barbies because Dad thought they were trashy is "Sorry about your luck.  I even owned the Barbie town house, complete with elevator.  So there."

Doesn't she appear to be beleaguered and overworked?

 And as for Paula being the middle sister in a family of four kids with one boy, it just is what it is.  Surely that means she can relate better to my mom, who is the middle of three sisters also.  And it means that since her feelings are never considered, she is more aware of how others feel, so surely she's a better person for being a middle child.  Again, this may SOUND like sarcasm, but I'm just citing birth order theory and lately it's been hitting me how REAL the characteristics are that develop as a result of birth order.

Yes, this woman is obviously never noticed or considered.

My oldest wants to adopt a child.  Not like an African child, where you are committed to $25 dollars/month, but a child that will come and live in our house.  Forever and ever.  That was a bolt out of the blue.  And it would turn my youngest into a middle child, and let me tell you, she does NOT have middle child tendencies, so it would be a struggle for her.

And speaking of siblings, a few weeks ago the girls and I were having a random conversation about something.  I know it related to Brent never being at the table when the rest of us were ready to eat.  And somehow that evolved into disappearing acts for kitchen clean up.

"I don't know which of you it will be, but one of you will be shirker of kitchen clean up at family dinners.  The shirker will either suddenly develop the urge to use the bathroom, or breast feed a baby, or possibly even sit in the living room to 'visit with grandmother.'  Do not think for a minute that those in the kitchen are unaware of your shirker ways.  They WILL be aware, and they WILL be talking about you."

And I was honest enough to admit I myself have been the shirker of kitchen duty.  And I was also honest enough to admit that it has probably never been Dawn.  Because, again she is the oldest.  And therefore the most responsible.  Her burden is immense.

Anyhoo, that random conversation has lead to the fact that if one sibling leaves the kitchen to visit the facilities, the other sibling stops all kitchen duty until the absentee sibling shows up.  I acknowledge this was an unintended consequence.  But it is an amusing one.
 
Speaking of lazy,  I AM LOVING WORKING TWO DAYS PER WEEK!!!  I have moments where I feel guilty because I actually have free time.  But then I get over it.  It is so awesome to not have to clean my entire house on Wednesday, along with grocery shopping and car washing and seven loads of laundry.  Now I do a chore every day, along with a load every day.  Well, I was doing a load about every day anyway, but Wednesday was also bedding day.  Now, I wash one person's bedding per day and my back is not in misery at the end of sheet day!

I have time to work out!  I have time to coupon!  I have time to actually stroll through the store and see things that I never saw before because each trip to the store was simply a marathon sprint of tunnel vision where I only got what was needed and did not allow myself to browse as there was no time!  And now I'm realizing that browsing the store can lead to unexpected purchases....

Leading up to Christmas this is expected.  But I will have to be sure I don't let it become the pattern or Brent will make me start working more.

Speaking of sheet day, have you read The Help by Kathryn Stockett?  I thought it was so funny how Minny hated "damn sheet day."  And I always said a little "amen" in my head every time she bemoaned washing sheets.  And my task is not near as onerous or hands on as hers was!

Okay, this post has gone entirely too long.   Have a happy weekend!

P.S.  In FOREsight, this post could possibly come back to haunt me.  As in next weekend at Thanksgiving when we will have a family dinner, complete with big kitchen clean up.  *sigh*   Perhaps foresight isn't a good thing when one ignores it?

So Take THAT!!

I have a phobia of closets.

It all began when I was in preschool.  My best friend was Janet.  She lived in this awesome two story house and she had a giant dollhouse that her granddad had made her.  It had working lights and everything!  Janet's mom, Peggy, was my babysitter while my mom worked at the soil conservation office in town.

Oh!  In a total aside, I saw a sign the other day.  It said, "Behind every successful rancher is a wife who works in town."  And I laughed at how true that statement really is...

Anyway, Peggy was my babysitter, Janet was my best friend, and Janet lived in an old awesome two story house.  You climbed up the stairs and there was a little landing, then on the right side was her brother Ward's room, and to the left was Janet's room.  I thought having an upstairs room must certainly be the coolest thing ever.  Especially when the room had built in book shelves where Janet arranged her Little Golden Books by number. 

They even had one of those big red barns complete with a hay loft and stalls that had ladders leading up to the hay loft.  Our brothers had a secret hideout in one of those stalls.  The door could not be opened from the outside...I actually kind of think it was a grain bin of some sort.  Regardless, the boys could get to their hideout from the hay loft.  Janet and I were quite certain that it was the coolest thing EVER.  I mean, seriously people.  It had a dart board and certainly all of the very best hideouts had dart boards!

All Janet and I had was a little play area in the trees where we made mud pies and plotted the downfall of our obviously evil older brothers...

But this story is not about the fact that Janet had an awesome house with a giant tree house and a POOL.  It is not about the tree in their front yard that we used to climb, and Janet told me, "Daddy told me not to climb out on that limb.  He said it's too small and it will break."  Of course, I was two years younger and quite certain that I could climb out on that limb.  And so I did.  And then it broke, and it made a giant scratch all the way up the middle of my belly, and I landed very hard on my bottom on the ground...

So Janet and I ran to the house, she to get her mommy, the fixer of all things, and me with big tears running down my face and snot running out my nose...

Peggy took me into their bathroom and cleaned the scrape and doctored it with monkey blood and gently inquired as to what exactly lead to my having a giant scratch running the length of my torso...and of course being the stoic gal that I am I spilled the whole story.  And Peggy scolded me for foolishly climbing out on the limb.

And then she painted a little smiley face on my belly with the monkey blood.

So that made everything all right.

I stayed the night with Janet quite often.  We had a little game that lead to my fear of closets.  I can remember lying in Janet's bed and her closet door was not quite closed.  And we argued about who had to get up and close the door, because obviously the door NEEDED to be closed.  Otherwise we would lie there half the night (or at the very least 15 minutes, whichever happened to come first) and discuss what could possibly be IN the closet peeking OUT at us... 

Neither of us would dare leave the safety of the covers tucked in firmly all the way around us to deal with the ominous closet.

Not even when we began to imagine SOMETHING looking out the closet out at us.  I was pretty certain it was either a monster or one of her dolls.  She thought perhaps it was the devil's face...

I don't remember if we finally cried out for help and Peggy swooped in to save the day (or night as it were), but I do know for a fact that my fear of closets is directly linked to that fateful night...

Even as an adult, I am unable to go to sleep with the closet door open.  I remember being pregnant and trying to use the excuse of "finally getting comfortable" so that Brent would have to close it.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  Closets in the day time, or with the lights on are completely harmless and innocuous.  The only thing to fear about a well lit closet is the light exposing all of the clutter from the rest of my life that I've crammed into my closet to be dealt with at a time in the unforeseen future.  However, a closet after dark, when I'm tucked into bed, and trying to sleep?

FORGET ABOUT IT.  It is as if thousands of eyes are boring into my sole, and the monsters that live in the closet are surely to burst forth if I'm foolish enough to close my eyes, or...shudder, turn my back.

Excuse me for a minute while I go collect myself.  Is anyone else experience cold chills right now?

Well, fortunately for Brent and his desire to get in bed and STAY there, our last two houses have had the master closets in the bathroom.  Our nights are so much more peaceful now...

We shared a closet until we moved into our current house.  And that means that the first twelve years of our marriage my husband blamed our messy closet on me.  I tried to defend myself and say that he was equally responsible for any messiness that might ensue, but he was steadfast in casting all guilt onto my meager shoulders.

But now we have separate closets.  And our counseling bills have decreased considerably since we no longer have the "who trashes the closet" argument.

Speaking of messy closets:

This would be BRENT's closet.  He claims it is impossible to get his closet clean because the luggage is in that back right hand corner, clearly making any attempts at organization utterly pointless.  And I can absolutely back him up in that.  I mean what would be the point in putting anything in an orderly fashion if there will always just be a big pile of luggage cluttering the place up?  Not me!

Guess who cleaned her closet out today?

 I began by dragging every single item OUT.  I then swept and dusted.  Then I assembled two new shelves to organize my sweaters, then I finally put away our Halloween costumes (and not a moment to soon, might I add), and then I weeded out some clothes that I had not worn since we moved here, and finally ended by disposing of...

Oh, wait.  Before I admit to the final disposal, I must make you PROMISE to never tell my mother.  You see, I am getting rid of several bunches of silk flowers.  Yes, yes, I know.  Silk flowers are FOREVER, and believe me, I've had these silks darn near that long.  I bought most of them the first year we were married.  I had planned to use them for decorating graves over Memorial Weekend.  However, when I arrived at my in laws house (we were living out of state at the time) I was very firmly informed that my flowers would NOT be going on any graves, and my mother in law proceeded to make arrangements out of HER flowers that were supposedly "from Brent" to place on his dad's grave.

So, clearly it was time to say goodbye to the unworthy silk flowers I ignorantly purchased nearly 16 years ago...I bagged them up and am delivering them along with my clothes that are still decent to our local crisis center...

Because surely someone in a crisis will appreciate my poorly chosen silk flowers?

Anyway, after four solid hours, my closet now looks like this:

Please pardon the small pile of workout bands and weights on top of my new shelves.  I plan to get a cute basket to put them in and complete the organized look.  Notice that the scrubs are all together, right at the front.  And the few dresses I own are all the way to the BACK...

If that is not a reflection of real life, I don't know what is.

So now the spring cleaning ball is rolling.

What shall I tackle next?  I want to tackle our floors, and by that I mean rip out the carpet in the living areas, the tile in the kitchen, laundry and front areas, then learn how to stain concrete on our very own floors...However, my husband who has been taking classes on treating concrete is not nearly so gungho as I am.  He claims that other men do not have to make their wives promise to not rip out the flooring before leaving town.  I think that other wives don't make the mistake of asking before doing, so therefore a job begun has to be done!  And, please refrain from all of the voices of reasons talking about how this won't be as easy as I think.  That voice of reason lives with me, and I hear enough from him.  However, after living with the voice of reason for over fifteen years, I do know that it is capable of finishing all of the lovely jobs I begin.  Like our kitchen:

Surely the man capable of rescuing the debacle I'd begun in our kitchen can manage a concrete floor!

This List is REAL

Our lives have been in a state of turmoil lately.

Sadly, life does not seem to slow down when turmoil comes, but in some ways it seems to go into super fast forward and you just want to say, "WAIT!  Slow down!  I didn't have time to check homework or fold laundry, and I'm tired and all I want to do is sleep, but I can't sleep, and then the night drags on and on and on..."  And then the next day I'm tired and the day is flying by and I'm not managing time wisely because my brain is circling around and around topics that I have no control over, but can't seem to make myself stop worrying about.

Guess what?  In the midst of this turmoil my Grandma Irene is coming to my house for the VERY FIRST TIME EVER.   I'm super excited.  She will be here Tuesday evening.  I will work tomorrow.  I will work Tuesday.  I will be on call both of those days, unless I can find someone to switch with  me Tuesday.

So all of that whining is to say this:  After taking a two hour nap today (which I really did NOT have time for) I made a list of things that MUST be done before we all leave for work Tuesday morning.  I think the list is rather revolutionary if I do say so myself.   As I was writing this list, in the exact words I'm about to share with you, I said to myself:  Instead of packing the last of the red dishes on the hutch, I do believe I will blog this list. 

(Because my decision making processes are always full of wisdom and ambition.)

And so I am. 



Chores to be done before GRANDMA IRENE arrives on Tuesday afternoon:

Girls:
-Dust (Your bedrooms too!)
-Clean your bathroom
-Vacuum your rooms

Brent & Andrea:
-vacuum remainder of house
-hutch
-Hide Clutter in Closet if All Else Fails
-Our bathroom
-Oh no-We have basketball practice for Bookworm Monday night!

You see, I glanced at our hutch and number three simply flowed out of my brain and onto the paper.

I'm pretty sure it is imperative that it remain.

Now to figure out what to make for dinner for my Grandma Irene's first ever visit to my house...

I have some leftover chicken.  I'm nearly out of dog food, so I must stop at the store tomorrow on my way home from work.  I'm thinking I'll grab some refrigerated pie crust and make some pot pies tomorrow night for Brent to pop in the oven around 5pm or so Tuesday night...

It's either that or carry out pizza.

A Three Step Picture Tutorial to a Happier Mommy.

Oh no!  What shall I do???  The toilet paper roll is empty!!!

I know!  I will get another roll from the cabinet!!

There they are!  All nice and lined up, ready for the next person who needs it!  I'm so thankful I have a mommy who has a phobia about running out of toilet paper!

There!  I will sit it right here where it's nice and handy to all.

A few uses later the toilet paper roll has now moved from the back of the toilet to be stacked on top of the empty roll...

Fortunately for this family, they have a mommy who knows how to not only change the roll, but take a picture tutorial so they will NEVER have to stack roll upon roll upon roll...

Step One:  Remove old toilet paper roll.  This step is very crucial.  You see, the NEW roll will not fit on until the OLD roll has been removed!

Step Two:  Throw the OLD roll away!  This may seem superfluous, but I guarantee, your mother needs her sanity.  Please, please, by all that is good and holy:  THROW AWAY THE OLD ROLL!  I have heard rumors that sometimes something simple as an empty toilet paper roll left lying on the floor has caused lesser mommies than yours to lose her temper.  Unfathomable as it all seems, I fear this rumor may have a tiny seed of truth to it.

Step Three:  Place the NEW roll on the toilet paper dispenser, and snap it back in place.

And there you have it, folks.  Three simple steps to a happier saner mommy.

Gentle Reader:  Please feel free to print and post this easy Three Step Tutorial to a Happier Saner, Less Prone to Temper Tantrums Mommy in your own house.

Your welcome.

He's Still Workin' On Me!

Remember this children's song?

It took Him just a week to make the moon and stars,
the sun and the moon and Jupiter and Mars.
La la la I don't remember all the words!
But He's still workin' on me.

You don't remember it?  Strange.  Especially considering how thoroughly I just described it to you!

Well, it took Bookworm just a few days to make her solar system. Her daddy used all of the self restraint he possessed and lent minimal assistance.  I assure you this was a very big challenge considering this is the same man who once declared:  We will NOT have a red back splash.  It is too much work to paint the red evenly!

And then I promised to paint the bead board.

And so he agreed...I painted maybe two square feet of primer on the bead board, and he looked at me and said:  Give me the brush.  You are not doing it evenly.

It was primer for the love of Pete!  I didn't realize it NEEDED to be even!

So, he let her do all but a small bit of the work...

And this is the result!

Oh wait!  That's not the result!  Dag nab it!  My secret it is out.  But, hey do you see the lovely little fall display I have buried next to Popcorn's jacket their on the right?  Chesney actually leaves that thing alone.  Now that the scarecrow is gone, that is.  She is quite determined to eat every scare crow she encounters.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has a mysterious explosion of shoes, socks, jackets, lunch bags and back packs every single day.

Please?

Tell me I'm not alone.

Mind you, this is not the solar system either.  This is just an example of puppy paraphernalia strewn threw the living room while the culprits lay in blissful slumber.  I am just wondering when I lost complete control of my house.  Do you realize that when my kids were babies my house was spotless?  It was!  Truly!  I was a cleaning and cooking machine!  Every single day I mopped and ran the vacuum.  I washed dried and folded laundry promptly.  I cooked dinner nearly every single night..in fact it was usually completely prepared except for the actual cooking by 3:30 while the girls napped... and I vowed to never let my kids sully their palates with carbonated beverages, high fructose corn syrup or french fries...

I have failed in nearly all of those endeavors in the past eight years.  Of course I snapped out of the post partum depression about eight years ago...  My housework has slowly slipped down hill ever since.

Who knew post partum had an up side?

Why lookie there!  I finally got around to showing a picture of the solar system!  And nary a mess is in sight!

Who says my house is a complete and utter disaster?

Three words:  Location, angle, and sweep (as in your arm across the counter to pile all clutter against your lovely red backsplash.)

Here's another view.  If you click on the photo and enlarge it, you will see that there are two more planets than there used to be in my day.  Yep, that little tiny dwarf planet on the far right is Eris.  And the little brown dwarf planet in the asteroid belt is Ceres...And not only does Saturn have rings, but so do Jupiter, Neptune and Uranus...Uranus and Neptune's rings are made out of thin sheets of plastic she cut to fit then wrapped around the planets.  She is clever, no?

And here's the clever girl herself posing for "just one picture" before heading off to school.  Good thing this turned out as she was quite adamant about the one picture only.

She gets that from her dad's side of the family, I'm sure.

This picture is purely gratuitous.  I wonder what on earth Chesney is dreaming of?

Feeling Sentimental

Have you heard that ridiculous country song, ""I Hear Voices."  It's not my favorite, but today I find that I'm hearing voices.  Or rather, I'm being reminded of loved ones.



As you know from Wednesday's blog, I hurt my back at work.  It worries me to have back pain.  I simply do not have time for back pain.  And, having an injured back makes it tough to do my job.  I don't want to get into all of the worries that are floating in the not so back of my consciousness.  It makes my back hurt worse!



I was given Friday off by my supervisor.  We had a light day scheduled, and she asked if I'd like to take the day to try and rest/heal my back.



Guess what?



I'm TERRIBLE at resting.  When I have mountains of things to do, and little time to do it, I am GREAT at resting.  In nursing school I realized that I have two reactions to stress.  One reaction is to organize every detail of my life that I can even remotely control.  The other is sleep.  It is a sleep that can not be avoided.  As in, I would be sitting in a chair trying to desperately understand the renal system, and the next thing I'd know, it would be two hours later and drool would be running down my face.



Thursday I rested.  I attempted to some light housework, but my back spasmed every time I tried to move something, or reached in a certain way.  I ended up finishing a free Nook book that I didn't particularly enjoy, but determined to finish it.  I clipped three weeks worth of coupons, and cleaned out about half the expired ones.



I swear by 7pm I thought the day was never going to end.



So, Friday I sat on my couch and slowly sipped my coffee, and looked out the window at the brilliant sunshine, and decided there was nothing for it.  I simply had to wash my light fixtures and windows.



Because, clearly that is just the remedy for back pain.



Why is this post called "Feeling Sentimental?"  Patience, Dear Reader.  I'm getting there in my rambling too drawn out fashion.



I washed windows.  And I thought of my Grandma Irene.  I could picture her, with her cream colored wash pan and white tea towels helping me scrub the fly specks off of her kitchen window and storm doors.  Grandma Irene has never allowed a speck of dust to make itself at home in her house.  She was and still is a hard worker.



She is also very no nonsense.  She will say the most outrageous things.  And they will be true.  But somehow, you can't help but laugh at the crazy thing she just said.  I think I'm a little like her in that way.  I have a terrible tendency to say what I think, then think twice about what already popped out of my mouth.



As I sat at my dining room table, eating a bowl of leftover chili, my gaze wandered to my new chairs.  It set my mind to remembering Grandmama Dolly.  I really don't think I am much like her at all.  Perhaps we have some similar physical attributes.  She was always tall and thin with long thin fingers and small wrists.  I have never been as thin as her, and never will be, but I have really long arms and legs, and my fingers are long and thin like hers.  Oh, and we both love a cute pair of heels, and I remember her saying that skirts should hit just above or just below the knee to be the most flattering.  I have no idea why she told me that, or why I remember it, but I find it to be true!



While I was thinking of her and missing her, I decided to treat myself to a cup of coffee.  Feeling indulgent, I added some hazelnut creamer to the cup.  Since Grandmama was fresh in my mind, I felt a pang of guilt over the unnecessary calories and fat from that creamer.  I don't know of very many grandmas who tell their grandchildren, "Don't drink so much milk, it will make you fat."  Or, better yet, "Don't eat so much bread, you don't want to get fat."  I was always horrified when she would say such things to me, but now I see how right she was.  Granted, I still drink a giant glass of milk every single morning, but you can bet Grandmama Dolly's bright red Roper boots that it is skim!

As I looked at the not so practical chair in my living room, I realized I may be more like her than I realized.  My mom has told me they never had matching furniture growing up.  Well, considering my house is decorated with odds and ends that I have accumulated and kept for various sentimental reasons, perhaps I take after her more than I think!



Grandma Irene has a very few nick knacks scattered through her house.  They are the same ones I always remember, with the exception of a few things she's received as a gift in the last few years.  Her house is always spotless, and every flower arrangement and little figurine is exactly as it should be, and no dust dare live near it.


Grandmama Dolly had more nick knacks and whatnots than the eye could discover on a distracted scan of the room.  She had 5 kids, 16 grandkids, and I won't even attempt counting greats and great greats.  She had lots of framed photos that we all gave her of our families.  She could always name everyone's birthday.  That always amazed me.  I can barely remember my siblings birthdays!



I bemoan the things I have scattered throughout my house.  I swear, at times I let it get so bad, that one could pretend they were walking through a junk shop as they wander my house!  But so many of them have sentimental value, or they just make me think of my grandparents, so I simply must put them out!



I'm contemplating asking my husband to drag my box of fall decorations down, but that would mean eliminating some of the "things" that make me smile to look at!  However, if I don't put something up, you won't even be able to see the different decorations!



Oh, well, this point is not well thought out, and flows terribly.  I guess I will just show you some random photos of a few trinkets I've laid about.  Apparently so I can have something to dust around.



Wait!  What am I saying?  I don't dust as a general rule.  I do not dust, empty the dishwasher or scoop dog poop.  I have children for those tasks.  Even if they don't dust as well as I'd like.  At least I'm not doing it.

This porcelain doll is the only wrapped Christmas gift I ever remember getting from Grandmama.  One of my girls posed her behind this frame with an old doll dresser and the old red truck.  Affection for old junk seems to keep trickling down the line.

Obviously I didn't get to this window.  But I love these old bottles.  Grandmama Dolly had a thing for bottles.  They were everywhere.  As I sit in my claw footed Grandmama Dolly chair and type this I can count 12 bottles and old mason jars within my eyes range.

I take that gift thing back!  She gave me this bit of pottery she bought on a trip with Granddad!  But I don't think it was for Christmas.  And I do know I received it as an adult.  How cute are those little books?  They are actually little card games!  Fun!  See why I can't pack all of this away to never be gazed at?

This vinegar jar used to be Grandmama's.  I remember her giving it to me when I still lived in South Texas.  I was so happy to get it and afraid I'd break it on my way home.  The other stuff is sheer junk.  A rooster from the Grand Canyon, and popcorn tubs from a dear friend as a parting gift when we moved, and just a random jar to make the scene complete.

This is just a pile of random stuff I carried home from going through Grandmama's stuff that Mom had.  She was an avid bowler, and those little pins make me smile.  I'm a TERRIBLE bowler.  I wear the bracelets and necklace.  I've never been one for accessories, but each time I slip them on, they make me think of my Grandmama, and I smile.

So that's it.  Today I'm sentimental.  What treasures do you have that bring up fond thoughts of your grandparents?

By the way, Grandmama was a country music fanatic.  She would have loved that song.

I May Be in for a Rude Awakening

I only have about 5 weeks of summer left.

Where did it go?  We haven't gone to the zoo or the museum, and we've only been to the lake once!  The wind has kept our little boat off the lake, and when it wasn't ridiculously windy, the girls had either swam all day while I was at work and got terrible sunburns, or had bizarre skin rashes.  I haven't even been to see my grandma.  Good grief.

The good news is that my girls have made the most of their summer.  Well, if one is referencing housework they have.  I work Monday through Wednesday now, and I don't like the thought of them just sitting around doing nothing all day, so I make sure they have chores every day.  Would you like to see an example of daily assignments for them?

Well, if not, I suggest you move on.  Otherwise, here ya go.  Mind you, these chores are given in list form each morning, along with a silly comment or note, and possibly individual goals I have for each child daily.  I usually close the list with a comment about having a great day, and Love, Mom.  The awesome thing is that Bookworm actually writes a little note back to me!  She will say something like, "Hope your day was great too!"  It's sweet. I love it.   Anyhoo, here's the deal:

Monday:
Feed & Water animals
Piano
Dishwasher
Sweep and mop all hard floors.  Shake out the rugs!
Popcorn:  Be sure to work on your multiplication facts today.
Bookworm:  Your sister is not allowed to go outside due to her sunburn.  Scoop dog poop this morning while it's still sort of cool.

Tuesday:
Feed & Water animals
Piano
Dishwasher
Run vacuum
Popcorn:  Make flash cards for your 4s and 2s.  It will help you memorize them.
Bookworm:  You can clip my coupons from Sunday's paper if you want to earn more money to your iTouch.

Wednesday:
Feed Water animals
Piano
Dishwasher
Dust
Popcorn:  multiplication
Bookworm:  help your sister with multiplication.  It helps you too!

And then here's the real beauty, Gentle Reader.  I am off work on Thursday and Friday.  Since my kids have been working to keep the house in order all week, all I have to do is clean the bathrooms and do laundry!  Yes, they can do laundry if I made them, but I prefer to do it myself all at once with our stuff.  So, on Thursday I am free to have friends over to swim and have a casual lunch.  And I don't have to clean so company can come!

Is this a beautiful thing, or what?

I have gotten so spoiled that yesterday when I walked in and saw that there were lunch dishes in the sink, I was baffled.  How could this be?  How dare they leave dishes for me to do!  I decided that as many dishes as they have done this summer I could do a few pots and pans.

So, what do you think will happen when school starts back?  I fear that I will have a messy house.

Either that or I will have to start cleaning it myself.

But I'm not sure the situation will be as desperate as all that!

Boredom Leading to Productivity Leading to Angry Child

Remember I said I was going to clean out Popcorn's drawers yesterday?  Remember I said I was going to make her help me clean out toys?

 Well, I got both girls drawers cleaned and closets straightened.  However, Popcorn's room is daunting at best.  I enlisted the help of my husband for the first time ever in cleaning her paraphernalia.  To say he was surprised to see things such as this is an understatement!  This, my Gentle Reader is all too typical of things I find in her room.  That, as I'm sure you can see, is a chicken bone in a cup of shape bands with a magnetic bookmark, and various other treasures such as a retractable pencil and a Littlest Pet Shop collar!

Now what about this lovely treasure?  Well, that would be a cow tooth.  Yep.  A cow tooth.  Of course, Studmuffin has only himself to blame for this one.  He extracted it himself from a skull he found in one of the pastures.  He carried that very skull home with him so that I could put it on display in our flower bed or garden, of some such other classy place.

  

Yes, we are redneck that way. Don't hate me next summer when I have shasta daisies growing out the eye holes of my very own cow skull!

So, I'm sure you can imagine I was not at all surprised to find this lovely rubber fish that is really intended as a lure gracing her nightstand, proudly displayed for all visitors to see.  There was also an assortment of rubber worms, lizards, and even craw fish!  Oh, the wonderful things that we have seen!  

When we put our house on the market in South Texas, I decided to do all of the deep cleaning and decluttering that only occurs in the event of selling a house and moving.  I found a perfectly complete cardinal nest with feather's included in her bedroom window, hidden behind her blinds and curtain.  I was rather dismayed as I had specifically instructed her over a year before that "No, you may not bring that bird's nest in the house.  Birds carry mites."  Silly me.  I thought those instructions were perfectly clear and easily carried out.  I did not realize that a five year old translates that to "Hide the bird's nest in your window so your mother won't find it."

Obviously her collecting things is nothing new.  She has brought home complete mouse skeletons that an owl regurgitated.  That was just too precious.  Let me tell you. Maybe almost as precious as the countless turkey feathers she has brought in.  Or how about the fake aquarium she made out of a gallon Ozarka bottle?  She had her daddy poke holes in the lid, filled it with water, and suspended glow in the dark fishing worms on string and put fake rubber plants and some pebbles in the bottom.  She tied little pieces of plastic to the ends of the string so she could make the fish bob up and down in the water.  Paula thought they were dead fish floating when she first saw that lovely creation.  Silly me, I didn't think to photograph that before it finally got tossed.                        

The lovely little cups you see perched on her doll trunk are cups she endeavored to rescue from the trash after our Christmas Eve candlelight service.

Our cleaning spree led to the realization that no matter how clean Popcorn's room is, and how many party favor toys and kids meal toys I tossed out, her room was over crowded.  This called for serious measures.

Drastic measures to be exact.

We decided to tear apart the bunk beds in Bookworm's room and move the queen bed out of Popcorn's room which always serves as the guest room. This was a sad task.  It was like saying goodbye to a piece of their childhood.  No longer will they be climbing up the ladder when company comes over and hanging upside down off of the top bunk to share secrets.

Or fighting over who has to sleep on the top bunk.... 

 

This is the final result.  As you can see it's a relatively small bedroom.  

My daughter had an absolute fit and said I completely ruined her room.  Apparently she feels she will be too confined in a twin size bed.  I do not doubt this as I've found her completely sideways in her bed when I woke her in the morning.  And I ask you, what can possibly be done to ruin a lime green room?  There is so much personality in that color alone!

And when my mother called to check on the kids today, and ask if I was feeling better, I told her all about my feeling betterness and the productivity it led to...

She replied, "So where will I sleep when I come stay?"

I just can't win.

Gentle Reader, I informed her that we had already discussed that when our parents came, they could have our bed and we'd take the air mattress, and anyone else under the age of 60 should be okay on the air mattress. We are also hoping to buy new couches soon, perhaps one with a sleeper sofa.  After all, our couches are only 13 years old.  However, if my children do not get well so I can actually go to work, we will not have money for new sleeper sofa couches!

And, no, I do not appreciate further complaints from family members who may be planning on staying with us. 

Just for future reference.

And for the record my mother informed me that they will NOT sleep in our bed.

I will end this post in the wisdom of Charlie Brown:

Oh good grief.

Sickliness and Thoughts...

I've decided that we should build on to our house.  I think we should turn our bedroom into a family room, and build out to make a larger master bedroom and bedroom for Popcorn.  If possible, we can tear down the wall between our existing rooms and make a larger den.  If not, then Popcorn's existing room can be an office, and the other a den.

I have not discussed any of this with my husband.

He will argue and list all of the ways this is not possible.  Money, easements, money, time, unstable economy, money....I will weep and wail and moan and eventually stick out my chest, all to no avail.

So.  I will simply share this little fantasy with you for now.

I am bored.

Yes.  I said it.  The word that I do not allow my kids to utter.  Popcorn was sick last Wednesday through Monday.  Bookworm has been sick since Friday.  She started vomiting last night, which was something new.  She is white as a sheet, and at this point I can't imagine her going to school tomorrow.  Yesterday I went between complete exhausted, head congested, eyes aching, unable to breathe, to brief spurts of energy where I would do a load of laundry or empty the dishwasher, then be completely exhausted, and my head would feel as if it was going to topple off of my shoulders.  And that was while taking pseudoephedrine and drinking cups of Earl Grey and chamomile tea.  The only time my throat wasn't killing me was while drinking a hot beverage, so I alternated the two.

Last night I was tired of the television playing kid shows all day.  And I had no desire to look at the computer or a book.

I made Studmuffin play Scrabble with me.  Actually, he suggested it, as he figured he could beat me in my weakened state.  He started out with a 96 point word.  He spelled "soldier," used all of his tiles, got a 50 point bonus, plus a double word score.  I never did catch up after that.  However, we followed that up with Seinfeld Scene It, and I won at that one.  Barely. 

I couldn't sleep last night.  I was hot, then freezing, then hot...Then Bookworm would start hollering my name, and we'd meet up in the bathroom and she'd puke while I held her hair.  I'd give her a cold rag and water to rinse her mouth out, then I'd stomp back in the bedroom and glare at my husband's sleeping form as I crawled back in bed bouncing and yanking the covers as much as possible in an effort to disturb his sleep. 

It didn't work.  By 5:30, when I'd had maybe 3 hours of sleep.  I crawled in bed, and sat up on my elbows and put my face nose to nose to him and stared at him until he woke up. 

He nearly fell backwards out of bed, "What the....?"

"How can you sleep through all of that?"  I barked.  Then I yanked all of the covers off of him, tucked them around me and turned my back to him...

Bookworm yelled "Daddy!!!" maybe 10 minutes later. 

HE DID NOT WAKE UP!  So, I did what every mother has to do in those situations. 

I kicked him.

He actually stirred.  I said very LOUDLY, "It's your turn."  And I may have kicked him again.

The important thing to note here is he actually got out of bed.  And I finally slept.  With no more cold/hot flashes. 

And I actually ate breakfast this morning and it tasted good.

But my child is still pitiful.

I think maybe I will clean out Popcorn's drawers while they are at church this morning.  Then, if I'm lucky, I will be able to convince her to part with some toys today. 

But I'm not promising anything on that score.  I used to simply suggest that she had to get rid of or figure out how to make her room neater, and she'd willingly part with all sorts of stuff.  She has started to dig in her heels, and is now unable to part with much of anything...

What did you get accomplished this weekend?  Hanging out with friends?  Did you go out and enjoy beautiful weather?  Perhaps you cleaned a closet...Do tell!

Funny Apples and Your Tips

I had bunco here Tuesday night. Bookworm took a bag of diced apples out of the fridge for her lunch the next day.

While those two statements may seem unrelated, they totally are.

Bookworm took out her apples, pulled a bite sized piece out of her bag, and had a strange discovery. The apples smelled very strong, were soft, and, and, slimy?...Her apples were actually diced smoked gouda cheese!

Oh, Gentle Reader, she was quite disappointed. Quite.

Aaaannnd then she and her lunch buddy Britni giggled like 5th grade girls do, and continued to share their lunches like they do every day...Minus the "apples" of course.

Now, on to the time management tips. I know the suspense has been keeping you all on pins and needles.

We will begin with a chat with Dawn. Remember Dawn? She's my sister who inspired me to blog with her post about wetting her sleeping bag on a family camping trip...Go on over and visit her! She's just full of interesting information!
"So--my best tip is to have a husband that doesn't work on Friday--and is a bit of a neat freak. That means he will do the vacuuming and the majority of the laundry! Yay Me!"

Yay you indeed, Dawn. Yay you, indeed.

And, please, no bitterness or resentment towards the girl who's husband cleans her house. He is in the ministry, so you can bet he works every. single. Sunday.

So, shall we discuss the convenience of such an arrangement? I guess it's probably unnecessary as I think it's pretty clear why it's such a genius set up...

Just so we're clear: So far my family has suggested a nanny to solve your time management problems, or have a husband do the housework on Friday while you are at work.

I'm sure you will find each of these tips very helpful and life changing.

Since all of my suggestions have been a family affair, we'll just keep that theme rolling. My Aunt C decided to chime in and share her advice. Guess what? Aunt C does not have a blog, but she did email me a super great picture of the two of us together!


Aren't we just too cute? If a little grainy! I did a quick copy image location, and it came across tiny, so I enlarged it...

Anyhoo, on with her super inspired words of wisdom:
"Make a list of things we needed to get done for kids/hubby."

Great advice Aunt C! Perhaps I somehow subliminally absorbed this as a child when I was visiting. Not that I ever participated in any cleaning or chores at your house. I only remember running in and out and eating and going swimming and basically just having fun. I guess you saved the chores for the immediate family...

Here's how I've implemented her words of wisdom: I made a list of everything to be done before bunco. I then ran around screaming like a drill sergeant until every single item was checked off.

Gentle Reader, I simply must confess that while I undoubtedly absorbed her list making skills subliminally, that is all I can place at her doorstep. Aunt C would never run around screaming like a drill sergeant. I remember very clearly thinking she never raised her voice or lost her temper when I was a kid. Even then I found it simply amazing.

Now, I find that impression nothing short of miraculous.

Hey! If you just stumbled into our time management series, please leave your best time management tips in the comments section!

Time Management

I have a very dear friend who recently started working full time for the first time in a long time.

Well, she used to be a dear friend...

Then, we both had to start working all the dad gum time, and now we hardly see each other. Now, we are more of "Hi! Nice to see you! I used to lunch once a week with a friend who looks a whole lot like you!"

Anyhoo, we ate Mexican with our families after church on Sunday. We discussed her new adventure in life...And the changes that always come as a result of a new job.

She said she was going to pick my brain about how to play this game of work and raise a family, and try not to let every thing else fall apart...

What flattery! She thinks I've got it all together!

What a pal! What a gal!

Gentle Reader, I obviously have her fooled!

In all honesty, I do enjoy organizing. Planning. Making a list and checking it twice...

All of these things work for me. However, the reality is, strange as I may find it, not everyone wants to roll the way I roll...

Weird.

That being said, I have been thinking about her dilemma, and what a challenge it is to go from working occasionally to nearly full time, and the shock that is to the whole family.

Well, my very first recommendation, is to find a nanny. Particularly a nanny who will do your dishes, straighten your house, supervise homework, chores, and run your kids to various things such as piano lessons...Generally, the nanny needs to be able to step in and take over the vast majority of parenting responsibilities.

Because, let's be real, Gentle Reader. If Mommy's gonna work full time, something's gotta give...

Gentle Reader, if you skip this step, I fear there is little I can do for you...

Just kidding!

I do have tips for you. If you're interested, that is...If not, then I suggest you skip the next few posts, because I've decided to break this down into a few posts, so I have plenty of room to impart my wisdom to you, my Gentle Readers.

However, before I get too far in these posts, I'd like to know what questions you may have for me, a veritable fount of information. And, if by some freak chance of nature I don't have a good answer for you, well I fear I will have to stoop to desperate measures...And lie.

Oh! And, I would love to hear your tips for managing a busy schedule too.

So, bring on the questions! Give me your suggestions! Share your ideas!

Disclaimer: This author may or may not feel compelled to claim your ideas as her own...Depending on how good the idea is, that is! I certainly don't plan to pass on any more drivel than I already do!

One Thing Leads to Another

Hmmm. Where did this picture come from? I did not mean to upload it to my blog...I know Bookworm snapped this shot the other day as the birds were bathing in our castle moat...

This last week I felt puny... I hate feeling puny. I hate how I fall behind on my housework, and I tend to feed my kids bowls of cereal and corn dogs and frozen pizza for dinner...Because I'm too crummy feeling to do anything else.

Well, Saturday, the switch flipped. I felt better. I had taken a 30mg pseudoephedrine pill at about 10am. It was in full force by 1pm. Studmuffin was out cleaning the pool, so the girls could have one last hoo-rah before we close it. (Uh, yeah, the water was too cold and they only stayed in maybe 5 minutes). Anyhoo, while he was outside, I had a burst of energy.

Did I go clean out my garden of weeds? No.

The cause of my invalideness lately (I love creating new words) is ragweed. Outdoors was not an appealing option.

I decided that while I love my house, it needs some change. Specifically Popcorn's room. She has a 12x12 room with a queen size bed. Can you imagine it is crowded in there? Especially considering that organization and tidiness are not in her repertoire. Naturally, I have a solution! Take apart the bunk beds in Bookworms room and get rid of that big bed!



WAIT!

I can't do that. I don't have another bedroom, and someone is forever coming to visit me (which I love) so I obviously need that big bed.

Hmmm....What to do. Whattodo...

What. To. Do.

There I was. Energized. Ready to do work. Snot running out my nose like a river and a voice like a 4 pack per day smoker of 30 years...Jumping out of my skin from the lovely cold medicine that was giving me a false sense of feeling betterness....

Obviously this required drastic measures, people

I did what any sane, hopped up on cold medicine woman who is used to moving at least every 4 years and has been in the same house with the same furniture in the same arrangement for over 2 years.

I rearranged my living room. Which lead to dusting every single surface. And vacuuming off every piece of furniture as well as under it...

Which lead to my ultimate goal:


No, no, no. Not getting rid of the bed. Although that is still a goal. Just not the ultimate goal. Please. Try to keep up.

I have this beautiful solid cherry roll top desk. Strangely, it was the very first piece of furniture we bought as a couple. It has been moved to 4 different abodes, not counting it's original delivery...Which I don't count because WE didn't move it!

It has been in my bedroom since we moved into this house. Because that's where I thought I wanted it when the movers brought it in.

Then, I decided, NO. I did not want it there. But it is large. Heavy. Awkward to move. So it stayed put. I griped about it. I begged to get rid of it along with the desktop computer. Who needs a desktop? Let's go all laptop baby! Who needs a bulky desktop cluttering up their life? Besides, the roll top desk is code for "stuff all your paper work that needs sorted in it and close it..."

So. The desk was on my nerves. Popcorn's too big bed was on my nerves. Obviously, her bed has to stay put...

And also obviously the best time to move a heavy large piece of furniture is when your husband is otherwise occupied and unable to nay say you during a chemically induced afternoon of mania.

So. I rearranged my bedroom. I dusted all of the furniture. I vacuumed...I got the desk as far as I could manage.

Which wasn't very far. Granted, I had it on sliders, but there is a piano in our living room. That is NOT on sliders. It had to be moved to get the desk through the hallway door.

I had to call in the recruits.

Err, recruit.

Okay. I had to admit to my hubby what I had started before I was finished. He walked in the house to find an end table in the middle of the room with the lamp on it...My great great grandmother's dining room table was moved out of it's original spot. The couches were askew. Cushions were on the floor...

"Ooookayeeee. What's up, Babe?" Don't you love how he calls me Babe, even when he knows I probably started something he won't like? Translation: He never likes change. He is almost always certain it will "never work."

"That desk will not fit in this living room. It will be too much furniture. I will just sell it. I'm going to put it in the OEC newsletter for best offer....Why did you start this today?" yada yada yada...



However, he helped me move the desk. After all, I'd come that far on my own, and he knew I'd just injure myself if he didn't step in.

We started the desk out the bedroom door. We scratched the door. I will not type the word that he uttered. This is a PG blog, but you can imagine the words that he let drop.

Oops.

But, we succeeded! We got the desk out of our room where I thought it was doomed to stay forever, and it now has a new, possibly temporary home in our living room...



And, I only have one stray end table left complete with a lamp that I bought at a garage sale for $1. I think it was a moment of garage sale mania...That's my only excuse. I saw it, and literally thought, "That lamp is hideous. Yet, I like it. I think I will buy it. After all, I need a taller lamp on the table in our den." And, I haven't managed to replace it yet. Oh, and the end table? It's the very same end table that was my mother-in-law's when Studmuffin was growing up.

I fear my house is overflowing with "heritage"furniture that I'm doomed to be stuck with through all eternity...Or at least until my kids move out and I generously give it to them out of the never-ending fount of kindness that is my heart...


Oh, and just in case you think the lamp was a strange once in a lifetime aberration that I suffered, allow me to introduce you to my pig...Why did I buy him? I have no idea. I saw him, and thought, "That is one ugly pig. Yet, I love the colors. And that ribbon on the tale. Oh! It's a dollar! I must have it!" And, it now sits on the floor of my house. The location has changed, but every time I start to get rid of it, I get a chuckle out of it's cute patchwork ugliness, and it stays...


Now. Is that picture not worth the 25 minutes of your day you thought were wasted reading this incredibly long post?!!

You're welcome. Again, the never-ending fount of kindness that is my heart is here to pour out love and generosity on the less fortunate souls who actually have stuff to do besides create work for themselves...

A Laundry Strike

Dear Family:

Effective immediately, I will no longer be turning every piece of laundry right side out as I am folding it. This means one sock will be right side out, one not. Your panties will be wrong side out. Your shorts will be neatly folded, and placed on your bed for YOU to put away wrong side out!

Unless of course, miracles begin to rain down from heaven, and you stop pulling every stitch of clothing off of your body in such a way that it ends up wrong side out. In this highly unlikely scenario, you will find your clothes neatly folded and lying on your bed RIGHT side out.

Revolutionary, I know.

Darling Studmuffin. You are the best. I truly could not ask for a better husband. However, in light of the stance I am taking with our precious daughters, I find it only fair to hang up your polo shirts wrong side out. Your underwear will not be simply pull from drawer and wear. No. You will now have to stop and turn right side out EVERY. SINGLE. PAIR. Unless of course, by some amazing occurrence you decide not to wad them up in a ball of wrong-side-outness as you take them off...

And, yes I did just discuss your underwear habits with the entire blogosphere as a witness...

Truly, I'm sorry to take such a drastic stance, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Bookworm, I realize that finding your clothes wrong side out is going to totally upset the perfect balance of orderliness and cleanliness that is your room. For this, I can only say: TURN YOUR CLOTHES RIGHT SIDE OUT WHEN YOU THROW IT IN THE HAMPER!!!! Lo and Behold, your clothes will once again be magically right side out when you put them away.

Precious Popcorn, I also realize that you will probably not bother to correct any of the wrong side out clothes as you put them away. In fact, I am already quite sure you will wear your socks and underwear wrong side out, rather than be troubled to correct them. I have decided I'm okay with this. Inevitably this will result in your socks & underwear being RIGHT side out every other time you wear them...

Just as a quick recap/reminder: The laundry fairy does not come to our house. If you need something clean, put it in the hamper. Tell me you are out of clean pants/shorts whatever, and I will be more than happy to launder it. However, since the laundry fairy has failed to show up these past 14 years, you WILL be required to put away your own laundry, and possibly fold it on occasion.

Thank you for your attention and assistance in the above matter.

Sincerely,

The Laundress, AKA, your wife and mother

Company's Coming! (Also known as free labor)

Studmuffin's brother is coming to help us paint our house this weekend....

I should be cleaning instead of blogging.

While I went to the store for the first time in 16 days without a list and apparently bought all of the staples I already have and none of the stuff I needed, and then went on a walk with my neighbor, my family cleaned...

Everything but the bathroom.

I had told the girls to clean their rooms while I was at work yesterday. However, Popcorn had a party at JumpZone to go to, and the nanny took Bookworm shopping where she let her try on makeup, and they didn't get home until I almost did, so they had to clean rooms yesterday evening.

At dinner Popcorn said, "Mom, will you PLEASE help me clean my room?"

"Honey, I have GOT to go to the store if I'm going to have food for your uncle and cousins."

"PLEASE, Mommy! I need you to help me!"

"You know what happens when I 'help' you clean your room. I see all of the junk you have shoved everywhere, and the piles under chairs and in your closet. Then, I get mad and throw it all in the middle of the floor, and throw away the ten zillion pieces of paper and other treasures, and start yelling at you to put it all away properly. Is that what you want to happen?"

"Yes!"

I laughed.

And, then I drug all of the piles of JUNK off of her closet floor. And behind her bed. And under her chair. And on her night stand, and book shelves and chest of drawers.

I really tried not to lose my temper, and I only did one time. Briefly.

Then, after I left her with a waist deep pile in the middle of her floor, I said, "Okay. Now I'm going to the store. Do you have it from here?"

"Yep! Thanks mommy! See you later!"

And I returned from all my running around at about 9pm to find the floors swept and mopped, Studmuffin running the vacuum, and Bookworm had dusted. I presented the girls with the itty bitty frog I had caught for them to torture for a few minutes, started some laundry, took a quick shower and went to bed.

So, today I still need to clean bathrooms and actually put away the piles that my family had no idea what to do with because I failed to put the stuff away all week...

I really should get going on this, because there is one thing I'm pretty sure of about my sister-in-law in Kansas. She is a worrier about appearances, so therefore her house is probably spotless...

So, in self defense, I will pretend my house looks like this all of the time, instead of the reality that is my cluttered life!

Oh, and after realizing all the work my family did while I was out running around, I came to the conclusion that perhaps they do see me as a trophy wife!

And that, Gentle Reader, is something I simply HAD to share with you before facing cleaning bathrooms, and sorting junk mail...