My thoughts this evening have gone something like, "Jesus wouldn't really care too much if my kids went to church stinky tomorrow, right?" "Honestly, the son of God didn't have running water, so I'm sure he didn't always smell fresh as a daisy." "Clean hair is really overrated." "I could just put perfume on them. They'd feel super special."
Between some late nights I've had, Charlie having a cough and sinus issues, the Boy sneezing and pinching or pulling something in his neck and back this morning and now me with something funky happening with my left eye, I'm just not really in the mood to deal with a bath time fight.
I don't know if I could stand for them to not bathe, though. And a thorough wash up isn't going to cut it because my kids use their hair as napkins - I think there are tomato seeds, ice cream and chocolate milk in Charlotte's hair right now.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
Pancakes ... as big as your head
Did You Know: A grouping of maple trees is called a sugarbush?
The only reason I knew that was because I've written a few different news stories about Maple Weekend in the past and have retained that knowledge for the future. It comes in handy every year when March rolls around and Mother Nature allows a little warmth to shine down on the groves. Maple Weekend is a big thing in this region and I'm not just talking about New York, though *pops collar* our state tree is in fact the sugar maple.
I'll give you a second to be impressed.
The only reason I knew that was because I've written a few different news stories about Maple Weekend in the past and have retained that knowledge for the future. It comes in handy every year when March rolls around and Mother Nature allows a little warmth to shine down on the groves. Maple Weekend is a big thing in this region and I'm not just talking about New York, though *pops collar* our state tree is in fact the sugar maple.
I'll give you a second to be impressed.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Be kind; rewind (my life to better days)
Forgive me, Father readers, for I have sinned been in a slump.
My last confession was 13 days ago. I shared with you how disastrous I felt my house was. I even showed you a picture or two. And made some of you giggle with the "Let it Go" video. Thanks for validating me.
I don't expect to get a lot of uplifting remarks, nor is this a cry for help in any way. I am simply one of thousands who battle daily to find their place and be comfortable in it.
The other day I posted on my Facebook page asking for blog topics. A former columnist of mine popped in with the suggestion I write about "being kind to yourself." I was in the frame of mind yesterday where that post would have been completely uplifting - I'd started my morning by doing a guided meditation on a new Roku channel I found and had my half a pot of coffee and the kids were relatively calm. Yesterday was pretty decent on all fronts.
But that was yesterday. Today was a different story - I slept late, needed to grocery shop, we ran out of coffee and I thought that alone would kill me, the kids fought with each other, the kids fought with me, the dog keeps trying to dig under the back porch, the hustle and bustle of dance class during the dinner hour, realizing my kids were eating yogurt for dinner at almost 7 p.m. and then a near argument with the Boy over this very blog entry (because he doesn't understand it).
Today reminded me of all the reasons I'm not nice to myself. Why I'm bitter and pissed off a lot. Why I sometimes want to pack a bag and tell my husband it's all his responsibility for three days while I go hide in the woods somewhere. This is basically the antithesis of my friend's request for a post about "being kind to yourself." Sorry 'bout that.
My last confession was 13 days ago. I shared with you how disastrous I felt my house was. I even showed you a picture or two. And made some of you giggle with the "Let it Go" video. Thanks for validating me.
I don't expect to get a lot of uplifting remarks, nor is this a cry for help in any way. I am simply one of thousands who battle daily to find their place and be comfortable in it.
The other day I posted on my Facebook page asking for blog topics. A former columnist of mine popped in with the suggestion I write about "being kind to yourself." I was in the frame of mind yesterday where that post would have been completely uplifting - I'd started my morning by doing a guided meditation on a new Roku channel I found and had my half a pot of coffee and the kids were relatively calm. Yesterday was pretty decent on all fronts.
But that was yesterday. Today was a different story - I slept late, needed to grocery shop, we ran out of coffee and I thought that alone would kill me, the kids fought with each other, the kids fought with me, the dog keeps trying to dig under the back porch, the hustle and bustle of dance class during the dinner hour, realizing my kids were eating yogurt for dinner at almost 7 p.m. and then a near argument with the Boy over this very blog entry (because he doesn't understand it).
Today reminded me of all the reasons I'm not nice to myself. Why I'm bitter and pissed off a lot. Why I sometimes want to pack a bag and tell my husband it's all his responsibility for three days while I go hide in the woods somewhere. This is basically the antithesis of my friend's request for a post about "being kind to yourself." Sorry 'bout that.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
#40bagsin40days: I'ma do this so hard
I'm going to do this. Just like two years ago when I was, for all intents and purposes, scary close to a nervous breakdown, this needs to be done.
A mommy friend posted the link to the blog "White House Black Shutters" on Facebook and I read the post and went "Huh. Interesting." I was in between yelling at one kid and pleading with another when I read the entry. Bad behavior ran amuck today. I let them eat the remaining 18 or so packs of fruit snacks from a box we bought Monday and promised to wake Charlie up if she fell asleep in the chair watching TV and then promised I was going to get my ass pre-birthday drunk because, damn it, I deserve all those drinks.
So. Today royally sucked.
And then, mid-tantrum (mine, not theirs), I looked at the living room, glanced at the front room and hit the roof when I looked at the kitchen counters.
Out came the notebook and pen:
And a list was born because, let's face it, my life is never organized enough and when I don't have a list everything is chaotic. My life. My kids. My house. My brain. Hell, even my hair doesn't know what to do when I let go and stop making lists.
Here's the list. It's time for my first ever #40bagsin40days challenge. The clutter will be overcome. I have my list. I won't lose my ambition. I may clean and declutter under the influence once in a while because this is Lent and God himself knows I won't give up my alcohol. I'll give up the mess and the chaos, but leave your holy hands off my wine.
Now that I've started I should forewarn my loved ones. It's happening. Boy, I'm sorry. I said I would hold onto your jeans from college and right after college because you were going to use our gym membership and fit into them again ... but you don't use our membership. You ran up and down the two flights of stairs in our house tonight and were thoroughly winded. We'll work on that. But first, I'm tired of cleaning around that box in the closet. The box I moved here last fall. The box I moved around in the closet at the old house. It's time to let it go.
Really, just ...
College Me, I know how much you LOVE some of those ratty T-shirts you just can't seem to part with. You're going to try for real this time. An honest to goodness try, Past Me. You may even get as far as putting them in a bag this time instead of just piling them up and eventually moving them to a different drawer. But it's OK to let them go. Really. I promise.
Mommy Me ... no we aren't getting rid of the baby clothes yet so you can stop that train right here.
I did start this challenge today and that's the biggest step. That's one thing all the parts of me can be certain of. I made that list and I looked at my house and cried because I'm tired - but more than the exhaustion of trying to keep up, staying up too late to get it all done and the being mentally worn out because of not being able to be Super Mom (we've talked about how much I am NOT her in the past), I'm tired of using those excuses to not fold up the blankets the kids have thrown on the floor again. I'm kind of tired of telling myself I'll get to something later and later coming MONTHS later. That's bullshit and I'm only psychologically bringing myself closer to another round of "Am I crazy or is that really a ghost standing in my living room." (Answer: It's usually a ghost. I'm very much not crazy in the traditional sense.)
Let me give you a glimpse into what I've been looking at for weeks, what's been eating away at the very center of my soul. Some of my friends would believe this is a totally normal condition or state for my home to be in, but in my head it's not. It can't be and I won't let it be.
Here, your glimpse:
Holy fuck. To a lot of people this isn't bad. But remember it's only one small counter top in the kitchen. I had four other areas that were (to me) just as cluttered. This picture gives me anxiety.
This one, however, makes me calm:
The pile on the left is my husband's pile of random shit he needs to go through and then move the hell off my counter. The pile on the right is actually the first part of a manuscript I'm editing, a stack of CDs I need to put in the car and Tara Sivec's "Watch Over Me," which I just started reading the other night. Tomorrow, that pile will disappear and travel with me to my mom and dad's very organized house where I will once again feel at peace with my shattered soul (because I'm not Super Mom).
I posted all my before and after photos from today on my Facebook page (personal, I don't have one associated with the blog ... but if there's demand for one, I'd do it) and between the first set of photos and the second, my attitude changed right along with the amount of shit cluttering my space. There's something truly uplifting about getting rid of things I don't need. At this point it's just been getting rid of recyclables and trash items that built up and took over my counters. In the next 39 days, I'll be giving bags of clothes (there's already one ready to go) and quite possibly toys to the Rescue Mission. Stuff will be taken to church (yeah, despite my cursing and imbibing I do in fact attend a real church) for the annual rummage sale. I'll be organizing this house like I've been wanting to since we decided to move here.
Honestly, I may even break my new "no credit card unless for gas" rule in order to really get a handle on things like the girls' play area(s) and the crafty/fabric stuff.
Now, since I already made this kitchen look gawd damn amazing, I'm just going to go put my feet up, drink this wine and celebrate the beginning of Lent and ... yay Jesus!
You know you want to say it, too. Go on. Say it. Yay Jesus!
A mommy friend posted the link to the blog "White House Black Shutters" on Facebook and I read the post and went "Huh. Interesting." I was in between yelling at one kid and pleading with another when I read the entry. Bad behavior ran amuck today. I let them eat the remaining 18 or so packs of fruit snacks from a box we bought Monday and promised to wake Charlie up if she fell asleep in the chair watching TV and then promised I was going to get my ass pre-birthday drunk because, damn it, I deserve all those drinks.
So. Today royally sucked.
And then, mid-tantrum (mine, not theirs), I looked at the living room, glanced at the front room and hit the roof when I looked at the kitchen counters.
Out came the notebook and pen:
 |
| Pen, meet notebook ... and glass and laptop. |
Here's the list. It's time for my first ever #40bagsin40days challenge. The clutter will be overcome. I have my list. I won't lose my ambition. I may clean and declutter under the influence once in a while because this is Lent and God himself knows I won't give up my alcohol. I'll give up the mess and the chaos, but leave your holy hands off my wine.
Now that I've started I should forewarn my loved ones. It's happening. Boy, I'm sorry. I said I would hold onto your jeans from college and right after college because you were going to use our gym membership and fit into them again ... but you don't use our membership. You ran up and down the two flights of stairs in our house tonight and were thoroughly winded. We'll work on that. But first, I'm tired of cleaning around that box in the closet. The box I moved here last fall. The box I moved around in the closet at the old house. It's time to let it go.
Really, just ...
College Me, I know how much you LOVE some of those ratty T-shirts you just can't seem to part with. You're going to try for real this time. An honest to goodness try, Past Me. You may even get as far as putting them in a bag this time instead of just piling them up and eventually moving them to a different drawer. But it's OK to let them go. Really. I promise.
Mommy Me ... no we aren't getting rid of the baby clothes yet so you can stop that train right here.
I did start this challenge today and that's the biggest step. That's one thing all the parts of me can be certain of. I made that list and I looked at my house and cried because I'm tired - but more than the exhaustion of trying to keep up, staying up too late to get it all done and the being mentally worn out because of not being able to be Super Mom (we've talked about how much I am NOT her in the past), I'm tired of using those excuses to not fold up the blankets the kids have thrown on the floor again. I'm kind of tired of telling myself I'll get to something later and later coming MONTHS later. That's bullshit and I'm only psychologically bringing myself closer to another round of "Am I crazy or is that really a ghost standing in my living room." (Answer: It's usually a ghost. I'm very much not crazy in the traditional sense.)
Let me give you a glimpse into what I've been looking at for weeks, what's been eating away at the very center of my soul. Some of my friends would believe this is a totally normal condition or state for my home to be in, but in my head it's not. It can't be and I won't let it be.
Here, your glimpse:
 |
| No office yet, so this is a dinner table/office/desk/bill-pay area. *barf* |
This one, however, makes me calm:
 |
| So.Much.Better. |
I posted all my before and after photos from today on my Facebook page (personal, I don't have one associated with the blog ... but if there's demand for one, I'd do it) and between the first set of photos and the second, my attitude changed right along with the amount of shit cluttering my space. There's something truly uplifting about getting rid of things I don't need. At this point it's just been getting rid of recyclables and trash items that built up and took over my counters. In the next 39 days, I'll be giving bags of clothes (there's already one ready to go) and quite possibly toys to the Rescue Mission. Stuff will be taken to church (yeah, despite my cursing and imbibing I do in fact attend a real church) for the annual rummage sale. I'll be organizing this house like I've been wanting to since we decided to move here.
Honestly, I may even break my new "no credit card unless for gas" rule in order to really get a handle on things like the girls' play area(s) and the crafty/fabric stuff.
Now, since I already made this kitchen look gawd damn amazing, I'm just going to go put my feet up, drink this wine and celebrate the beginning of Lent and ... yay Jesus!
You know you want to say it, too. Go on. Say it. Yay Jesus!
Monday, March 3, 2014
Educational experiences unlike any other
Jump back in time with me for just a sec.
It's 1998 and all my friends are doing it. It's the cool thing. They love hanging out doing this stuff and I'm just like, eh I dunno if it's really my thing. I'm a smart kid, I think, but this is kind of out there even for me.
Academic Decathlon. It's basically the most awesome form of nerdery to go down for high school kids if you don't have a chess or glee club.
Oh, you don't know what AcaDec is? Let me enlighten you. It's several months of studying subjects outside the regular school curriculum. Eventually, through the course of studying, a few schools in the state get together in one location and take multiple exams - Regional Competition. Then from those winning schools a handful from the entire state get together for a weekend and nerd it up for two days - State Competition.
The second day starts at the asscrack of dawn with (at least for us New Yorkers) the math exam. Yeah, calculus at 8:45 a.m.
Admit it right now, you'd die if you had to do math that early these days. I hardly remember my name at that time of the morning let alone can do whatever the hell math I learned in high school. My husband is a robot, so we won't include him in this story because he does math for fun. Weirdo.
It's 1998 and all my friends are doing it. It's the cool thing. They love hanging out doing this stuff and I'm just like, eh I dunno if it's really my thing. I'm a smart kid, I think, but this is kind of out there even for me.
Academic Decathlon. It's basically the most awesome form of nerdery to go down for high school kids if you don't have a chess or glee club.
Oh, you don't know what AcaDec is? Let me enlighten you. It's several months of studying subjects outside the regular school curriculum. Eventually, through the course of studying, a few schools in the state get together in one location and take multiple exams - Regional Competition. Then from those winning schools a handful from the entire state get together for a weekend and nerd it up for two days - State Competition.
The second day starts at the asscrack of dawn with (at least for us New Yorkers) the math exam. Yeah, calculus at 8:45 a.m.
Admit it right now, you'd die if you had to do math that early these days. I hardly remember my name at that time of the morning let alone can do whatever the hell math I learned in high school. My husband is a robot, so we won't include him in this story because he does math for fun. Weirdo.
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