Wednesday, December 29, 2010
It's 1:11am. Where are you?
I'm on the couch, sleepy, really wanting to go to bed. The problem? I'm locked out of my bedroom. Think Hubby's trying to tell me something? LOL Since he went to bed on good terms, I'm assuming it's a glitch in the thought process of someone who accidentally turned the lock. At any rate, I tried the butter knife trick to no avail. I would try the credit card trick, but my wallet is in the bedroom. I could of course knock on the door until he wakes up and lets me in, but that doesn't seem kind when he gets so little sleep as it is. And in fact his alarm will be going off in less than 3 hours at which time he'll wonder where I am, wander out here, wake me up, have a good chuckle over the whole thing and I'll get to crawl into bed and go back to sleep until my alarm goes off.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Balance in the family or The Butterfly Effect
I've witnessed a strange phenomenon today. This morning did not begin like a "usual" morning and for some reason that one act has had a butterfly effect on the entire household. I don't believe anyone is truly mad at anyone else in the house (at least not anymore), but we're all being short with each other and there's this almost palpable stress in the air which is heavy. For me, I actually feel physically exhausted carrying this stress and that's after an hour massage. I don't feel stressed, it's just what's in the air and it's oppressive.
I suppose the conclusion is that issues need to be discussed at the earliest possible time to "clear the air" (which after today has a new meaning to me). In our house, that has yet to happen, but I'm sure it will sometime soon. And then I'll be able to feel an actual weight being lifted off. I wonder if there is a way to lift this weight off yourself? Do you really need the other person involved to help? I guess you do because in weight training you should always have a spotter, why would stress weight be any different? I'm rambling, it's giving me something to do. I should probably go "clear the air", but I'm trying to decide if now is the best time. Trying to gauge how long it will take versus how long I have until company comes over. Maybe as a social experiment, since it's gone on this long, I should let it go and see if it affects company as well as household members. Think I could receive a grant to study this?
I suppose the conclusion is that issues need to be discussed at the earliest possible time to "clear the air" (which after today has a new meaning to me). In our house, that has yet to happen, but I'm sure it will sometime soon. And then I'll be able to feel an actual weight being lifted off. I wonder if there is a way to lift this weight off yourself? Do you really need the other person involved to help? I guess you do because in weight training you should always have a spotter, why would stress weight be any different? I'm rambling, it's giving me something to do. I should probably go "clear the air", but I'm trying to decide if now is the best time. Trying to gauge how long it will take versus how long I have until company comes over. Maybe as a social experiment, since it's gone on this long, I should let it go and see if it affects company as well as household members. Think I could receive a grant to study this?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
It's all in my head...or on it?
I'm currently suffering through a bout of lividness. (Wow, apparently that really is a word as my spell check didn't tag it!) I'm angry. Angrier than a beehive that's been thrown to the ground by a honey hungry bear. And that's not my usual demeanor. I'm normally patient, kind, mellow and laid back, but I can actually feel my blood pressure rising. Probably not a good thing. In fact, I want to throw something, stomp through the house, break things, punch things do anything to relieve some of this pent up anger. But since we're going through the whole teaching the children responsibility and maturity, it wouldn't behoove me to go ranting and raving through the house. Not such a good example of responsible maturity. So, I've decided to try blogging to release some pressure. In order to effectively blog about one's anger one must analyze it.
Right off the bat, I'm angry with Hubby. How dare he be able to sleep so peacefully. Can't he see the world is actually upside down right now and I need him to help turn it the right way up? I ended all my games, my facebook, my email, basically unplugged from the online world so we could spend our designated one hour together and I was able to have 21 minutes before he was out. We will eventually make it through the book we're reading together. Anyone have young children you need to put to sleep? I'll record my voice for you to play to them because it's so soothing they'll be out in no time...or 21 minutes to be exact. I just needed some time with him to unwind. To take a deep breath and have someone take care of me and my needs. But, upon further analysis, that's not really fair of me. I mean, he's tired. He worked late, didn't even have a chance to come into the house when he came home because we were all in the van waiting for him to drive us to the kids' activity, grocery store, dinner, etc. When we finally straggled back in from all of that, his time was spent with kids brushing teeth, homework, general getting ready for bed routine. No wonder he crashed. I might have, too. My conclusion on the Hubby anger: yes, I feel a little neglected, but my anger began way before that and it is always easier to take it out on the one you love most. In truth he deserves his rest, he works very hard for us. He's off the hook and I'll quit mentally cussing him out.
Hey, I think this is helping. Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was angry before I even saw Hubby. What else happened. I knew Hubby was going to be late tonight, so I was supervising the homework/chores solo and was on my way to prepare dinner. I reached up for a pot and noticed they were askew. When your children are responsible (I'm using this term lightly under the current circumstances) for cleaning the kitchen, it is not too unusual to see things not quite up to snuff. I reached for the pot, grabbed it, started to pull it down, when in a slow motion moment, I see the heavy pot lid gracefully flutter down coming to rest ever so gently on my head. NOT! That sucker is heavy and combined with gravity I don't care how hard of a head you have (and I have a hard head or at least I've been told I'm stubborn so I'm assuming it's the same thing) it hurts like the dickens!! Instant welling of tears, horrible headache, I stagger into the bedroom and just cry. (Note to self, if you're going to drop pot lids on your head and cry, make sure you don't watch a tear-jerker movie like Toy Story 3 earlier in the day. The double crying jags do nothing to make your eyes pretty.)
Once the pain had subsided enough so that I could make a coherent sentence come out of my mouth, I round up said children and ask who put the pots away incorrectly. I should learn of course that a mother who has been crying can look pretty scary, especially to the child responsible, because they all suffered with instant short term memory loss and had no clue which one of them did it. I asked each of them how to put the pots away the right way and they could all answer correctly. Someday I'll get a grant to find out where in the child's body the correct way of doing something gets lost from brain to limbs. Anyway, I then lose it. Start crying again and let them know that the chore lists took a long time to create. They were designed to make it easier on them. They just have to start at the top and work their way down the list. In turn this makes it easier on the parents as we don't have to sit there and babysit them while they're doing the chores. On and on. And on. I'm pretty sure they heard, "Blah, blah, blah, sniff. Blah, blah, sniff, sniff." Not one of my better moments, but I didn't yell and still maintained some semblance of outward calm even with the raging headache.
I proceed to fix dinner and serve them. I let them eat without me as I had no appetite and was looking for some sanctuary I could escape to. That only lasted for a few minutes. Thing 4 is a creature of habit and enjoys family meals and the sharing of the day. She came in and asked me in her really sweet, angelic, cute way to sit and visit with her while she ate. And since there was no way she could have been responsible for the pot lid mishap, how could I break her heart and say no. I joined her.
Of course by this time the other 3 were finished eating and moved on to after dinner chores one of which is put your own dish into the dishwasher. Thing 2 neglected to do this, so Thing 1 went to his room and asked him to put the dish in the dishwasher so she could finish the kitchen. He said he would when he felt like it. This went on for a few more verbal jabs when Thing 1 gave up, slammed Thing 2's door and stomped into the kitchen. I calmly leave the table, enter Thing 2's room and gently grab him by the ear, have him stand and send him to the kitchen. I promise, it was gentle and I said not a word (I'm patting myself on the back because I was still showing restraint and patience!). A mere 15 minutes later we're in the van awaiting Hubby. He did ask me after we dropped them off why they were so quiet in the van. Needless to say it was a somber evening before he showed up.
Turns out I don't have a bump on my noggin, I have a dent. Not sure if that's better or not. But in the anger analysis, I'm now willing to chalk this day up to a lost cause or better yet, a lesson in venting anger. No point in letting the anger continue to fester and ruin tomorrow, too. Because it's true what they say, no one can make you angry, you choose to be. Right now, I'm choosing to be sleepy.
Right off the bat, I'm angry with Hubby. How dare he be able to sleep so peacefully. Can't he see the world is actually upside down right now and I need him to help turn it the right way up? I ended all my games, my facebook, my email, basically unplugged from the online world so we could spend our designated one hour together and I was able to have 21 minutes before he was out. We will eventually make it through the book we're reading together. Anyone have young children you need to put to sleep? I'll record my voice for you to play to them because it's so soothing they'll be out in no time...or 21 minutes to be exact. I just needed some time with him to unwind. To take a deep breath and have someone take care of me and my needs. But, upon further analysis, that's not really fair of me. I mean, he's tired. He worked late, didn't even have a chance to come into the house when he came home because we were all in the van waiting for him to drive us to the kids' activity, grocery store, dinner, etc. When we finally straggled back in from all of that, his time was spent with kids brushing teeth, homework, general getting ready for bed routine. No wonder he crashed. I might have, too. My conclusion on the Hubby anger: yes, I feel a little neglected, but my anger began way before that and it is always easier to take it out on the one you love most. In truth he deserves his rest, he works very hard for us. He's off the hook and I'll quit mentally cussing him out.
Hey, I think this is helping. Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was angry before I even saw Hubby. What else happened. I knew Hubby was going to be late tonight, so I was supervising the homework/chores solo and was on my way to prepare dinner. I reached up for a pot and noticed they were askew. When your children are responsible (I'm using this term lightly under the current circumstances) for cleaning the kitchen, it is not too unusual to see things not quite up to snuff. I reached for the pot, grabbed it, started to pull it down, when in a slow motion moment, I see the heavy pot lid gracefully flutter down coming to rest ever so gently on my head. NOT! That sucker is heavy and combined with gravity I don't care how hard of a head you have (and I have a hard head or at least I've been told I'm stubborn so I'm assuming it's the same thing) it hurts like the dickens!! Instant welling of tears, horrible headache, I stagger into the bedroom and just cry. (Note to self, if you're going to drop pot lids on your head and cry, make sure you don't watch a tear-jerker movie like Toy Story 3 earlier in the day. The double crying jags do nothing to make your eyes pretty.)
Once the pain had subsided enough so that I could make a coherent sentence come out of my mouth, I round up said children and ask who put the pots away incorrectly. I should learn of course that a mother who has been crying can look pretty scary, especially to the child responsible, because they all suffered with instant short term memory loss and had no clue which one of them did it. I asked each of them how to put the pots away the right way and they could all answer correctly. Someday I'll get a grant to find out where in the child's body the correct way of doing something gets lost from brain to limbs. Anyway, I then lose it. Start crying again and let them know that the chore lists took a long time to create. They were designed to make it easier on them. They just have to start at the top and work their way down the list. In turn this makes it easier on the parents as we don't have to sit there and babysit them while they're doing the chores. On and on. And on. I'm pretty sure they heard, "Blah, blah, blah, sniff. Blah, blah, sniff, sniff." Not one of my better moments, but I didn't yell and still maintained some semblance of outward calm even with the raging headache.
I proceed to fix dinner and serve them. I let them eat without me as I had no appetite and was looking for some sanctuary I could escape to. That only lasted for a few minutes. Thing 4 is a creature of habit and enjoys family meals and the sharing of the day. She came in and asked me in her really sweet, angelic, cute way to sit and visit with her while she ate. And since there was no way she could have been responsible for the pot lid mishap, how could I break her heart and say no. I joined her.
Of course by this time the other 3 were finished eating and moved on to after dinner chores one of which is put your own dish into the dishwasher. Thing 2 neglected to do this, so Thing 1 went to his room and asked him to put the dish in the dishwasher so she could finish the kitchen. He said he would when he felt like it. This went on for a few more verbal jabs when Thing 1 gave up, slammed Thing 2's door and stomped into the kitchen. I calmly leave the table, enter Thing 2's room and gently grab him by the ear, have him stand and send him to the kitchen. I promise, it was gentle and I said not a word (I'm patting myself on the back because I was still showing restraint and patience!). A mere 15 minutes later we're in the van awaiting Hubby. He did ask me after we dropped them off why they were so quiet in the van. Needless to say it was a somber evening before he showed up.
Turns out I don't have a bump on my noggin, I have a dent. Not sure if that's better or not. But in the anger analysis, I'm now willing to chalk this day up to a lost cause or better yet, a lesson in venting anger. No point in letting the anger continue to fester and ruin tomorrow, too. Because it's true what they say, no one can make you angry, you choose to be. Right now, I'm choosing to be sleepy.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
What to do when you want to strangle the little monsters...
Alright, not as bad as all of that, but pretty much I've had it with Thing 2! I sometimes lose focus that it will get better. I sometimes lose focus that parenthood is hard work and that means sometimes you have to work hard.
Yesterday was one of those days. I do my parental duty and send them off to school with lunch money in hand. I'm thinking I'm doing great because I usually forget the lunch money at the beginning of the month. And not only did they have lunch money, I was dressed and ready to go workout. I was Super Mom...for one, brief, moment...in my imagination. The problem started when I went looking for the van keys. Looked in all the usual places starting with where they belonged working my way down to where they usually are. When no keys miraculously appeared, I thought about the last time I saw them. Ah ha! Hubby was the last one to drive the van...he must have lost them!
I search his coat and pants pockets. I look in the van (which is unlocked). Still no keys. I call him and ask if he saw them or perhaps put them in his computer bag...no such luck. But he was kind enough to drive home and bring me the extra van key so that I could make my chiro appointment and go shopping with my SIL (my workout was missed, but will be made up at a later date).
Then my SIL mentioned that Thing 2 went in the van to grab his sweatshirt (which is supposed to be taken out every time we come home, but that's a whole other story) to be dark for Halloween so he probably had the keys last. Back to searching, but this time thinking like a middle school boy. No luck, although I did take the time to open his window and air out his room. We figure we'll have to wait until he comes home from school to begin the inquisition, I mean questioning, so we continue with our plans.
Fast forward a few hours. Thing 2 arrives home from school and I ask him if he's seen the van keys. He immediately walks outside. I think great, he put them on the grill or the bench or the table, but no, he comes back inside and says, "I put them on the hood of Daddy's car." Really?!?!?! I'm thinking, the car that he's driven to work and back and then back to work again?!?!
Images of cartoon characters strangling their children flash in my mind, but I'm smart enough to know that my kids wouldn't bounce back quite the same so I take the high road and view it as an opportunity for a lesson in responsibility and maturity since just that morning he was peeved that I said he wasn't mature enough to have a digital camera.
I call Hubby to apprise him of the situation and he said, "Oh, that's what that noise was." Apparently on his way to work he heard something a lot heavier than the leaves fly off his vehicle. He gives me the general area he heard the noise, I round up Thing 2 (who at this point digs himself in further and mentions that I have keys so what's the big deal) and we take off in the pouring rain and wind to walk the busy highway to look for the van keys. After becoming drenched, we have found no keys and I'm fuming as he didn't even really help look, just acted like it was a leisurely stroll in the rain. Mistakes happen, but the fact that this child of mine is showing no remorse, no guilt, no anything is turning my face into the color of a ripe tomato.
We come home and I send him off to do his chores and homework. When Hubby arrives, we go back out and search a different area of the road. Still nothing. When we get back, Thing 2 is in his room because he doesn't like what's for dinner so he claims he had a big lunch and isn't hungry. Did I mention he's currently getting 2 C's in school? Anyway, in an effort to calm my furious brain, the wonderful man that Hubby is, explains that the child's brain is being taken over by hormonal aliens (my paraphrase, he was much more scientific about it, it just helps me to visualize my children are possessed rather than willingly behaving in such a manner) and he then changed the lock on the front door just to make me feel better. It helped, but I was still upset. This child is like Spirit the horse x 2! And I'm going to be the one to break him. And I will, but Hubby and I realized I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the moment to undertake this monumental task.
We're trying to decide what punishment should befall the losing of the keys. It's like a battle strategy. We currently have 3 battles going...the fight over food, the fight over grades, and the fight over owning up to your mistakes and saying sorry because in Thing 2's world everything is everyone else's fault.
Today with the battle strategy firmly in my head, I am ready to meet Thing 2 head on. I'm calm, confident and I'm going to win the war over the hormonal child. He will grow up to be respectful, kind and a productive member of society. So, 1st thing this morning before he could have anything else, he ate 2 bites of last night's dinner. Score 1 for Mommy! He's in for a long haul. I'm way more stubborn and I have the advantage of a battle plan! Well, at least with all this practice, I'll be a seasoned General in the hormone, pre-teen war when the next 2 hit it hard. :o)
Yesterday was one of those days. I do my parental duty and send them off to school with lunch money in hand. I'm thinking I'm doing great because I usually forget the lunch money at the beginning of the month. And not only did they have lunch money, I was dressed and ready to go workout. I was Super Mom...for one, brief, moment...in my imagination. The problem started when I went looking for the van keys. Looked in all the usual places starting with where they belonged working my way down to where they usually are. When no keys miraculously appeared, I thought about the last time I saw them. Ah ha! Hubby was the last one to drive the van...he must have lost them!
I search his coat and pants pockets. I look in the van (which is unlocked). Still no keys. I call him and ask if he saw them or perhaps put them in his computer bag...no such luck. But he was kind enough to drive home and bring me the extra van key so that I could make my chiro appointment and go shopping with my SIL (my workout was missed, but will be made up at a later date).
Then my SIL mentioned that Thing 2 went in the van to grab his sweatshirt (which is supposed to be taken out every time we come home, but that's a whole other story) to be dark for Halloween so he probably had the keys last. Back to searching, but this time thinking like a middle school boy. No luck, although I did take the time to open his window and air out his room. We figure we'll have to wait until he comes home from school to begin the inquisition, I mean questioning, so we continue with our plans.
Fast forward a few hours. Thing 2 arrives home from school and I ask him if he's seen the van keys. He immediately walks outside. I think great, he put them on the grill or the bench or the table, but no, he comes back inside and says, "I put them on the hood of Daddy's car." Really?!?!?! I'm thinking, the car that he's driven to work and back and then back to work again?!?!
Images of cartoon characters strangling their children flash in my mind, but I'm smart enough to know that my kids wouldn't bounce back quite the same so I take the high road and view it as an opportunity for a lesson in responsibility and maturity since just that morning he was peeved that I said he wasn't mature enough to have a digital camera.
I call Hubby to apprise him of the situation and he said, "Oh, that's what that noise was." Apparently on his way to work he heard something a lot heavier than the leaves fly off his vehicle. He gives me the general area he heard the noise, I round up Thing 2 (who at this point digs himself in further and mentions that I have keys so what's the big deal) and we take off in the pouring rain and wind to walk the busy highway to look for the van keys. After becoming drenched, we have found no keys and I'm fuming as he didn't even really help look, just acted like it was a leisurely stroll in the rain. Mistakes happen, but the fact that this child of mine is showing no remorse, no guilt, no anything is turning my face into the color of a ripe tomato.
We come home and I send him off to do his chores and homework. When Hubby arrives, we go back out and search a different area of the road. Still nothing. When we get back, Thing 2 is in his room because he doesn't like what's for dinner so he claims he had a big lunch and isn't hungry. Did I mention he's currently getting 2 C's in school? Anyway, in an effort to calm my furious brain, the wonderful man that Hubby is, explains that the child's brain is being taken over by hormonal aliens (my paraphrase, he was much more scientific about it, it just helps me to visualize my children are possessed rather than willingly behaving in such a manner) and he then changed the lock on the front door just to make me feel better. It helped, but I was still upset. This child is like Spirit the horse x 2! And I'm going to be the one to break him. And I will, but Hubby and I realized I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the moment to undertake this monumental task.
We're trying to decide what punishment should befall the losing of the keys. It's like a battle strategy. We currently have 3 battles going...the fight over food, the fight over grades, and the fight over owning up to your mistakes and saying sorry because in Thing 2's world everything is everyone else's fault.
Today with the battle strategy firmly in my head, I am ready to meet Thing 2 head on. I'm calm, confident and I'm going to win the war over the hormonal child. He will grow up to be respectful, kind and a productive member of society. So, 1st thing this morning before he could have anything else, he ate 2 bites of last night's dinner. Score 1 for Mommy! He's in for a long haul. I'm way more stubborn and I have the advantage of a battle plan! Well, at least with all this practice, I'll be a seasoned General in the hormone, pre-teen war when the next 2 hit it hard. :o)
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Life without the "other" half
Ok, I admit it. My marriage is one of those gushy, touchy feely kind of things that routinely make my children tell us to get a room (to which we reply we own the house, it is our room.). After 16+ years of marriage the honeymoon ain't over for us. I suppose that if it isn't over yet, it never will be. We are in love! And as such, we actually enjoy spending time together. It doesn't have to be a lot of time, just knowing that we'll see each other at some time in the day is enough. Needless to say we haven't been apart all that much in our marriage. I can in fact count the number of times on one hand that we've been apart for more than 24 hours. I can't speak for Hubby, but I cease to be "fully" me when he's not around. He is currently on a business trip (thankfully this is my last of 4 nights without him...I'm FREEZING!!!) and I actually feel like half of me is missing. I even get phantom limb stuff going on. I saw his car in the driveway and was all excited that he was home, when duh, no he isn't (in my defense Thing 3 and Thing 4 did it, too!). I keep waiting for him to come in for dinner and he's not there. Based on this current experience, I want to give some kudos to a few people.
First, my wonderful Sister-in-law who decided to plan a week trip to visit us just at the same time as Hubby would be gone. She said it was to celebrate Thing 2's birthday and Halloween with us, and I'm willing to go along with that explanation to save my pride, but I secretly think she knew I'd be a mess (being only half a person and all) so decided to help out. And help she has! We've gone thrift store shopping everyday which has definitely made the days go faster, Thing 4 hasn't made me go deaf with the constant talking as she can split her time between two of us and I'm generally a much more sane person than if I had played the part of a single mom for a few days. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only responsible adult in the house.
Second kudos goes to the cat. It is no secret to anyone that I have an extremely difficult time sleeping without Hubby. On my recent weekend away (mind you for relaxation purposes for myself) I stayed up for 44 hours straight. Do you know your body starts acting drunk when you haven't slept in that long? And supposedly after 10 days of no sleep, you die? I was 1/5th of the way to death on my relaxing weekend! I digress. The cat is an indoor/outdoor cat with his outdoor time being at night because he will inevitably wake up in the middle of the morning, scratch his jingly collar and wake us up to go out. I've learned if I kick him out an hour before I go to bed, and then let him in, he can go all night snuggled next to me and at least keep my feet warm. Hubby asked if I was letting the cat sleep on his side of the bed. No, he literally sleeps on me. That's the downside, the cat is a bed hog! I feel a little bad for the cat though, because he took to sleeping inside at night like a fish would take to water. His bubble will be burst tomorrow when he has to go back outside. But it has been comforting having the cat with me.
Last, but most certainly not least MAJOR kudos go to military spouses! God bless you all! Every time I start feeling a little blue because I don't have Hubby home for a few days, I remember that you military spouses go months, even years without yours. I honestly think that I would perish. You all have a strength that I admire. You are the unsung heroes and I encourage anyone who knows a military spouse to help out in any way you can. Even if it's watching the kids for a while so they can have some down time. Treating them to a movie or something else fun. Anything to lighten their load just a little bit! I thank all of you military spouses for your service to our country! It is comforting to know that there are men and women able to be out there protecting us because of what you do and the sacrifices you make.
Only 18 hours and 15 minutes left! I can do it, I can do it, I can do it...
First, my wonderful Sister-in-law who decided to plan a week trip to visit us just at the same time as Hubby would be gone. She said it was to celebrate Thing 2's birthday and Halloween with us, and I'm willing to go along with that explanation to save my pride, but I secretly think she knew I'd be a mess (being only half a person and all) so decided to help out. And help she has! We've gone thrift store shopping everyday which has definitely made the days go faster, Thing 4 hasn't made me go deaf with the constant talking as she can split her time between two of us and I'm generally a much more sane person than if I had played the part of a single mom for a few days. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only responsible adult in the house.
Second kudos goes to the cat. It is no secret to anyone that I have an extremely difficult time sleeping without Hubby. On my recent weekend away (mind you for relaxation purposes for myself) I stayed up for 44 hours straight. Do you know your body starts acting drunk when you haven't slept in that long? And supposedly after 10 days of no sleep, you die? I was 1/5th of the way to death on my relaxing weekend! I digress. The cat is an indoor/outdoor cat with his outdoor time being at night because he will inevitably wake up in the middle of the morning, scratch his jingly collar and wake us up to go out. I've learned if I kick him out an hour before I go to bed, and then let him in, he can go all night snuggled next to me and at least keep my feet warm. Hubby asked if I was letting the cat sleep on his side of the bed. No, he literally sleeps on me. That's the downside, the cat is a bed hog! I feel a little bad for the cat though, because he took to sleeping inside at night like a fish would take to water. His bubble will be burst tomorrow when he has to go back outside. But it has been comforting having the cat with me.
Last, but most certainly not least MAJOR kudos go to military spouses! God bless you all! Every time I start feeling a little blue because I don't have Hubby home for a few days, I remember that you military spouses go months, even years without yours. I honestly think that I would perish. You all have a strength that I admire. You are the unsung heroes and I encourage anyone who knows a military spouse to help out in any way you can. Even if it's watching the kids for a while so they can have some down time. Treating them to a movie or something else fun. Anything to lighten their load just a little bit! I thank all of you military spouses for your service to our country! It is comforting to know that there are men and women able to be out there protecting us because of what you do and the sacrifices you make.
Only 18 hours and 15 minutes left! I can do it, I can do it, I can do it...
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Love/Hate relationship with my oven
My oven and I have been having this on again, off again relationship since it entered my life 3 years ago. Sure, it makes wonderful goodies to treat me...chocolate chip cookies, french fries, full course Thanksgiving dinners...whatever I've asked of it, it has dutifully performed without so much as a whimper. The problems we started having began about a year ago when I, in one of my domestic moments (I really should realize that I'm domestically challenged and these "moments" can only lead to disaster) decided that I needed to clean the little grate looking thing behind the handle. But no matter how I approached it, I couldn't reach in there to clean it out. No problem I thought. I'm a woman, a Domestic Engineer (Hubby is probably laughing at this point), I can figure this out! I carefully look at the door's construction and see several screws. I pick 2 that look like the screws that belong to the handle, grab my screwdriver and begin to unscrew. What happened next is kind of a blur, but when my vision cleared, I was looking at my oven door, glass and all lying on the floor looking rather pathetic. Those 2 screws were apparently holding the entire door onto place. Whoopsie! I tried valiantly to put my friend back together, but like Humpty Dumpty, it just wasn't happening. Realizing that I needed to break down and call in the experts, I picked up the phone, prepared myself for the laughter and called Hubby. We won't go into all the details of the conversation (lots of laughter with an undertone of exasperation was involved ). When he came home that night, we put it back together again (fortunately for the oven door, it wasn't completely like Humpty. It only took 3 of us to put it back together again). No worse for wear, the oven door looked just fine and had a thorough cleaning while apart. I, however, was banned from ever using a screwdriver to take anything apart again. I am still allowed to put things together with a screwdriver. Anyway, I don't think the oven realized that the door episode was done with the best of intentions. I didn't mean to hurt it. But in hindsight I believe it felt such shame and humiliation at being disrobed for a day that it sat in diabolical quietness waiting for the right moment to strike.
Which leads us to this week. There's this little button on the oven called Auto-Clean. I've always looked at the button and wondered, "Is it too good to be true?" "Would it really work?" It took 3 years to muster up the courage to push that button (and realizing that if I didn't just push a button, I'd have to actually spray with oven cleaner, scrub, etc.). 3 years, endless amounts of grease and food stuck on the bottom and finally admitting defeat when I couldn't bake anything without having one of the kids on standby to wave a paper plate by the smoke detector just so I could open the door and pull the food out. Ok, I didn't admit defeat that quickly, the kid/paper plate thing has been going on for well over a year, but hey on the bright side, we've never needed to check the batteries on the smoke detector...works just fine. So, it really was just another domestic moment (that I still haven't learned spells doom for me) that inspired me to push that button. Now the self-cleaning feature could go anywhere from 2.5 hours to 4.5 hours depending on how dirty it was. I set it for 4.5 hours since it had never been done. About 30 minutes into it (oven door's locked mind you) I see fire. It wasn't constant, rather pretty actually, a lick of flame would shoot from one side of the oven to the other in a sort of dance. And each time that happened a puff of smoke would shoot out the front, the oven's attempt to blow smoke rings I suppose. I quickly opened all the windows and turned on the attic fan in an attempt to not have to listen to the smoke detector all day. I was keeping a close eye on the oven wondering if flames are a normal by-product of pushing the Auto-Clean button when Hubby came home for lunch. After the laughter subsided, we googled self-cleaning ovens and fire and pretty much came up empty handed. We made the decision to let it go. The flames weren't continuous like a true fire and we figured after the 1st layer of grease burned off it should be fine. It took 1 hour for the oven to quit flaming and smoking. After 5 hours it had cooled enough for me to vacuum/wipe it out. We had forgotten it was blue inside!
The next day I made fish sticks and the children started complaining. "Mommy, what are you making for dinner that smells so bad?" I walk in the kitchen and explain to them that what they are smelling are the fish sticks and that's how they're supposed to smell. When they were finished, I opened the door without having a child on standby, no smoke or anything. We tasted the fish sticks and could only taste fish stick, no added smokey flavor.
While I didn't burn the house down, I think the oven has proved a point. It would really appreciate more ongoing maintenance and in return I sure hope it decides to give me a break the next time a domestic moment causes me to look its way!
Which leads us to this week. There's this little button on the oven called Auto-Clean. I've always looked at the button and wondered, "Is it too good to be true?" "Would it really work?" It took 3 years to muster up the courage to push that button (and realizing that if I didn't just push a button, I'd have to actually spray with oven cleaner, scrub, etc.). 3 years, endless amounts of grease and food stuck on the bottom and finally admitting defeat when I couldn't bake anything without having one of the kids on standby to wave a paper plate by the smoke detector just so I could open the door and pull the food out. Ok, I didn't admit defeat that quickly, the kid/paper plate thing has been going on for well over a year, but hey on the bright side, we've never needed to check the batteries on the smoke detector...works just fine. So, it really was just another domestic moment (that I still haven't learned spells doom for me) that inspired me to push that button. Now the self-cleaning feature could go anywhere from 2.5 hours to 4.5 hours depending on how dirty it was. I set it for 4.5 hours since it had never been done. About 30 minutes into it (oven door's locked mind you) I see fire. It wasn't constant, rather pretty actually, a lick of flame would shoot from one side of the oven to the other in a sort of dance. And each time that happened a puff of smoke would shoot out the front, the oven's attempt to blow smoke rings I suppose. I quickly opened all the windows and turned on the attic fan in an attempt to not have to listen to the smoke detector all day. I was keeping a close eye on the oven wondering if flames are a normal by-product of pushing the Auto-Clean button when Hubby came home for lunch. After the laughter subsided, we googled self-cleaning ovens and fire and pretty much came up empty handed. We made the decision to let it go. The flames weren't continuous like a true fire and we figured after the 1st layer of grease burned off it should be fine. It took 1 hour for the oven to quit flaming and smoking. After 5 hours it had cooled enough for me to vacuum/wipe it out. We had forgotten it was blue inside!
The next day I made fish sticks and the children started complaining. "Mommy, what are you making for dinner that smells so bad?" I walk in the kitchen and explain to them that what they are smelling are the fish sticks and that's how they're supposed to smell. When they were finished, I opened the door without having a child on standby, no smoke or anything. We tasted the fish sticks and could only taste fish stick, no added smokey flavor.
While I didn't burn the house down, I think the oven has proved a point. It would really appreciate more ongoing maintenance and in return I sure hope it decides to give me a break the next time a domestic moment causes me to look its way!
Monday, May 24, 2010
The Voices in My Head
Anyone else experience voices in their head? Or play pretend even though you're a grown adult?
I do. I have good voices and bad voices. I get to choose who to listen to. Most of the time I try to listen to the good ones. It's a little easier on everyone around. Sometimes the bad ones are louder and more obnoxious (they are bad after all). I will literally have arguments in my head with my justification voices. The ones that say,"One time won't hurt." It could be any number of things. Anyway, lest you think I'm not crazy enough let's add the pretending factor in.
Sometimes I will pretend I'm someone else to get through the chores and other stuff I have to do in a day. For housework, I'm often the manager of a bed and breakfast or fancy hotel. I will have conversations with pretend customers and solve their pretend problems all while making sure the hotel is in tip top shape. For getting into shape, I pretend I'm a dancer in training to be on stage and have to work really hard to meet my goals. Sometimes, I'm a spy living as a housewife for cover purposes. Am I the only one out there who does this? Maybe I AM crazy!
Oh, well. I guess if it helps me get in shape, clean the house and cope with the every day tasks, it can't be too bad. I realize I'm pretending, so I'm not delusional. But I often wonder if it's a sign that I'm dissatisfied with my life or I need more of a challenge. Maybe I'll never figure it out.
If you see me talking to myself in my dark sunglasses and pink tutu toting a briefcase, just pretend you never saw me!
I do. I have good voices and bad voices. I get to choose who to listen to. Most of the time I try to listen to the good ones. It's a little easier on everyone around. Sometimes the bad ones are louder and more obnoxious (they are bad after all). I will literally have arguments in my head with my justification voices. The ones that say,"One time won't hurt." It could be any number of things. Anyway, lest you think I'm not crazy enough let's add the pretending factor in.
Sometimes I will pretend I'm someone else to get through the chores and other stuff I have to do in a day. For housework, I'm often the manager of a bed and breakfast or fancy hotel. I will have conversations with pretend customers and solve their pretend problems all while making sure the hotel is in tip top shape. For getting into shape, I pretend I'm a dancer in training to be on stage and have to work really hard to meet my goals. Sometimes, I'm a spy living as a housewife for cover purposes. Am I the only one out there who does this? Maybe I AM crazy!
Oh, well. I guess if it helps me get in shape, clean the house and cope with the every day tasks, it can't be too bad. I realize I'm pretending, so I'm not delusional. But I often wonder if it's a sign that I'm dissatisfied with my life or I need more of a challenge. Maybe I'll never figure it out.
If you see me talking to myself in my dark sunglasses and pink tutu toting a briefcase, just pretend you never saw me!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
"Mommy, can you wipe my poo-poo?"
There it is...did you hear it? That knock, knock, knock on my bedroom door. Shh, there it is again.
"Who is it?" I ask (although I already know the answer 99% of the time).
"It's me, can I come in?" asks the preschooler.
"What do you need?" I ask, wishing that my bedroom could be some sort of sanctuary where I could hide and "they" couldn't find me.
"I need to go potty." comes Thing 4's answer.
"Alright, come in." I say, knowing that should an accident occur, whatever hope I had for peace will take that much longer to obtain because of the mess I'd have to clean up.
Now, I'm not sure why it must be my bathroom. I guess it's because it is in close proximity to me, the butt wiper, because two minutes later after listening to the grunts and groans of pushing I hear, "Mommy, can you wipe my poo-poo?"
I view this as an opportunity for a lesson in the English language. "Honey, I'm not going to wipe your poo-poo, that would be gross. I will, however, wipe your bum and make sure you're all cleaned up." (I know, not really much less gross, but it is something.)
It doesn't matter, this episode plays out several times a day (who knew such a little butt could produce so much poo!) and it's ALWAYS the same question, "Mommy, can you wipe my poo-poo?"
I suppose this is one of those moments that I'll look back on and reminisce with misty eyes when they're all grown up. I most certainly can't use it on a resume should I ever attempt to join the workforce later.
Job Title: Butt Wiper
Job Description: Wiping poo-poo off of butts. Anyone can be an Ass Kisser, but it takes someone special to be a Butt Wiper!
Nope, don't see that as a plan for success.
"Who is it?" I ask (although I already know the answer 99% of the time).
"It's me, can I come in?" asks the preschooler.
"What do you need?" I ask, wishing that my bedroom could be some sort of sanctuary where I could hide and "they" couldn't find me.
"I need to go potty." comes Thing 4's answer.
"Alright, come in." I say, knowing that should an accident occur, whatever hope I had for peace will take that much longer to obtain because of the mess I'd have to clean up.
Now, I'm not sure why it must be my bathroom. I guess it's because it is in close proximity to me, the butt wiper, because two minutes later after listening to the grunts and groans of pushing I hear, "Mommy, can you wipe my poo-poo?"
I view this as an opportunity for a lesson in the English language. "Honey, I'm not going to wipe your poo-poo, that would be gross. I will, however, wipe your bum and make sure you're all cleaned up." (I know, not really much less gross, but it is something.)
It doesn't matter, this episode plays out several times a day (who knew such a little butt could produce so much poo!) and it's ALWAYS the same question, "Mommy, can you wipe my poo-poo?"
I suppose this is one of those moments that I'll look back on and reminisce with misty eyes when they're all grown up. I most certainly can't use it on a resume should I ever attempt to join the workforce later.
Job Title: Butt Wiper
Job Description: Wiping poo-poo off of butts. Anyone can be an Ass Kisser, but it takes someone special to be a Butt Wiper!
Nope, don't see that as a plan for success.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Mom Thought - Epitome of Multi-Tasking
As I try to get this blog back up and running, I'm fielding questions from Thing 4, like, "Please can we read this book?", "Is Santa coming in December?", "Here's a letter for him." "Are the kids almost home?", "Hey, Mommy look at this!", "Mommy, why is my finger white?" and it keeps going, on and on and on and on.
I'm playing online games, mentally preparing myself for the invasion of Thing 2 and Thing 3 coming home and therefore the routine of emptying backpacks, hanging up jackets, snacks, homework, chores. Then Thing 1 comes home and the snack/homework/chore thing happens again. Then I'll add in getting dinner going, all the while I'm checking the homework/chores, still playing my online games (need an escape, right?), still answering the endless stream of questions from Thing 4 (I wonder if she'll ever know that it's not normal for a 60 second delay between question and answer?) hoping I don't give her permission to burn the house down or something else just as drastic and dangerous as I'm only giving her a small amount of my attention.
I believe that womanfolk in general have a great ability to multi-task. If my husband is any example, men in general lack this ability (evidenced by the fact that he at one time did give permission for a small child to play with a sharp knife!). But I also think that there is a cost associated with this ability. While I'm in multi-task mode, no one or nothing gets my undivided attention. This can lead to mistakes being made, feelings being hurt, miscommunications, etc. I think it would be better to do less multi-tasking and give everyone and everything the attention it deserves. Maybe that means that I play less online games (or only play them when everyone else is otherwise occupied). Maybe it means making a schedule where I know what the priority of the day is at any given time. I'm open to suggestions on how to do less multi-tasking and relieving some stress!
I think that by slowing down, it benefits everyone. Kids feel special because they know they have my full attention. Projects get finished because they've had my full attention. I'm pretty sure it would be impossible to eliminate multi-tasking altogether, but I think I can make improvements. I don't need to be Super Mom able to do everything without ever getting a hair out of place, never saying no to anyone, always perfect in appearance and attitude...it's not going to happen even if I wanted it to.
I'm going to make it a goal to seek out ways to lessen my multi-tasking. Who's with me? I'm pretty sure the world won't come to a crashing halt if we all slow down a bit...I mean, just think of all the houses we can save by listening to the preschooler and not giving them permission to burn it down!
I'm playing online games, mentally preparing myself for the invasion of Thing 2 and Thing 3 coming home and therefore the routine of emptying backpacks, hanging up jackets, snacks, homework, chores. Then Thing 1 comes home and the snack/homework/chore thing happens again. Then I'll add in getting dinner going, all the while I'm checking the homework/chores, still playing my online games (need an escape, right?), still answering the endless stream of questions from Thing 4 (I wonder if she'll ever know that it's not normal for a 60 second delay between question and answer?) hoping I don't give her permission to burn the house down or something else just as drastic and dangerous as I'm only giving her a small amount of my attention.
I believe that womanfolk in general have a great ability to multi-task. If my husband is any example, men in general lack this ability (evidenced by the fact that he at one time did give permission for a small child to play with a sharp knife!). But I also think that there is a cost associated with this ability. While I'm in multi-task mode, no one or nothing gets my undivided attention. This can lead to mistakes being made, feelings being hurt, miscommunications, etc. I think it would be better to do less multi-tasking and give everyone and everything the attention it deserves. Maybe that means that I play less online games (or only play them when everyone else is otherwise occupied). Maybe it means making a schedule where I know what the priority of the day is at any given time. I'm open to suggestions on how to do less multi-tasking and relieving some stress!
I think that by slowing down, it benefits everyone. Kids feel special because they know they have my full attention. Projects get finished because they've had my full attention. I'm pretty sure it would be impossible to eliminate multi-tasking altogether, but I think I can make improvements. I don't need to be Super Mom able to do everything without ever getting a hair out of place, never saying no to anyone, always perfect in appearance and attitude...it's not going to happen even if I wanted it to.
I'm going to make it a goal to seek out ways to lessen my multi-tasking. Who's with me? I'm pretty sure the world won't come to a crashing halt if we all slow down a bit...I mean, just think of all the houses we can save by listening to the preschooler and not giving them permission to burn it down!
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