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!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
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!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Definition of a Homemaker
Call me Homemaker. Now a homemaker probably conjures up images of laundry, dishes, cleaning up after kids, etc. While all of that is involved most definitely, a homemaker is far more than just a housekeeper. A homemaker's job is to turn a house into a home. This is accomplished by making sure your home is a pleasant place to be for everyone. It doesn't have to be spotless, in fact, mine almost never is. Go ahead, run your white glove over any surface and I can guarantee that you'll find dust. But what we lack in cleanliness, (mind you , it's not a pig sty, just not spotless) we make up for in the warm fuzzies.
How do we make the warm fuzzies happen? Well, it's not by being the best of hostesses, I can tell you. I rarely remember to offer people drinks, take their coats, etc. Hubby will remember these things (he's been raised right!). But I think the warm fuzzies happen because we go out of our way to make sure that they know that our house is their house. Mi Casa es Su Casa.
These are our Company rules:
1. If I know you're coming and my front door is unlocked, don't knock, come on in. This is your home away from home. Why would you knock at your own home?
2. Please help yourself to anything you'd like in the kitchen. Glasses are right there, food and drink are in the fridge and cupboards.
3. Something spilled? Something's broken? Don't worry about it. Accidents happen and it's only material items that can be cleaned or replaced. I much more enjoy your company than anything else. YOU are what's important to me.
Fill the house with love. Love can cover a multitude of faults. While our kids complain A LOT about the chores they're forced to do, they know without a shadow of a doubt that they're loved. They know without a shadow of a doubt that Mommy and Daddy love each other (they're constantly telling us to get a room!). When everyone feels loved, they want to be in the home. Case in point, while Thing 1 has a ton of friends, she spends most of her weekends home with us. If asked she'd probably come up with some other reason why she doesn't hang out with her friends, but I firmly believe it's because she genuinely enjoys being with her family. She feels loved.
I think people can sense a tranquil and loving home when they enter into it. And we all crave love and tranquility.
I want my house to be a relaxing haven. The good news is that to achieve this sanctuary of warmth, I don't have to be Martha Stewart perfect...people tend to be more at ease anyway when they see your house is just like their house...imperfections and all. Let go and make your house a home today!
How do we make the warm fuzzies happen? Well, it's not by being the best of hostesses, I can tell you. I rarely remember to offer people drinks, take their coats, etc. Hubby will remember these things (he's been raised right!). But I think the warm fuzzies happen because we go out of our way to make sure that they know that our house is their house. Mi Casa es Su Casa.
These are our Company rules:
1. If I know you're coming and my front door is unlocked, don't knock, come on in. This is your home away from home. Why would you knock at your own home?
2. Please help yourself to anything you'd like in the kitchen. Glasses are right there, food and drink are in the fridge and cupboards.
3. Something spilled? Something's broken? Don't worry about it. Accidents happen and it's only material items that can be cleaned or replaced. I much more enjoy your company than anything else. YOU are what's important to me.
Fill the house with love. Love can cover a multitude of faults. While our kids complain A LOT about the chores they're forced to do, they know without a shadow of a doubt that they're loved. They know without a shadow of a doubt that Mommy and Daddy love each other (they're constantly telling us to get a room!). When everyone feels loved, they want to be in the home. Case in point, while Thing 1 has a ton of friends, she spends most of her weekends home with us. If asked she'd probably come up with some other reason why she doesn't hang out with her friends, but I firmly believe it's because she genuinely enjoys being with her family. She feels loved.
I think people can sense a tranquil and loving home when they enter into it. And we all crave love and tranquility.
I want my house to be a relaxing haven. The good news is that to achieve this sanctuary of warmth, I don't have to be Martha Stewart perfect...people tend to be more at ease anyway when they see your house is just like their house...imperfections and all. Let go and make your house a home today!
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