You’re a mean one…

In the Dr. Seuss story, the Grinch is cast as the villain. When we dig into his past, though (as afforded by later versions of the story), we see a pattern of behavior that hardened his heart until it was the tiny little thing introduced in all the versions.

If we’re being honest, 2020 has pretty much “grinched” me. No, I haven’t had it as hard as many and, for that, I am grateful. But I haven’t felt nearly as holly jolly as I usually do come the day after Thanksgiving. It wasn’t POOF insta-perfect decorations, the smell of baking cookies, and non-stop Christmas carols. In fact, day before yesterday was the first day I voluntarily listened to Christmas music.

I guess you can say I’m in a funk.

But this weekend, I broke down and went Christmas shopping. Well, picking out gifts for other people is one of my very favorite things. Before long, I was smiling and laughing (something in desperately short supply this year, it seems). I went home and started wrapping presents and, out of habit, let iTunes pick out a Christmas playlist.

At some point between Bing Crosby and Michael Bublé, the playlist threw me a curveball: Mariah Carey’s All I want for Christmas is You. Y’all, I KNOW this is a super popular song, but I have hated it since it came out. I’m much more of a White Christmas kind of girl. But, this is 2020 and there are no more rules. So, I made myself listen to it. And it was exactly what my dried up little Grinch heart needed. Before the song hit the second refrain, I was tapping my foot and humming along.

Three days later, I’ve got it almost on repeat. I let the kids turn the tree lights to the multi-colors instead of the prettier white lights because it’s more fun. I had a cookie (or three) for breakfast. You might say my Grinch heart … well, you know how the story goes.

I’m still tired and SO over 2020, but at least Christmas seems to have been saved. If you’re like me, struggling to find a little holiday happiness, maybe this is the year to give yourself space to not be all the things to all the people. Maybe this is the year to sit down with whatever this year has thrown at you and recognize we’ve all been changed. And maybe in that, we can find some still small joy that makes it a little more bearable. *hugs*

Something to say

The post about the worst part of parenting is getting some attention. Now, instead of sleeping, I’m playing with settings on this blog that’s been just sitting here, waiting for all the things I think, but don’t think anybody will read. (Yes, Mama, I know you read it.) I realized there are 15 draft posts that I started, but never finished; dating all the way back to Christmas of last year.

That’s the longest I’ve gone without writing (I think) since Madygirl was born. And that should tell you the state of affairs right there.

Don’t get me wrong. Life is great. Better than great most of the time. Madygirl’s a sophomore at T-High, the Prime Minister is in 3rd grade, and The Boy is in Pre-K.

Work is amazing. When I stop for a second and look around at all we’ve already accomplished, it’s humbling and more than a bit terrifying. No wonder I’m exhausted.

But, as my mother says, “good stress is still stress.” (I’ve probably written that here before.)

My sweet father in law is very ill and we’re all holding our breath for those baby steps back to whatever normal is going to look like, and I miss my mother and brother so much it hurts some days.

So, in the midst of all this mostly good stuff sprinkled with laundry that will never be finished, brakes on a car that I can’t even deal with right now, and trying to keep my children from driving me completely over the edge (just kidding), I stopped writing it all down.

Until the other day when a mom-blogger I follow (https://www.facebook.com/MomBabble/) asked to publish something I wrote in response to a picture she shared in a group. I was, naturally, excited and said “well, YEAH,” and then I called my mother. Well, I called and told Coach first, but he wasn’t going to be over the top “oh honey” like I knew my mama would, so…

These bloggers are people who are actually doing part of the life I want to do. They are real. They are funny. And they want to share what I’m writing. What in the actual.

Maybe I still have things to say.

Parenting is the Worst.

I think there is a little bit of hell in each stage. When they’re tiny, they cry, and cry, and cry, and you are supposed to be some kind of @#$%^& wizard to be able to tell WHICH cry it is. You are constantly worried about what goes bump in the night, trying to survive sleep deprivation worthy of a POW camp, never knowing what that spot is on your blouse (and being too tired to care).

When they are toddlers and preschoolers, they are messy, smelly, potty training accidents waiting to happen. They are loud. The incessant whining makes you seriously consider packing your bags and leaving.

When they are in elementary school, there is the girl drama, the beginnings of male posturing and the heartbreaking struggles of learning how to read, do 3rd grade math, and all the “not quite a teenager, not a little child anymore” pain.

Then comes middle school. Oy. Like, awkward. (and they smell weird TBH) You get to have the detailed “talk” with them which is SO AWFUL. You watch them take first notice of each other and their own bodies, and you panic when you realize you’re halfway done but you still have SO much you have to teach them.

Here comes high school with all its “who do I want to be,” and the “you’re so out of touch MOM” business. And relationships *GAG* that are here and gone faster than I can learn their names so we’ve quit trying. They’re having their first big failures and you want to rescue, but you don’t have time to baby them any more. You can see the end of the sand in the hourglass; you’re racing the clock.

I can’t imagine what her senior year will be like. The last of everything. Saying goodbye at college move-in day. And beyond. I cry just thinking about it and we have three of these to do.

Parenting is pretty much awful. 

But. There are also the snuggles and the miracles. And laughing at silly jokes, watching them discover their world, and conquering their own mountains; sometimes with you and sometimes on their own.

There is watching them learn to fly, helping them up when they fall, making it better with kisses and ice cream, and being present and silent when they finally open up.

Screaming with joy when they run the ball into the end zone, stick a hard stunt, throw a tumbling pass, stand at center stage, or pass that test they worked so hard on.

There is the overwhelming joy at silly songs, quiet play, watching them sleep, the spontaneous hugs, their boundless energy.

There is the tremendous chest-splitting pride when they make good choices, rescue a friend from danger, stand up for the small, play games with their siblings instead of on snapchat. Text you in the middle of the day how much they love and appreciate all you do for them.

Every stage is awful. And wonderful. ❤

Just Keep Swimming

For the thirtymillionth time this week, “just keep swimming,” is in my head. It’s August and that means summer is officially over. Not that we have much summer here, in Crazyville.

Coach is off, but he gets pretty tired of being “off” after about a month and the Cheerleader is back at daily workouts and practices after the 4th of July. So, we stay pretty busy even when we’re not so busy. Our normal “not so busy” looks like a lot of other families’ super busy. #sportslife

Margaret Thatcher and The Boy have both asked to play soccer this fall, the Cheerleader’s booked us up every evening but Saturdays, and of course Coach practically lives at the school now.

So. Hi.

My last post was right before the election. And then THAT happened. I am still so speechless at the utter circus in the White House right now, I don’t even know where to start.

(amiright?)

I started Camp Gladiator and I’m already down a pant size. But, more importantly, I realized this morning I can’t remember the last time I took Advil in the evening because I was achy and creaky from sitting in my chair all day at work; carrying all that stress in the back of my neck or back. Work is still a barrel of monkeys every day, but I no longer dread feeling like I’ve been drop kicked in the face every night.

I’m also using my standing desk more often, drinking less coffee/more water, and making myself leave the office and go home for lunch.

Ah, work. Still a great job. Still love what I do, love the team, love what we’re accomplishing. This is the Empire Strikes Back part of the project so we’re all working really hard, feeling like we’re not exactly getting anywhere, but it’s just a plateau. We’ll push through and then we’ll be back off to the races. We’ll work it out.

I feel myself coming to a bit of a crossroads with work. There is so much still to do/build/accomplish. But the past few months have felt like a total grind and I’m really missing building, training, and COMMUNICATING. I have done this work thing in this brain, and with this heart long enough to know that communication and training other people how to communicate is where my passion is. In the words of Tigger, “it’s what Tiggers do best!” As important as pulling and analyzing metrics IS and as much as I’m 100% committed to what I’m doing RIGHTNOWDONTLOSESIGHTOFTHISPROJECT, I know I’m going to have to get back to training/communicating or I will begin to atrophy those muscles I’ve worked so hard to build over an almost 20 year career. God did not create me to be a Commander type for nothing.

Since my last post, I promoted to Director with Thirty-One Gifts. Something I don’t post much about here, but it’s become a really important part of my life. I truly feel part of something with Thirty-One that I don’t have anywhere else. Yes, it’s one more thing to do, but it’s as much part of my day as coffee.

 

I’m certain there’s more. But, this is a lot in one update. For my friends who follow me on facebook, none of this is news, but I miss writing (see my bit above about not creating content).

Later, gators.

put your shades on, turn       up the music, &        DEAL WITH IT. 

 

 

 

 

 

Poppy

Six months ago, our Great Dane died. I took the loss harder than I thought I would. Some months later, I realized I had learned some very important things from Cornbread and I wanted another chance to be a better dog parent.

The first few times out to look didn’t go so well. Somebody inevitably left in tears. Or with a shrug of the shoulders and a, “we’ll eventually find the right one..”

On Memorial Day, we went to visit a new puppy. She and her brothers had been rescued by our local vet, when the mom was hit by a car. She had little black eyes and a cute little face. She’s got little white socks and a white streak on her face. If she was a boy, she’d definitely be Harry Potter. She was the smallest of the siblings and I liked her right away. She seemed spunky and sweet. My brother said she looked like “a little s**t,” (and he was mostly right) but I was smitten. She’s a lab/border collie mix. Our vet says she shouldn’t be as big as a full lab; that she’ll likely stay on the smaller side.

It’s been about six weeks with her and she’s made herself right at home with our little crowd. We named her Poppy Calypso. Poppy, because it’s the traditional flower of remembrance for Memorial Day. I wanted to honor that day AND remember what we learned with Cornbread. When I inevitably get frustrated at the irritating puppy phase, or feel a bit overwhelmed at having another baby in the house, I remember. The Calypso is what Coach came up with for a name “in case we ever wanted another baby and it turned out to be a girl.” I told him the puppy was as close as we were ever getting to THAT, thankyouverymuch.

She’s good with the kids, playful, and (mostly) house-trained (as long as we’re paying attention). She throws herself at the door when she wants to come back in like she’s running from the zombie apocalypse, and you can count on her to start whining to get out of her crate at 6am-SHARP. But, she’s funny. She loves to fetch, and she’s gentle with the kids. Doc is conquering her fear of her and I’m really proud of the progress she’s making.

I’m glad we got her. I’m glad I’m getting a second chance. I hope Cornbread is proud.

Sidenote

It’s Saturday. I haven’t blogged in a while and, if I had more time (duh), you’d be able to see why.

We’ve finished up our first competitive cheer season, Doc is trying to beat CR7’s goal-scoring record this year in *cough* first kick rec soccer, and The Boy is trying to set a record for the number of times he can bang his face on the ground, into the lip of a table, or corner of a bookcase in a single month. Coach is finished with soccer season and has moved full-on into yearbook (which means he’s busy covering every sport, concert, play, and awards dinner at THS). Work is work for me. I love it. Busy, busy, busy. They keep giving me things to do so I’ll take that as a good sign.

I have been feeling the urge to reorganize, purge, and simplify our belongings (again). Realizing the reality is that we probably won’t try and move this year, all the STUFF in this house is making me crazy.

I want to redecorate the Boy’s room. It doesn’t really say anything now that I’ve taken his sports stuff out of his crib. I think we’re doing race cars, but I just haven’t had the time.

*sidenote* I’m writing on Coach’s mac (#love), but I’ve gotten used to my Surface and so now I keep touching the screen. */sidenote* HA.

Doc & Munchkin (can I still call an almost 13-year old “munchkin”?) (and, @sarah, is it more correct to put the punctuation inside the “” or outside, since the “” was to designate a name, not a quote?)

What was I saying?

This is my life. I can’t keep a !@#($% thought in my head for longer than about :25 seconds. So, you see why blogging has been such a hit or miss thing this year. I want to. My life would make a great sitcom. My children are hilarious and I really should be writing this down because [in my most obnoxious, patronizing voice] “they won’t be little forever.” (see, I know I used it correctly there.)

And it’s not all fun and games. There are things I want/need to pour out so I get them out of my head, but I open up the page to write and stare at a blank screen. And then life intrudes and demands my attention. So, in my head these thoughts stay.

Speaking of. The Boy just poured a cup of cinnamon toast crunch out on the kitchen floor. Because 18 months, you know?

Excuse me while I go back to the mess.

Quiet

It’s a little before 5am. The house is quiet; everybody still sleeping. I’m sitting in the dark living room, finishing my first cup of coffee and thinking about a second. It’s a rare treat that I get to enjoy a cup of coffee in silence since the arrival of The Boy. Has it already been almost three months? Has it only been three months? He seems so much part of our lives that it’s hard to imagine him not here.

Princess Crybaby is good. The other night, Coach told her it was time to go to bed. She walks over, stands in front of his chair and says, “can we talk about this?” And that about sums up where she’s at. Everything has to be explained. She’s into the “I need reasons mother” phase. It’s obnoxious. And adorable.

Munchkin is in a play at the high school. Yesterday, I picked her up from the house to take her to rehearsal. I smiled inwardly as I noticed she’d taken great care to get ready. Her hair was arranged and there was a certain “big kid” air about her. A part of me sighs a little more each time I have the opportunity to witness this young girl transforming into a young lady. I am happy, of course, because that’s what she’s supposed to do, but still. Glimpses of the little girl are becoming a little more rare. This part is new for me, so I am trying to approach this with a certain air of conservative detachment. (yes, I made that up)

As we pulled into the high school parking lot, I asked her if she wanted me to drop her off or walk her in. (I kind of thought she’d just want to be dropped off – I mean, I’m MOM and she has started striking out on her own a little more…I didn’t want to cramp her style and I knew she was perfectly safe) Because it was right at 4 o’clock, there was still a lot of traffic – both people and cars. She asked if I’d walk her in. Playing it cool, I parked the car and she hopped out. This is our world – we spend a lot of time around Temple High School – so, as we walked through the parking lot, we chatted about rehearsal and what she would do when she was finished. I reminded her to turn her phone off during rehearsal (no, Munchkin, silent isn’t enough. If it accidentally goes off, you might get tossed off the stage… LOL – just kidding. kinda)…etc.

At this point, we’ve waded pretty far into the mass of humanity in the plaza outside the student center. It is all the sudden I feel a very close little shadow at my side. She leans into me a little and says, “there are so many people, Mommy,” and she takes my hand. It is then I am reminded that she is not so very grown up after all.

I smiled down at her and reminded her that they were just bigger versions of her and we navigated through the crowd and into the student center. I noticed the little bounce in her walk returned once she had ahold of my hand and it was all I could do not to kiss her head. (I know that would have been way over the “MOOOOOOOOM” line) Once we got inside the theatre, she slipped her hand out of mine and bounced off to her world in the theatre. The moment was over.

It was a sweet reminder that I still have a few years before I enter the uncool phase and she’ll struggle with her desire to be close to me and, at the same time, the need to be independent of me.

So much in which to delight. Mine is a cup that overflows. And that’s why the floors are sticky.

But, for now, it’s dark. And quiet. And you can’t see the piles of laundry still not finished (as if), and the dishwasher that’s full of clean and the sink almost full of dirty (I think they multiply like tribbles when we aren’t looking), and the …. well, you get my point.

And my coffee cup needs a refill.

So many things

I have several posts rolling around in my head. For now, just the titles are set.

Upcoming:
On the birth of a son
Revival of the cereal diaries category
Too much, too soon (how they are stealing her innocence)
Middle schmiddle (how to avoid the middle child syndrome)
The Corleys go back to church
The clock ticks (why I don’t want to be a stay at home mom)
Be all there (my epiphany on how being in a hurry actually steals time)

Ok, I think that’ll do it. Don’t you? Sit tight, I’ll be back after I fold MORE laundry. UGH.

I yelled at my kids today

It was NOT a good mommy morning.

I yelled at Princess Crybaby for dropping her cookies in the car.

I didn’t tell Munchkin “goodbye, I love you” when I dropped her off. I told her to be good and mind her own business.

I mumbled something huffy under my breath when I had to find the compact cards for Coach.

I feel like I failed as a human being today by being a complete bitch. I’m going to make something yummy for dinner tonight, to make up for my awful-ness this morning. And read bedtime stories.

And, yes, I’m trying not to cry about it, but I’m not doing a very good job.

I’m tired of being pregnant. I feel fat, my uterus feels like it’s starting to fall out and I DO NOT want to hear another person tell me how quickly September is going to go by because I might punch them in the throat.

I’m terrified about having three little people need me – at the same time- to help them get ready for the world when I, myself, feel like such a tangled mess.

I’d like to go back to bed, please. I’m being unkind and that’s the same crap I yelled at Munchkin for.

Adventure

Have I mentioned how much I detest the unknown? Walking down paths unexplored gives me hives. I hate not having a plan. HATE. Like I hate mayonnaise kind of hate. Oh, I’ll eat mayo, but it was almost assuredly a mistake or an accident that lands it on my plate.

And that’s where the adventure part comes in. When my mother uses the word Adventure, I know the wheels have come off and all hell has broken loose. That’s generally how I feel about the unknown. It’s not good. It feels me with no positive feelings. No slight euphoria at the thrill of discovery. Just a dull, sick feeling. As if my body is preparing to be punched in the gut.

Ok, enough with the metaphors.

I am 32 weeks pregnant. A month ago, our doc informs us she’s leaving her current practice and going to work for the big hospital (where we always intended to deliver). We had insurance ($$) all worked out and everything was going according to plan. And then. Well, her move means that insurance estimate is now something we have to mess with. Dealing with insurance people and medical billing people makes me want to puke on the best of days. But having to deal with the unknown of how this change will affect our very carefully balanced finances, as I’m staring at six weeks of maternity leave in a little less than 2 months makes me want to faint every time I think about it. Or cry. And you KNOW how I feel about crying.

Now, let’s add the fun part. When I left the school business, I went to work for a smaller business. While there are many, many ups that have come with the change (uh, the pregnancy being right there at the top of that list), there were some benefit changes that came along with losing the buying power of a large company that I didn’t think about (not that it would have really made that much of a difference), but that are having a very big impact on the bottom line. Thanks to the ridiculous increase in healthcare costs, it makes far more financial sense to drop my coverage on myself and go back on Coach’s insurance with the district as soon as possible. That’ll be effective in a week. That solves several problems; once all the wrinkles are worked out.

So. The fun part comes in this morning. Since my doc is now with the big hospital, all the insurance estimates have to be redone. That part, itself, really isn’t that bad. It’s just numbers. Add on top that I am switching insurance and all the mess they scratched on those papers today will be null and void come Monday. Back to unknown.

Ugh. So, we’re looking at a hospital balance due before the end of September, but we really don’t know how much will be due because the new insurance isn’t effective. It’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood of what we’ve already been estimated, but I HATE not knowing. Bam. Done. Ugh (again).

I know. This too shall pass. (I hope you heard that in the most sarcastic, obnoxious voice you can imagine, because that’s how it sounds in my head.) Platitudes make me almost as sick at the unknown.

Routine

I will freely admit I am a type-A personality. (PR people like stating the obvious) I like routine. I dislike disorder. So, summer’s “what do you want to do?” “I dunno. What do you want to do?” schedule makes me CRAZY. (and it doesn’t take much to accomplish that these days.)

So, I’m super excited school starts Monday. My children? Eh, not so much. I’ve been pushing morning wake-up earlier and earlier and I’m noticing two little grizzly bears emerging from where my daughters had been.

Lump it, kids. Momma can’t think when we’re in a hurry. Then I can’t ever find my keys and you KNOW how that works out. I call Daddy and start yelling on the phone. #truestory

Who’s betting I’ll start getting up BEFORE 5am; just to get a quiet moment with my coffee before I have to start wrangling kids. And that’s BEFORE we add The Boy. OMGosh. Somebody shoot me now.

sleep

24 weeks. The magic point at which, it seems, comfortable is becoming a passing memory; something to think about in the past and look forward to in the future. It’s sometime around 4am and I’ve given up on sleeping any more. Princess Crybaby woke up a little bit ago, asking to go to the bathroom, but she was so sleepy I don’t think it actually occurred to her to go. Then she asked to sleep in our bed. Well, she’s so dadgum snuggly at 4am aaaaaaand I relented. (I have NO willpower at 4am) Well, by the time I settled her back in and got halfway situated myself, I was well and truly awake. Knowing better than to lay there and watch the clock, I got up. And here I am.

I actually don’t mind it. (right now; ask me again this afternoon when I’ve propped my head up with catalogs so I can pretend I have enough batteries to get me through the workday.) The house is still and quiet and it’s still dark enough I can’t see our “happy mess.” *laugh* I have surrendered to all but the basic “necessity” cleaning until the children are old enough that it’s not like watering your yard in a rainstorm. I mean, really – what’s the point? (don’t think that lets Coach off of dishes duty while school is out. I have my limits.)

I think of my sweet sisters and how lovely and clean their house is and I envy them. (and wonder where they get that extra energy and if it something that comes in a pill form.) While some people want to be Martha Stewart, I want to be Molly Weasley. She had a spell to do the dishes for goodness sakes and that beats making crepes and origami christmas ornaments any day of the week.

I console myself with the Joel Olsteen-esque “name it and claim it” platitude (i.e. completely useless, but so warm and fuzzy) that they won’t be little forever and time I “waste” scrubbing floors and sinks and doing laundry is time I could be spending with the kids. Or something like that.

 

You know the really funny thing about this picture (and many others just like it)? I don’t think there is a single child within five miles of this room. Low sharp coffee table? White upholstery? Skinny vases three inches from the edge of the table? Open, roaring fire? And, look at the shine on those floors. Are you kidding me?

One day I’ll have a lovely clean house again – probably right around the time I can reach the stuff on the floor (or sometime after Halloween). For now, excuse our mess.

Oh, and if you hear snoring coming from the corner office around 3 today, you’ll know why.

Oh child.

Have you met my two-year old? She’s a mess.

She is an artist. And, there is no telling what her next canvas will be. 

She can love her big sister and yell at her. At the same time.

You can never REALLY tell what she’s planning, but you can see the beginnings of a young mastermind at work.

She doesn’t cower at her dad. That look and tone of voice that is especially effective at withering even the toughest 17 year old soccer player fails to elicit a response from this little pixie. Except to eat another cheeto. Loudly.

I’m pretty sure she runs the house. And we are her hostages.

And just when you think you’ll never get a moment’s peace and when, oh, WHEN can you put her to bed so you can get five minutes of quiet and MAYBE go to the bathroom by yourself, you capture this moment. And you fall in love all over again.

And you have the undeniable urge to to wake her up so you can see her smile at you. Laugh. Yell. Pout. Do it all over again.

She’s a tyrant. But she’s mine.

mommy

Today is Wednesday. I woke up to the sound of Princess Crybaby whining in her bed. I let her whine. She woke up happy this morning and I didn’t wake up with feet in my ribs. I’d call that a success! Downside to whining at 2:30? Preggers Mommy can’t go right back to sleep. SO, I feel a little dazed this morning. I’m hoping coffee will solve it. *grin*

Overall, things are going well. I need to come up with a nickname for baby #3 for the blog – any suggestions? I feel great (besides still being uber-tired and HUNGRY a lot of the time). I don’t know why, but I feel like this is our boy. This pregnancy is so different from the girls. Virtually no morning sickness, food cravings not involving sweets, exceptional tiredness, but overall a piece of cake so far.  This baby is going really easy on me. Maybe this baby will be my sweet, compliant son. Why are you laughing? 

The girls are good. Munchkin finishes standardized state testing today. I’m confident she’s done well. She’s a smart kid and she has good teachers. The entire testing system is ridiculous, but I don’t have a good solution beyond abolishing it, so I’ll just be thankful to have a child who performs well and doesn’t seem to suffer very much at these things.

Princess Crybaby is growing like a freaking weed. I think, in the last month, her arms and legs have sprouted – all the spring dresses we bought her before Easter already require leggings underneath; and not just because this weather is schizophrenic. It was 80 Monday; 45 today. She hasn’t even been able to hardly wear them because it’s been so up and down and the ups turn down in the middle of the day so I’m never confident she won’t be cold. URGH. Ready for summer.

It’s cold in my office, but it’s always cold in here so it’s hardly worth remarking. I have decided to bring lamps in here. These florescent lights are driving me crazy. Other than that, work is good. I’ve created some projects that are keeping me busy enough not to mind being stationary. Boy, that’s probably the single biggest change. Being in one place all day long. I don’t know that I’ve had a job where I didn’t get out and travel since my very first job out of college.

There are so many things I could blog about, but haven’t found a way to articulate them so, for now, I’ll just wait (or put them behind a password).

hissy fit

I’ve generally outgrown fits. I find they accomplish almost nothing; other than a general emptying of my spleen. When the dust settles from my colossal temper-tantrum (and I can whip it up with the best of them), the mess about which I got all frothy remains and then I have damage control to do too. Makes me tired just thinking about it. But, I will confess I left the house this morning in the mood for a good yellin’.

So. What, exactly, is the best course of action when “come, let us reason together” hasn’t worked? Mother says I should change my approach, but I’m so one-minded about this issue, frankly, I’m just not in the mood to look for middle ground. Isn’t that dumb?

My house is a mess. Literally. I’m not normally a sloppy person. Now, nobody would accuse me of being OCD about cleaning; unless I’m mad about something. (then you’d better just back away and let me scrub) But this has gotten beyond me.The sink is never empty. Clothes just get transferred from one basket or pile to another. And don’t get me started about the floors and dust. Where did all this stuff come from? How did it get so bad?

Mom stopped doing it. That’s how. Now, before a certain redhead of my heart starts beating up on himself for not doing anything, let me jump in and say I consider the house MY dominion. I’m terribly old-fashioned. I believe in a division of labor. My realm is the house. Yes. I work outside of the house most of the day. That’s because we like living in a nice house and driving a nice car and going on trips and I enjoy shopping far more than I enjoy NOT shopping. But. I still believe it is my primary responsibility to take care of the house and all things involved in home (food, clothes, etc.). So. What’s a reasonable person to do when she wakes up to realize she’s completely abdicated responsibility for keeping some semblance of order in the house?

I thought about throwing a fit, stomping my feet and unleashing a little of that infamous temper (even told my mother that’s what I planned to do), but I’ve already talked myself out of that. After all, I just said it’s my responsibility. I’m just going to fix it. [insert steely-eyed look of Mom Determination that my family recognizes as “Mom’s on a mission”] While I know it didn’t get cluttered overnight and, therefore, won’t be uncluttered tonight, I can make a big start. And I intend to do just that. Without a fit. Just work. And child labor.

Friday

Now that I don’t have a life that makes me cry, I’m struggling to come up with post fodder. But, fear not, I’ll think of something!

The kids are good. The house is a mess. Work is fantastic. Soccer season is starting. How’s that for a nutshell?

I’ve got a couple of things percolating, but they’ll have to wait for later; when I can spend a little more time. (you know…work.)

For now, know I love you – whoever you are. I’m going to do a better job talking (nicely) to myself this year.

Flowers that know my name

I made a crack earlier in the week that I could grow flowers just until they figured out it was me – then, they’d die. It’s as if I have a reputation with all things green and leafy.

I’ve tried to grow flowers and from time to time they live longer than a month. But, most of the time, it’s like they just give up and die. They hate me. But I love them anyway.

I know enough to know I can’t grow Gerber Daisies. They REALLY hate me. Like calling on acts of God (not kidding, people) hate me. I’ve tried twice to grow them and BOTH times (yes, really) there has been a freak hailstorm that completely mowed them down. Zinnias aren’t much better. They start out ok but then they get all wilty and brown around the edges.

Hydrangeas are better but I haven’t tried in a few years.

My favorite flowers to grow are hibiscus. Especially the orange and bright pink ones. They just say summer to me. Begonias are pretty easy too. I like impatiens but they die the first moment it gets above 70 degrees during the day. So, that’s about two weeks in the spring. I like petunias but I don’t know how to cut them back without killing them. See, isn’t this sad?

If I had the time and talent, this is a dream yard:

Living in Crazyville

I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to think Crazyville isn’t just some silly name I came up with when I was designing this blog. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the more accurate labels I could put on our life.

Working in the school district, I get spring break off. During spring break, it became abundantly clear how desperately I’d been craving some downtime. We didn’t go anywhere and just being home, with no games, meetings, appointments, dance classes, work functions, WHATEVER was amazing. It was probably more time together, as a whole family – maybe ever. Crazyville.

Then, school started again and immediately we were right back up to our eardrums in all of the above. I woke up Tuesday morning after spring break and that knot at the base of my neck was back. In less than 48 hours. Crazyville.

Then, you come to something like our crazy day today. (incidentally, from the time I posted the diagram of my afternoon to now, the picture has changed three times) Crazyville.

How do we simplify? Coach can’t stop being a coach. Well, he could but that’s like telling me to stop singing. I tried that for a season and all the color went out of my life. Not an option.

I can’t stop doing my job. Well, I could but what would I be gaining other than some free time? And, who’s to say it would work? I am a high-octane personality who tends to grow my job into a high-octane job; no matter where I am. My job today is significantly bigger than when I inherited it – I did that.

We could stop taking Munchkin to extra activities but I don’t think anybody would accuse us of overscheduling our kids with extra-curriculars.

And Princess Crybaby is just a toddler along for the ride.

This may just be a season that we’ll grow out of (or just have to live through). All in all, we have a great life – just a busy life. Crazyville.

Where is John Madden when you need him?

Normally, most afternoons are not THIS nutty. Today is a special case, though, so I thought it appropriate to post it; for safe-keeping. That way, when people say to me, “boy, you look tired,” I can point to this and say, “well YEAH.”

Short weeks are fun, aren’t they?

When it rains….

In meetings all. day. long. 
I can smell the smoke coming from the piles of “OMG get it done RIGHT, NOW” smouldering on my desk. 
I can feel that knot forming right at the base of my skull. 
2:30 comes and my meeting is over.
I sigh a small sigh of relief because I have 30 minutes to do a couple of very small tasks before I have to leave.
The phone rings.
A reporter comes over to get confirmation on rumors.
The daycare calls and says Princess Crybaby is running a 101.7 degree fever.
I was hoping to go to the bank and store.
Coach is in College Station tonight with soccer. 
Munchkin and I have to be at the theatre at 6:30.
*sigh*

I heard a young pastor a few years ago say, “if you aren’t in the storm, keep your umbrella handy because it’s coming.”

preach on brother.

The Urge to Cut

I’m growing my hair out. Yes, I know it looks nicer, more professional, etc at a chin-length, stacked bob. BUT. I’m planning to audition for Oliver at the Temole Civic Theatre in (I guess) December and I don’t think chin length was “in” back in Dickens-era England. The growing process is EXCRUCIATING. I have a lot of hair and this fluffy mess is very tedious to get together in the mornings. I know this is the worst part. I will survive. Speaking of musicals, Munchkin made the Honor Choir at her school! YEAH, Munchkin! Now there will be even more singing in the house. And dancing, too since she’s taking dance. Now before you go all over-scheduled on me, dance is thirty minutes, twice a week. In this awful, unending heat, it gives her a way to get active in a way she loves and it furthers HER goal to be a Kitten at Temple High School. She still has plenty of time to do homework, play and relax after school. Coach was invited to work with goalkeepers in the local clubs and thats a huge win for him. He’s been working on that a while now. So to be invited to a regular gig is a huge success. He talked about, maybe in the future, taking on a team but he’s got a lot of after school responsibilities with Yearbook that sometimes just pop up so having a regular gig outside of school isn’t really possible right now. So Munchkin is watching Jem and the Holograms. It makes me laugh to see her watch a show I enjoyed so much as a girl myself. *laugh*Ok, it’s time to get everybody corralled for the morning. Have a great day!

Epiphany

Ok, epiphany time…  I find it easier to lose weight when I’m NOT working out but controlling my food intake.  When I work out, I hardly lose anything.  I think it’s because I am still figuring out how to balance the increased calorie needs with the increased calorie burn that comes with working out.  My body goes into starvation mode pretty easily.  Is that because I was always too thin in my teens through the birth of my first child?

When I think back over time, food and my weight has been a touchy subject all my life.  When I get busy, pre-occupied or anxious, I quit eating.  Literally, I forget to be hungry.  Now, that sounds crazy but it really is true.  My mother was forever checking my collar-bones and grilling me about what I’d eaten.  I was always very thin – sometimes to the point of concern.  I never tried to be thin.

Then, somewhere in college, food became something else.  It was almost a weapon I would use against myself if I was unhappy.  (this conclusion was made upon looking back; when I was doing it, I was not aware of what I was doing.)  This, combined with the party lifestyle I adopted, brought my weight to near dangerous levels.  When I moved home to start UMHB, I was a size 4.  I’m nearly six foot tall.  In nobody’s book is that considered healthy.

Then, as tends to happen, my metabolism slowed down in my mid-20s and I began to gain weight.  Since the birth of my first child, I’ve hovered around the same weight.  While I was working at the CAC, the workload, single parenthood and life, in general, triggered that no-eating cycle.  I suffered terrible stomach pain – I thought I might have an ulcer.  Everything I ate (besides ramen or salad) would hurt so I began to eat less and less.  I got down to a 10; the smallest I’d been since college.

I didn’t stay that small, of course.  I started eating again eventually and didn’t work out.  Then, comes the second baby and that brings us to now.

My conclusions:

• I do not know how to lose weight in a healthy way.
• I have a love/hate relationship with food.
• I am not a stress eater.  (thankfully)
• I am a stress-starver.
• I have a lot of stress in my life (even good stress is still stress; as my mother says).

What I’d like to do is lose the weight in a way I know how to lose it (control food intake) and then incorporate fitness to keep it off.  But I know all my fitness friends are already shaking their heads and saying, “you must balance fitness and nutrition at the same time in order to achieve long-term goals.”  How I break this cycle and get to the weight I want without starving myself is the question of the year. I haven’t had that epiphany yet. LOL

This is nuts

I’m just sayin’. 

Waiting is fine.  A lesson in God’s timing?  Maybe?  I’m totally ok with that.  But this is bananas. 

In other news: Princess Crybaby has her first tooth!  A little white tooth is poking through her tender little gums and giving her no end of fodder for whiny-ness. 

In other, other news: The day after I soak the grass (which hasn’t been watered since, oh, NOVEMBER) the sprinklers are working and the grass gets watered.  It wasn’t long so I don’t know how much good it did.  I imagine I will still run the little sprinkler a few days to help the ground soften up. 

I’ve had an idea about putting paving stones around the “patio” in order to create little more usable space for the grill and maybe a couple of chairs.  It would delay the need to replace dead grass that was killed by 1. sitting water last fall, 2. a total lack of water through the winter and spring and 3. the high traffic area by the back door (i.e. “patio). 

I think we’ve decided to stay in our house, rather than taking over Mom’s house.  I know it would be a little more affordable and would have an extra bedroom (HELLO OFFICE!) but the drawbacks, while they are minor, would add hassle to our lives and that is counter-productive. 

So, we’re looking to improve on our great little house.  YEAH!  I love a project.  (a major reason I love summer)

Pole Position

I can remember that game – Pole Position – my brother and I played it all the time!  (he almost always won)  It was a cool racing game before racing games were cool.  haha  The point of the game, of course, was to maneuver your car into first place and win.  You did this by racing around corners at badly animated speeds.  (well, bad compared to now)

Looking ahead to this week, I can already see an exhausted me at the end of it.  We’ve come to the part of the year where we have something almost every night; sometimes two or three things.  It’s pole position – just in real life; with better graphics, no music and people instead of cars – maneuvering around obstacles and insane curves (schedules), trying to get to the finish line (friday night).

Monday night, I have my standing meeting for the bond.  (and there is a board meeting but I can’t go to both)  Wednesday after school is Munchkin’s dentist appointment. Thursday before work is an appointment I’m looking forward to.  Thursday afternoon is the egg stuffing party for our staff easter egg roll.  This weekend already has plans rolling too.

We are less than a month from early voting.  This rush of information has been good practice and helped me really hone my time-management and organizational skills.  I’ve always had the ability and I really good at pulling off the impossible (most of the time) but I’ve certainly been able to put that ability on the test track with this bond to where it is an all-the-time endeavor, rather than a project-based focus.

Even though it’s crazy busy, life is really good.  I made an appointment at the end of May for an all-girl day with Munchkin before school is out.  We’ll go to lunch (anybody know a fru-fru place open on Saturdays, in Temple?), haircuts and new nail polish at the salon then, the day I’ve been promising for going on five years – I’m going to let M get her ears pierced.  That way, she’ll be a few weeks into the routine before she goes to her dad’s house for the summer.  We’ll be a week from summer break (I told her she could get them the summer before third grade).  It will be our special day.  I will probably cry.  (because I’m a sap like that)

I’ve got to get her registered for summer arts camp at the CAC before too long and find somewhere for Princess Crybaby to be during the summer since her daycare is through the school district and it’s only during the school year.

Also on my Munchkin list – she is asking about baptism so we’re going to make an appointment for her to sit down with Brother Andy (our pastor) to talk about what baptism is and why it’s important.  Then we’ll know she’s really ready.

*whew* I’m going to be ready for a vacation or something after May 14.  Hold on, folks – here comes another corner!

Cold Weather

There’s something about this crisp weather that makes the sky seem bluer, chili taste better and hot chocolate compliment every meal.

Some people love this weather.   Brisk weather agrees with them.

Not me. I hate this weather. LOL

Hate is a strong word, I know.  I’m a summer girl. That’s all there is to that. I love hot days and balmy nights.  This weather is only fit for hanging meat. Not wanting to liken myself to a slab of beef, I prefer to stay inside on days like today – 20 degrees with 25 mph winds.

Naturally, my best friend is a polar bear. He would have to be a coach of a sport that plays outside during the coldest time of year in Texas.  I’m tellin’ you, you’ve never been cold until you sit on metal bleachers. Thank goodness for hand warmers, sleeping bags and stadium chairs.
And, as much as I gripe about the weather, I’m looking forward to the games. Yes really.

I know. I’m goofy. But you’re not surprised, are you?

By the time we hang the lights…

…it’ll be new years day and time to take them down.

I wish I had the pause feature in real life like I have in Sims. You can build without the clock flying by. Where is that feature in real life?

I never seem to have the time to get it all done. Today, for example, I wanted to work on getting the lights up and the front porch decorated. I laid down and took a nap instead.  I needed the nap but I also need to sweep and mop the floor, wash the sheets, etc….

Well, there is always tomorrow.

Downhill Slide

10 1/2 days until Christmas break. Thank goodness. Holy guacamole I am tired.  And not the kind of tired you feel when you’ve had a long day or you didn’t sleep well. It’s the kind of tired from having a long YEAR.*laugh*

On the homefront, all is great. Princess Crybaby is getting big. She is so alert – one of her favorite activities is watching people walk by.

She wants to talk and I think it aggravates her that she can’t make her mouth form the sounds she wants to make.

Munchkin’s teeth woes continue. I fear the fact that both her parents have less then great teeth combined guarantees we will have problems with her mouth.  I should get a job now to start saving for braces.

She had a tooth filled back in April. Well, the tooth was damaged and now requires a root canal. We started that treatment this week. The endodontist was top-notch and I really liked him. He used a lot if big words and I felt like I spent the better part of his explanation with my mouth hanging open with an expression you might see Mater make….uhhhh, whut?

Before and after school soccer practice has started so I don’t see the Coach much.  I’m excited about the season and hope the boys do well and we get through it with no serious injuries.

Speaking of soccer, what on earth is up with picking Qatar for the World Cup in 2022? That’s just stupid.

Work is going well. We have our annual clean up tomorrow and, while it has morphed into something quite different than the original intent if the day, it should still be a good day.  Work, otherwise, is fast and furious.

Oh, did I mention I’m doing another show? I’ve been cast as Grace Farrell in Annie. It opens the end of January.

I’ve become a little superstitious about doing shows as somebody important to me has died in the last three shows I’ve done.  Roy Finney, my beloved friend and mentor, died during the run of My Way. I miscarried Riley doing Godspell and my sweet kitty, Oscar, died right after I found out I was cast in Annie. Weird, huh?

Well, other than the insane juggling act that is my life right now, nothing is really going on.

*hysterical laughter ensues*

If you will excuse me, I will go slip into my white jacket with the buckles on the back now….  standard uniform here, in Crazyville.

‘night, friends.

The power of a clean house

I know I’ve posted before of my love affair with a clean house.

The events of the past week made it a perfect time to scrub this house from top to bottom.

Life is a lot like my house. It entails a lot of coming and going and so, despite sweeping and dusting on a regular basis, every now and then you have to make time to wipe down baseboards, clean the oven and scrape away the grime that just builds up from regular use.

I think scrubbing floors on my hands and knees, oiling and polishing my beautiful, beat up antique table to a shine was just the healing balm I needed today to clear my thoughts.

Tonight, I am laying on the couch, tired from today’s efforts but feeling more at peace then I have in a while.

Who knew squeaky floors could be so therapeutic? I wonder if there is a scripture about the power of cleaning?

*laugh*

Only Thursday…Really?

*whew* It’s been one of THOSE weeks. Work has been all media. It’s a good thing I like that stuff or it would have been a horrible week.

Princess Crybaby is doing very well. We had her 2 month appointment yesterday and she’s at the 75th percentile in length (at what point does it become height – when they are vertical? LOL) at 24 inches and the 90th percentile in weight at 12 pounds 13 ounces. Nobody is worried she’s not eating enough.

She showed off for the doctor too, smiling and laughing and watching him and trying to “talk” to him. She was all grins until it was time for the shots. God, I hate those. The first shot obviously made her cry but the second and third shots hit her like a ton of bricks and she howled. Pure outrage and disbelief that we, her beloved Mommy and Daddy, would inflict (or allow another to inflict) such pain upon her. HOW. COULD. WE?!

Munchkin followed suit and kicked up a royal fuss about her flu mist – she’s gotten one every year since Pre-K but you’d have thought we were coming at her with this:

*sigh*

Have I mentioned if she changes her mind and decides she wants to be an actress, I fully expect to see THIS:

Ok… it’s time to get out of here for the day.  I’m beat, Crybaby was fussy at lunch and Munchkin’s dad and fiance are on their way from Austin for a weekend with Munchkin. 

Later, gators.

Wish I had mopped first

Back in the summer (before Munchkin came home from NJ), I got on a Sims 3 kick.  I created a family with two children.  Boy, was that a crazy thing – the game took the kids away one time; another time the older child ran away….  In the game, I just couldn’t respond to their needs fast enough AND take care of my own sims’ needs.  Now that Princess Crybaby is here and we brought home the dog (basically like having a toddler in the house) I know what the sim mom must have been thinking, “CALGON, TAKE ME AWAY!”  How often, as moms, do we sacrifice our own needs to ensure our children have what they need? 

I don’t know where I’m going with this post.  I am unhappy I left the house a mess this morning.  We were gone all day yesterday so laundry didn’t get done and I didn’t mop the floors AND I didn’t go grocery shopping.  Also, I’ve become accustomed to having time after I drop Munchkin off at school to tidy up from the morning getting-ready blitz.   I didn’t have time to do that this morning b/c Munchkin has a dentist appointment at 3 so I needed to go into the office early so I could leave early.  On top of that, Princess Crybaby decided she was hungry again so everything stopped while I fed her.  Then, the dog needs to go out, the cat needs his insulin shot….see where I’m going with this?  Is it any wonder my hair gets shorter everytime I get it cut?

I’m not unhappy with our situation; I think this morning ruffled my feathers so I’m whining.  I’m a creature of habit, routine and schedules and deviating from that irks me.  I love a really clean house but also will tell you if I have to pick a 10 minute shower, 10 minutes with a smiling, laughing baby or a swiffer job on the floors – the shower or happy baby will win every time.  IF that means my house isn’t magazine ready, then so be it. 

Ok, I’ll quit.  Have a tidy day!