Oh It's a Chore...

Some days it seems the list of chores to do around the house are endless, even though I do something around here every single day.  I have set a personal goal to attempt to do a load of laundry every afternoon or I will be stuck listening to the annoying chime of the dryer as it taunts me for several hours the next day.  I have even put a load in at bedtime and GOT UP to move the load to the dryer before I actually fell asleep so I would not have to rewash the following morning.  It is a losing battle.  It will never end.  I must find a way to come to terms with this... hmmm  That said, it is not the worse chore on the list-  I do not mind wiping the dog slobber off the lower windows.  I rather enjoy the swiffer when paired with the ipod.  BUT-

My nemesis is the dish washer.  I do not like the dishwasher.   I get that it is a modern marvel.  I remember my grandmother living most of her entire life without one. She would stand at the sink washing a pile of dishes from the meal she lovingly cooked.  It is a convenience, I get it but I still don't have to like it.  Let me confess how I handle this chore.   It is a NINE step process...

• Step one- open the front
• Step two- peak around the top shelf to assure items are not funked over
• Step three- select certain cups, shake excess water off and stack them on the counter
• Step four- push the said cups in the cabinet and implement the duck and dodge method to keep existing cups in the cupboard from knocking me in the head.
• Step five- feeling lucky, made it without any breakage or bumps- *takes a sip of coffee in satisfaction of this accomplishment
• Step six - pull out the dreaded bottom rack
• Step seven- pick out a few forks and spoons- leave the remaining in the rack because well, I don't have a good answer
• Step eight- pull out the extra large pan and walk around the kitchen holding it- open most cabinets to find that sucker will not fit... 
• Step nine- take pan back to dishwasher and put it back where I found it.

The end- and do not act like I am the only one with this process... ahem :)

No... It's A Knot

Exhibit A

Years ago, when the spouse and I were house hunting we toured too many houses to count.  Nothing worked for us.  I could pick them apart at the seams and I was starting to get discouraged. Then it happened, we walked into "our home".  It spoke to both of us *NO- Not our ghost, they are mute*.  I was able to see "what could be" even though it was drowning in an ocean of mauve and blue.  There were mockingbirds on wallpaper that were "mocking" me.  However, I could see past it and wait for the day we could update her style with one exception... WHITE CARPET!  Who does that?  This is not some converted warehouse loft in an artsy, fartsy city.  It is a home that would be the center of our family.  It would have children and animals running across them carrying leaky, sippy cups.  White Carpet + Small Children = Disaster!  

Fast Forward a few years and attempt to get to the point of this post-

 Hello renovation-  Ok- I have eclectic taste-  I like the old with the new.  That said, putting 100 year old brick pavers that were salvaged from buildings on the floor seemed NORMAL even COOL!  I was right- see exhibit A.  Neat, huh?   Anywho, I have enjoyed these floors.  NO fuss, No muss.  A wet mop and that is it!  Don't cha love - low maintenance?  However, today I am looking at them a little differently.  Walker needs new shoes and he wants some that actually tie.  He does not want velcro.  I like velcro.  Are you with me?  Let me break that down for you- He wants shoes that tie, hence he will need to learn to tie his shoes.  (SIGH)  Have you ever tried to teach a child to tie their shoes?  OH lawd- I have to pull out all the stops and make up the story about the little bunny- that will NOT cooperate with little fingers as it runs around the bush.  BLAH BLAH BLAH!   It is an exhausting exercise!   It will last for what seems FOREVER!  He will get mad and aggravated.  I will get impatient.  I will BANG MY HEAD ON THE LOW MAINTENANCE BRICKS!  They were not around when Mackenzie learned this task-  I had to settle for the wall.  

What is my point?  I fear my COOLNESS is going to kill me!

Stop and Smell the Proverbial Roses

A friend of mine recently blogged about life's simple pleasures.  For her, it was a pretty little soap dispenser that got rid of the muck from bar soap.  I agree- some of the best things life has to offer are right in front of us- but we tend to overlook them while caught up in the day to day chores. We don't appreciate simplicity like we should.  It reminded me of an old post-  One that is as true today, as it was when I originally stuck it out on the internet for everyone to critique.
Today's topic- Books
I love to read.  I always have.  Most of my reading is done at night when my children are snuggled up and in a peaceful slumber.  I have attempted to read on rainy afternoons, but lets face it- when you read the same sentence three times and still do not know what you read, it loses some of its magic.   So I read at night by a  tiny book lamp that attaches to the top of the pages.  I have looked into the fancy new options but there is something wonderful about page turning.  It is what the author originally intended (or this is what I believe) to have the suspense build as the paper turns.  Old fashioned thinking... probably?  A few weeks ago, I stumbled into a used paperback store.  The musty smell was wonderful and identifiable, it was the smell of old books.  You know the smell.  Some may find it distasteful... I like it!   As I strolled the endless selection, I realized I am not one that reads a book more than once.  There are a few exceptions like Twilight (hello- EDWARD) and the Hunger Games Trilogy  ( if you have not enjoyed this syfy edge of your seater- please allow yourself the guilty pleasure of these books) and of course the classics like To Kill A Mockingbird.  Other than the few listed above... I don't reread. So to continue on with my old books admiration trip-  I ended up in the horror/ syfy genre and I picked up Salem's Lot.  Now I read this book years ago... and I remember it stuck with me.  CREEPY-  but a little creepy factor is good now and again.  I took it to the counter and paid my two bucks.
The book laid around on the counter for a while.. I decided a few nights ago, I would give it another whirl.  So I started reading and as I flipped the first few pages I could not help but think..Why are you reading this again?  You know how it ends... what is the point?  As I got more involved in the book, I realized, the amazing author Stephen King... did not mean for his books to be read only once... they are full of details that can easily be overlooked ....and in each detail the author struggled over it to get it right.  It is in the details that take you from your sorrows or stressful lives and emerge you in a place forbidden.  It doesn't matter what type of "read" you prefer... romance, comedy, thrillers... a mix of all three- you escape to a mini vacation.  Let's face it- we all need a mini escape from time to time.  So I encourage you to pick up a book... perhaps one you have read before that is laying in the bottom of a drawer... and enjoy it.  Life is short.. simple pleasures are all around us.

Do you hear what I hear?

So I thought about starting this one with the classic "Once upon a time".  That in my opinion is reserved for fairy tales - this tale is far from that.  It is a true story. I will begin as if we are sitting on the sofa and drinking a glass of tea.

GET THIS... Years ago we had a yellow lab, his name was Cooper.  He was a beautiful dog that stayed bored.  One day he came onto the porch carting a bone hanging out of his mouth.  Now when I say "bone".. I mean big ol' bone.  Not store bought- he dug that sucker up from the yard.  I took it from him and shared his find with my family.  Everyone tried to assure me that our property was once a large farm and it probably was from a cow.  I remember joking around and letting them know I was not 100% on board with that theory- I did not go to medical school, but that looked like a femur. We looked for a hole, hoping we could find closure.  None was found.  It seems the dog went under the backside of the house- through a small opening in the paneling and found it.  UNDER THE HOUSE- did you catch that part?   I eventually put the bone mishap behind me and did not think of it to often.  I mean- Ewwww right?  Cow- yep, going with the old dead cow.

Now reader beware- it is about to get creepy...

When my son was two years old, he woke up frequently at night afraid.  He would point to the same area in our house - the small hallway that leads to the bathroom and cry "there is the old Yady, the old yady scares me, I don't like the old yady"  He had mentioned more than once she carried a stick.  I can only assume he meant a cane.  Again, this was not a one time deal.  It happened a lot.  I would hold him and let him know that he was safe.  That there was no one in the house with us except daddy and sister.    Please know, the entire time I held him - I pierced my eyes into the darkness, looking until they watered.  Trying to see what he saw.  NOTHING.  I saw nothing!  But I do not doubt that he did.  I have heard over the years that the very young and innocent can see things jaded adults can not.  I am a believer.  He is now five.  He has not woke up crying about "her" in over two years.  Did she just go away or has his mind closed off what it now deems impossible?  I have no idea.

Fast forward to the summer to of 2012
Our family was at the beach and the husband got a weird vibe. He decided to hop on his lap top and check the cameras at our house. All of a sudden we hear a crash, something that sounded like a sneeze AND muffled talking over white noise.  His eyes turned into saucers and I freely admit I was freaking out too since we have had a house destroyed in the past. He called the local police department to investigate. We could see the cop shine his light into our house via the cameras and knew he was not taking the call lightly.  He had the dispatcher let us know that everything was locked down tight as one would hope...  BUT the sound continued- At midnight when the automatic air freshener went off at the beach - it clicked- We had called the local PD over pleasant smelling air. Which is classic debacle for this family!  So that explained the crash/ sneeze sound that was repeated but it did NOT explain the voices.  We had not left any tvs on.  No radios were plugged in.  NOTHING should have sounded like voices in a wind tunnel.  There is no answer for that and we have discussed it over and over.

We have the unexplained creaks that most people chalk up to a house settling or the wind.  Most nights I do not get over concerned and attempt not to over think it.  MOST nights- the dog doesn't fidget or bark and sit up with his ears cocked back.  MOST NIGHTS!

It has been brought to my attention more than once and I myself have toyed with the idea of calling some sort of ghostbuster in to do a little investigating.  In the end, however, what will they accomplish?  My ghost do not run around and rip up my good sheets.  They don't scream "BOO" or rattle chains.  I have said "Beatlejuice" three times for giggles.  No Dice.  They seem peaceful- I don't think they mean us any harm.  Does this mean I ain't afraid of no ghost?  ummm NO, that is not what it means.  I ain't afraid of MY ghost.

Happy Hauntings

Passion For Music

Music- it is important to most of us.  A certain song can bring back the best of times and quite possibly the worst.  It can bring a tear to your eye or a dance in your step.  I can listen to Bing Crosby every Christmas and think of my granddaddy with joy in my heart.  Benny and the Jets will send me back to the 70's,  sticking a quarter into the jukebox at the Waffle House.  Funny how that works :) When Mackenzie was a toddler I would only listen to a Barney cd and other childlike songs while we were in the car.  We would pop up and down in our seats to the Wheels on the Bus song because the people "go up and down".  If we were happy and we knew it, you can bet we were clapping our hands.  I was so over protective to any and all outside influences that I could control and keep her away from. She was the first child and I did not want to mess her up. Such a good mommy.  From the years 2002-2007 I did not know a single song that hit the billboard top 100.  Had NO clue.  I was well versed in any and all kids songs.. mind you.
With Walker, the second child, I have loosened up in some areas.  I listen to the radio every time we get into the car.  I like the top 100 songs, an attempt to hang onto my youth?  perhaps- but you can dance to it!  I like to dance and embarrass the kids. I am a pro at this.  Yes, Music is important!  Fast forward that line of thinking and Walker singing to himself.  My first thought was he is so stinking cute and THEN I REALIZED WHAT HE WAS SINGING!  *dramatic pause inserted here for my own health purposes- shallow breathing*  He said "I have a passion in my pants - I am sexy and I know it"!  GASP, GASP oh hell... GASP!  Good mommy gone!  What have a I learned..well, that the Wheels on the Bus still go round and round when my car wheels go round and round from this day forward.  Crap on Cracker Folks, Crap on a Cracker!

WTFudge?

You know those days when around every turn you find yourself saying " WTF"... fudge for those who have morals.  Today, not so much- I used the real Mccoy- A LOT- under my breath, mind you- but I still said it.

Let's review what would make a wholesome mommy like myself resort to such foul language. 

 *Crickets*

1.) To spoil the rotten dog just a little more I purchased him a PLUSH, comfy pillow to rest on-  He pee'd on it not once but twice.  WTF?

2.)Walker asked me again what "hot" means.. I told him it could mean your sweaty or it could mean you think someone is pretty.   You know, I rather him ask me than learn from someone else.  Right or Wrong, that is what I told him.  He said "so and so is HOT then"... he is four- WTF?

3.)Walker fed the fish- most of the container.  Seems Buzz the Beta was hungry.  WTF?

4.)Since it has been such a beautiful day, I opened the kitchen window up WIDE for the breeze and allow some fresh air into the house.  As daylight ended.. a moth found its way into the house.  My big one has never squealed so loud.  I took this child to see the Jonas Brothers- it does not compare to the racket she was making over the ugly butterfly.  It sounded like the house was under attack by a middle school.  So to assist, Walker put on his rain boots, tracked the moth down, cornered it.. and squish.  The ten year old was not embarrassed by this chain of events.  WTF?

5.)  The last profanity does not effect me one way or the other.. but it made me think it!  Every time I talk to my best friend she is eating SOMETHING and I talk to her a lot most days.  Hollow leg?  WTF?

Should I have put pen to paper so to speak ?  I needed the therapy, so what the hell!

Eventful... I Will Give It that

So the month of December never seems to disappoint... It brings out the best and the worst of people.. Today I will concentrate on the worst because I have PMS and it is my blog.  Suck it up buttercup- I am going to vent!
First on my list of gripes is the fact that Mackenzie has figured out the perpetual lie of Santa and the dumb Elf.  I have held my breath since November in hopes I could squeeze one more year of the yummy goodness that makes things magical in little people's eyes.  I know it is over played.. but this has truly been an Epic Fail.  Need proof?  Allow me to throw myself under the bus with a little something I like to call exhibit A.
My sleeping habits leave a lot to be desired most of the time, so every now and then I cave and pop a sleeping beauty pill ** COMMENTS TO YOURSELVES-I have warned each of you that I have PMS**- anyways most nights I get up out of bed and make the Elf do something bad when I know for SURE that the kids are asleep. MOST NIGHTS- but apparently not on a "Sleeping Beauty" night- I forgot.  Fast forward to morning and Mackenzie states "the elf is on the reindeer"..as I stand by the coffee pot trying to figure out if the daddy remembered ,I am afraid to turn around and look at her so I say *always on my toes- rolls eyes* "WOW- that is neat!".   A few hours pass and she strolls into the kitchen and leans over the island on her elbows and says "Who was suppose to make the elf do something?  You or Daddy?"  Now I ask all of you parents- how would you have handled this?  I took a deep breath because hyperventilating was a serious option at this point and said "me".   She stood up and said "THAT IS WHAT I THOUGHT!"  Conversation over, she walks out and leaves the deer in headlights still standing in the kitchen trying to recuperate and that is not the worst of it...
Now Santa is in serious jeopardy- and before I go any further I would like to publicly thank the little stool pigeons at school -that are singing like a canary to my seemingly innocent ten year old and squashing the magic like gum to a shoe, in an over packed parking lot of angry shoppers looking for killer deal on black Friday.  I now have to address an email I got from her wanting to know the "truth" about the jolly old guy.  She knows - I know she knows- She knows I know she knows- but saying "no- it was mom and dad- sorry" seems as hard as chewing on old leather.  So the defendant rest... Exhibit A.

Second is my husband actually tracks when I will be devoured by PMS on his blackberry.

I could probably come up with a few more items like my husband and my best friend moving my new car to make me think it was stolen, or my four year old telling me he is ashamed of me when I pull into car line with my music to loud, seems this is "unacceptable".  Blah Blah Blah..
Eventful.. and only day 15 :)