Preferably with Chardonnay...

Wow. What a week!

I started writing this blog post, and I was pretty much griping about how much is going on. It took me about three paragraphs before I had to give it up. Yep. Just call me a quitter. I simply cannot be negative for very long. Call me Pollyanna, but I ain’t got no time for that.

I am that person who, despite my sarcastic wit, takes offense to those post about how there is no way a person’s life can be as good as the stuff they post on Facebook. I take offense because, really, my life is pretty awesome. Am I perfect? Of course. Or not really. But I my life is pretty great. And I just can’t complain for very long. So let me tell you a little about my week now that my attitude is adjusted.

So here is the scoop: My family owns a business. I work at said business, though I sometimes question my sanity in doing so.  Over the course of the last 4 business days, we have decided that it would be a great idea (and, in truth, it probably IS a great idea) to open a new location. In three days.Three days. I keep telling myself that if Jesus offered all of humanity salvation in three days, surely we can open a store. I'm stressed.

           

Yep. And the truth is I am not sure why I am stressed. I mean most of the set up is not my problem. Of course, I will be there scrubbing and painting, loading and unloading just like everyone else. But I am the low man on the totem pole. No bucks stop here. And I have the paycheck to prove it. Can I also just say that I am glad the new store is next to the bottle shop?

In other news, it is July. More specifically, it is the end of July so we are in full-on back-to-school mode. Maybe the bottle shop carries glue sticks? I am generally the mom who has a list, prioritized and color-coded. Yeah whatever. I think my socks might match. Or not.

And did anyone notice any rain this summer? Perhaps the fact that I may need to purchase a canoe to get the mail has made me realize how much rain we have had. Perhaps it is the 2951 tomatoes I harvest daily. The only person in my family who eats raw tomatoes is my six year old. By the end of this week, I will have put up at least ten quarts of tomatoes. THIS WEEK. And I have peas coming out of my ears. I have to give a shout out to the family for helping me out with all of this. And I hope my kids love peas and tomatoes as we will be eating them twice weekly until at least next summer. When we get to start all over! I am not really complaining, though. The garden has been a lot of fun. I am still looking forward to expounding on this topic in a future post.

                                     

This is the tomato harvest from today from ONE plant. I have SEVEN.

My last thing to complain about is my busted lip. Kid #2 decided that I needed fuller lips, and injections are just too pricey. So he used his head and fixed it himself. Literally. He used his head to enlarge my lips by head butting me as I kissed him goodnight. Now I pout even when I smile. Not true. I can’t smile. At least, not without bleeding.

So it appears that my biggest complaints are that my family business is growing, I have a job, my kids still have some time left for summer vacation, my literal harvest is truly plentiful, and I kissed my kids goodnight this evening. So you can see why I am a Pollyanna. Even at its craziest, there is still a lot to love about life. I hope I will always see my glass as half full. And with the bottle shop next door to work, it should be even easier to keep it that way. Preferably with chardonnay.

It's Baaaaaaaaaack (But Not Backkkkkkkkkkkkk)

So it’s been a while. Like, forever, since my last blog post. Like I could have gestated two kids, one a time, since I was here last. (Like, in the editing of this post, I, like, realized that I, like, say “like” too much. Yeah. “Like” and “so” are probably my two favorite words. I have some others, but I try to keep this blog PG-13 at worst.)

No one dusted here while I was gone.  But do they ever? I live in dudedom. I am lucky if the toilets are flushed. No one here believes in dusting. Or getting all of the pee in the toilet. I think I should get a medal for cleaning 3 bathrooms in a house full of dudes.

Yes, I am rambling. Did you miss me?

For real, now, let’s talk. It has been a very long time since I last picked up the pen (actually clicking the keys, but pens are much more poetic. Perhaps I should go with quills instead. But that was one creepy movie).  Things have changed a little for me:

1.       I am down almost 50 pounds (I am so ready to lose that almost BS. I want to say 50.)

2.      I have discovered that I love to run. I know. That is just weird. Who would want to do that? I will make sure that this one is a post in the near future.

3.      My kids have gotten older. And louder. Well, maybe not really louder, but certainly mouthier.

4.      I discovered Dave Ramsey. We have a love/hate relationship. But, except for the house, we are debt free!!! (Do you have any idea how much I HATE multiple exclamation points? How juvenile. I’m never juvenile. Or something like that. And I ALWAYS use complete sentences. And I’m NEVER sarcastic. Ever. But I really do hate multiple exclamation points. And when people drag out a word, but with the wrong letter. Like “darkkkkkkkkkkk” instead of “daaaaaaaaark.” If you said “darkkkkkkkkkkk” it would sound like a machine gun and be very awkward. While we are at it, I also hate the term “preggo” for pregnant. And I dang sure hate “prego.” That’s pasta sauce, not gestation.)

5.      I lost two of my three remaining grandparents. This one hurts every day. Every. Day.

6.      My husband watches crappy TV. This is not new, but it bears repeating that Pork Chop has terrible taste in entertainment. The good news: Project Runway kicks off again in two days. Raising the roof—Woot! Woot! So glad we have cable. I should blog about how fun the 6 months of no cable were.

7.      I will be taking a year off from my teaching job. I’m not sure I know how to not be a teacher. But as we are half-way through summer, I can say I am NOT cut out to home school my kids. I am pretty sure that this will be the topic of a future post. Stay tuned.

8.      On a similar note, I will now be working at the family business. Again. This will make a hilarious topic of discussion, though I may get disinherited for my insights. Stay tuned. We’ll see how ballsy I get. (Is “ballsy” PG or PG-13? I don’t really want to explain that word to my kids. I am pretty sure it would end in some lewd dancing on their part. I often wonder if my sons are the only ones who are like that.)

9.      My kids have gotten old enough to protest when I post embarrassing things about them. Like lewd dancing references. This makes my job as mother so much more fun!

10.   My kids have gotten old enough to help more. Like when #2 redecorated our lawn by putting fertilizer out in an awesome zebra pattern.

11.    I have discovered this ridiculousness called “Clean Eating.” I am not sure exactly where that road will lead, but it better include chocolate chip cookies.

12.   We planted our first garden, which is more like a jungle. An adventure in itself. Perhaps another future topic of discussion.

So that is what I have been up to for the last year and a half. You know, that and reading junky books, making lists (Woot! Woot!), fishing, housecleaning, yelling, swimming to my mailbox (has it rained any this summer?) and watching crappy TV with Pork Chop.

When I started this post, I had no idea where I was going to go with it. Apparently it is preview of future posts (Me make coherent post!) and a short list of annoyances.  So now I have some ideas, and you are all waiting with bated breath for my next installment.  Or maybe you will just go grab a beer and get on with your life. Either way, it feels good to write again. So come back and see me. Maybe I’ll dust.

Jingle Jogging to the Finish Line

Silent Night.

Peace on Earth.

Asleep in the hay.

How still we see thee lie.

Yeah. These people obviously did not have my holiday season. For all of you who have read previous blogs, you know that I have my %#&* together when it comes to getting organized for this joyous season. Now I am set and ready to go, but I kinda want to stop.

No, I don’t want to stop Christmas. For crying out loud, I am not the Grinch.

I just want to stop doing for a minute. I love this season, and I am glad everyone else does, too. But if I ever have my own organization, I would love to plan a wonderful celebration… In January.

I love having an active family. My kids are in Boy Scouts, piano, soccer, karate, choir, missions, and so forth. Not mention that I teach and my husband works. Throw in the big boys’ school, the baby’s preschool and everyone’s Sunday school and you see that, even on a slow week, we are busy.

Now add to that the fact that nearly every one of the groups listed above wants to have some sort of special event, program or performance in the first two and a half weeks of December. Boy am I tired. Can I get an amen? Or maybe an awesome Thanksgiving party?

I love all of these festive events, but it does feel a little like running a Christmas marathon. Has anyone seen a tinsel finish line and an elf with a twinkle-light trophy?

I hate feeling like this. First of all, I am very much an introvert. I need my down time and alone time to process everything. I get cranky and crazy when I don’t.

My middle son suffers from pretty severe anxiety, and this massive schedule change has him very on edge. I have to say that I can sympathize. I am feeling the pinch, too. I am pretty sure I owe several people in my life apologies. I am sure I have been snippy, and I have probably not been very helpful. I like to think I am better than that. Great. Now I have guilt.

So here is what I am going to do. I am going to make it to the events that I can, and I am going to enjoy them. And I am not going to feel guilty about the ones I miss.

I am going to have a merry Christmas. And, after Friday, I am going to have some peace on Earth. And a good book.

My Three Reflections

I recently told a friend of mine that if you don’t want to see all of your flaws in living color, don’t have kids. I have found that I see everything wrong with me played out in detail by my children. Now this may seem like I am afraid or embarrassed, but I am not. I have kids and I work with kids, so I have my flaws pointed out to me on a regular basis. My attitude is that I am what I am, and all can do is try to do better. There is no point in developing a complex over it.

So, for fun, I have made you chart with a few examples:

Flaw	Child who demonstrated	Examples
I am LOUD	All of them. Particularly #2.	Every teacher #2 has ever had has said, “We are working hard on his inside voice.”
		I bought a whistle so I could be heard over them.
		When I am in the kitchen and I ask #2 to tell his brothers it is time to eat, he just stands there and yells, “DINNER!” at the top of his lungs.
I am a rules junkie	#3	“Mommy! He hit me!”
		“Mommy! He not eatin’ him food!”
		“Mommy! He didn’t brush him teeth!”
		“Mommy! He didn’t clean up!”
		“Mommy! He not sittin’ up in his car seat!”
		“Mommy! He bein’ a tattle-tale!”
I listen to terrible music	#1 and #2	Every time I say, “Stop!” They say, “Collaborate and listen!”
		#1 thinks that he has hit the lottery when Big 90’s Weekend is on Star 94.
		Flannel is their favorite choice of clothing, and they hate to wash their hair.
		They know every word to “Honky-Tonk Badonkadonk.”
I am fashion impaired	#3	See last week’s blog. I am learning so much.
		Cowboy boots go with everything. Everything.
		Jeff Gordon booty shorts are not appropriate in cold weather. Or ever. (BTW the kid owns those, not me.  I don’t wear shorts at all if I can help it. Or bikinis. No one wants to see all of this in those.)
I am a know-it-all	#1	While riding to our cabin in the mountains for summer vacation, we saw a deer. A few minutes later we hear from the back seat, “Forty different kinds of deer live on Earth. The pudu deer in Chile is only 13 inches tall.”
		Kid #1: “I like ocean animals.” Aunt: “What is your favorite ocean animal?” Kid #1: “I have three: the giant squid, the sperm whale, and the pacific octopus.” Aunt: “Wow. That’s really specific.”
		Kid to stranger who dropped a water bottle, “I think you dropped your trash. That is not good for the environment. We recycle.” Yeah, I wanted to smack him, too.
I am not sarcastic at all. Really. Not at alllll.	All of them	Me: Do you like your birthday cake? Kid: Nope. I hated it. <points to empty plate>
		At age 4, #2 knew the difference between sarcasm and hyperbole. That might be a good example for the last flaw, too.
		Kid #2: How did my brother get here? Me: He teleported. Kid #2: Huh? Me: I called Star Trek. They beamed him here. Kid #2: Really?! Kid #1: Dude, seriously?

There are, of course, far worse flaws I have seen mirrored in my children like my temper and procrastination. But the reflection my kids show me has offered a few other insights: I have seen that I have a big heart, a strong faith, and a pretty good sense of humor. I have to find the funny with these guys!

Back Off My Blue Wedges, Buddy

Before Porkchop and I began implementing our plot for world domination (having a whole bunch of children), we made a decision that we would choose our battles. We would NOT, unless things got indecent, fight the hair and clothing battles. A great strategy. Until kid #3 came around. (Aside: In hindsight, there are probably much easier and less expensive ways to take over the world.)

God knew what he was doing when he gave me boys. I love that the morning routine at our house is incredibly simple: Get dressed, brush teeth, make beds, eat breakfast. Boys are super-low-maintenance at this point. I will say that it took me until the oldest was 18 months old to get over the fact that he was not a girl. Now I am just grateful that I do not have to do anyone’s hair (except my own) in the morning.

So after the first two boys, when we discovered that we were having a third, I thought, “Hot dog! No tights or hair bows and I can still use the hand-me-downs!”

And those two points have held true. Unfortunately, the low-maintenance expectation was blown out of the water by child number three.

He has long had a major shoe fetish. In his current size he has:

·         Tennis shoes (2 pair)

·         Crocs

·         Sandals

·         Cowboy boots

·         Work boots

·         Rain boots

·         Church shoes

·         Flip flops

·         Cleats

·         Slippers

I mean seriously. He has a better selection than I do. And he loves to try on everyone else’s shoes. We just about threw down this summer when kept hijacking my navy blue wedges.

Then there are the actual clothes issues. This summer, I got a call from his Nana. My little angel had thrown a major fit. Why you ask? Let me tell you. I had packed him a pair of blue jean shorts and a red tee shirt for play clothes. While I intended no drama, I offended his fashion sensibilities. Apparently, if you are wearing blue shorts, you must wear a blue shirt. And this holds true for all colors: red on red, orange on orange, and even turtle (camouflage) on turtle.

As he has gotten older, my little one’s fashion preferences are becoming more refined. He no longer insists on the matchy-matchy, but he certainly has opinions. Once he gets up in the morning, it usually takes him at least three shirts before he settles on the one that is just right. And before you say it, yes, we pick out clothes with him the night before. But morning apparently brings a new perspective, and it is imperative for three year olds always to be fashion-forward.

So after we make it through the school day (with the occasional wardrobe change AT school), we come home for lunch. As soon as he hits the door, he takes of his clothes and dons a fresh set of jammies. Usually of the superhero or dinosaur variety, but he sometimes branches out and goes with the snowmen motif.

After naps, it is back into clothes. He is a stinker and will do everything in his power to choose a new outfit that he has not worn that day. When I tell him he must wear the same clothes that he wore earlier, he has a supermodel-sized hissy fit. (Aside: When son #1 was in pre-k, he had to take something to school that started with an H. He asked to take his baby brother so his teacher could see him throw a hissy fit. H for hat? H for horse? Not at our house. H for hissy fit.) So we work out terms of the peace treaty, sign it and put it on display for the general populace. I am never sure who the victor is in these conflicts.

As the day draws to a close, the little monkey has a final costume change for the finale, and he usually violates the treaty by insisting on clean pajamas. That makes four (FOUR!) outfits the kid wants to go through in a day.

Again, before you ask, no. My washing machine never quits running. I am going to buy stock in Downey and All. And he is not getting any clothes for Christmas. Well, maybe one outfit. And some pajamas. And maybe a sweater. I have no idea where he gets this fashionista behavior.

Did I Earn a Cookie?

While I was hand-scrubbing the floor around the toilet in the bathroom belonging to my three boys (ages 3, 5, and 7), I thought, I should get some kind of award for this. Then it hit me. Mum Scouts. I mean, c’mon, if my son can get badges for tying knots (which he has been doing to shoelaces for a very long time), surely I could get some award for getting spaghetti-o stains out of shirts.

So here is my proposal: I say we moms join together to create Mum Scouts. When you agree to raise a child, you will receive your apron. Then, as you attempt and master certain tasks, you will receive apron strings. For instance, you learned how to change a little boy’s diaper without getting peed on: Apron String! You can actually insert the bow into the screaming baby girl’s hair: Apron String!

Some other notable Apron String activities:

·         You make a nutritious meal everyone in the family will happily eat

·         You make it a whole semester of school without forgetting your child’s snack day

·         You have a clean house for at least five minutes

·         You learn how not to cuss around your kids

·         You successfully get everyone to all practices, lessons, games, classes, appointments, play dates, etc. on time for a whole week.

·         You remember to pick everyone up from all practices, lessons, games, classes, appointments, play dates, etc. on time for a whole week.

So the Apron String activities are kind of big things. What about the little things you do every day. When you receive your apron, you will also receive a lovely necklace for which you can earn beads. These beads are for smaller victories such as cleaning the kids’ toilet, trying to make those brownies with the spinach in them, or making super-cute cupcakes for the school Christmas party.

And then there are bigger tasks you must face as a Mum Scout. When you get your first child to, as my three year old says, ride the potty train, there is a special ceremony of light. The other Mum Scouts will gather around the light of the backyard fire pit (of course, all small children will be safely corralled into play yards). There you will be awarded the Tiara of Mommydom, and you and your fellow scouts will triumphantly do the potty dance. For each additional child you get to board the potty train, you will earn a bottle wine and a long hot bath without an audience.

Perhaps the biggest task you will undertake as a Mum Scout will be getting your kid off the payroll. This should take about 20-25 years, and is very difficult to accomplish. It usually involves spending large amounts of money on the child’s education. It also involves huge amounts of worrying about your child’s ability to make wise decisions. When this day finally does come, you earn a quiet house and a raise. And a lot of missing those days when you thought you should earn an award for cleaning up after your sweet babies.