Sunday, October 25, 2009

Not Me! Monday

Here I am, bummed that it's Monday and a little shocked that it's already Monday and pondering how on earth I ever got by without MckMama's Not Me! Monday routine to cleanse me of last week's potential disasters and get ready to tackle the next 7 days with my customary confidence and poise...

I am happy to announce that I'm typing this post at a desk free of clutter and devoid of Halloween candy wrappers (especially since it's pre-Halloween) and empty snack-sized bags of Sun Chips. I would never have made myself a dinner composed of such nutritionally empty foods. Not when I'm fully capable of and enthusiastic about cooking. All the time.

Since my dear husband's job does not demand that he work ludicrous hours throughout the entire week, including the weekend, I am never left trying to cram several days' worth of family activities into one morning, so I most certainly would not have dragged us all to the Pumpkin Patch with the intent of getting at least two good photos out of it and if everything went to hell thereafter, I'd at least have my photos. Therefore, I would never have propped my infant daughters up in a pile of hay, knowing they can't sit up on their own yet and started snapping pictures, regardless of their obvious discomfort. Had I done that, one of my babies might have tipped over and face-planted in the straw. At least, being the excellent mother that I am, I promise that if something like that were to happen, my priority would definitely be to pick her up and make sure she's okay. NOT to snap a picture, howl with laughter and THEN fix her position... I would honestly consider such a person to be a terrible, heartless mother.

She'd probably also be the one who insisted on taking her son, obviously uninterested in goats, into the petting farm so that she could pet the adorable, cuddly little baby goats... you know, the "exploiter"... using her kids for things like free Dum-Dums at the bank drive-up...


Anyway... In case you didn't know, I exude sex appeal at all times. I can't really help it. I'm just not at all the kind of woman who would ever be caught dead without make-up or wearing the same outfit for 3 days in a row. So I most certainly did not pick my son up from school one afternoon and have several conversations with several other people and get all the way home before I realized that I had forgotten to snap my nursing bra cup back in place. I, pinnacle of hotness, wouldn't have to worry about being totally mortified when I realized that one boob was supported and in its proper place while the other udder had sagged down with zero support whatsoever. Thankfully, too, since I'm sure that would be beyond embarrassing.

Not to worry though; it's not like I'd get embarrassed about anything, ever.

So it's totally fine when my son wants to pretend he's my father-in-law's dog and "tinkle" every 5 feet on our way to school by lifting his leg on the landscaping in every yard between here and there. And since I'm never in a hurry, clearly, I certainly wouldn't lift my own leg when he demands that "Mama tinkle" just to get him to continue walking. Nah, I'd just stand there clutching my dignity and grace and wait for him to tire of the game. No freakin way would I give in to the demands of a toddler with an active imagination.

Well since I did not let my babies hang out in swings for the last 5 minutes to wrap this up, there's no reason they'd be crying (especially since they're perfect babies who never make a peep) and since I have endless patience, any peep they did make would never bother me even a tiny bit so I'm not going to go scoop them up and read Goodnight Moon to them 15 times even though all they do is drool and smack the pages since they don't understand 2-dimensional versus 3-dimensional yet.

Have a great week!

Make Room on the Mantle...

... for my newest award from Tamara whom I'm beginning to consider a good friend through her blog. It makes me happy to read and that she enjoys mine absolutely tickles me pink!
It's a little shocking to "win" these awards, considering I was the kid in elementary, middle, and high school have been my whole life, the kind of person who gets that lame "Thanks for Trying" award that really just meant I'm not good enough. (Gee, wow, way to plug my self esteem right there... *ahem*)
It's not so much the award itself that makes me happy... it's that there are people out there that I get to connect with who would, without the blogging world, remain nameless, faceless strangers in the vast world out there. And these nifty little awards make that fact so much more tangible. So while my husband makes fun of me for having a swagger to my step tonight because I've got THREE bloggy awards on my side-bar, I'm going to just smile and pass it on to keep on making those connections. Neat.
So here are the rules......To accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his/her blog link. Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you have recently discovered and think are great! Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award!
Okay to be honest, (and I'd better be!) I don't think I can give it honestly to 15 blogs. So I'll give it to some of the blogs I've been reading lately and really enjoy and if the number is less than 15, okay fine... Deal? Deal.
Amanda of Belli's Place
Alright, ladies. You're pretty fab and I am darned glad you're out there for me to read!

Goin' Country

Well, this weekend we took the kids to a local farm to pick out pumpkins and chase chickens and roll around in the hay... It was, by far, the most amazingly successful trip I could have imagined with the 3 kids. The girls were perfect angels and Jack was a riot and had a blast. Even Justin could put his New York City aversion to all things country aside and have a good time. We even got a family photo... of sorts... Okay, so we've got some work to do before we can get something good enough for a Christmas card, but it's a significant step in the right direction for us... as in, I'm actually IN the picture. That's a huge anomaly since usually a) I consider myself far to hideous to photograph safely and b) I am the one holding the camera. So we're getting there. 3 family photos in 5 months... we'll step up our game.

Anyway, really what I wanted to share was the amusement I felt when I looked around me and just observed the people around me. I've long been a fan of people watching, but since I'm usually supervising a toddler, I miss 98% of what's going on any more than 3 feet off the ground. Yesterday I got a chance to sit at a bench and nurse the girls while Justin and Jack played on the slides and play... stuff. This place, Hunt Club Farm in Virginia Beach, was such a neat destination for families of all kinds with kids of all ages, and believe me, they were out in DROVES yesterday.

So I watched one family of 3 - Mom, Dad, daughter (4ish years) - sitting together eating lunch nearby. They were all happily chattering about the baby chickens and all 3 were eating Uncrustables with fruit snacks and Juicy Juice juice boxes out of a Disney princess lunch box. Even the dad who had to be 6'5" tall and weigh nearly 250 pounds of muscle. It was so funny to me because I knew that when we sat down for lunch, we'd open our Thomas lunch box and pull out cheese sticks and animal crackers to eat. It's just what we do. And it's automatic and unquestioning. Do I really WANT to eat animal crackers? No, no more than I'm sure Big Dude Dad wanted to eat a once-frozen round mushy peanut butter and grape disk-shaped sandwich. But that's what we do.

Later, I was pushing my stroller, aimlessly wandering waiting to find Justin and Jack post-hay-ride when I ended up behind a Mom walking hand-in-hand with her son (one of my favorite things to do, by the way) wearing her very sexy Lightning McQueen backpack as proudly as my trendy little sis carries her Coach purse to work every day. It made me smile because I know I get some ridiculous looks when I don Jack's monkey backpack on the way to school because he's tired of wearing it and insists that I put it on my own back. That Mom probably didn't think any one would notice, or if they did wouldn't judge her... that is, if she thought about it at all. And, in all honesty, she probably didn't.

Standing in the pumpkin patch watching Jack try with all his might to scoop up one very round, very too large pumpkin, another two things occurred tome. First, most kids are exactly the same when it comes to pumpkins. What child have you known that doesn't immediately go for the biggest one he can find? And second, what is it about children and pumpkins that is just so darn, irresistibly cute? I mean, you know how you associate things like jingle bells with Christmas or party blowers with New Years' parties? I now associate pumpkin patches with the sound of camera shutters clicking furiously. I mean, not that I'm innocent...

...or anything, but I saw more babies and kids propped against these magnetic orange gourds on Saturday than I think Santa's lap sees in one season. I mean, newborns swimming in their "My First Halloween" onesies leaning against carefully arranged pumpkins, faces squished in the sun... just-barely-sitting kiddos straddling short, squat pumpkins... those "I can't walk but I can stand up finally" aged kids balanced precariously amidst soon-to-be Jack 'o Lanterns galore... Even sullen 'tweens sulkily holding a pumpkin for Grandma's home-made calendar. It just cracked me up.

And I'm not laughing because I'm judging! Good lord, no! I'm laughing because I'm right there with everyone else. I'm laughing because I get it. Because 4 years ago I would just have been walking around staring at the chaos and being a little overwhelmed and wondering why on earth anyone would gag down an Uncrustable (if I even knew what that was) or have imagined that I'd be right there in the middle of it shooing roosters off the front of my 29 foot long stroller and asking my own child to please not stomp in the puddle of goat pee.

Every once in a while I am dumbfounded by the realization that there are so many people out there doing the same things I do and having the same feelings as I am and we're all just trying to get by and do the best we can with our families - with that little niche of humanity we've carved out and live in. We are so alike and it's such a vast community and yet most of us never come in contact with one another and if we did we'd always have so much to talk about that it'd be like we were old friends.

Damn. That's intense.

And all of this - all of these musings - occurred on a sunny Saturday afternoon on some local farm with Country music coupled with children's laughter as the soundtrack

Friday, October 23, 2009

Honestly? Honestly.

... Some people, like Kate, think I deserve another award! And I truly, truly appreciate that. I've been praised for being "honest" and "candid" and you know what? That means SO much to me, thank you! I try. I don't hold much back... I'm just kinda... me - liberal use of the F-bomb included *wink*... And while all of you, my precious readers, use kind words like "honest" and "real" and whatnot, my husband tells me, "Melis, you have NO filter." He is less amused by me than you guys are and for that, I love you.

So this award really means so much to me because it's my way of (in the most mature manner possible) sticking my tongue out at him and stamping my feet and saying, "Toldya!"

AND the cool part is, I can give thanks to some of the many other ladies in my new-found circle of bloggy friends out there who inspire me to, you know, let loose with it.

Here's how the award works:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link to their blog.

2. Share 10 honest things about yourself.

3. Present this award to 7 other whose blogs you find brilliant in design or content.

4. Tell those 7 people they have been awarded.

Now about this "Ten Honest Things" part... Yikes. I've been totally swamped this week and have been meaning to do a post that shares some things about who I am, so this works out just perfectly. Here we go:

1) I used to be kinda slutty. STOP LAUGHING. Seriously. I had a TON of boyfriends. I especially liked older guys (you know, in high-school, I was the one dating college guys) and I never stayed with anyone very long. Until I met my husband. Well, he wasn't my husband when I met him, obviously - how weird would that be? - but you know what I mean. I dumped 3... yes, THREE, guys on the off-chance that Justin would ask me to a dance. Absurd. I think I had really skewed perceptions in my teen years of my worth as a woman, but that's a whole can of worms I need a licensed psychologist to be present for the opening of...

2) ANYWAY... I am totally freaked out by cancer. I'm continually worried that my kids will get cancer and die and I can't squash my nightmares. It is truly, truly horrible. Consequently, I spend a TON of time being so SO grateful for our health and begging and pleading and wheeling and dealing with God to let me keep them. I am a total spaz about it and can send myself into a fit of choking sobs in about 30 seconds flat if I let my imagination run away from me.

3) I really, really, really want another baby. Not yet. Good grief, not yet. But my uterus is aching for another little one like crazy. You know how you sometimes wake up in the morning SUPER hungry after you've eaten a gigantic dinner because your stomach stretches out and you feel hungrier than you normally would later on? I wonder if having twins does the same thing to a uterus... Like, it stretched out so much from having two babies in there that it's now hungrier than it should be? I don't know. All I know is that dear hubby watches me take my Pill every night with a skeptical look on his face because I know he's not convinced it's a good idea. Yet. I'm still working on him.

4) I don't mind doing housework, mostly. I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that comes from sitting on my couch and seeing order and organization and shiny floors. But there are a few things I hate doing. Hanging up clothes, emptying the dishwasher and refilling the coffee canister. Those three things infuriate me and I will put them off until I cannot stand to not any longer.

5) I love to be creative. I love to paint and draw and take photos and do crafts and cook... I'm just not very good at any of them and don't have time to practice and it drives me nuts. I want to write books and poems and paint pictures and have a photo gallery and scrapbooks galore and I dream of interior decorating... but I never get the chance to do any of it. I don't really mind because eventually I will and I'll be glad to have the time but I get absurdly antsy sometimes wanting to do something creative.

6) Fast cars. Sexy, purring, masterfully engineered cars give me goosebumps and I get excited like Jack with Legos. I drive a minivan (which I love, believe it or not) but one of these days... Sometimes I give my van a little more gas a little sooner than I need to at a red light and leave some townie in his crappy Mustang staring agape at my tail lights and I smile and think, "Wow, I just burned you in my mini, you douche" before I grow up and realize that I just consumed a gallon of gas right there. So I go back to fantasizing about my Nissan Skyline GT-R and press "Play" on the van's DVD player and heat up my seat and be glad I can fit 3 car seats in the beast.

7) I like going to the bathroom. You know... going to the bathroom. As in... you know. I love it. (That's disgusting, I realize, but I'm being honest here.) Sometimes I think about interior decorating and fast cars WHILE I go to the bathroom and that makes it even better.

8) My mom used to let me taste raw hamburger meat that she'd mixed seasonings for meatloaf or hamburgers or meatballs into. In fact, I used to really like it. I used to actually ASK for it. Now, the very thought of it makes me barf a little in my mouth and you know what? I'm pretty sure the barf in my mouth tastes better than the raw meat would. Mom, I love you, but I'm not going to feed raw animal products to my kids. Things must have been safer in the 80's right?

9) I have stuff I want to be able to write about but don't have the guts.

10) I can't watch scary movies. What the heck is wrong with me? I used to be able to. I have no idea when I became a weenie but I can't do it. Humor, suspense, drama, action, whatever, but not horror. Blech. Getting me to watch a scary movie now is probably about like getting me to sit in a dentist chair, except I know I need to go to the dentist once a year and can't figure out a single way horror movies might enrich my life. So I just avoid them. I think my Mom just died a little inside if she read this because she raised me on Stephen King and eats up gory, spooky horror flicks like candy. (Sorry, Mom!)

Okay so that was a little about me. Pretty random, but totally honest. So 7 other ladies who have the cajones to be honest and real (in no particular order):

1. Tamara who cracks me up CONSTANTLY

2. Amber my IRL friend!

3. Candice who has a gorgeous family and thrilling adventures I can only DREAM of

4. Mama M. who inspires me to have hot mom hair one day

5. Misty who got me started blogging

6. Elizabeth who keeps it as real as any blog I've ever read, and...

7. Katie for her absolutely incredible strength!

There are tons more that I could have posted, but I really REALLY need to go start making my chicken parmesan for dinner!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Not Me! Monday

Well, ladies, it's that time again... MckMama's Not Me! Monday has come around again, and, I might add, waaaaaay too fast it seems. Monday, that is. Seems like yesterday was Monday. Bummer. And yet, how do I have so many things compiled to not admit I've done? I feel like I'm moving backwards from the goal I set for myself last week!

I just want to point out that I am unfailingly organized, responsible and put-together. As such, I wouldn't have to worry about heading to Wal-Mart (where I definitely do NOT shop ever, even in an emergency-ish situation, which this was... not) on an empty stomach and ending up with such low blood-sugar that I nearly fainted in the parking lot. And since that would be irresponsible, I wouldn't ever have snagged a bag of Fun-Sized Snickers, opened the bag and devoured 8 of them in a very short span, stuffing the wrappers back into the bag. Therefore I wouldn't ever have to deal with the embarrassment of sheepishly telling the lady at the checkout that, no, I don't want to get a different bag because I was the one who opened it, but thanks for looking out for me.
And speaking of organization, that particular trait of mine is what kept me from making a huge Thanksgiving-like feast of turkey and all the trimmin's and forgetting an entire dish in the microwave, not to be discovered until later when we were cleaning up after the meal. That would just be embarrassing.
Likewise, my responsibleness always prevents me from suffering the consequences of not believing my toddler when he said in the bathtub, "Poop!" because I would never assume he was just being a boy. And thankfully, too, because I can only imagine the mess that ensues from a big ol' turd winding up in the tub amidst 80% of the alphabet and myriad transportation toys at 8:30 pm. I can merely postulate as to how obnoxious it would be to drain the water, re-soap a shivering toddler, rinse him and then bleach the tub and toys in the 30 minutes before bedtime. Good grief, that would be a mess, I'm sure! Can you picture a harried mom scrubbing out a tub shouting down the stairs, "Hang on, I'm washing poo, I'll be right there, just watch your football I'm almost done!" and looking down at the old maternity pants (note: I would never be caught dead 5 months post-partum wearing maternity pants) she's wearing and cursing the bleach spot on the knee thinking, "Great, now I have to find a grungy pair of sweatpants to wear."? It's a pathetically laughable image, isn't it?
Thank goodness that's not me!
I love being a mom at all times. Every single solitary moment of my life is bliss. So I wouldn't ever need to escape the chaos for any amount of time by taking an extra long "potty break" where I sat on the toilet long after my bladder was empty, behind a closed door, paging through a Pottery Barn catalogue longing to snuggle into the super comfy bed that should just buy because of course we can afford it.
And since my husband doesn't ever read this, I would never have to stammer an excuse for last week's non-admission of some crush I have on Mover Rich... an excuse that simply ended in something mumbled about how it would never work out because he's a drummer and I prefer engineers.
Being the supermom I am, I wouldn't have just allowed one twin to kick the other in the temple while they play on the floor watching Mover Rich and his cronies on Playhouse Disney because a) I don't let my kids watch TV, b) I wouldn't ever put Imagination Movers on without my toddler home because that's creepy and c) I'm ALWAYS playing with my babies every single moment of the day.
And I am certainly not guilty of eating the cold, greasy remnants of Jack's toast that were left on the train table from last night hopefully this morning's breakfast because I'm desperately trying NOT to go into the kitchen and polish off the rest of the Snickers bag that I *ahem* didn't buy.
So, tell me. Am I the only person out there that is just so awesome as to not have to worry about any of those things? Do share...

Friday, October 16, 2009

A Little Bit of Eye-Shadow...

I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror and realized something absolutely remarkable: (you ready for this?) I am wearing makeup.

Well, I guess I should amend that: I am STILL wearing makeup.

That's not such a big deal, really - I'll often swipe on some powder and mascara and leave it on for a few days (showering but not washing my eye makeup off - super time-saver) which is gross, but eh, whatever. No no no, what makes this special is that I've got the works on: smoky charcoal eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow... stuff, blush. Wow!

Why? Why am I looking at a sultry-eyed reflection at 6 a.m.? Why is is significant that I am all sex pot-y (not to be confused with sex "potty" which is weird and gross) this morning?

I'll tell you.

I went on a DATE last night! With my amazing husband. For basically the first time in a decade. (Which is only a slight exaggeration.) I put on some smokin' hot makeup (never mind that I did it in the front seat of our minivan while I was waiting on him to put air in the tires at 7/11 on the way home from my dentist appointment) and put on a cute-ish dress and some charcoal tights and my fabulous 4-inch (how I missed you!) heels and tossed my hair in a slightly more calculated pony-tail and we went out to dinner!

The kids' "Pawpaw" is in town for the weekend and he so graciously volunteered to watch the kiddos to allow Justin and I a night out. There aren't many people out there who are willing to watch 3 kids under the age of 3 during the most hectic time of day... also known as Jordan's "witching hour" so we take advantage of him when he comes to town graciously allow him the opportunity to spend time with his looooovely grandkids.

What I won't consider is that we left the house at 4:45 and were done with dinner and home before 7. I won't point out that we used a gift certificate on dinner because we have this lame thing called a "budget" (his choice, not mine!) to adhere to, and I still ate inhaled my food in record-smashing time even though I didn't have hungry babies to feed. Who cares about all that? It was a date!

And it was AMAZING.

We sat in a darkish restaurant and held hands across the table and DID NOT talk (much) about the kids and laughed and remembered and looked forward and loved. It was w.o.n.d.e.r.f.u.l. We talked about politics and about our future and about the decisions we've made and about our faith and about our relationship and we determined that, with the exception of the politics thing, it's good. All of it. Hard, sometimes, yes, but good. We've made solid choices and we've faced adversity and we're about to embark on a totally new adventure but it is all good.

We talked about how lucky we are.

We discussed the Holy Roman Empire and NASA and old ladies and beer. We laughed at our own misfortunes and shook our heads at the impossibility of where we are today and tried to figure out how God's plan for us works and then laughed some more about the absurdity of trying to understand and agreed to just go along with it.

So long as we're together. My best friend and I.

And you know what else? We came home (we drove the long way) and discovered that all 3 kids were doing great and Pawpaw had survived. Jack had conned him into letting him sit in Jordan's high-chair for dinner (what?) but it was okay because he ATE dinner. The girls only barfed on him a little and didn't scream their banshee screams at him too many times.

It was a stinkin' great night. So I left my sexy eyes on so every time I look in the mirror today (okay, let's be serious: and tomorrow and probably the next day) I can remember how awesomely much I enjoyed The Date 2009...

It's the little things, right?

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Aw, People Like Me!

... or at least they pretend to. Thanks, Tanya, for making me feel special today! You're a super lady and I'm super honored to be your friend (even though I'm technically a horrible friend for all the times we HAVEN'T been able to get together... maybe a make-our-husbands-watch-Grey's-with-us wine and cheese [or whine and cheese] party...?)

Lookie what I got!!!!

So the rules are: Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. You must use only one word answers! Once you have filled it out you then pass it on to 6 of your favorite bloggers and alert them that they have been awarded.

1. Where is your cell phone? Kitchen

2. Your hair? Frizzy

3. Your mother? Inspiring

4. Your father? Tall

5. Your favorite food? Everything

6. Your dream last night? Interrupted

7. Your favorite drink? Coffee

8. Your dream/goal? Togetherness

9. What room are you in? Playroom

10. Your hobby? Photography

11. Your fear? Cancer

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Together

13. Where were you last night? Home

14. Something that you aren't? Judgmental

15. Muffins? Delish

16. Wish list item? Photoshop

17. Where did you grow up? Colorado

18. Last thing you did? Dishes

19. What are you wearing? Crappy

20. Your TV? OFF!

21. Your pets? Deceased

22. Friends? Forever

23. Your life? Blessed

24. Your mood? Buoyant

25. Missing someone? Always

26. Vehicle? Routan

27. Something you’re not wearing? Socks

28. Your favorite store? Target

29. Your favorite color? Chocolate

30. When was the last time you laughed? Recently

31. Last time you cried? Earlier (but good tears!)

32. Your best friend? Husband

33. One place that I go to over and over? Commissary

34. One person who emails me regularly? Amber

35. Favorite place to eat? McDonald's

Now I'm passing the love to:

Monday, October 12, 2009

Not Me! Monday

Last week was so much fun and so... therapeutic, that I decided to participate in MckMama's Not Me! Monday again this week. My goal: to one day be sitting down and thinking, "You know, I don't have a single thing to write about this week..." because that will mean that I didn't lock my kid in any cars or let my heart get broken by some medical drama or something equally shameful. It will mean that one week I will have done everything right. Done everything the way it's supposed to be done. You know, the normal way. (Don't worry; I'm not holding my breath. You don't need to call 9-1-1.)

So, without further adieu...

You may as well stop reading this. I'm not going to cop to washing a disposable diaper... or worse, washing it and then putting it in the dryer because I didn't want to deal with it. A totally organized, always responsible, never lazy woman wouldn't ever make a mistake like that. Ever.

And because I'm a super mom who is super lactatey and never supplements with formula, I wouldn't give my kids a bottle of formula every day to give my boobs a break (boobs, that, I promise that my son does not call "penises"). Therefore, I would never have the problem of storing my formula next to my canister of Coffee-Mate like this:

And furthermore, being as that is most certainly not a problem for me, I absolutely did not try to mix two scoops of Coffee-Mate into 4 ounces of water, wondering why it wouldn't dissolve. I mean, what would a formula scooper be doing in a canister of Coffee-Mate? It's not like the scooper is the PERFECT size for one cup of coffee... Or if it is, I wouldn't know since I don't use formula.


Moving right along...

I didn't spend an entire day being angry at my very sweet husband because he mercilessly teased me for watching Grey's and Private Practice in his presence. Something like that wouldn't actually hurt my feelings, EVER. I can't imagine a universe in which I would have started sobbing in the kitchen, accusing him of taking "the one girly thing I allow myself to have in my life" away from me. There is no way I would over-react like that because, well, that's just silly.

...silly like having an itty bitty little crush on Mover Rich from The Imagination Movers. So I'm glad that I'm not at all in the slightest bit silly.

And as we covered last week, thankfully, I'm not the kind of person who would live in a roach-infested house. So I wouldn't have to spend several hours apologizing to my son and trying to explain to him why the "F" word shouldn't be repeated because it's not like I'd ever have to deal with a roach popping out of a box of sandwich bags and crawling over my hand, causing a string of F-themed curse words to spew out of my mouth.

Do you know what it's like to get so wrapped up in a college football game that the outcome literally dictates your mood for the rest of the weekend and you can be reduced to tears by a pathetic showing on the field? Gosh, neither do I! That's why I wasn't secretly relieved that Notre Dame didn't have a game on Saturday and I didn't have to be grateful that I could spend Saturday passively watching games and not grinding my teeth or pleading with higher powers to grant us an interception or complete a pass. I feel sorry for people like that... them and their crazy football allegiances. Pah!

Finally, I'm proud to say that I would never allow my nearly-potty-trained child to remain in his diaper after his nap because I forgot that he is nearly-potty-trained because that would just confuse him and make me look like I wasn't paying attention. In fact, if I were the kind of mom to make a mistake like that, I'd probably also be the kind of mom to run said diaper through the wash. Now that would be one total disaster of a person, wouldn't it?

Nothing like a few domestic faux-pas to make us all smugly glad to not be someone, right?

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Durrr, Stupid Hurts!

Hello, welcome to the Melis School of Parenting and Housewifery where everything you learn will be done the Hard Way!

Today's lesson: Taking Time To Sort The Laundry
Objective: Discover the many benefits to sorting the laundry BEFORE you wash it.

Alright, the way I deal with laundry is this: I take clothes off of various people or find articles of clothing in various places. It either goes directly into the washing machine or directly into a pile that goes INTO the washing machine. Doesn't matter if it's white, dark, delicate, etc. Doesn't matter to me. If it's cloth and the tag says I can (erm, and sometimes even if it doesn't), I will put it into the washing machine. I measure (sometimes) some amount of blue goo, chuck the cup into the machine (so that every last drop of goo makes it into the water) and add some amount of purple goo to the column in the middle of the machine. Set to whichever number grants me the most time before I have to deal with any of this again, and go. I do not look through pockets, I do not turn things inside- or right side-out. I do not pre-treat (unless it's REALLY bad) and I do not really care.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, the other night that bit me in the rear, big-time. I was getting the kids ready for bed in the living room, stripped them all, changed diapers, etc. and sort-of scooted the whole pile of discarded diapers/clothing/burp-cloths, etc. into a corner of the room to get in some last-minute, pre-bedtime dancing with Jack. Once the wee ones were in bed, I scooped up my pile, located the balled-up Pampers from the girls and put those in the Diaper Gene (next to the washing machine, of course) and tossed everything else into the washer and followed my routine.

Some number of minutes later, I opened the lid to put everything into the dryer (on low heat, again, all in, don't care) and realized that something was very



You see, in that random pile of crap from which I extracted TWO disposable diapers, was a third... a cleverly disguised diaper. It was Jack's Pull-Up. He'd been having some issues with doing #2 in the potty so I let him wear a Pull-Up. Didn't really think much of it. But now that I was staring into the machine, I was hit by the realization that you don't ball up Pull-Ups because there are no Velcro-y sides. So I never felt it like I did the Pampers. I didn't remember it was there.

I washed it.

Disposable diapers are full of super-absorbey balls of... stuff that become super-sticky balls of... stuff when they're wet. And if they get too wet, the diaper material that holds them in breaks and they get out. And under the vigors of things like "Spin Cycle", they get distributed throughout your entire load of laundry. And then you're left with a load of laundry glistening with sticky little stuffballs at 10:30 pm.


What did I do? Well, I threw everything in the dryer, of course. (See above: "on low heat, again, all in, don't care".)

My reasoning was this: sticky wet stuffballs are impossible to get off when they're wet. Maybe I can dry them out and just shake out the laundry and all will be good, no big deal. So I set it to some setting that allows me the most time (again) before having to address the problem and went to bed.

I opened the dryer and realized that super-absorbey stuffballs-turned-super-sticky stuffballs become super-crunchy stuffballs that feel quite a bit like dried paper when they're run through the dryer. So a good number of them ended up in the lint screen, and quite a few still clung to the clothing and were easily shaken loose (yay for proving a hypothesis!) but I did nevertheless have to spend some time picking the crunchy stuffballs off of things like socks and fleecy blanket sleepers etc. What I couldn't pick clean, well, I just tossed that stuff back in the washing machine to see what happens. So we'll see.

BUT what the take-away from all of this is: if I took just a FEW minutes to sort laundry, I would have come across the offending Pull-Up, realized, "Gosh, this isn't a pair of Buzz Lightyear underoos!" and avoided this whole bunch of baloney (because I now have a laundry room floor covered with crunchy stuffballs to clean up) in the first place.

And, I wouldn't end up with CLB* to the extent that I do because things would ALREADY be sorted and I wouldn't have that extra step preventing me from folding and putting away. Besides, maybe there would be the added benefit of using as an excuse: "I can't run this load of laundry because it's not a full load... guess I'll have to wait"...

*Chronic Laundry Buildup

So, you see, beyond running white in hot, dark in warm and delicates in cold, pre-sorting the wash would probably save me more hassle than it would create.

There you have it: simple lesson learned the hard way.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Not Me! Monday

I've been following MckMama's blog for awhile and always get a kick out of her Not Me! Monday entries... Well, figured I'd give this a try because there are soooo many things that I would never, ever be caught doing. Ever.

I'm not the type of mom that would ignore Jack telling me his toe was bugging him (hehe, you'll get it in a minute) before bed last night. I wouldn't fathom insisting that there was nothing wrong with his toe as I tucked him in. Or roll my eyes when he woke up this morning pointing at his toe and saying, "Eeew, icky." I would NOT, therefore, need to feel guilty when I noticed that he had a smashed cockroach between his big toe and his next toe when I put his socks on.

Because I would NEVER allow us to live in a place infested with cockroaches.

I can't even believe that there might be someone out there like that.

Thank goodness this isn't about me. I'd have some SERIOUS repenting to do.

I mean, it's NOT like I'm hoping my husband's throat canker sores are strep so I can have him home with us for an extra day. Who would wish illness on someone? Not me!

And today being Monday, I am most certainly showered, made-up, dressed, and flaunting perfectly coiffed hair because there is no way I would spend ANOTHER day in leggings and an over sized cardigan with my hair in a bun and 3-day old mascara on my lashes. I mean, gross. I'm certain that my legs are shaved and my nails are painted and I'm spit-up free. I can assure you I'd never spend a week with only one earring in because Jack found it and wanted me to wear it but have long been missing its partner. I wouldn't even consider being so distracted that I forgot for a week that I was sporting a lone earring. And don't worry, I would never mutter things about "saving water and energy" or "conserving shampoo" (because of course I wouldn't ever use cheapo brandless shampoo - only the expensive stuff, right?) or anything like that to justify my actions.

Nor would I stare longingly at alcoholic beverages at the end of the day, thinking I deserve to treat myself to a glass of wine or a mini margarita and decide it wasn't worth the effort of getting out a glass, opening the bottle, washing said glass etc. because I refuse to drink wine from a Thomas the Tank tumbler.

I mean, seriously, I have to have standards.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Bathing Twins

.... One.




At least for now... when they can sit up, it'll be a different story, but for now, it's just lather, rinse, repeat.

See? Having twins is easy-peasy!


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