It's Sunday and we survived. The Party. Whew, what a day, what a week!!
First, I learned that having the kids clean their rooms on Monday before a Saturday party is a big, fat waste of time. There was no point and so their rooms were totally chaotic by yesterday and I could be embarrased that people saw their rooms like that, but let's get real...that's how they always look and if you're here to see clean kids' rooms, you will always be disappointed.
The week was a blur of shopping, trying to keep my children fed without our usual grocery trip....because I knew if we had real groceries we wouldn't have any room in the fridge for all the party food. I think between Jamie and I, we ran somewhere every day last week, getting ready.
And then Friday.
Oh Friday, how you stressed me out. Calla was coughing, miserable with allergies and my list was a mile long. Up at dawn, down to Walmart for non-grocery stuff, back home to pick up Calla and Roo, shopping, picking up a friend, and then more shopping and then home. And then work. And work. And more work. Mostly cooking and yelling at kids to clean up their areas and stay on top of laundry because our washing machine is almost dead and you have to do two spins to get anything dry enough to dry in the dryer. Total chaos.
Then we had a break. A total breakdown. Not a bad one. We had a situation that had me laughing all night long, into the next day and even now I'm chuckling. I am not sure why it's so funny but it is.
The friend that came to stay the night is the younger sister of my oldest son's love interest. Apparently this younger sister was doing a first kiss re-enactment for her friend and went through the different scenarios of the kiss would be. My son walked in on her more passionate version and was like "What the heck???" So he texted his girlfriend that her sister was "humping the couch..." (and yes, humping is a tasteless word, I get it...but with male dogs constantly getting fresh with inanimate objects combined with a slight exposure to the 90's station on Sirius, humping is a word we use in this house, sorry to offend)
Mind you this is all going down in my living room, and I am just steps away in the kitchen. I hear something about the offender needing to call or text her mom, and yeah, I sorta kinda took notice, but honestly there was NO room in my kitchen for anything, including concern about anything other than potato salad and jello squares.
The next thing I know, my oldest daughter comes into the kitchen saying that her friend's mother just texted her to "stop humping the couch, that's totally inappropriate..." and I lost it. I mean, I LOST it. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I called my son down to ask what the heck was going on and apparently he walked in...saw what he saw, texted his girlfriend, who told her mom, who texted her daughter to stop it, who told MY daughter, who told me. Does this strike anyone else as funny? I mean all those people involved over something so stupid, so ridiculous....so FUNNY?? I told Kyle to get real, that pretend kissing a couch wasn't "humping" (he insists it is,....the girl insists it isn't...and if I even try to talk any more about it, I start laughing all over again) I then reminded both parties that they needed to get along because they may be spending every Thanksgiving together from here on out. And they get along fine, but my eldest is a firstborn and doesn't like being teased about his first love relationship and is pretty vocal about it, whereas the other girl is very theatrical and funny and silly. It's all good, but I did tell her not to hump the chair when she was in the kitchen. (Also scolded my son for the language because he really embarrassed the other party and that's not cool...but I think maybe the teasing about kissing might lessen a bit now LOL!!)
The party went well. Crazy, loud and surgary and although Noah slept through most of it (He got hurt right before it started) he had a ball once he was awake, and especially after most of the people left. An 18 foot slide is great fun and we're thinking party or not, we're totally adding a slide rental into our family budget, just for us. That thing was awesome fun!!
Whew! What a ride!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Friday, March 1, 2013
Wagon Train
I've always found the tales of old wagon trains fascinating. Having to load up all your possessions, people and enough provisions to carry you through from one destination to the next had to be intense. I mean, you didn't have freeways, or 7-11s. It was you and the wild. What you knew about your wagon and the terrain could very well save your life, and that of your family.
This is the tale of two such wagons. Both fine instruments for travel. Created equally and on the same journey.
The first wagon, driven by a professional wagoneer is fine indeed. Having made a living making wagons for other people, his knowledge is quite impressive. The second wagoneer, although in a different field entirely knew this journey was coming and studied every manual and piece of information he could find about wagons because it was only this wagon keeping he and his family safe on this long journey
As the two wagons travel side by side together, both experience problems, as is always the case. When the first wagon's wheels get wobbly, they stop, take a look and conclude nothing's wrong and keep on going. The second wagon, when faced with the same scenario, refuses to keep going until the cause of the wobble is found and fixed. This driver knows if the wagon isn't driving right, there has to be SOME problem, even if it's hard to see. He consults his manuals and makes a few tweaks and gets back on the road. All is well.
Every wobble is checked, every squeak is addressed. This driver takes a few jabs from others about being "too careful" or paying too much attention to his wheels, after all he's not a professional wagon builder and his concerns seem rather silly. But, his wagon is still running smooth, his family intact, all his supplies accounted for and the journey is more pleasant than it would be if the wheels were knocking everything around.
The first wagon, though visibly wobbly doesn't get the attention it needs. Everyone in the wagon complains and supplies are being tossed out little by little as the wagon jolts violently over the terrain. The dogs behind the wagon are loving life. All this free food falling from the wagon! Yes, sirree!!
This wagoneer knows the wagon is messed up, but he can't really see the problem. He's looking over his shoulder and down at the wheels but can't see what the other dude sees from his wagon. There's a big crack in the wheel the driver can't see from his vantage point, but he's not willing to come down and check it out. That would put him behind on his journey and he's got a mission. He's got to get to this destination he's already eeked out in his mind.
The two wagons gather with others on the journey, for a night here and there. The wagon built by the professional is looking a little ragged and torn, and there aren't any provisions to share with others in need. All those extras have been shaken off during the journey and gobbled up by the dogs. The other dude, with no professional knowledge has plenty of food to share and is a little taken back by others asking his advice on how to keep their wagons in good repair. This confuses the wagon maker, because he is, after all, trained to build wagons. Why is no one asking him how to fix their wagons? Sure, people listen to his theory on wagons, but when they take a look at his wagon they are confused. Surely he realizes his own wagon is in desperate need of time, attention and care?
As the journey continues, the wheels keep getting more and more wobbly. Everyone is upset. The second wagon driver points out the crack and asks to help fix it, but is scoffed at for not knowing ANYTHING about wagons. As a mere wagon driver, he is not equipped or knowledgeable enough to ascertain that there is a crack in that wheel and certainly not trained enough to help fix it. Every attempt to talk about this crack, to point out it's existence is met with cries of foul play, of deceit or even misunderstanding, until finally the second wagoneer starts to question his own process. Wobbly wheel...check it out...consult manual...fix wheel...smooth journey. It seems to work. His wagon's intact, his family all in one piece, supplies still plentiful.
Sometime during the journey, a couple passengers of the first wagon decide to jump off the wagon and take to horseback to see if that will make the journey a bit less tumultuous and the wagoneer is offended. How could the children of a professional wagoneer do such a thing? The other wagon driver knows. The children stay close on their wild stallions, but never climb back in the wagon. It's just too hard to ride in.
As the wagons continue their journey side by side, it becomes a bit silent. There are no more "Hey your wheel is looking cracked, you might want to look it it..." and a reply, "No it's not...the wheel is fine, and you certainly aren't trained enough to make that observation...look at your wagon...it has MUD on the side. Who are you to talk?" The silence is uncomfortable, but necessary. After all, this journey can be lonely at best, maddening at worst and you need people with you to make it. It's just how it is.
In the end, both wagons will make it to their destination. What they have when they get there will look different, but they'll arrive. Not completely broken, but shaken. Not completely ruined, but close. Both wagons, one intact and one falling apart, will arrive together. Both stronger, but tired. Both happy to be there, but wishing the journey could have been different. Maybe wiser, maybe not.
Wagon one, wagon two. Which one is your family riding in?
This is the tale of two such wagons. Both fine instruments for travel. Created equally and on the same journey.
The first wagon, driven by a professional wagoneer is fine indeed. Having made a living making wagons for other people, his knowledge is quite impressive. The second wagoneer, although in a different field entirely knew this journey was coming and studied every manual and piece of information he could find about wagons because it was only this wagon keeping he and his family safe on this long journey
As the two wagons travel side by side together, both experience problems, as is always the case. When the first wagon's wheels get wobbly, they stop, take a look and conclude nothing's wrong and keep on going. The second wagon, when faced with the same scenario, refuses to keep going until the cause of the wobble is found and fixed. This driver knows if the wagon isn't driving right, there has to be SOME problem, even if it's hard to see. He consults his manuals and makes a few tweaks and gets back on the road. All is well.
Every wobble is checked, every squeak is addressed. This driver takes a few jabs from others about being "too careful" or paying too much attention to his wheels, after all he's not a professional wagon builder and his concerns seem rather silly. But, his wagon is still running smooth, his family intact, all his supplies accounted for and the journey is more pleasant than it would be if the wheels were knocking everything around.
The first wagon, though visibly wobbly doesn't get the attention it needs. Everyone in the wagon complains and supplies are being tossed out little by little as the wagon jolts violently over the terrain. The dogs behind the wagon are loving life. All this free food falling from the wagon! Yes, sirree!!
This wagoneer knows the wagon is messed up, but he can't really see the problem. He's looking over his shoulder and down at the wheels but can't see what the other dude sees from his wagon. There's a big crack in the wheel the driver can't see from his vantage point, but he's not willing to come down and check it out. That would put him behind on his journey and he's got a mission. He's got to get to this destination he's already eeked out in his mind.
The two wagons gather with others on the journey, for a night here and there. The wagon built by the professional is looking a little ragged and torn, and there aren't any provisions to share with others in need. All those extras have been shaken off during the journey and gobbled up by the dogs. The other dude, with no professional knowledge has plenty of food to share and is a little taken back by others asking his advice on how to keep their wagons in good repair. This confuses the wagon maker, because he is, after all, trained to build wagons. Why is no one asking him how to fix their wagons? Sure, people listen to his theory on wagons, but when they take a look at his wagon they are confused. Surely he realizes his own wagon is in desperate need of time, attention and care?
As the journey continues, the wheels keep getting more and more wobbly. Everyone is upset. The second wagon driver points out the crack and asks to help fix it, but is scoffed at for not knowing ANYTHING about wagons. As a mere wagon driver, he is not equipped or knowledgeable enough to ascertain that there is a crack in that wheel and certainly not trained enough to help fix it. Every attempt to talk about this crack, to point out it's existence is met with cries of foul play, of deceit or even misunderstanding, until finally the second wagoneer starts to question his own process. Wobbly wheel...check it out...consult manual...fix wheel...smooth journey. It seems to work. His wagon's intact, his family all in one piece, supplies still plentiful.
Sometime during the journey, a couple passengers of the first wagon decide to jump off the wagon and take to horseback to see if that will make the journey a bit less tumultuous and the wagoneer is offended. How could the children of a professional wagoneer do such a thing? The other wagon driver knows. The children stay close on their wild stallions, but never climb back in the wagon. It's just too hard to ride in.
As the wagons continue their journey side by side, it becomes a bit silent. There are no more "Hey your wheel is looking cracked, you might want to look it it..." and a reply, "No it's not...the wheel is fine, and you certainly aren't trained enough to make that observation...look at your wagon...it has MUD on the side. Who are you to talk?" The silence is uncomfortable, but necessary. After all, this journey can be lonely at best, maddening at worst and you need people with you to make it. It's just how it is.
In the end, both wagons will make it to their destination. What they have when they get there will look different, but they'll arrive. Not completely broken, but shaken. Not completely ruined, but close. Both wagons, one intact and one falling apart, will arrive together. Both stronger, but tired. Both happy to be there, but wishing the journey could have been different. Maybe wiser, maybe not.
Wagon one, wagon two. Which one is your family riding in?
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
It's Not Yarn, It's a Rescue Mission
I had a little accident on Etsy. I was looking around at different vintage crochet pieces, just wanting some color inspiration, when I saw it. My colors. Old, unloved, with a story.
Over 25 years ago these lovely hand crocheted granny squares were set aside in a basket, while work and family filled my days. Now these older gnarled fingers are saying, Let someone else take up the task of doing the finishing up of joining them together and completing this afghan’s pretty border.
And it had to become mine:
I can't even make these. I don't know how. The pattern will come with this and the extra yarn, and maybe I'll be able to make a few more squares, but even if I don't, I will put together what I can (I can totally SC these together and add a border).
This is from 1974 (sorry to my FB buddies, I said '72 originally. I got the date wrong. It's still older than me!) And I just love the fact that it's coming from it's original owner, and that I'm finishing something someone else started.
If only I felt such adoration for my own UFO's.....
But we won't talk about that.
(And this was totally less $ than the yarn to make a new version. Quite a bit less actually. And oh the colors!!)
Can. Not. Wait.
Over 25 years ago these lovely hand crocheted granny squares were set aside in a basket, while work and family filled my days. Now these older gnarled fingers are saying, Let someone else take up the task of doing the finishing up of joining them together and completing this afghan’s pretty border.
And it had to become mine:
I can't even make these. I don't know how. The pattern will come with this and the extra yarn, and maybe I'll be able to make a few more squares, but even if I don't, I will put together what I can (I can totally SC these together and add a border).
This is from 1974 (sorry to my FB buddies, I said '72 originally. I got the date wrong. It's still older than me!) And I just love the fact that it's coming from it's original owner, and that I'm finishing something someone else started.
If only I felt such adoration for my own UFO's.....
But we won't talk about that.
(And this was totally less $ than the yarn to make a new version. Quite a bit less actually. And oh the colors!!)
Can. Not. Wait.
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Worst Day
This is Noah. He has challenged me from the very start. He just did everything so darn early. He skipped crawling entirely and went straight to walking at 10 months old. All my other little ones were just barely wobbling around at their first birthday party, but by his, he was climbing all sorts of things.
If I listed all the crazy things he has done in his short life, this blog would take me hours to finish. We'll just say every day since he's been mobile, there's been something that has freaked me out or convinced me he has a guardian angel (who's begging for relief, I bet!)
This child is responsible for my worst day. You'd think with all we've been through, one of those days would be the worst, but no. The worst day was when we had to call 911 because that little sweetie above, at that tender, tiny age...was missing.
He was 18 months old and still my little shadow. Everywhere I went, he was there. I got nothing done without him beside me and that was okay by me. This day in particular my older girls had begged me to "walk the dogs" just outside our fence line and I allowed them to. Noah had followed them outside to the gate, but I quickly retrieved him. He watched them go outside the gate and "walk the dogs" (why they needed to walk the dogs when we have 5 acres is beyond me).
A little later that evening, I got a phone call right as dinner was coming out of the oven. Ordinarily I wouldn't answer it, but it was a friend I knew was having a rough time and she needed to discuss something pretty heavy with me. As I am talking to her, Jamie is getting out a new recipe "Firecracker Salmon" and whispered for me to taste it. WHEW! It was hot, so we were scraping off a bit of the "fire" and making all the kids plates. My phone call was about 10 minutes long and I hung up and called the kids down for supper. In came the troops ...except Noah. I asked the girls to bring him, figuring he was watching TV with them and they said he wasn't with them. So I hollered up for the boys to bring down Noah and got "He's not up here Mom." Something inside me just knew. We started looking for him around the house. The more places he wasn't, the more the panic spread. We all raced outside. No Noah. Back inside, this time hardcore. I checked the dryer, I tossed all the cushions off the couch, moved furniture. If you've ever seen one of those movies where they toss an entire living space, that was the scene here. The kids and Jamie were outside, scouring the woods, calling his name and as I walked back outside, panic all over me, Jamie looked at me and said (I'll never forget this...) "Tell me this isn't happening....this isn't happening!!" The scene was insane, emotional and just intense. I can't remember how many times I went inside and outside and finally dialed 911 and broke down completely when I was asked what he was wearing. It was right after I hung up the phone that I heard the scream "WE FOUND HIM." I swear I FLEW down the stairs. There was no walking, no running...my feet had wings. I just ran, screaming his name, bawling....running, crying, grabbing him from my oldest son who had found him and collapsing right there, on the side of the road, squeezing this child so hard I doubt he could breathe. I was a mess. A complete wreck. Kyle, who found him, handed him off to me, hugged us and just walked inside. He wouldn't talk for a while. He was just wounded.
Noah had, for the first time in his entire life, opened our door, walked outside, across our large lawn, opened the gate, walked across the ROAD and was in the neighbors yard diagonal from us. 18 months old. We figured he got the idea seeing his sister's go out of the gate earlier in the day, but he had never once strayed from our home, never once been outside on his own, never once been ALONE period. He was always wanting to be on me, or with me, or hanging with his siblings. It was just a shock. An absolute shock he would venture so far, so fast, with no advance warning to it's possibility. We all kind of picked at dinner, and just sort of stared at each other. As we were eating, the sheriff rolled up and he had a chaplain with him. That was a huge reality check. I cried all night long, barely putting Noah down.
For the next two days, I cried on and off and gave myself a good emotional beating for being a "bad mom." Once I got over the feelings, I realized the logic was skewed. I took one phone call and made dinner plates. I wasn't off getting high somewhere or neglecting my child. This thing just happened and I realized then, I had judged so many people, so many times for "bad parenting..." And yet, this thing happened to ME. To Melissa, the wonderMom. The helicopter, hovering, checklist, babybook keeping Melissa. It was a hard lesson in humility. And in how precious my children are.
Noah still challenges me. He scares me. He has made me question the how of my parenting. As in how do I keep a little boy who doesn't understand how fragile he is, safe? How can I maintain my sanity knowing at any second he could do something to top his last crusade to stop my heart? I have to live on faith with this child. I've had to examine my own personal sense of justice and the idea that bad things only happen to bad parents and if you're a good enough parent, you can control all things and insulate yourself from anything bad. He's been a game-changer. A heart-softener. A soul-searching antidote to my belief that a certain method of parenting is a guarantee of a certain outcome. He's my faith builder, my sunshine and my love.
Noah. Oh boy, what are you here for? Whatever it is, I'm sure glad I get to be the one to watch you grow from challenging child to amazing man ;) Now just give your Momma's heart a wee rest, would ya??
Throwback: True Confessions of an Inpatient Gardener
This is a blog from several years back. I am going through old stuff and rearranging and will be posting some oldies I want to remember.
The Bible says that whatever a man reaps, that he will sow. Makes sense really. If I plant tomato seeds, I will get tomatoes. Green bean seeds, green beans, and so on and so forth. I would look pretty ridiculous if I was upset that I was harvesting tomatoes, when *I* planted the seeds. I wouldn't pick them off the plant, constantly whining and griping that they weren't green beans. That would be....well....stupid.
But....I do this every single day of my life and most of the people I know do it too. Not with plants, but with people, relationships. My children right now are having some issues with bad attitudes, not listening, getting upset when asked to clean up after *themselves...* And it's MY fault. I have sowed into them cleaning up after them, not making them do that which I know they are capable of doing, and having a bad attitude myself. But here's where it REALLY gets frustrating. RIGHT NOW, in my life, I have it all together. RIGHT NOW I am on top of things, have a good attitude and feel great. So why is it that at THIS point, when everything is going great in my own life that these problems are cropping up.....I didn't know until I read something very simple, yet profound!!
YOU DO NOT REAP IN THE SAME SEASON THAT YOU SOW!!
Wow. Seriously, just wow. I can't go out today and plant some seeds and then harvest the fruit from those seeds by dinnertime tonight. So whatever it is I am reaping in my life right now, it's from something I've sown a while back. This can become such a vicious cycle. You sow some bad attitude like three months back into your children, realize the error of your ways and make a change, and as soon as you are getting that change down pat, you are faced with bad attitudes (or whatever) from the people around you. Then you say to yourself there's no point in trying anymore because you ARE being the person you are supposed to be and it's "just not working...." So you stop trying, again sowing some more bad things, and so on and so forth.
Realize today that you may have to weed out the bad stuff while planting the good stuff in everyone around you. Allow them to get it out of their systems and start planting the good stuff. Smiles, words of appreciation, a soft voice when you feel like yelling, and then let those seeds have the proper amount of time to grow into beautiful fruit. Right now, you'll still be harvesting some bad, because that's what you've sown. But if you start today by being the person you know you should be, you will be able to harvest those good things in the proper time. It takes faith and a belief in what the Bible teaches about this. And since the God I know is one of truth and never breaks His promises, I know I can rest assured that nothing I do in His name will be in vain. He wants a good life for us, I just think our tendency to follow the flesh instead of saying no to it gets the best of us most of the time....
I will return a bad attitude with a smile, with patience, with understanding. Not only am I planting the right kind of seeds, I am leading by example. My precious children and my wonderful husband are so worth it, even when I want to pull my hair out and run away :) Life is too short and the people in it are too sweet to do anything less....
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Graceless
You know, as far back as I can remember, every injury I've sustained has been because of my gracelessness (Yeah, not a real word, but when it's me and the keyboard, all bets are off)
There was the time I wanted to be first to the door after the telltale ring alerting us that the pizza guy was standing outside. I raced and slipped on a baby blanket, smacking my face into the hard kitchen floor. Rather than enjoying Hungry Howies with the rest of the family, I was holding ice on my nose and then carted to the ER to make sure it wasn't broken. I believe this was the first time I saw stars and I was intrigued it could happen outside an animated world . Cool.
Then there was that time I was looking for something and decided it could be under my bed. I dropped to the floor and apparently there was a stray Jolly Rancher hidden between my bed skirt and my view so....I ended up in the ER with an injured knee cap. Injured by a piece of candy? Seriously.
I had twisted ankles and a hand that got mauled by a new Momma cat and all sorts of other stupid injuries that had me getting x-rayed and tetanus shotted and it was never something cool, like blowing out a knee scoring a winning goal or falling out of a tree saving an endangered owl or some shit. It was always just STUPID.
This affinity for side show violence to my person followed me into adulthood.
Like the time we were stuck in traffic and my baby was SCREAMING bloody murder, and I needed to make formula, but hadn't brought the can opener. I had nursed her before we left and there should have been no reason for her to eat before we arrived at my Mom's house, but gridlock on the interstate for a couple hours had a screaming baby and a Momma that would have done anything to ease her distress. I had new scissors and I had water, and dammit, she was going to EAT. (We used concentrate, not powder) I lifted the scissors up in the air and just as Jamie turned and screamed "BE CAREFUL!!!" the scissors missed the can and went into my thumb. I had a gash in my thumb, on the interstate, in a huge traffic jam, with a screaming baby and now defiled scissors. We eventually crawled off the interstate to buy a can opener and the baby was happy, but Jamie arrived with the children at my Mom's with no Melissa. Once my mom heard that I was sitting in the ER, she came to join me. I had to have stitches. And if ever I wanted to lie about something, this was it. Mumbling "I stabbed myself with scissors" doesn't sound heroic at all, even if you explain the circumstances and the screaming baby and the sheer panic knowing your child is hungry and you have nothing to feed her. I'm just glad I wasn't put on suicide watch or something.
Three days before Eli was born I was nesting hard core and managed to get that stubborn blanket chest out of the small closet we had crammed it in, taking off my big toe nail in the process. I was waddling into the ER and of course, they thought it was baby time, but no. I just needed like 4 shots in my big toe and my nail removed. I don't think his early arrival was a mystery. That shiz hurt.
And while I was walking, WALKING, from one room to the other, touching for the briefest moment the door frame, a freaking splinter went into my thumbnail and holy hell, that hurt. Thankfully, this injury didn't require an ER visit, but had I gone, this time....I would have totally lied. I was prepared to explain that I had been building homes from recycled scrap lumber for the homeless or that I was tied to a rare species of tree that some evil contractor was trying to tear down to build another Wal-Mart. I couldn't bear to say, I touched a door and it attacked me. No.
I've fallen down stairs (again, after Jamie warned me to be careful because we had just steamed cleaned the carpet and I had walked across it before stepping on to our polyurethaned stairs...boom....boomboomboom. The bruises were impressive!) and slipped while cleaning a laundry room (again brusies...Jamie threatened to lock me in a padded room at this point) I've spilled hot things on myself and I've never been able to cook bacon without it spitting grease at me violently. I'm just accident prone and while it can be funny, it's kind of embarassing.
But today...today beats all. Today I am sitting here typing with a greenish, bluish right hand. And there is no way I can explain this without sounding like a moron, and I'll just have to own it this time. I was looking for the remote. We have lost our TV remote and I can't figure out where it could be. My living room is sparse and minimalist, so much so that besides the TV Worth Stealing, the Puritans would be totally impressed. There is no where for it to be stuffed. Except, in my mind, the couch. Friday, I was determined I would fine that stinkin remote if it killed me. I'm alive, but bruised. I shoved my hand in the couch so deep that it seemed almost inappropriate. I found some toenail clippers, a crochet hook, a barrette and a safety pin and DIRT. Oh the dirt. How disgusting!! I had my son fetch the shop vac and I shoved the tube in, under the piece of wood and proceeded to suck out dirt. I called for an attachment 'Nurse, hand me the slanted thingee with the tapered end...no...the other one...." and I carefully reached my hand in the cracks of our leather sectionals, pushed the squishy portions out of the way and eased the hose under the wood block (that my hand kept hitting, thus the bruising) and sucked, sucked, sucked and as I was working my way around the couch, all I could think was "Oh my God, I'm giving my couch a colonoscopy...." I found myself VERBALLY apologizing to MY COUCH.....ahhh..sorry...just a little more...almost got it. And I knew had anyone been witness to this event, my reputation as a sane member of society would be ruined. But no one saw me, so I didn't have to explain and here I am confessing, in print (uh?) on my blog. I assaulted my couch. But it's now clean and free of dirt and I am tarnished forever knowing that even though my living room looks clean, there's probably a good 20 pounds of dirt in the couch cushions.
And no remote. Dammit.
Friday, February 22, 2013
I'm A Mess
I admit. I'm a crazy mess. I feel like a bomb (not the kind that kills, more like a confetti bomb) has gone off in my head and I'm all over the place.
Been writing. Been getting sick of writing. Not sick of adding to the family coffers even though it's not truly necessary. I did buy a gorgeous bunch of fabric with my last little payment and am looking forward to playing with it, but....
My sewing machine needs to go to the doctor and my washing machine just needs to go to the graveyard, which makes the entire process more challenging than it needs to be. And that sort of applies to my entire life right now.
I explain it to Jamie that it feels like I'm camping in my own house. Everything is out of sorts and out of place and ugly and I have no idea where to even start.
We are making huge amounts of progress in our house, but it's all backwards. The more we get done, the more undone our house looks. HGTV is such a liar. You know how they tear crap up in like half hour and then bam, a finished room...Oh if it were only that easy.
We tear down walls, put up new, and then stare at blank canvas, not sure what it wants to be. We are building the footprint (we, ha...Jamie...but I'm part of the visionary process) but then we're out of time and out of money and out of inspiration to finish it out. Or, I'm waiting for the space to tell me what it wants to be and what purpose it will serve and how it should be decorated and arranged to be more than a place to display pretty things. My house is not a museum and I never wanted that, but I do have a hard time with functional things sticking out (coughstereocough) and I realize that without that piece of important equipment, the entire room would be nonfunctional. And I'm lost as to what to put where and how to arrange it and what colors to bring in and I swear if I ever had to build a house from scratch and like pick out everything from faucets to counter colors all at one time, I'd lose my flippin mind. So I'm glad the process is slow, but not....Does that even make sense?
We haven't planted our fruit trees yet as the weather has been terrible, and our baby tomatoes might be experiencing an untimely death and we can't figure out why.
And I'm planning a huge party. And my house will still suck when the party happens. And I kind of don't care because there will be people and food and fun and laughter. Maybe I AM learning something ;)
I've also started threeish new projects with yarn. But who's counting?
Sigh. Breathe. Repeat.
10 Things I'm Ecstatic About:
1. I saw my son help his girlfriend into our van, like it was nothing. Like it was what all 15 year old boys do, holding out a hand, making sure she got in okay and I saw his father in him and I knew....He's going to be a good man. He makes me happy.
2. My daughter, my super shy, super sweet almost teenager is FUNNY. Her sense of humor, even poking a bit of fun at herself (in a healthy, funny way), is shining through and I know, she's going to be okay. Even if she did spent half the Vday dance in the corner, she said it was "fun" and that makes me happy.
3. My hellion with the wild spirit and sassy mouth asked me, "Momma is there anything I can do for you?" and she softened up quite a bit yesterday when she got a letter from her penpal. We butt heads a lot...because she is me. I have to remember this. She just wants to be sure that she is heard, seen and loved and the more I pour into her, the more she has to give. Yes, she drives me crazy some days, but I can see that just around the corner, I have a girl that's going to do great things ;) I'm also just slightly proud of the fact that she is helping another girl come out of her shell a bit, in a friendship that is just precious to watch. Her strong qualities that can be quite abrasive are the very qualities that are bringing out the best in her friend. It works.
4. Middle son is playing the banjo. He is actually playing a musical instrument and it's like I have NO idea how a child of mine can be musical and like it. When you see your child do something that is so beyond what you can do, it sort of blows your mind. He also made the best French toast ever this morning. Go homeschool!!!
5. Miss Maam is playing guitar. She got Calla's tiny one and she's making up songs like 'You have to love your faaaammmmmillllyyyyy because they are spppppeeecccciiiiialllll." And I have to try really hard not to laugh because she thinks all laughter is mocking, which I don't quite understand, but I trying to protect her spirit (Its SO hard when she says REALLY funny things!) Yesterday she admonished the older children to be quiet because they were breaking her brain.
6. Noah didn't break anything the other day. This is a miracle. I allowed him outside to wait for the UPS with the "guys" and I made sure the gate was secure and the car wasn't here, so he couldn't climb on it. All good, all safe, right? No. He climbed ON TOP OF the 15 passenger van. And was jumping. On top. I have no words other than "Thank you Lord." I just don't even try to understand. How is it that I got to child #6 without all the possible scenarios already eeked out in my mind? He challenges me. Such a good kid, but man, I've earned these grey hairs!! ;)
7. Roo :) She's trying to crawl and saying "Dadadadada." Drooling all over everything and breaking my heart with her smile every day. She's squishy and sweet and what would I do without her? She has everyone in this family wrapped and I look at her and think "You have 8 people who think the world of you..." and I wonder what it's like to be the baby in a crazy family like this. She will never know loneliness and never wonder if she's loved, or wanted....I am so happy she exists.
8. I miss my husband. Yeah, not something to be "happy" about, but it is. He's had a lot on his plate and when he's not fully there, I miss him. He's had a lot to share with lately about his life, his goals and most importantly his work/life balance. He's a keeper ;)
9. Yarn. Because I have new yarn (Shut up, Kelli) and I am working on something in grown up colors and I love it. For SO many years I could not figure out the granny square thing, and since I know how now, I'm kind of obsessed. It's something I can do while I talk, do math, read, and anything else. I am happy to know that I could knit or crochet blind now ;) I've got mad skillz!!
10. The aforementiond sewing machine/washing machine dilemma is being fixed soon. My washing machine was purchased in 2006 and we've used it hard and it's time for it to be put to rest. Other girls may dream about diamonds and furs (ew, really? You think people really still ogle dead things? I don't know...) but this girl gets a little woozy and heady over new appliances ;)
Very busy weekend. Running. Shopping. Playing with toxic fumey chemicals and planting trees, while trying to put some pictures on pretty paper for Roo and Noah's scrapbooks. I am so behind. Such is life.
New bucket list item:
I will make this someday. I won't start this today. I won't. I wonder if...Oh never mind. Maybe I will ;) Ha!
Been writing. Been getting sick of writing. Not sick of adding to the family coffers even though it's not truly necessary. I did buy a gorgeous bunch of fabric with my last little payment and am looking forward to playing with it, but....
My sewing machine needs to go to the doctor and my washing machine just needs to go to the graveyard, which makes the entire process more challenging than it needs to be. And that sort of applies to my entire life right now.
I explain it to Jamie that it feels like I'm camping in my own house. Everything is out of sorts and out of place and ugly and I have no idea where to even start.
We are making huge amounts of progress in our house, but it's all backwards. The more we get done, the more undone our house looks. HGTV is such a liar. You know how they tear crap up in like half hour and then bam, a finished room...Oh if it were only that easy.
We tear down walls, put up new, and then stare at blank canvas, not sure what it wants to be. We are building the footprint (we, ha...Jamie...but I'm part of the visionary process) but then we're out of time and out of money and out of inspiration to finish it out. Or, I'm waiting for the space to tell me what it wants to be and what purpose it will serve and how it should be decorated and arranged to be more than a place to display pretty things. My house is not a museum and I never wanted that, but I do have a hard time with functional things sticking out (coughstereocough) and I realize that without that piece of important equipment, the entire room would be nonfunctional. And I'm lost as to what to put where and how to arrange it and what colors to bring in and I swear if I ever had to build a house from scratch and like pick out everything from faucets to counter colors all at one time, I'd lose my flippin mind. So I'm glad the process is slow, but not....Does that even make sense?
We haven't planted our fruit trees yet as the weather has been terrible, and our baby tomatoes might be experiencing an untimely death and we can't figure out why.
And I'm planning a huge party. And my house will still suck when the party happens. And I kind of don't care because there will be people and food and fun and laughter. Maybe I AM learning something ;)
I've also started threeish new projects with yarn. But who's counting?
Sigh. Breathe. Repeat.
10 Things I'm Ecstatic About:
1. I saw my son help his girlfriend into our van, like it was nothing. Like it was what all 15 year old boys do, holding out a hand, making sure she got in okay and I saw his father in him and I knew....He's going to be a good man. He makes me happy.
2. My daughter, my super shy, super sweet almost teenager is FUNNY. Her sense of humor, even poking a bit of fun at herself (in a healthy, funny way), is shining through and I know, she's going to be okay. Even if she did spent half the Vday dance in the corner, she said it was "fun" and that makes me happy.
3. My hellion with the wild spirit and sassy mouth asked me, "Momma is there anything I can do for you?" and she softened up quite a bit yesterday when she got a letter from her penpal. We butt heads a lot...because she is me. I have to remember this. She just wants to be sure that she is heard, seen and loved and the more I pour into her, the more she has to give. Yes, she drives me crazy some days, but I can see that just around the corner, I have a girl that's going to do great things ;) I'm also just slightly proud of the fact that she is helping another girl come out of her shell a bit, in a friendship that is just precious to watch. Her strong qualities that can be quite abrasive are the very qualities that are bringing out the best in her friend. It works.
4. Middle son is playing the banjo. He is actually playing a musical instrument and it's like I have NO idea how a child of mine can be musical and like it. When you see your child do something that is so beyond what you can do, it sort of blows your mind. He also made the best French toast ever this morning. Go homeschool!!!
5. Miss Maam is playing guitar. She got Calla's tiny one and she's making up songs like 'You have to love your faaaammmmmillllyyyyy because they are spppppeeecccciiiiialllll." And I have to try really hard not to laugh because she thinks all laughter is mocking, which I don't quite understand, but I trying to protect her spirit (Its SO hard when she says REALLY funny things!) Yesterday she admonished the older children to be quiet because they were breaking her brain.
6. Noah didn't break anything the other day. This is a miracle. I allowed him outside to wait for the UPS with the "guys" and I made sure the gate was secure and the car wasn't here, so he couldn't climb on it. All good, all safe, right? No. He climbed ON TOP OF the 15 passenger van. And was jumping. On top. I have no words other than "Thank you Lord." I just don't even try to understand. How is it that I got to child #6 without all the possible scenarios already eeked out in my mind? He challenges me. Such a good kid, but man, I've earned these grey hairs!! ;)
7. Roo :) She's trying to crawl and saying "Dadadadada." Drooling all over everything and breaking my heart with her smile every day. She's squishy and sweet and what would I do without her? She has everyone in this family wrapped and I look at her and think "You have 8 people who think the world of you..." and I wonder what it's like to be the baby in a crazy family like this. She will never know loneliness and never wonder if she's loved, or wanted....I am so happy she exists.
8. I miss my husband. Yeah, not something to be "happy" about, but it is. He's had a lot on his plate and when he's not fully there, I miss him. He's had a lot to share with lately about his life, his goals and most importantly his work/life balance. He's a keeper ;)
9. Yarn. Because I have new yarn (Shut up, Kelli) and I am working on something in grown up colors and I love it. For SO many years I could not figure out the granny square thing, and since I know how now, I'm kind of obsessed. It's something I can do while I talk, do math, read, and anything else. I am happy to know that I could knit or crochet blind now ;) I've got mad skillz!!
10. The aforementiond sewing machine/washing machine dilemma is being fixed soon. My washing machine was purchased in 2006 and we've used it hard and it's time for it to be put to rest. Other girls may dream about diamonds and furs (ew, really? You think people really still ogle dead things? I don't know...) but this girl gets a little woozy and heady over new appliances ;)
Very busy weekend. Running. Shopping. Playing with toxic fumey chemicals and planting trees, while trying to put some pictures on pretty paper for Roo and Noah's scrapbooks. I am so behind. Such is life.
New bucket list item:
I will make this someday. I won't start this today. I won't. I wonder if...Oh never mind. Maybe I will ;) Ha!
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