beating the rain

I played laundry-roulette today and I semi-won.  Though the sky was overcast and rain was on its way, I was able to hang two loads of laundry out to dry today.  My son's clothes, however, had to be grabbed off the line while still wet when rain drops started to dot the back deck.

For the past couple of years, Alex has been responsible for hanging his clothes in his closet after I've washed them.  Many times, I have found a bunch of clean clothes tossed back into the dirty laundry pile.  After this happened again this past Sunday, I decided to switch up his punishment a bit.

Now, Alex has to do his laundry on his own, from start to finish.  He loads the washer, hangs the clothes on the line, brings them in, and hangs them in his closet.  I figure that he'll start taking better care of his clean clothes once he realizes the amount of time that goes into getting them clean.  It's worth a shot, I guess.

Photo Credit: D. Sharon Pruitt via Creative Commons

the greener cleaner

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While watching the evening news last night, I noticed a story about how Consumer Reports had just tested several different household cleaners, including some "green" ones.  One of the ones that was tested was Seventh Generation, which I can't stand.   Have you ever tried that stuff?  It smells like thyme, which annoys my senses, and doesn't clean up stuck-on messes.  Heck, it doesn't even loosen the grime so that it is scrubbable. 

Last summer, I started making my own all-purpose cleaner, which I adore.  In a spray bottle, I combine the following:

• 1 scoop borax
• 1 scoop baking soda
• 1 cup vinegar

Then, I fill it to the top with hot water and shake.  If I could ever remember to buy some lemon-y scented oil, I might add that, too.  But, it works fine without the scent.

I use this for everything except my windows and mirrors.  I'm still a Windex girl for that.  Plus, I use The Works on my toilet bowls.  But, I don't buy nearly as many cleaners as I used to.

The best thing about it is that it is cheap enough to make so that I don't have a hissy fit everytime Katie decides to help me "clean" something.  And, there is so little borax in the mixture that I don't have to call poison control should she squirt some on her hand and try to eat it (she never has, thank goodness.... but I'm sure it wouldn't be nearly as harmful as Chlorox.)

in which we eat down the house

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We're having an eat-down! Quite frequently, our pantry cabinet becomes so full that I can't find anything that I'm looking for. I'm not sure how this happens. I guess I just go to the store and buy things for recipes, without paying much attention to what we have stowed away. So, every once in awhile, I'll decide that it is time to clean out the cupboards. Thus, the eat-down begins.

Until some friends and I were discussing the creative uses of ingredients on facebook last week, I had just referred to this practice as "eating what we have."  Then, someone (I can't remember who, sorry ladies) introduced me to the term "eat-down."  Isn't it appropriate?  It sounds like something fun, like a hoe-down.  But, you're eating.  Awesome!

So, we're having our eat-down.  So far, I've fixed chicken salad, popcorn chicken, grilled cheese with tomato soup, and American chop suey.  Tonight, we're having ham soup with cheddar biscuits.  Tomorrow, we'll eat leftover chop suey and/or soup.  Other stuff that I have laying around to make: tuna noodle casserole, spaghetti with sauce, chicken noodle soup, fish sticks and home fries, and I don't even know what else.  I'll reevaluate once I've made all that.  We're also going to be eating all the half-bags of chips, pretzels, cookies, and more for snacks and having grits and frozen homemade pancakes for breakfast, perhaps topped with frozen fruit from last summer.  This stuff has to go!

What about you?  Do you ever have eat-downs, or do you only buy what you need and then use it all up before you return to the store?  Do you have an ingenious recipes using random pantry ingredients?  If so, please share.

shut it

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Looking down the hallway, into my son's room, I can see his dresser. There is something askew. There is always something askew.  It's not that I'm picky, I'm just particular.  I like certain things to be a certain way and, when they're not... well... I like them to be fixed.  Does that make me picky?  Especially in regards to a dresser?  Perhaps.

I should go take a picture of this, just to show you, but I can't.  I know that, if I go back into his room to inspect the seriousness of the issue, I will become agitated.  Then, I'll have to do something about it, rather than making Alex take care of the problem when he returns from school.  That's how much it bugs me.  The best solution, for the time,  is to just shut his door. 

What's the matter, you ask?  Let me tell you.  My son always leaves his dresser drawers hanging open.  Always.  Without fail.  This could be my biggest pet peeve, the thing that just irritates the shit out of me.  I mean, how hard is it to close a drawer?  Well, I guess it could be pretty damn hard when you've just shoved your clothes in there all willy-nilly.  Yes, I know... he's nine.  But, come on!  A simple push will do.  Daily, I find myself saying, "Alex go shut your drawers."  You would think he would get it by now.

And, yet, they're still left open.  To taunt me.  To say, "Come fix me." Really, I can't stand it.

Why does it bother me so much?  The rest of the room can be a complete mess, but that won't matter as much as those stupid drawers being left open.  Trust me, I know.  It isn't just his drawers, either.  All drawers in the house should be closed as soon as possible.  I suppose the reasoning is twofold.  First, I have a short little girl running around.  Certain drawer corners are just the right height to bonk her in the head.  Other drawers are tempting stair steps for her to climb.  Still other drawers contain things which the kids should not see.  All drawers in the house ought to be closed at all times.

Secondly, it just looks messy.  It looks lazy.  How hard is it to close the drawer?  How much time does it take?  Just do it, and then it is done!  Closed drawers are orderly, open ones are not.  Dressers were designed to hide all sorts of random crap, clothes included.  So, use them for their intended purpose and actually HIDE the stuff!  Tuck it away.  I don't want to see it.  For heaven's sake, just close the drawers, son, please.  Please!  I beg you.

whitewashing the walls

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Yesterday morning, a gaggle of friends brought their kids to my house to decorate Christmas cookies. I love hosting play groups like this, where the moms can get together to drink coffee and laugh, and the kids have a little activity and then time to play. We had a blast. My friend, Catherine, names have been changed co-hosted with me and brought over tons of cookie cutters and Alton Brown's Sugar Cookie dough.  Several other ladies bundled up in this frigid weather and joined us for the fun.

photo by dano, via a creative commons license

This is the thing, though.  While I love to have people over for a good laugh, I don't enjoy having to clean up my house before they arrive.  I had an even harder time of it this go-round because my son's Cub Scout den (for which I am the leader) had a meeting the night before.  And, I had had errands to run and other stuff to do for much of the day.  And, after I got home, I spent some quality time with the mister instead of cleaning up all of our crap.  So, come sun-up Tuesday morning, my house was not in tip-top shape.  By far.

I jumped out of bed and promptly started cleaning blogged.  It was a short post, but one that required a little research.  When I finished, it was 8:30 ish.  I jumped in the shower, because you can't be a stinky hostess with a messy house.  That's just not cool.  Catherine was due at my door at 10 AM.

Upon finishing my shower, I finally began to pick up the mess.  Clean the table, counters, bathroom... check.  Pick up toys... check.  Remove random junk that has been strewn from one corner of the house to the other... semi-check.  All that stuff got piled on my bed to be dealt with later.  Vacuum..... vacuum.... vacuum... why isn't my vacuum working?  Crap and double crap!    Fling the vacuum aside... check.

Dishes.  Oh, the dishes.  Needless to say, I hadn't worried over the dishes the night before because I was too, um... busy.  The sink was piled high.  The time is ticking down.  The dishwasher was already full of clean dishes that would have to be unloaded.  What to do?

courtesy of miss pupik, via a creative commons license

What to do?  Suddenly, the name of a favorite blog came to mind, Just Hide the Dishes in the Dryer.  Grabbing up my large turkey roaster, I starting piling dirty dishes inside.  One, two, three pots and pans.  Numerous plates, coffee mugs (Yes, Liz, that's why you had to use hubby's John Wayne mug.  My nicer ones were hidden), silverware, serving spoons, all the random junk we use in our day to day lives.  Out of my sink, into the roaster.  Four, five, six... where do I put this shit?  Lifting the roaster (wow, this is heavy), I dashed down the hall and into my bedroom.  The dishes were plopped on the floor by my bed, roaster and all.  I would deal with them later.  Back out to the kitchen I go to semi-shine my sink.  They'll never know!

That is, until I write a post about it.  But, I do have a point.  Yesterday, my home looked presentable.  Obviously lived-in, but (fairly) clean.  My vacuum did break, remember?  Hopefully, my home exuded comfort and welcome and a sense of this-is-me-not-trying-too-hard.  Out of respect for my friends, I cleaned up my home so they would feel comfortable.  So they wouldn't have to look at all of my grime.  I think that's perfectly acceptable, even hospitable to do.

But, what about ourselves?  Do we clean up our personalities when we're with our friends?  Or, do we let it all hang out?  Do we really show them our true selves?  Are there corners that we try to hide away from prying eyes?  If so, why?  Why must we fake a perfect persona for the world to see?  Why must we always be the peppy, perfect cheerleader?  Why must we always be dressed to the nines?  Can't we wear our sweats once in awhile?

Let down your hair, ladies.  Allow your friends to really get to know you.  Seek out a few close relationships, if you haven't already.  Sometimes, it's okay to have proverbial dishes in the sink.

a sunday rant

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Oh. My. God. If I could just get five minutes of peace and quiet in the morning, I'd be happy. But, I think the only way to make that happen is to get up before everyone else. When Alex insists on getting up between 6:30 and 7 AM every day, including weekends, that seems to be darn near impossible. What can I say? I like to sleep.

This weekend, my husband has been kind enough to get up with the kids both mornings. I really appreciate the extra sleep. But, when I do finally roll out of bed around 8:30 or so, I am bombarded with questions, as if I had been away for days. Today, the kids woke me up by playing catch. Right outside the bedroom door. Throwing a ball. Or, maybe two balls, seeing from the evidence. What fun.

Groggily, I got up, walked down the hall, and around the corner to the kitchen. My plan was to fix a pot of coffee, so I might be a more pleasant person as the day wore on. Do you know what I found? A dog. That is, a dog standing in the middle of the kitchen table. Yes, on top of the table. WTF?

We need to go grocery shopping again today, though we just went yesterday.  Of course, I forgot to buy a couple of things on my mental list.  You would, too, if you only kept a mental list and had to take both kids and your husband shopping.  Distractions, anyone?  Also, I thought we had two more full boxes of cereal in the house, enough to last two weeks.  Upon getting up this morning, I discovered we had half of one.  I swear, my oldest kid would eat every last crumb in the house at one sitting, if given the chance.

photo by gmnonic, via a Creative Commons license

 What do you do?  How much should a nine year old eat?  Should I let him eat whenever he wants, as long as the food is healthy?  Or, should I attempt to moderate his intake?  He is a normal weight (seriously, not just normal for now, but completely normal).  If he says he's hungry, which he claims to be all the time, do I feed him?  Really, I feel like I wouldn't be able to keep any food in the house if I let him eat however much he wanted, whenever he wanted.  I have trouble keeping the snacks stocked now.

Fifty years ago, I bet parents didn't worry about this sort of thing.  But, with the rising obesity crisis, how can one not worry?  Even the so-called "healthy" snacks aren't as healthy as they used to be.  We have over-processed every last morsel of food.  Even when it appears to be whole, it has been sprayed with pesticides, chemicals, waxes, and other toxins.  The food that we eat is slowly killing us, and yet we always want to eat more.

Yesterday, my son's Cub Scout den went and raked leaves for a woman who's husband is terminally ill.  He has leukemia and was just readmitted to the hospital on Wednesday.  She is watching the love of her life die, and though she is a physician, she can do nothing for him.  One day, this will be us.  Not my family, per say, but all of us.  We are the fattest nation in the world, yet we are the most undernourished and chemically stressed.  How many of us will actually die of old age?  How many of us will pass due to something like cancer, caused by the carcinogens that we have so easily welcomed into our homes?

So, what do we do?  Do we ignore the risks and live the best lives that we possibly can?  Do we go to the other extreme and only buy organics. locally grown foods, and hormone-free meats?  Do we grow all our own fruits and vegetables, so that we know what is in or on them?  Do we raise chickens in our backyard? Will that even help?  There is cause to wonder.

photo by Darin Barry, via a creative commons license

too much is too much

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This weekend, my wonderful husband chose to be super helpful around the house. For that, I am very thankful. During his time off from work, he mulched the leaves, cleaned the gutters, watched the children so I could sleep after shopping all night, stayed home while I went out to the Star City Comedy Club with good friend, Jannine, got the Christmas decorations out of the attic and did the dishes. And, you know what? I didn't even ask him to do any many of these things. What a dear!

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The thing is, he hit a snag the last time he did the dishes.  The soap packet that had been put into the dishwasher for the previous run had not dissolved.  So, my handy husband decided he would add Dawn dishwashing detergent to the cup to get the job done.  I think he may have mentioned that we were also out of the Cascade packs.  I don't remember.  At any rate, he squirted a cupful of Dawn (the type you use to hand wash dishes) into the machine.  He turned it on.  A little while later, he went to get something from the kitchen and found a mess.  "Oh....." he groaned.  I asked what was the matter and he told me, "There are some bubbles on the floor."  Some bubbles?  A good quarter of the kitchen was covered in suds.  Oh my!  Deja vu, anyone?

For the second time in three months, I started to clean up a wet mess.  We bypassed the bath towel route this time because I didn't want to add to my backed-up laundry pile.  Instead, he grabbed the mop and I used the dust mop.  He would swing his tool across the sudsy floor, and I would push back, trying to keep the water and bubbles from spreading even further.  It felt like we were playing a gentle game of hockey, or participating in that weird-ass Olympic sport, curling.

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Eventually, we were able to get the floor mostly dry and we turned our attention to the dishwasher.  You see, when John walked into the kitchen, soap was pouring out of the front of the machine.  He promptly turned it off, to minimize the flooding, but we realized we would soon have to deal with the mess inside.  Opening the door, we found a wall of bubbles.  Slowly, but surely, we began to scoop them out until the were nearly gone.  When we had removed as much soap as possible, we turned on the dishwasher to let it finish the cycle.  Water continued to dribble out for much of that run, but now our machine is as good as new and cleaner than it has been in a very long time.

This whole ordeal got me to thinking (bad idea, I know!).  A lot of times, we think that if a little is good, then a lot is a whole lot better.  Like the little squirt of dawn turning into a good half cup being poured into the dishwasher.  We have a tendency to go for the overkill, especially with our children.

Christmas is coming.  I have a difficult time moderating how many gifts my kids receive.  I just love to give them things and there are so many toys and items on the market that they would love to have.  Once I get started buying presents, I find it so hard to stop.  But, is more really better when it comes to giving things to our kids?  Or, should they learn the life lessons that go along with disappointment and/or hard work?

While waiting in line to shop at Toys R Us on Thanksgiving night, I spoke with Jessica, a young mother of a two year old boy.  Her son will be receiving many things this Christmas, among them a 32" flat screen television.  Her reasoning?  He needs something to entertain him.  Feel free to roll your eyes.  Inwardly, I did, too.  My response, "My kids are getting an aquarium."  Jessica's mother, who was along for the ride, just about died laughing.

You see, over the years I have come to realize that the bigger and better presents aren't always the best.  If you get your two year old a giant tv, then what is there to look forward to as he grows up?  Hell, we don't even have a tv that big in my home.  When Alex was young, he was overly spoiled.  I couldn't wait to get him the next best thing for his "age."  However, I failed to realize that just because he was in the appropriate "age range," and I was able to buy the items, they weren't necessarily suitable playthings for his stage.

When you jump ahead and buy anything and everything for your children, they lose more than they gain.  The kids no longer become enthralled with the gifts they receive, they become spoiled, and they lose interest in their toys more quickly.  They don't learn the value of hard work with suitable rewards, nor do they experience the thrill of receiving something they have longed for. Things become disposable.  In general, items lose their value when they are given by the bucket load.  While a squirt of generosity is good, a cupful just creates a mess. 

How will you balance your desire to give it all with your children's need of moderation and value this season?  What are the top gifts on your list?  Will you go all out, or will you (attempt) to keep it simple and sane?

one busy week

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Okay, ladies and (a very few) gents... it's Thanksgiving Week. What will YOU be doing? If you're anything like me, you'll be:

Cleaning like a Mad Lady

Cooking Up a Storm

Keeping Up With Weekly Errands

Wiping Noses

Changing Diapers

Chasing the Dog

and

Losing Your Mind

Why?  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Oh, yes.  It is all in the name of tradition.  Our mothers did it, their mothers did it, so we should do it too.  Or, did they?  Did your mother and grandmother try to shuttle kids to a million and one different activities every.single.day while keeping the house, tending the garden, feeding the dog, and walking the husband?  No?  Hmmmm.

It's Thanksgiving week.  Let's be thankful for our blessings and our families without all the craziness.  Sure, mop your floor and bake your pies.  Make your house presentable.  But, trust me, no one is going to notice if there's a stain on the couch or the baseboards need painting.  Take a break and put your feet up once in a while.  Chill.  In the end, you'll be a happier mom with more relaxed guests.  And that, my friends, is something to be thankful for.

simplify, my dear

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This morning, a debate was started on a friend's facebook page in regards to childhood obesity.  It all started due to the dear, misinformed, crazy lady who goes by the name of Sarah.  That's right, Sarah Palin.  She apparently showed up to a school in Pennsylvania, toting a tray of chocolate chip cookies to make a point that the government should not be trying to dictate what our children eat.  Whatever.  I'm grateful for school lunch on the days that I don't have time` energy desire to pack for my son.  However, I do resent that his teacher dictates what we can send for snacks, but that's aside from my main argument here.

One woman involved in this discussion had a very good point that the current trend of overscheduling children in regards to sports, dance lessons, music lessons, language lessons, tutoring, etc, etc, etc, is aiding to the rising obesity rates of American youth.  After some thought, I must agree with her.  However, others were quick to point out that no one is making the mothers stop at McDonald's on the way home from practice.

This is true.  While no one is making you stop beneath the golden arches on the way home from activities, even convenience foods that you can fix ahead and take along are often times some of the worst things that we can feed our kids. I'm willing to bet that most of the moms who try to avoid the fast food lane with pack-ahead snacks still reach for he over-processed, prepackaged junk rather than cutting up some carrot and celery sticks or baking from scratch. Even the prepackaged apples, carrots, and celery that you can buy at the grocery store, and that health food nuts advocate for moms in a rush, are coated with chemicals and/or preservatives in order to make the food remain appealing after being cut so long ago.

Additionally, if kids are eating in the car or on the run, they are developing a rushed mentality about food. Eating on the go is also proven to lead to higher rates of obesity. Slow down and eat together at the table to curb your children's overeating.

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Furthermore, many parents resort to stopping at a fast food chain to hit up their dollar menu because they feel that they cannot afford to purchase the healthy foods for their children.  I can totally understand this.  Buying organic and whole grain and the such is very expensive.  But, why must you continue to purchase the foods at all?  What did mothers do before they could buy 101 varieties of bread in the store?  They baked it, for much less money than we can buy a loaf today.  What did they do before they could purchase cheez-its or animal crackers or high-fructose free cookie dough or whatever else we fill our carts with each week?  They either made their own snacks, or they did without.  Or, gasp! They ate whole fruits and vegetables.  If we aren't purchasing so much crap, we can afford to purchase some good stuff, too.  If we're baking our snacks, we're less likely to just toss a handful into our mouth, because that's twenty or so crackers that we cut out by hand.

Of course, many moms say they don't have the time to make things from scratch because they are so busy living a hectic and varied life. Well, ladies... there's an alternative.  The best thing that we can do for our kids and ourselves is to begin to live more simply. Quit over-scheduling and allow your children to go out and play. Let them use their imaginations. Give them time to breathe. In the meantime, use all that time you would have spent in the car or sitting at practices to actually cook healthy meals for your family. Bake from scratch, shun convenience foods that are overly processed and overpriced. Get back to gardening and raising your own food, which will help your children develop important life skills (if you require them to help as well). Above all, quit babying kids and trying to make them more "well-rounded" because it is having a serious effect on their social, mental, and physical well-being. You want to cure obesity? Let's get back to the basics in caring for our families and ourselves.

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** I do want to note that, while I firmly stand behind this argument, I am in no way the perfect mother.  Parenting is hard work and there are days when I can't fathom the idea of doing anything more than what is necessary to get by.  We eat processed foods.  I don't bake all of our bread and things, yet.  And, I don't have all the answers.  But, I do absolutely believe that simplification and a return to the old ways would solve many of our present problems, including obesity.  So, there.

work in progress

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I am so close to nearly having the bathroom of my dreams.  After our recent mini-flood, I honestly couldn't see the blessing at hand because everything seemed to be falling apart.  Every couple of days, something new would come up.  Since Labor Day, my family has been dealing with repairs in the main bathroom, a broken toilet in the only other bathroom, no laundry facilities, two kids and one mama with the stomach bug, three nasty arguments between Mr. Hull and me, a health insurance letdown, a broken computer, and, now I have a cold.  On the upside, Mr. Hull got a fabulous new job, which he starts in a week.  

He told me one night that he thought we were enduring all these trials because the devil was trying to steal our joy.  I think Mr. Hull is probably right about this, but I still think it is quite unfair.  I have felt beaten down and broken, as if it doesn't matter what we do because things will never get better.  But, I realize that I need to turn that attitude around and look at the upside of things.  I need to recognize our blessings, rather than being dragged down by what I had mentally deemed our "curse." 

So, here I am.  I'm healthy, aside from an annoying nasal drip and a cough.  My kids are healthy now.  We have shelter over our heads and clothes to wear on our backs (and, come this weekend, those clothes will be clean.)  Our financial woes are about to be lifted because of Mr. Hull's new position and his plan to get us out of debt super-fast.  I won't reveal how, because most people would tsk-tsk our solution, but it is one that works for us and we're young.  That's right.  I'm selling my soul.  And, as soon as we finish the last bit of work, we'll have a brand-spanking new bathroom.  Well, we'll have new paint and tile, which is a huge improvement.  And, then, I went out and purchased a new shower curtain and towels.  We still need to buy a shower rod and bath mat, so if you have any Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons, send 'em my way.  This is, in fact, coming close to being my dream bathroom.  All it lacks is a huge whirlpool tub to soak all those cares away.

Tile flooring.  This strip of baby tiles divides the laundry
closet from the main part of the bathroom.

Paint for the interior of the laundry closet.  I don't care if
nobody else will see it, I will, and that will make me happy.

This warm vanilla color is for the main part of the bathroom.

a grand old gal

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Mrs. Solloway was a grand old gal.  She was caring and welcoming, sweet, smart, and sassy.  Mrs. Solloway was a true Southern lady, with a bit of a rebellious streak built in.  To me, she was a friend, a confidant, a story-teller, and a mentor.

We would share long afternoons, sipping tea and snacking from her lovely green depression glass plates. She had the whole set, tucked away in a china cabinet.  Though they were so much more lovely than my mother's own titanium-strength Corelleware, we ate off of them whenever I would visit.  She would always be dressed well, skirts, stockings, jewels galore.  Mrs. Solloway wore clip-on earrings so large they made her ear lobes droop from the weight, but she wore them well.  She always kept herself up, always wore her best, living her last days to the fullest.

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Her home was always spotless, too.  Even at eighty-some years of age, Mrs. Solloway continued to clean religiously, making sure everything was in its place.  Though she lived in a rental apartment, her home was as big as a house, with rooms adorned with lovely antiques and baubles.  Unlike my own home, it was always tidy and uncluttered.  You see,  Mrs. Solloway could afford her large home because she was thrifty and she only bought things she needed.  She took care of what she had, enjoyed just-enough portions, and was wise in her ways.

Mrs.  Solloway had no children of her own.  Rather, she relied on others' offspring to keep her busy.  As a young wife, I imagine now that she suffered from infertility.  She took on a neighbor's sons as her own, though I never knew whether she truly adopted them, or just loved them as she did me.  At any rate, she called them her "boys" and treasured their company.  I often wondered why she raised boys, rather than girls, but now I understand the particular joy that a young Adam can bring to one's life.

When I would visit, nearly every day, we would never play traditional games.  While my granny was good for a hand of rummy or blackjack, or to play backgammon or work a puzzle, Mrs. Solloway would weave stories of her youth, of her husband, her boys, her life during the war.  She always asked about school, too.  Though Mrs. Solloway was born over a century ago, she was an educated woman.  She had learned how to drive a car, and was one of the only older ladies in the apartment complex who did drive.  She had co-written some book about our community's history for the historical society.  She would show me parts of the book from time to time, though as a young girl, I took no interest in history.  She encouraged me, and loved me, and taught me many things.  I do not recall how we came to meet, but I am so glad we did.

Mrs.  Solloway passed on back in 1997.  She had fallen and broken her hip, then became very ill while in the hospital.  It was her time.  Over the ten years that I knew her, she taught me many things.  Among them, be true to yourself, share your time with others, help however you can, be a volunteer, practice hospitality, don't take yourself too seriously because you can't possibly be perfect, keep a tidy home that is always open to guests still working on this one, and that life is fleeting, so live it to the fullest and make memories every day.  Mrs. Solloway made many memories during her ninety-some years in this world.  I plan to do the same.

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This post is part of the SITStahs Back to Blogging event.  Thanks to our lovely sponsors, Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen and Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.

time to spill the beans

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Hey, ya'll, did you notice I was "missing" a little bit last week? You know, the week in which I barely posted anything? Want to know what I was doing? I guess I've alluded to it a little bit, but now it's time to spill the beans and catch up a little bit.

Last Tuesday was my son's first day of school.   After waiting all summer for a day alone with my Katie, I decided to try to catch up on some of the housework, just a little bit.  As I was doing laundry, I ran across a bloody shirt that Alex had worn the day he had two teeth pulled.  Since it was one of his favorites, I figured I would try to get the stains out.  I put the shirt in the bathroom sink, ran some water over the top, sprinkled in my borax, and let it sit.  A few minutes later, I noticed that all the water had drained out of the sink.

"Well," I thought to myself, "I'll just have to make sure the water can't run out so well."  So, I took an extra-thick washcloth, firmly pushed it over the drain hole, and turned the water on again.  Then, I went outside to hang up laundry.  "Oh no!" you say?  "Don't do that!  The water will run all over the place?"  No, it won't.  Not if you only leave it for a couple of minutes.

When I came back in the house, Katie was awake from her nap.  I scooped her up and got ready to go to the library and pick Alex up from school.  Did I notice the sound of running water coming from the bathroom?  Hell no.

Two Hours later...

Katie has selected Mr. Brown Can Moo from the library, Alex has been retrieved from school, and we are returning home.  I turn the key in the lock, open the door, and hear the strangest noise.  Why, it almost sounds like water.  What?!  It IS water!  

(source)

The bathroom was flooded, water had dribbled down the air conditioning vent, gotten under the vinyl flooring, and made a gigantic mess.  I tried to clean it up on my own, but alas, it was no use.  As soon as I fessed up to the husband two hours later, he called Servpro to come take care of the mess.  Oh, and did I mention the insurance adjuster?  Yeah, him too.

One week later, we are living without use of the bathtub or the laundry because both were located in that room.  The floor has been ripped out.  Tubing for the HVAC system has been replaced under the house.  My kitchen is now the temporary home of my vanity, washer, and dryer.  The floor has finally been deemed to be dry, after 6 days of running a huge dehumidifier and fan.  This weekend, we will be getting a new tile floor and putting everything back together.  The price of stupidity?  A $500 insurance deductible.  Thank God it wasn't more.  Oh, and the shirt?  Still stained.

Miles of Piles

Laundry, laundry everywhere

Laundry, laundry, in my hair

Laundry, laundry, round my toes

Laundry, laundry, one boy's clothes

Dear, dear child, it's okay

I'll make your laundry go away

Bag it up and throw it out

No more laundry to shout about.

Photo Source

Boys!

I just can't understand my son some days.  He has been told that, in order to go on vacation on Friday, his room must be completely clean and he must help me clean the rest of the house.  (Why is it that I have an impulse to leave the house clean?  Am I crazy?)  If he doesn't, he will be staying in town with my husband, who couldn't take so much time off from work right now.

So, what does he do?  He has had two full days already to clean up his mess.  Has he done it?  Hell no.  He has made progress, but then winds up creating a new disaster which he then refuses to clean.  Right now, he is sitting out on the back deck pouting because I asked him to bring the laundry in off the line.  I just don't get it.  Why can't he just do the things I ask?  Is it that he is so ornery that he won't honor my requests?  Is he just plain lazy?  I know the chores are not too hard for them.  Maybe he doesn't want to go on vacation at all.

So, there he sits, moping on the deck, while I work my tail off inside.  Oh, okay, while I sit on the computer.  But, hello? It is still quite early (10 AM) and I'm catching up on my news and gossip.  A girl is entitled, right?  Okay, okay, back to work it is.

I Wonder....

... how long lemon bars keep in the fridge
... if I eat said bars before finding out, will they kill me?
... why the preteen years have to be so darned difficult
... since when did 9 become "preteen" anyway?
... how long my son's room will actually stay clean this time
... if I stop repeating myself so often, will my children actually listen the first time?
... why people are so attached to objects
... how to teach my children that the things we have do not define who we are
... if I will ever remove the rest of the painter's tape that is stuck to my ceiling
... if we will still be living here in ten years and if it will even matter

Ten Feet Deep

I always seem to get myself deeply involved in projects that are way too time consuming or completely over my head.  I suppose I am a bit of an idealist, a dreamer, and an overachiever.  But, how would life be interesting if I lived it in any other fashion?

Yesterday's Luigi costume turned out fairly well.  I not only developed my own technique for turning an old pair of jeans into child's overalls, I also mastered using the buttonhole attachment on my sewing machine, repurposed an old green t-shirt into a stylin' cap, and ripped out countless stitches all in the quest for (near) perfection.  Not only that, I did it all with a toddler under foot (or on the table), two irritated, argumentative, pups, and a nine-year old boy who kept asking, "Are you done, yet?"  Just a side note: if you are going to sew with your toddler on top of the table, make sure you allow extra time for oopsies, oh craps, and what-the-hell-was-thats.  In other words, have a seam ripper handy.

Now, my next great adventure entails preparing for a yard sale in 48 hours' time.  I decided to have this sale last weekend, when I became fed up with all the crap that is currently occupying my space.  I didn't start actually working on it until today.  The sale starts Friday at 8 am.  I guess we're down to 36 or so hours now, huh?  I'm going to offer grab bags of some of my older and less commonly-used fabric scraps.  I'm hoping to not only declutter my home, but destash my lopsided bedroom corner which houses all my TattieTats stuff office as well.  Oh, and did I mention that my toddler will be helping during the entire process?  Yeah.  I'll go turn on my coffee maker now.

As much as I love her, I have to admit that Baby K is into everything and then some.  If I pull it out, she puts it back.  If I put it away, she yanks it out.  She's a firecracker, I tell ya.  Just today, I caught her clomping around the house in one of my high heels and one of her brother's Converse sneakers.  You could say she was a little off-balance, just like her mama.

The Ins and Outs of Cloth

So, I've returned to the world of cloth diapering recently.  In fact, though I am out of clean "good" diapers, I am hastily using prefolds and covers until my pockets and all-in-ones finish drying.  I never really left cloth diapering behind, I just got lazy.  Who really wants to spend all day every other day washing diapers?  Alas, I can't justify buying disposables when we have spend so much on our cloth stash.

Today, in hopes of getting rid of the stink from leaving diapers in a sealed pail for months on end way too long, I have hung the diapers out to dry on a makeshift clothesline.  Yes, makeshift.  Being the crafty mama that I am, I strung some party ribbon across the rails of my back deck.  It looks weird, but at least it is useful and free.  According to some frequent posters on diaperswappers, an online diapering community, the sun should work to remove the stinkies.  I sure hope so.

In addition to using the great power of the brightest star in our sky, I have also spent 3 days over the course of the last week stripping diapers.  What does that entail, you ask?  Washing them over and over and over again.  Then drying them.  Then, pulling them out of the dryer and realizing they still smell like poop.  Apparently I'm not using enough detergent.  Go figure.

But, hey, Huggies is no longer ripping hard earned cash from my cold, dead fingers.  Nor am I having as big of an impact on the environment. But what about all those wash loads????  And dryer cycles????  So, that makes it worth it, right?  Right?

Nutty Nonsense

Why do men get so many holes in the crotch of their pants?  This is a recurrent problem with my husband.  He manages to wear holes in all of his pants.  I’ve tried sewing the holes up, using fabric patches, and—finally—just ignoring the problem.  Out of desperation, I googled the problem and found that it is quite common, with multitudes of solutions.  One poor man even went so far as to wear his jeans for nine months without washing them, just to avoid holes!  Eew!  I’m sorry, but Mr. Hull absolutely cannot go nine months without having his pants washed.  I refuse.  Further research indicates that the problem is a combination of the size of his… ahem… “package,” and the weight of his pants.  The second matter can be corrected by more vigilant shopping, while the first issue cannot be corrected, nor would I want it to be…

Post originally appeared in April 2007 on Mrs. Hull's Musings.

Nothing Worse than Perfect

Fact: There is nothing in this world more rewarding than being a mother.

Unless, of course, that is flaunting your skills at mothering by teaching someone else how not to be a mother.  By commenting on and criticizing the skills and practices of others in the mothering community, a supermom can build herself up to the highest level of influence.  That's right, she can have the world!  Imagine, SuperMom enters the grocery store and women of all ages and backgrounds flock to her side to find out if they should buy this or that.  Not only is she raising her own perfect children, she has the ability to influence all the children, every last one.  Just by dictating the motions of their most revered resource for learning, their mothers.

How does SuperMom accomplish such a fantastic feat?  Not surprisingly, she has three very effective tools in her frilly little apron:

     1. Ridicule
     2. Shame
     3. Fear

Perhaps you know the nature of these aids?  Perhaps you've felt the embarrassment when SuperMom ridicules you in front of your peers at the PTA meeting.  Or, maybe, you've felt the shame when SuperMom blatantly asks how you could ever let your child do that, whatever that may be.  You may even have felt the fear when SuperMom warns you that there are predators out there and the slightest misstep will bring your world to its knees.

Well, you know what?  Though she may be snotty and self-centered, though she may carry an air of arrogance, though she may be incredibly hostile to anything that goes against her socially-accepted norms, SuperMom is not always right.  Period.  She's not.  She's not a god.  She doesn't know more than you do.  She doesn't control your life.  That's it.  She doesn't, she's not, and she won't ever.  Never, ever, ever.

So, what do you do?  First off, ignore her wholeheartedly.  Smile, if you must, but don't let her get to you.  Only you (and your husband) know what is right for your family and your kids.  Only you know how to best raise those precious little ones according to your particular situation.   Only you.  That's right, nobody else.
Mothers intuition guides you to make the best decisions possible.  All moms have it, even if they don't recognize it.  Embrace your personal knowledge and try not to second-guess yourself, lest SuperMom find a crevice in which to embed her crushing, debilitating thoughts and judgments.

Furthermore, take all the mommy blogs and how to articles and expert websites and books with a grain of salt.  Compare their advice with what you know is right.  Don't feel pressured to behave in a certain manner just because that is what is deemed popular in the moment.  Times change, parenting techniques must adapt, but allow your personal morals to become the stick against which all else is measured.  Now, don't take me wrong-- most of these writers and counselors mean well.  However, you have the final say in how you raise your own family and you can't abandon your convictions for a passing fad.

Last, but not least, love your children, your husband, and yourself.  In the end, this is all that matters.  You'll do the best you can, as will everyone else, and have loads of stories to look back upon as you grow old with your mate.  Not your SuperMom, your mate.  Now, doesn't that make you feel better?

If not, just give her a good kick in the ass shins for me.

Inspired by: Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Time Management

Being a multitasking mama can be quite a heroic feat if one is disorganized and sporadic in the way in which she goes about completing her chores. It is difficult to balance family, work, volunteerism, hobbies, and household tasks when a plan is not in place. Just ask me, I know firsthand!

My typical day currently consists of getting up around 7 am, ensuring that the children have eaten a (semi)nutritious breakfast, swigging a coke or coffee, and logging on to check my many "sites." Between gmail, facebook, twitter, etsy forums, roanoke.com (I am totally addicted to Kevin Myatt's Weather Journal blog), cnn.com, and more, I can easily lose half a morning or more to the computer.

Baby Kate goes down for a nap around 10:30. At that time, I have fallen into the habit of taking a nap with her. Remember the tips from the nurses, doctors, and family to sleep when the baby sleeps? Yeah, I'm kinda still there-- nearly 16 months later. It is so cozy to cuddle up with a sleeping babe in the bed and dream the dreams of the innocent. So, naptime typically comes next.

If I should happen to stay awake during Kate's sleepy time, I'll catch up on my favorite dvr'd shows, take care of laundry or dishes, or sew a bit. Simply put, I follow my whims. Afternoons are then an whirl of lunchtime, picking Alex up from school, chores, homework, dinner, and (if I'm lucky and the kids go to sleep in their own beds), dessert (and I don't mean the sugary type).

All in all, my days are relaxing and enjoyable, but I don't accomplish a whole lot. I can easily become jealous of those moms who post at 10 AM "dishes done, kitchen clean, laundry put away, floors vacuumed, etc etc etc." Why can't I be that organized? Moaning, I realize that the answer lies in scheduling, or the lack thereof.

I need to make a schedule for myself that includes all the things I must do each day and all the things I'd like to get done. Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with little ol' me, that's the easy part. I can plan and write and schedule all day. I can even type it up into a fancy spreadsheet to be posted with color-coordinated post-its on my fridge. But, to follow a schedule? Well, that's a bit more work. A bit more determination.

So, I'm going to try it. I'm going to attempt to be a more productive, sane person. I'm going to channel my spurts of motivation into consistent productivity. Right after naptime.