Still Laughing

Every now and then something comes along that just makes me laugh and laugh. This was it for me today. I know I shouldn't torture my hubby this way, but I just couldn't stop myself. Ha!! (click play button below to see video)

Cozy Prison

I know...I haven't written at all lately. I live in a cozy prison, where my children are my captors and my husband is my warden. I don't even get time off for good behavior. Well, not often. So, lately I've been totally uninspired by the walls of my prison. It's been cold and rainy and financial woes keep us close to home (I had to give up my gym membership--sob!!!)

Yet, in the midst of my complaining. I feel I should be thankful. At least I have a house (prison though it may be.) I have my children (though they are my captors.) And the list goes on...my husband is thankfully employed. We are all in reasonably good health. We live in country where I can jokingly call my life a cozy prison! God bless us all...

Good Things

Whenever something's got me down, I try to find the good things. Take, for instance, this week: I've had a rotten sinus-throat-ears cold complete with fever and chills. Couple that with a hubby whose work schedule has him out of the house 50-60 hours a week, and oy...you can see why I'd been feeling a bit down. But today I discovered the highlights--the good things--about having a cold. One, I don't smell the poopy diapers!! Yippee--if Lydia hadn't told me that Evelyn had a poopy earlier, I wouldn't have known! Let me just tell you--a break from smelling the poopy is wonderful! Two, I don't smell the cat food! Not as nice as the diapers, but right up there! I can't stand the smell of cat food--to the point that I usually make hubby feed the cat. There isn't a fishy-icky cat food smell whiff around. Three, my ears are so clogged I haven't heard hubby snore all week! I've actually gotten some sleep!
So there you have it: the three good things to come out of a rotten cold. : )

Only in the South

I have to make salad for 15 people to serve at a church luncheon tomorrow. Never having made salad for 15, I called my mother for her advice. Now let me stop here and ask you to picture--visualize--a salad. Lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, maybe cucumber and croutons, right? Yeah, me too. My mom--and I love her for it--suggested I make a "congealed fruit salad." Yep--Jello with fruit! Only in the South would anyone call that delicious, sweet treat a salad. It's not just my mom--I think it's all Southern moms--in their minds, anything made with Jello is a salad. You gotta love it! : )

Choco-nutty

As some of you readers may know, I am diabetic. Not that I am always that good about following the diabetic diet, but lately I've been trying. Primarily because my doctor fussed at me, but that's another story. So, as you know, sweets aren't really allowed. Which puts a huge crimp in my major need for the vitally important chocolate food group. I'd been craving chocolate--and sweets--something fierce the last few weeks, but I've been good and haven't had any. I still haven't, but my choco-nutty needs have been satisfied!! I have found a great new snack that I just had to share with my faithful readers--you know, in case you want some--'cause I'm not sharing my stash! It's this new flavor by Emerald Nuts (http://www.emeraldnuts.com/) called Cocoa Roast Almonds. Let me just tell ya--these are AWESOME. It's almonds--which are healthy (they lower cholesterol) and delicious--that are roasted in dark chocolate. It's not a sticky candy coating, either. It's like a cocoa powder kind of thing. They are so good--try them. There's no sugar and they're good for you AND they're chocolatey!! I'm choco-nutty in love!

The Trash Fairies

For five wonderful years we had trash fairies. I'm not kidding. Every week, we'd put out our trash, and every week it would disappear in the night. At first Jer and I thought the other one of us was paying someone to remove our trash. But we soon realized that neither of us were paying for nocturnal trash removal and neither of us ever saw our trash fairies.

The trash fairies came at a time when we most needed them. In the beginning, Jer was in school full time and I was making my piddly government wage to support us both. Then Jer was working in a piddly job of his own while I stayed home with Lydia. The trash fairies were wonderful. They never made a peep. They just efficiently removed our trash each week. We were blessed.

After Evelyn came along, Jer was finished his graduate degree and moved into better paying positions. I guess the trash fairies knew and moved along--hopefully to someone else in need of a trash fairy. I miss my trash fairies--I like my new paid trash men well enough--but the trash fairies were a wonderful mystique that I enjoyed for so long. Wherever you are trash fairies--thanks--and we miss you!

Missing Craft Gene

I am evidently missing the craft gene. That can be the only explanation. Because I have absolutely no desire, skill, or interest in most crafts. As it turns out, this causes me great difficulty in parenting. Because I have no idea how to do all of the little crafty things all of these other mothers I know do with their kids. I'm totally clueless.

I have a feeling this missing craft gene is going to cause my children much embarrassment as they progress in their scholastic careers. Because all of the other mothers out there use their craft genes to maximum effectiveness. While I stand there rather like Goofy going, "Duh-huh?"

I actually thought I could fake it somehow, but last year during my daughter's "Special Day" (don't even get me started on that corny nonsense) celebrations at her school--followed by the Valentine's Day debacle--I knew there was no hiding it. I actually followed the directions the school sent for each of these activities. For the Special Day, I came and read Lydia's favorite book to the class and gave out some stickers. Unfortunately, we went first. For the weeks following (they only did one kid per day of class--thus the specialness) all of the crafty mothers shone like the rhinestones they had glued to elaborate posters attributing their child's specialness.

To make matters worse, when Valentine's Day rolled around, again, I did as instructed. I brought in 12 plain Valentines for my daughter to give out. Yes, they were these cheap, ugly Batman cards because that's all I could find the night before Valentine's Day at the Kroger, but still--these are little kids, who cares? Well, it's the mothers who care! The crafty moms struck again with homemade cookies with each child's name in icing across the top, or the treat bags with the candy, or the treat bags with the little toys, stickers, and pencils. Or the homemade cut-out hearts on construction paper with glittering glitter. If it's like this in nursery school, what are the next dozen or do years going to be like?

In all seriousness...I'm just a little jealous...as I said, I'm missing the crafty gene. But can't you crafty moms out there give me break--maybe warn me or clue me into these crafty occasions so I'm not caught off guard?

That said...nursery school starts back up in a week or so...wish me luck (and do some crafts for me!)

The Evidence Is Against Me!

OK, so maybe I'm not that hapless and helpless. I can cook. A little. When I feel like it. : )

Check it out: http://www.penzeysone.com/cgi-bin/one/Richmond2.html

p.s. Penzey's Spices are awesome--try them out!!

Harried Haplessness

Hello, dear readers... I've been a victim of my own haplessness. I'm in the midst of potty training my 3-year-old, and, well, let me tell you, that's just not a fun job. Especially for someone who isn't fond of cleaning. I've been up to my ears in laundry (all those little girl fundies to wash) and I've been mopping up floors like mad (eegad!!) To top it off, I've also been running around with Resolve (heh...funny pun...) to keep the carpets clean. I just hope our house doesn't start smelling like an old folks' home (sorry old folks, but you know...) So that's what I've been busy with...wish me luck!

Sewing Nightmares

My youngest daughter loves her blankie. It's a nice flannel blanket my mother made for her with a nice satin trim. Trouble is, Little Bit likes to take it everywhere and I'd rather she kept it nice and clean in her bed. So, I had this brilliant idea of making her a second, very similar blankie to carry on her adventures around the house and in the car. I thought it couldn't be that hard--it was a big square of flannel fabric with satin ribbon stuff sewn around the edge.

Off we went to our local Walmart for the supplies. I found a cute flannel print very similar to the favored blankie and the same colored satin edging and thread. Great! This was going to be so easy, I thought.

I got the supplies home and after I got the girls down for their naps, I got started. First, I had to dig out the sewing machine. It's this cheap number my husband picked up a few years ago that neither of us ever used (bought in a moment of nuttiness when we thought we'd sew our own curtains...) My first challenge was figuring out what to do with the thread. We'd lost the instructions, but thanks to the internet, I had them on my laptop...I was going back and forth between my laptop monitor and the sewing machine trying to figure it out. There was this bobbin thing to get thread around and load AND there was the main thread thingy to load. Not to mention threading the needle.

I finally got it all figured out and was ready to go. I cut the flannel and pinned the satin edging around it. I was ready to sew. I started slowly then realized the pedal thing was like a gas pedal--the harder I pushed, the faster I could sew. Wow!! With as fast as this thing's going, I can sew all sorts of things. So, I sewed along. Zip! Up the first side I went until I felt this tugging. I looked down and saw that I had somehow grabbed the bottom of my shirt and had sewed it to the blankie. Arghh!!

No worries, I thought...so I cut the thread, released my shirt, and began again--careful not to snag my shirt again (it probably would have been better if I'd used a table or counter and not a TV tray scooted up next to my recliner, but that hadn't occurred to me.) I went along like lightning! While pushing the fabric through I was imaging all of the wonderful things I could sew.

That was until I was done and looked at what I had sewn. My stitches (is that what you call them?) looked like a crazy, erratic heart monitor readout of a person having a series of heart attacks. Not at all like a steady, even stitch that should have been there. Then I realized that I hadn't exactly cut an even square nor had I conquered the corners with the edging correctly. And my blankie had a tail. Yes, a tail. But by this time the girls were up and I had to get them. So, I went ahead and gave Little Bit her blankie.

She wasn't fooled. She knew it wasn't the real blankie, but it'll do in a pinch. Everyone who has seen this pitiful example of my Hapless Homemaker talents laughs. But, Little Bit likes it OK...she even seems to like the "tail"--she uses it to drag it around the house. Still, I find her sneaking up to her room and stealing a few moments with her real blankie. I guess there's no separating a girl from her true love.

Chipmunk Vacuuming

I earned the Hapless Homemaker title about two years ago. Lydia was still a baby and I was adjusting to life as a SAHM. For some reason, it was expected that I take care of the house as well as take care of the baby. The grueling monotony (mothering is exhausting yet so repetitive) was wearing me out. I'd finally gotten Lydia onto a two-nap a day routine and she was sleeping through the night, but I was still so tired from the months of sleep deprivation. So on that fateful day when I took the HH crown, I thought I'd take a little nap, too.

Then I heard it. The sound of the cat door opening. Then the sound of the cat coming up the stairs to my room. Then the sound of some little critter squeaking! I sat bolt upright a bed and saw the chipmunk run for cover under my bookshelf. "Oh, great..." I thought while trying to think of a way to catch this chipmunk without waking up Lydia. And without actually having to touch it. Because, while chipmunks are cute, I didn't want to touch one.

Like a lightening flash, I was inspired by the Saturday morning cartoons of my youth. I just knew I had the perfect plan--I use the vacuum! In my mind, I pictured the chipmunk being held by the wand-tube thingy of the vacuum ala Bugs Bunny--he'd be held at the top of the wand, I'd grab him with my well-gloved hands and put him outside where he belonged.

I carefully brought the vacuum cleaner to my room and shut the door so I wouldn't wake baby Lydia. I made sure the chipmunk was where I left him--he was--and I turned on the vacuum. We both startled a bit from the noise--the cat was long gone, of course--and I approached with the wand-tube thingy (that right there should clue any reader in on my HH-ness.) But when I got the wand-tube thingy near the chipmunk, there was this big whoosh-thump sound: I'd sucked the little guy into the vacuum!! I didn't imagine that would happen--it wasn't going at all the way I'd planned!

I quickly turned off the vacuum and panicked in the ensuing silence. I hadn't meant to do it...I wanted to get the little guy back into the wild without chasing him all over the house with all of the crashing and banging that usually entailed. I felt terrible...I just knew I'd killed him. Being hormonal still, I burst into tears and called my hubby who had the audacity to laugh at me!!!
I quickly got off the phone, and then I heard it...this little scratchy sound: HE WAS ALIVE!!

After much fumbling, I got the cover off of the vacuum and discovered that the little chipmunk was alive and well inside the bag, so I grabbed some scissors, took the bag outside, cut an escape hole, and released him. He didn't walk right out...I kind of had to shake him a bit...he was covered in icky vacuum bag dust and staggered a bit as he wandered off into the shrubs. I can just imagine the story he told his little chipmunk buddies later that night.

So, the event was over. I'd actually succeeded in getting the chipmunk outside without touching him, but I've never lived it down. From then on, my darling husband has quite enjoyed the lore of my battle with the chipmunk. It was definitely the genesis moment of my homemaking haplessness.

If Only...

My husband and I were chatting recently about what we'd do if we had lots of money. I came up with the following:
1) I'd run for local office. I'd vote "no" to so many things my local politicians are voting "yes" to...it seems the motto where I live could be "No tree left standing" or "concrete paradise." Ugghhh...just how many more mow-down-all-the-trees mini-malls and housing areas do we need? Do they not realize that for every new mall they open, they've doomed another mall to a slow, painful death? Do they not realize that there are more houses available now than there are people to fill them? I'd also like to bring to task the flagrant misuse of eminent domain (there is just no way that a McDonalds or Walmart being built should be considered eminent domain--they should have to pay full price just like anyone else.)
2) I'd adopt. I've always wanted to, but I'd want to be sure that I had adequate financial resources to accomodate everyone's expenses. I have my two girls--I'd love to adopt some brothers for them.
3) I'd hire some babysitting and finally finish writing one of the many books I've started. I've written the first few chapters of numerous stories--dating back to my college days. It'd be nice to FINISH one.
4) I'd hire some babysitting and finally finish writing my disertation (ABD just doesn't cut it--although I'm running out of time on that one...)
5) I'd buy up all of those gorgeous wooded tracts of land I see for-sale everywhere and keep them from being "developed." It would be my own land trust kind of thing.

So, I came up with these items--plus a few more fun ones that I didn't list--hey, a girl can dream. But then I pondered--what's stopping me from these goals? Sure, some of these need extra financial resources than what I've got, but what's stopping me from the other goals? Hmmm... What would you do if you had lots of money? What on your list is something you could do now?

Actual Homemaker JOB?!?!

I just had to write about this. Whilst searching the internet for housekeeping tips--after all, I'd like to one day not be quite so hapless--I came across a job listing from CVRNA for a Homemaker. At first, I thought it was a joke or perhaps some guy was looking for a mail-order bride type thing. But, no, it was a serious job description...let's see what a paid, professional homemaker does...


"Homemaker-Personal Home Services - Paraprofessional - Per Diem - Non-Benefitted
Performs light homemaking tasks for client's in their home such as dusting, damp/dry mopping, vacuuming, cleaning kitchen appliances, cleaning bathroom fixtures, laundry and making beds." Yep...that sounds about right--although I'm not great about any of those tasks--I do eventually get around to doing these things. I guess I'm one step ahead--I at least have benefits!
"CRVNA offers on-the-job training to qualified candidates." Who knew there was training available?!?! Perhaps that's where I've gone wrong--I have no training!! Maybe with training I'd be able to sew something without sewing myself to the item!!! (more on that another time.)
"What are the requirements for a Homemaker? ·Must have a high school diploma or GED ·Must be at least 18 years of age·Caring and compassionate ·Dependable and reliable·Able to meet the training requirements·Dependable Automobile with Insurance ($100,000/$300,000) for community work·Acceptable Criminal Record Check report·Completion of a Post Offer Pre-employment Physical Must be able to understand and carry out directions and instructions, record messages and keep records. Is able to read, write and speak English. Is physically and emotionally capable of performing the job requirements."
Out of curiosity, I called and found that the pay varies--from $20-$30 per hour!! My gosh!!This is very handy information to have, methinks...just store it away...

Friendship Bread

Nothing illustrates my haplessness quite like Friendship Bread. A well-meaning friend of mine--whom I'm sure was given this stuff by some well-meaning friend of hers--gave me the starter not too long ago. It was this zip-top bag of whiteish goo accompanied by some instructions. At first I was filled with rosy thoughts of creating some delectable treat for my family. The first instructions seemed easy enough: mash the bag. I thought I could handle it, so I brought the starter home and promptly forgot about it.

The next day, I saw it on my kitchen counter and read the instructions further. That's when I discovered that this Friendship Bread stuff is the housewife torture equivalent of a chain letter, complete with a warning not to break the starter chain because only the Amish (or some sort) know the secret for starting this stuff.

So I was faced with a dilemna: chuck this goop that more and more reminded me of baby spit-up or keep the Friendship Bread chain alive?? Guilt won on that first day--the instructions were easy--I mashed the bag. Day Two (or was it four--I found a weird caveat that the days must coincide with the day the starter was made--I was lost already, but...) I mashed the bag again. Days three through about seven: yep, I forgot about it. My husband found the goop and asked what new experiment this was.

I was immediately overcome by some strange sort of domestic guilt--which I am convinced is the only reason women do this stuff--but I had no choice, I had to throw it out. Which was a good thing...I don't think I had the ingredients I was supposed to add to make this stuff work. That and I don't have any friends that I would want to torture, er um, I mean bless with this stuff.

Throw Pillow Madness

My hubby and I have been shopping for new living room furniture lately. After trudging through store after store, warding off salesperson after salesperson (my gosh, they're like locusts!!) I've been left with one question: what's with all of the pillows?? Only by about the third store did I realize that the reason all of the sofas we'd been trying out lately were so uncomfortable was because each had about nine-thousand pillows on it. So at the third store, we pulled all of the extemporaneous pillows off the sofas and started to find sofas we liked and thought were comfortable.

So what's the story with all of these pillows? Am I missing something? Is this another instance of my Hapless Homemaker self shining through? Obviously these pillows aren't meant for comfort--when they're on a sofa, they leave about two inches of space for a body to sit...and lets face it, I've got way more than two inches of body to seat! To get at all comfortable on these sofas with all of the extra pillows, you have to remove the pillows which results in a giant pile of pillows on the floor. And even my Hapless Homemaker self knows that a pile of anything on the floor isn't good!

Which brings me to interior fashion and design in general. I know most women out there are into this stuff--obviously someone buys all of these pillows--but I just don't get it. Because not only are there extra pillows on sofas, there are also extra pillows on beds. Again, it seems to lead to a pile of pillows on the floor, or do some folks sleep with all of those pillows?

I evidently need to start investing in pillow manufacturing--it's where the real money is, I'm sure of it. Meanwhile, I think I'm going to accept the fact that as a domestically challenged individual, I'm just not going to understand the point of the throw pillow. Whew...I need to lay down...where's my pillow?...

I need a WEMsday!

Back when I worked as a paid, fulltime, 40-hour-per week, occasionally some overtime employee--that is, life BC (before children)--I would, in moments of feeling underpaid and unsung of all of my wonderful contributions to my field, take what we called a WEMsday. I loved those, my Wage Equilization Maneuver days. It was especially fun when coworkers joined in the fun--we'd often hear someone holler, "It's WEMsday!!" and we'd WEM as a group. I miss those days...sigh... As a SAHM, I don't get any WEMsdays. In fact, I don't get paid, I don't get overtime, and I never get praised (well, as the Hapless Homemaker, I'm not surprised by that part, but still, I try...sort of...)

In a recent moment of self-pity, I complained to my hubby and he replied, "Well, you wanted to be a stay-at-home?!? Besides, taking care of the kids is easy...blah, blah, blah" After my initial reaction of (imagining) whapping him upside the head for that one, I did consider what he said. Then I realized what I evidently REALLY wanted was to just stay at home and do nothing. Because being a SAHM is anything but nothing. While it feels like I don't get a thing accomplished, my days are filled with activity--and definitely not easy.

In my pre-SAHM days, I will confess, I thought SAHMs had it made (well, I still do...I am so blessed to be one) but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was so used to my forty-hour work week--nicely organized and structured--that when I was thrust into the world of being up all night, changing diapers, nursing, etc., etc., I thought I would go crazy. But, I evidently make it look easy if I've convinced my husband it is...either that or I need to start taking some WEMsdays--and let him see for himself just how "easy" it is...I'm thinking this Saturday might be the perfect WEMsday...hmmmm...

Now, go eat some bon-bons, y'all!! : )