Let's see....
It's been a pretty boring week around these parts.
The pre-school kids and I have some sort of killer virus that makes the flu seem like the sniffles. Seriously. For one whole week now we have alternated between feeling sorta kinda achy fine to being in a near death feverish stupor. Just when you think you're home free, BAM, it comes back to kick you in the ass. The pathetic irony of it all is that our death stupors never coincide. Therefore, there has been much counter climbing, tampon flushing, and wall art this week.
I'd ask the husband to stay home and help out, but since he is currently fighting to keep his job at the moment, I thought against it. See, the husband's work is all about saving money and as a result, they've cut corners in places such as hiring skilled workers. Because, you know, if you hire someonea who is not trained, you don't have to pay him as much as someone who knows what he is doing. So what do they do with the untrained hires? Why, they have the husband spend every Monday evening and most of his day off Fridays attempting to teach them how to run things. Apparently, though, this isn't working well, because the new hires, they themselves like to cut corners while doing their job so they can go home early. Things like forget to follow the detailed protocol for capping a product into a rail car and then leaving for the night. So of course, they can't be held responsible for their actions because they surely weren't taught correctly and why the hell was the husband at home in bed at 3:30 in the morning instead of right. fricking. there. making sure they got it done right? So, we haven't seen much of Daddy this week. He's pretty much working around the clock these days, he's got to prove he can do his job, or something like that. Personally, if we weren't currently paying two mortgages I really wouldn't care if he lost this job. It sucks. It makes him extremely unhappy. And grouchy. And just plain miserable to be around. I do not want him to keep this job. I just want him to find something else first because we really need that paycheck and we're probably going to need that health insurance because who knows how long we'll have the monster crud.
Now if this wasn't enough, there's Gustav. Last night I went to bed and it was heading to New Orleans, this morning I check the local headlines and they say he's changed track and heading here. WTH? So now what do we do? Do we board up early and leave town, looking kinda crazy if it doesn't come way? Or do we wait a few days and risk getting caught in that horrendous traffic jam? Can you take out loans on plywood? Figures we'd live ten miles closer to the coast now.
And then, there's Hanna. Geez.
And I have seriously overdue library books I need to take back before this all starts. While Elizabeth is currently in her death/scream stupor.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Post in Which I Complain About Something Totally Irrelevant
I like to keep a tidy house.
That was pretty easy to do when I had only one child who liked only one toy in which he contained to one room in a semi-order every day. Now I have two more children who do not share my love of tidiness. In fact, they detest tidiness. I know this because when I do try to pick up, I turn around and they've dug it all back out for me again.
So I've come to except the fact that my house will not be showcase clean as long as these kids are home with me all day. I am okay with that. Really.
My kitchen, on the other hand, is a whole other story.
I am a bit, how would you say?, anal about keeping the kitchen clean. I mean, we EAT there for goodness sake. I've seen too many of those kitchen cleaner commercials with the raw chicken smearing life-threatening germs all over some poor kids after school cookie. I MUST keep my kitchen clean or who knows what will become of us?
It was easy peasy at the other house with that faint green laminate countertop. I went through many a Clorox wipe there. Now we have granite. A blackish-greenish granite. After three weeks of scrubbing them with the old faithful wipe, I found out you aren't supposed to use the wipes on the granite. Or any kind of chemical cleaner for that matter. Oops.
In case you did not know, the way to clean counters is to use soap and water. First you wash the counter with the soapy rag. Then you go over it with a wet rag to rinse the soap off and then you use a dry rag to dry the wet off. If you're really good at it you can get that Karate Kid wash-on, wash-off thing going on at the same time. Of course, by then the kids have started college. Don't tell, but sometimes I just spray a little cleaner on it and go about my day. I mean, how in the world is hand soap getting my counters germ-free?
The husband, though, does not feel that my attempts at granite cleanliness are up to snuff, so when he is here, he spends way too much time scrubbing them until they shine.
And I thought I was anal.
Hey, dude, the bathrooms could use a scrubbing too. Do you know where they are?
Anyway, he likes the granite super shiny. I like it tidy.
This is NOT tidy!
OMG! We have lived in this house over two months. I didn't want to complain because he was helping, even if he was criticizing at the same time. But I cannot take the wet, dirty rags just lying all over the counter like that anymore. He scrubs his ass off and then leaves the evidence. WTH? I used to go behind him and toss the rag in the washer, a whole ten feet from kitchen, but I was then told to stop that because the rags can be reused. We can wash the counters again. With the same rag. Later in the day. Ewwwww.
And yes, I've tried turning him on to paper towels, but they just don't shine as well. And they cost money. And he likes the rags. And he paid a butt-load of money for this house he will clean it the right way.
Whatever.
So now in addition to the two wine glasses, four drinking glasses, and one coffee mug I have to deposit in the dishwasher every morning, I now have a scrungy rag I have to take care of too. Sometimes two.
Oh, crappy laminate countertops, how I miss you. And my Clorox wipes.
That was pretty easy to do when I had only one child who liked only one toy in which he contained to one room in a semi-order every day. Now I have two more children who do not share my love of tidiness. In fact, they detest tidiness. I know this because when I do try to pick up, I turn around and they've dug it all back out for me again.
So I've come to except the fact that my house will not be showcase clean as long as these kids are home with me all day. I am okay with that. Really.
My kitchen, on the other hand, is a whole other story.
I am a bit, how would you say?, anal about keeping the kitchen clean. I mean, we EAT there for goodness sake. I've seen too many of those kitchen cleaner commercials with the raw chicken smearing life-threatening germs all over some poor kids after school cookie. I MUST keep my kitchen clean or who knows what will become of us?
It was easy peasy at the other house with that faint green laminate countertop. I went through many a Clorox wipe there. Now we have granite. A blackish-greenish granite. After three weeks of scrubbing them with the old faithful wipe, I found out you aren't supposed to use the wipes on the granite. Or any kind of chemical cleaner for that matter. Oops.
In case you did not know, the way to clean counters is to use soap and water. First you wash the counter with the soapy rag. Then you go over it with a wet rag to rinse the soap off and then you use a dry rag to dry the wet off. If you're really good at it you can get that Karate Kid wash-on, wash-off thing going on at the same time. Of course, by then the kids have started college. Don't tell, but sometimes I just spray a little cleaner on it and go about my day. I mean, how in the world is hand soap getting my counters germ-free?
The husband, though, does not feel that my attempts at granite cleanliness are up to snuff, so when he is here, he spends way too much time scrubbing them until they shine.
And I thought I was anal.
Hey, dude, the bathrooms could use a scrubbing too. Do you know where they are?
Anyway, he likes the granite super shiny. I like it tidy.
This is NOT tidy!
OMG! We have lived in this house over two months. I didn't want to complain because he was helping, even if he was criticizing at the same time. But I cannot take the wet, dirty rags just lying all over the counter like that anymore. He scrubs his ass off and then leaves the evidence. WTH? I used to go behind him and toss the rag in the washer, a whole ten feet from kitchen, but I was then told to stop that because the rags can be reused. We can wash the counters again. With the same rag. Later in the day. Ewwwww.
And yes, I've tried turning him on to paper towels, but they just don't shine as well. And they cost money. And he likes the rags. And he paid a butt-load of money for this house he will clean it the right way.
Whatever.
So now in addition to the two wine glasses, four drinking glasses, and one coffee mug I have to deposit in the dishwasher every morning, I now have a scrungy rag I have to take care of too. Sometimes two.
Oh, crappy laminate countertops, how I miss you. And my Clorox wipes.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Welcome to the New Season of Boy Crazy
Well, that was a quick week.
Is it just me, or does it seem like the days and years have become shorter now that I have children? I had such grand plans for this summer. Where did it go?
We did see the new Star Wars movie (of course) and my sister came for ONE day where we squeezed in six hours of swimming and catch-up to last us until next year or Christmas, whichever her husband will agree to first. We took walks and hunted turtles and vegged by the pool that is right. across. the. street. I know you'd love to see it all but the camera batteries died just as I attempted to capture the lasting memory of taking all three of my children to their very first baseball game. It's okay, though, because I don't really want to remember that game. Ever. Let's just say three kids + seven innings + $7 caffeinated sodas = hell on Earth.
My sleep deprived mind never did remember to buy more batteries until eleven p.m. the night before the first day of school. Big shout out to CVS for being open twenty-four hours. And also having buy one-get one of my favorite shampoo too, that was a nice plus.
Of course, second graders MUST NOT have their photo taken at school lest they be deemed uncool so here is the ONE picture I got before the eye-rolling began. In our house. Nowhere near the school.
At least my littles still like to have their picture taken. In fact, they insist upon it. Heaven forbid Jacob be in a picture alone.
So far, second grade is going well. I know you will all rejoice with me when I tell you that we will not have to deal with Leader Mama or Party Mama as their boys are not in Jacob's class this year. (Insert celebratory dancing here) Seems the bully boys were all separated but surely Mrs. W. didn't have anything to do with that. *wink-wink* You should have heard the commotion going on outside the classrooms when the Mamas realized they weren't together this year. Oh woe, pity them. They might have to actually speak to someone else for a change. At least it won't be me.
Of course, ignore the fact that I sent him to school with one size 11 and one size 13 shoe.
Two days in a row.
Shut up. At least it was the same shoe.
I cannot believe my baby is in second grade. When he was born I was teaching second grade. I remember when I was pregnant with him and thinking it would be FOREVER before my baby was as big as the boys I had that year. Forever is here, apparently. I don't know if I am ready for it, though.
So now that our summer vacation is over, I need to get back to our regularly scheduled life. Stay tuned. This might be the best season yet.
Is it just me, or does it seem like the days and years have become shorter now that I have children? I had such grand plans for this summer. Where did it go?
We did see the new Star Wars movie (of course) and my sister came for ONE day where we squeezed in six hours of swimming and catch-up to last us until next year or Christmas, whichever her husband will agree to first. We took walks and hunted turtles and vegged by the pool that is right. across. the. street. I know you'd love to see it all but the camera batteries died just as I attempted to capture the lasting memory of taking all three of my children to their very first baseball game. It's okay, though, because I don't really want to remember that game. Ever. Let's just say three kids + seven innings + $7 caffeinated sodas = hell on Earth.
My sleep deprived mind never did remember to buy more batteries until eleven p.m. the night before the first day of school. Big shout out to CVS for being open twenty-four hours. And also having buy one-get one of my favorite shampoo too, that was a nice plus.
Of course, second graders MUST NOT have their photo taken at school lest they be deemed uncool so here is the ONE picture I got before the eye-rolling began. In our house. Nowhere near the school.
At least my littles still like to have their picture taken. In fact, they insist upon it. Heaven forbid Jacob be in a picture alone.
So far, second grade is going well. I know you will all rejoice with me when I tell you that we will not have to deal with Leader Mama or Party Mama as their boys are not in Jacob's class this year. (Insert celebratory dancing here) Seems the bully boys were all separated but surely Mrs. W. didn't have anything to do with that. *wink-wink* You should have heard the commotion going on outside the classrooms when the Mamas realized they weren't together this year. Oh woe, pity them. They might have to actually speak to someone else for a change. At least it won't be me.
Of course, ignore the fact that I sent him to school with one size 11 and one size 13 shoe.
Two days in a row.
Shut up. At least it was the same shoe.
I cannot believe my baby is in second grade. When he was born I was teaching second grade. I remember when I was pregnant with him and thinking it would be FOREVER before my baby was as big as the boys I had that year. Forever is here, apparently. I don't know if I am ready for it, though.
So now that our summer vacation is over, I need to get back to our regularly scheduled life. Stay tuned. This might be the best season yet.
Monday, August 11, 2008
I'm on Hiatus
I'm going to close up the computer this week and put it away, very far away, as not to be tempted to log on and nib into all your lives or play just one more round of word twist. School starts next week and I'm going to spend the rest of our summer having as much fun as I can with my three unruly kids while I still have them all at home at one time. We are going to a baseball game tonight and my sister is coming for two days tomorrow and then after that, who knows? The beach? The water park? Maybe I can talk them into some ultra-exciting napping?!
I won't be gone too long.
Don't miss me too much.
I won't be gone too long.
Don't miss me too much.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
How Young is Too Young To Start Blogging?
One reason I haven't posted more frequently this summer is because I can no longer keep the laptop out and open throughout the day. And, of course, I am banned from the desktop in the locked study. Elizabeth loves the computer. 
If I turn my back on it (and her) for even few seconds, she'll change my fonts and type sizes and somehow forward random email to old co-workers who really need to be deleted from my address book. 
Oh, I tried moving it to the high counter, but that didn't deter her much. 
She's entered that stage where she tries imitate what I do. She gets washrags out of the laundry basket and wipes the tub down. She plays at the toy kitchen and can stir the heck out of her imaginary dinners. She rocks her baby and pats her back. I am so glad that I am setting a positive example of mothering and housekeeping for her. But I think, maybe, I'm spending too much time on the computer.....
If I turn my back on it (and her) for even few seconds, she'll change my fonts and type sizes and somehow forward random email to old co-workers who really need to be deleted from my address book. 
Oh, I tried moving it to the high counter, but that didn't deter her much. 
She's entered that stage where she tries imitate what I do. She gets washrags out of the laundry basket and wipes the tub down. She plays at the toy kitchen and can stir the heck out of her imaginary dinners. She rocks her baby and pats her back. I am so glad that I am setting a positive example of mothering and housekeeping for her. But I think, maybe, I'm spending too much time on the computer.....Monday, August 04, 2008
Stormy Weather
So I woke up this morning and suddenly there's a tropical storm heading our way. Soon. Like tonight. Wow.
We went to the lake in 2005 for Hurricane Rita, figured we be safe 150 miles north but instead the storm rallied and pushed fiercely through inland and we spent three days with no power or water in hundred degree heat, eaten alive by mosquitoes, with a few trees down inches from our dark, boarded-up house. It sucked big time.
We've decided to stay put for this one, hoping it will be short-lived and mild and maybe cool the temperatures long enough for the kids to play outside before the summer ends.
I have taken this opportunity to veg out and enjoy my cable and internet today in case we are without it for any length of time. I also purchased storm provisions in the way of gallons of water, a tank of gas (which they completely jacked the price up twenty cents since last night), diapers, a bag of candy, a few Freebird burritos, and a six pack of Tecate.
I think we're set.
Bring it on, Eduoard. We're ready for you.
We went to the lake in 2005 for Hurricane Rita, figured we be safe 150 miles north but instead the storm rallied and pushed fiercely through inland and we spent three days with no power or water in hundred degree heat, eaten alive by mosquitoes, with a few trees down inches from our dark, boarded-up house. It sucked big time.
We've decided to stay put for this one, hoping it will be short-lived and mild and maybe cool the temperatures long enough for the kids to play outside before the summer ends.
I have taken this opportunity to veg out and enjoy my cable and internet today in case we are without it for any length of time. I also purchased storm provisions in the way of gallons of water, a tank of gas (which they completely jacked the price up twenty cents since last night), diapers, a bag of candy, a few Freebird burritos, and a six pack of Tecate.
I think we're set.
Bring it on, Eduoard. We're ready for you.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Friday
My husband asked just this morning when I was going to blog something nasty about him again. Little did he know.....
Did you know my husband has every other Friday off?
Have I mentioned that?
Yeah, he, in theory, has every other Friday off. Since last May. In theory, it all seems like a great situation.
So when his employer offered this schedule to his employees, I was beyond thrilled. I could sleep late, I could bathe alone, I could tag team parent two extra days out of each month. The excitement was almost too much to handle.
So the first day-off Friday rolled around and I was a little suprised to find that things hadn't changed too much. Oh, sure, the husband was there, working at his computer, sipping his coffee in his pajamas while I showered with two little onlookers. I didn't get to sleep in that morning. But it was new! We'd work out the kinks. Surely the next Friday off I'd see a little free time.
The next Friday rolled around and I was still up at the butt crack of dawn and was still hopeful for some help, when the big boss called the husband and asked him to come down to work for a couple hours to help him straighten something out. Yeah, a couple of ten hours. This happens a lot. I am forever marvelling at the boss, who offered up Fridays off for his employees, yet schedules very important meetings on Fridays. I'm sure he's doing a bang-up job running the place.
But I digress.
So every Thursday eve of day-off Friday I get a little excited thinking maybe tomorrow's the day. Maybe tomorrow I'll get a nap. Maybe tomorrow I'll go to the supermarket. Alone. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally be able to remove the five-month old polish from my toes. My fingers are always crossed.
You know where this is going, right?
I have never slept late on a day-off Friday. I very rarely shower alone. And the tag-team parenting is more like, can-you-at-least-acknowledge-their-presence-and-maybe-allow-me-a-bathroom-break parenting.
Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but we've been doing this, what, fourteen months now, and the husband has yet to take all three kids at one time and give me a complete break. There's always an excuse, something he has to do right then or else the world will implode. Today he had to have his tires rotated and he couldn't take Elizabeth because, well, there's no room in the truck for Elizabeth. My mom laughs everytime I tell her Derick is having his tires (or mine) rotated because he does it at least once every two months and they have never, ever had their tires rotated in any of the cars they have owned. Is tire rotation that necessary?
So Elizabeth has started her terrible twos a tad early and has been screaming like a banshee most of the day. At this very moment she is pissed because she cannot fit my sandals over her shoes and is having a complete meltdown over it. Ten minutes ago, I apparently gave her the wrong drink. My husband, for obvious reasons, couldn't get out of here fast enough. To his credit, he took Adam with him, but he's the easiest of the bunch, so he doesn't get that much credit.
I know, I know, I should be thrilled to have only one child to care for right now (Jacob is still at the lake), but you know, I think the high-pitched wailing is getting to me, because I really feel the need to complain about it.
And it's too hot to go outside. That sucks too.
But I am happy to know that the truck tires will be safe for another two months.
Did you know my husband has every other Friday off?
Have I mentioned that?
Yeah, he, in theory, has every other Friday off. Since last May. In theory, it all seems like a great situation.
So when his employer offered this schedule to his employees, I was beyond thrilled. I could sleep late, I could bathe alone, I could tag team parent two extra days out of each month. The excitement was almost too much to handle.
So the first day-off Friday rolled around and I was a little suprised to find that things hadn't changed too much. Oh, sure, the husband was there, working at his computer, sipping his coffee in his pajamas while I showered with two little onlookers. I didn't get to sleep in that morning. But it was new! We'd work out the kinks. Surely the next Friday off I'd see a little free time.
The next Friday rolled around and I was still up at the butt crack of dawn and was still hopeful for some help, when the big boss called the husband and asked him to come down to work for a couple hours to help him straighten something out. Yeah, a couple of ten hours. This happens a lot. I am forever marvelling at the boss, who offered up Fridays off for his employees, yet schedules very important meetings on Fridays. I'm sure he's doing a bang-up job running the place.
But I digress.
So every Thursday eve of day-off Friday I get a little excited thinking maybe tomorrow's the day. Maybe tomorrow I'll get a nap. Maybe tomorrow I'll go to the supermarket. Alone. Maybe tomorrow I'll finally be able to remove the five-month old polish from my toes. My fingers are always crossed.
You know where this is going, right?
I have never slept late on a day-off Friday. I very rarely shower alone. And the tag-team parenting is more like, can-you-at-least-acknowledge-their-presence-and-maybe-allow-me-a-bathroom-break parenting.
Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but we've been doing this, what, fourteen months now, and the husband has yet to take all three kids at one time and give me a complete break. There's always an excuse, something he has to do right then or else the world will implode. Today he had to have his tires rotated and he couldn't take Elizabeth because, well, there's no room in the truck for Elizabeth. My mom laughs everytime I tell her Derick is having his tires (or mine) rotated because he does it at least once every two months and they have never, ever had their tires rotated in any of the cars they have owned. Is tire rotation that necessary?
So Elizabeth has started her terrible twos a tad early and has been screaming like a banshee most of the day. At this very moment she is pissed because she cannot fit my sandals over her shoes and is having a complete meltdown over it. Ten minutes ago, I apparently gave her the wrong drink. My husband, for obvious reasons, couldn't get out of here fast enough. To his credit, he took Adam with him, but he's the easiest of the bunch, so he doesn't get that much credit.
I know, I know, I should be thrilled to have only one child to care for right now (Jacob is still at the lake), but you know, I think the high-pitched wailing is getting to me, because I really feel the need to complain about it.
And it's too hot to go outside. That sucks too.
But I am happy to know that the truck tires will be safe for another two months.
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