Four Stages of Dirt

Stage 1: Dirt Obliviousness. This is when things are dirty and invisible at the same time. Note the difference from Stage 2. From this state, it is possible to progress to either Stage 2 or directly to Stage 3.

Stage 2: Dirt Ignorance. This is when the dirt is visible but you have entered into a peace treaty with it. So long as it does not wave its hands in the air, embarrass you with horrible smells or cause botulism or other fatal illnesses you are willing, in return, to ignore it for a little while longer. From this state it is possible to progress to Stage 4.

Stage 3: Dirt Flabbergastedness. This is when the dirt blindsides you into such a state of shock, that you cannot possibly ignore it. Like when you look over your husband's shoulder while he is hugging you and blurt out "My god! When did the ceiling fan get that disgusting?!?!" and you push him away and immediately climb on the table, shouting for Clorox, rubber gloves, a tarp, copious amounts of hot water and possibly the National Guard. Note the difference from Stage 2. From this stage you skip right over Stage 4. There is no progression except into disgust with everything followed by exhaustion and possibly death (sometimes your own, but not necessarily).

Stage 4: Dirt Eradication. This is when all dirt is banished from your home at the same time. A very rare condition that if you are lucky enough or insane enough to reach, it will be fleeting. How fleeting depends on how many people share your house and how adept they are at picking up after themselves. In other words, about five minutes. From this stage it is possible to continue back to any of the previous stages, either exclusively or in progression.

If You Shouldn't Go Grocery Shopping While Hungry

clearly you shouldn't be bringing 2 hungry boys along either. A trip for 3 things resulted in 5 bags and $125...

I Just Found

a big bag of Halloween lollipops in the back of my cupboard. Clearly it is time for tidying and reorganization! What does it say about me that I hovered over the garbage can for several minutes and then put it back. Lollipops don't go bad, do they?

Who Knew?

Apparently, if you angle the jets in the whirlpool tub just so and let out just enough water, you can have a nifty water cannon that shoots hot soapy water out the bathroom door and down the stairs!

I Just Love It When a Plan Comes Together

I have had this picture in my head ever since we moved into our house 6 years ago.

We have never used the coat closet in the entry hall for its intended purpose. It is so small that coats ended up everywhere else. I found the bench at a garage sale last summer (I'm still debating whether or not to paint it. Yellow? Red? White?) I painted the inside of the closet to match the kitchen (which horrified D. at the time and probably still does). In the fall we finally got the walls fixed and hung the coat hooks. Now the shelves are in the closet along with the bins I found 2 years ago (they pick up all the colors in the curtain fabric that's still under my bed). I'm still filling them and moving the contents around, but a lot of the flotsam and jetsam from everywhere has found a home. You can't quite see it in the picture but we've got an outlet in there for the cell phones and whatever else needs charging. The boys backpacks are no longer objects to trip over. We traded the ugly front door for a beautiful one. Behr, btw, calls that color "Lunar Shadow." We call it "Necco Wafer" (which horrified me until the 2nd coat went on).

But since we both picked it out from the 30 or so paint chips I had taped to the door, it's all good. Everyone has their own shoe bin, even guests (though that's still taking some work to make sure the shoes actually end up there). We're going to change the floor, but haven't had the chance to go pick something out yet.

Now when I come home, aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh. Organized heaven.

Ten Things You Don't Want to Find in the Washer or the Dryer

10. Tissues

9. Rocks

8. A Fork (?!)

7. Chewed up Starburst candies

6. Grass

5. Marbles

4. Eyeglasses (the kind from the dollar store, thank heavens)

3. Crayons

2. Realistic-looking toy snakes

1. Poop!

It's sooooo much nicer to find money. I would also like to point out that, other than tissues, I never carry any of these things in my pockets.

Rebuffing Murphy's Law

Last week I painted the hallway closet and hung 16 pictures on the walls -- things that have been on my "to do" list since we moved in 5 years ago. Next week I'm going to attempt to make curtains from the bolt of fabric that's been living under my bed for 3 years. That better not mean we're going to move.

Little Old Not-So-Crazy Neighbor Ladies

When I was a kid I used to sit outside and watch all the neighbor ladies sweeping. They swept their doorsteps. They swept their porches. They swept their stairs. They swept their sidewalks. They swept their driveways. Mrs. Correa even stood in the middle of the road and swept that! They swept like it was their personal mission to attack all dirt within a five-mile radius. When they swept it was like Charlie Brown's friend Pigpen walking by. And when they all got going at the same time, I had an idea of what the Dust Bowl might have been like. If I had known then what an anthropologist did, I'm sure I would have felt like I was studying an unknown culture's rituals.

I thought of all those neighbor ladies this morning as I swept my walk and driveway, tidying up after last night's lawn mowing. After I'd been responsible for a home of my own for awhile, I finally realized that all that sweeping outside made for less sweeping inside. I grew up with a mother who had a love affair with highly-starched curtains and thought the smell of ammonia and bleach mixed together was "lovely." In light of that fact, I think I can be forgiven for not necessarily placing housework high on my list of priorities. (Though my house isn't as grody as reading this blog regularly might lead you to believe. Honest!) But this morning as I got into the rhythm of sweeping and listened to the tchh-tchh-tchh of the broom on the concrete, I came to a new realization.

It's about more than cleanliness. It's neighborliness to the nth degree. It's about self-respect. It's about loving your family. It's about loving your neighborhood and the world at large. By showing that you care about your little corner of the world, you're also showing how much you care about everyone else's corners. Everyone in the world should have a corner of their own that's clean, well-swept and free of all manner of debris. Sadly, that's not a reality for many of our neighbors. But if we all do our best work, we can eventually help that come to pass. Some of us work to clean up the environment. Some of us work to make sure children grow to their fullest potential. Some of us provide food. Some of us serve and protect with their lives, be it in the military or as police officers and firefighters. Some of us bring joy through the arts. Some of us practice medicine. And some of us sweep. But no matter what job we're doing at any given moment, we're all doing the same job.

As I put the broom away, I said a little prayer and thanked all the neighbor ladies for showing me something so wonderfully important. Even if I didn't know it then.

Predict the Weather

Why is is 80 degrees and sunny until the day after I take the storm windows out and put the screens in?

Gee, Am I Really that Transparent?

D. thinks all this sorting and organizing is a thinly disguised attempt at avoiding finding a job.  Maybe a little, but it's more equal parts full-blown panic knowing that once I go back to work it'll never get done and plain old I've-had-enough-of-all-this-now.   I can't tell you how much better I slept last night because there were no piles of crap around the bed.  Sure, I should have had this revelation six months ago, but I procrastinate on everything, even revelations.  

Treasure Hunting

It must be cabin fever or maybe longing for spring, but I've been sorting, organizing and purging this month in a big way.  I've unpacked boxes that got shoved in various closets and piled in the basement when we moved into this house almost 5 years ago.  That would make me feel bad, but remember the part in The Incredibles where Helen tells Bob that it only took her 3 years to unpack the last box?  I'm not a superhero so I think that means I'm doing pretty well!  Part of me was a tad overwhelmed and thought, oh you haven't opened these boxes & bags in 4 years, just donate them all sight unseen.  But I had open them because there were things I'd been missing and worrying about, like:

• All my "good" jewelry (with the exception of my wedding band and gold bangle that was Nana Bertha's that I wear every day).  
• My flower girl dress from my sister G's wedding when I was six.  My sister K. sewed it to match all the other bridesmaid's dresses.  It's blue dotted swiss with net sleeves.  (Do they even still make dotted swiss?)  I LOVE LOVE LOVE this dress.  I'd like to shrink myself so I could wear it again.  The only childhood dress I loved more was my "rainbow dress" from when I was 7 but we didn't think to save that one.  I think I'm going to put it in a shadowbox or display it on my bedroom wall somehow.
• Ditto the little baggie of cloth diapers that came home with me from the hospital and the one decorated with pink ribbons that the nurses made for me to wear for the occasion.  There were no NICUs 45 years ago and these little diapers are a reminder of how much these ladies loved and cared for me for 3 months and how they wouldn't give in, especially after my twin Philip passed away.  These have to be displayed somewhere special.
• 2 boxes of checks.  I knew I ordered them! 
• 2 pairs of handmade gloves with fur trim and Athabascan beading.  A very dear friend made these for us when we lived in Holy Cross.  They're too nice to wear every day but I'm going to start wearing mine more often now that I've found them.  I also found some other beaded items that we got as gifts, some keychains, a credit card holder, some earrings.
• Video of the boys when they were very little.  I found 3 tapes earlier in the month but I knew we had taken lots more.  I found 5 other tapes today.  I haven't watched them yet but I'm guessing 4 of them are of them egging each other on in the Jolly Jumper and the Exersaucer.

And the treasure hunter in me was happy to find:

• 2 savings bonds
• $100 cash ($50 in each of 2 sealed envelopes with the boys names on them, no note or card or anything and it's not our handwriting.)  I opened a bank account with it and I think it'll be the start of our Disney fund.  (I know I should put it in the college fund but if we don't start saving the boys will be in college before we get there!)
  
• A bag of lightbulbs.  Considering that the kitchen light just burnt out and the drawer where we usually keep lightbulbs is empty, this is a good find.
  
• Some silhouettes that an artist handcut at a craft show when the boys were about a year old.  I totally forgot all about these.  Just looking at them brings back memories of that time.  I need a frame for these.  I'll probably find one in another box :-D
  
• My gargoyles.  I missed their ugly mugs.
• A new pair of pants that I bought at Target in... the receipt says April.  I have no memory of buying them, but they're rather nice and they still fit.

And then there was some stuff that was easy to donate or recycle:

• All the cards & ribbon bows from my baby shower.  I always had intentions of putting these in a scrapbook or something.   Oh well.  I've got lots more current things for the scrapbooks!  And I've still got the love, if not the cute little onesies and blankets.  Actually, we do still have some of those... remind me to post the photo of 6 yo M. wearing a 6 month size romper!
• All the miscellaneous bedding that didn't match or was for the wrong size bed.
• Lots of lots of crafts and stitching supplies.  I could probably get rid of a lot more but I didn't want the "now we can go and get more" instinct to kick in.
• My collection of perfume bottles and little china boxes.  They're pretty but they're just not me anymore, you know?
• Many years of Family Fun magazine.  Everything is online now anyway.  Ditto for all the other magazines I used to keep.  I kept the Simple Scrapbooks only because I do refer to them and they're going out of print.
• A bunch of books I've finally admited I will never read again.  This was not as hard as it used to be.
• Many plastic bags and other flotsam.  Apparently I packed our garbage.

Tropical Bird Massacre

Feather boas make good reins when you're playing all the variations of horse race.  I only hope the vacuum cleaner can handle the aftermath.

You'd Think I'd Know Better

I made the mistake of mentioning to D. that "gee, no one has been sick all winter!" 

Now the germs have decided to hold their annual convention here instead of in Tahiti.

Looking for a Job

I've been a SAHM since I was pregnant (I was a full-time student).  But now the time has come to re-enter the workforce.  I'm nervous about finding a job.  I'm nervous about actually doing it once I find one.  I'm nervous about finding a job that will still let me be home in time to meet the school bus.  If that's not possible, I'm nervous about finding a good after school program that we can all be happy with and that doesn't use up my entire paycheck.  I'm nervous about leaving all the stuff undone that I leave undone now - only with less style, grace and while having to wear pantyhose.  I'm nervous about appearing to be a functioning human being with a brain during a job interview.  For the most part, being a mom uses a whole different set of skills  - when was the last time you had to use the eyes in the back of your head in a job situation (teachers excepted)?

So what on earth do I put on the resume? Domestic Engineer & Chief Operating Officer have been done just a few too many times, but here are some jobs I'm quite good at:

Food Stylist.  For several years I have been able to make dinosaur chicken nuggets (or whatever food item my children are currently fixated on) look appetizing and different each night.  This is more for my benefit than for the person with the food jag,  because as long as they get to eat the item of choice they don't much care what else is on the plate.  (And please don't leave me a comment about how your kids eat escargot or whatever you put in front of them or how to be firm at the dinner table.  You pick your battles and I'd much rather argue over something really important, like how your pajama bottoms should always match the tops) 

Food Artist.  I can make pictures with food in an effort to get picky eaters to ingest more than the aforementioned dinosaur chicken nuggets.  And it works too!  Pictures of Blue's Clues rendered in cheese & salami, a horse and rider made entirely of pickles, olives, cheese and dried cranberries and other such artistic creations available on request.

Hormonal Grouch.  Just when my family thought they were safe, menopause starts nosing around.  On second thought, most workplaces probably wish they didn't have to pay the hormonal grouches they already have, so we'll just scratch this one from the c.v. why don't we?

Special Needs Educator to the Public.  Unfortunately, many people still express surprise that P. is able to walk, communicate and otherwise function in the world.   Whilst I still find this shocking, P. & I have been able to give a little primer on etiquette and reality with a smile and lots of patience.  And on P.'s part, lots of hugs.  

Twin Wrangler.  I have been able to feed two infants simultaneously without the aid of bouncy seats or high chairs, using only the limbs God gave me and a throw pillow.  I can buckle two wriggling boys into carseats without dumping my purse or the grocery bags.  I can look at a "crime scene" and know immediately whether one (and which one) or both children were involved.  I can get everyone to bed and asleep in... several hours.  

Family Photographer.  Literally thousands of examples available on request.  But if you want a photo of me, there aren't that many.  M. took one the other day that has most of my head in it.

Lustful Launderer.  This isn't a homemade porn video, honest.  (With these stretch marks!?)  I do like to iron and folding laundry can be meditative, but I just like to watch my collection of Highlander videos while I'm doing it.

Family Timekeeper.  Through years of scientific research, testing and a highly developed system (all my clocks are 30 minutes fast), I am able to get my entire family to appointments on time.  To date, we have never missed a school bus!  

Organizational Maven.  Just read previous posts for evidence of said brilliance.  (Ok, maybe not all of them)  In the corporate world, I specialized in color-coded filing systems.  In the domestic area, closets and drawers are a specialty, as are toy systems containing lots of eenie-weenie pieces.  It is a known fact that it's a lot easier to organize someone else's stuff than your own.  

Translater.  I have a lot of experience translating KidSpeak into English for the benefit of waitstaff, store clerks, and other members of the public who may not know the language or who have lost their skills.  Apraxic speech patterns also translated.

Lily Gilder.  My husband says I'm quite good at this.  I don't really see it though.

Apparently I'm not the Garage Goddess I thought I was

because the keypad outside doesn't work.  I changed the battery.  Nope.  I got up on the ladder again and reprogrammed it.  Now it works!  But the remotes in the car don't work now.  So up on the ladder I go and reprogram the remotes.  They work!  But now the keypad doesn't.  After trying a few other things, D. and I have agreed to just have seasonal openers.  Winter will be for remotes since we keep the cars in the garage then and summer will be the keypad since the cars live in the driveway.  Works for us!

Evil Plot or True Confession?

Ok, so I just went to throw out the packaging from my brand-new Mr. Clean Magic Eraser mophead.  On the side it shows you when to replace it, showing a really hideously grody mophead that has been used "many many times."  Um... mine looks just like that.  Not the old one I just replaced.  The new one I just used.  One time.  

This could mean one of two things.  I am a really crap housekeeper (sorry Mom!) who cares nothing for the health and wellbeing of my family and would rather be blogging or scrapping or reading or whatever else seems remotely interesting to do while the kids are at school.  OR.  It is an evil plot on the part of Mr. Clean to convince us to continually buy more mopheads, sponges and other kinds of toxic cleaning products that make our houses look shiny and clean but also pollute the earth and our lungs while simultaneously putting more of our hard-earned (but now less interest earning) cash into their pockets.  Hmmm.  

I'm going with the Evil Plot Theory, people.  

I am a Garage Goddess

I went to Sears and navigated through the tool aisles.  I bought the correct items.  I got up on the ladder without it collapsing under me.  I didn't bump my head, electrocute myself or start a fire.

And if all that were not enough, folks, I (yes, me!) reprogrammed not one! but two! garage door opener remotes correctly.  In under 30 minutes.

If you knew me at all, you would know what a seriously amazing accomplishment this is.

Local Woman Injured in Avalanche

Rescue workers were dispatched this morning in aid of a woman buried in piles of wrinkled clothing. "I've never seen anything like it." a shaken rescue worker told the News. It took workers several minutes to locate the woman, who was treated at the scene with chocolate and caffeine. She is expected to make a full recovery. Her naked family was extremely relieved, as well as a little cold and embarrassed.

What's Your House Rating?

We had a family dinner last weekend. The kids were all playing so nicely. And so quietly. Yeah, you're right, that should have been my first clue.

They had asked if they could do art projects in the family room, which was fine with me so long as it didn't involve paint or playdoh and they cleaned up the mess afterward. They asked if they could make a "cave" which was also fine. I assumed they were doing something with the couch cushions since those items almost never actually reside on the couch. It turns out that they were taping the art work to the walls to make the room look creepy and cave-like. Also ok as I have been known to tape artwork to the walls myself, particularly in the kitchen to hide all the holes and the stripes of potential paint colors.

But I have to draw the line on using a glue stick to put stuff on the wall. How the heck am I going to get that and its bonded orange construction paper off my pale blue wall? Honestly, if they had done it in the kitchen or the playroom (aka what most people use as a living/dining room) or the hallway I would have laughed and moved on. But they picked the family room. The room that we redid last year after removing the ugly 1960's paneling. The room that looks better than the whole rest of the house put together. The room that looks like grownups live here.

That last statement kept repeating in my head all night long. What does it mean to have a house that looks like kids live there? What does it mean to have a house that looks like grownups live there? Can the two exist in the same house at the same time or will that bend the space-time continuum?

I thought of all the houses I've been in lately. There are the houses where you know the instant you get inside, maybe even before, that kids live there. There are pictures on the refrigerator, little shoes littering the hallway, legos strewn around. There are the houses that look a bit neater but kid-evidence is still around in the form of bigger shoes, game systems and the like. There are the houses where you can guess that teens live because there are still bigger shoes, electronic devices, a chest freezer in an obvious place and lots of cars in the driveway.

Then there are the houses that have me totally stumped. I know kids live there because I've met them, spoken to them, maybe even followed them inside. But there is absolutely no evidence of them anywhere. It's like entering an alternate house universe. A house black hole. And the whole time I'm there I'm discreetly searching for the evidence. I'm looking for a fingerprint on the light switch. A cheerio under the couch cushion. A stray sock peeking out from somewhere. Something! Anything! I become this guy. ---> We've got ice creams and lollipops and candies, allllll free today! Where do they keep the kids and all their associated flotsam in these houses? I imagine a set of graduated nesting boxes marked "baby" "toddler" "little boy/girl" "bigger boy/girl" and "teenager". Are the kids just more well behaved and trained in these houses? Are they all neat freaks with touches of OCD? Maybe they have a full-time nanny and a separate wing for her and everyone under 18. And a housekeeper. What? Where? How?

And then I started thinking what if there were a house rating system? How would kids rate houses?

***** totally kid friendly. No holds barred, messes allowed, junk food all the time.

**** kid friendly. Some rules, some messes allowed, good snacks

*** kid acquainted. More rules, few messes allowed, ok snacks

** kids might have lived here once a long time ago. Lots of rules, very few messes allowed, snacks are of the disgustingly healthy variety

* Danger! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!

I think our house would rate 4 stars. Possibly 5 stars on some occasions. For the most part I don't mind being the kid friendly house in the family and possibly the neighborhood later on. You've got to be a grownup for an awfully long time so why not let the kids enjoy being kids for as long as possible? This is not to say that I'm going to abandon attempts to make my boys eat veggies, make sure they say please and thank you (even to the brother who's sitting on their head), tidy up and all that other good stuff. But I'm not going to let a spill or some paper scraps on the floor ruin our day. I'll figure out a way to get glue stick off the grownup wall. Because when all is said and done, I'd rather have a 4 star house than a 1 star house.

I'll just have to wait to have totally grownup house until the boys leave home. I'll be around 65 by then. I can live with that. I can enjoy it until whenever grandkids hopefully arrive and then I'm sure we'll be back to paper scraps and spills.

But I'm definitely going to hide all the glue sticks.

Grocery Shopping & Gender Differences

I forgot it was Super Bowl Sunday and went to the grocery store this afternoon. Not that I had any choice, all the cupboards were bare. And since there were many more men than usual in the grocery store, something I have noticed in the past became even more apparent. Maybe you've noticed it too? It seems that men and women grocery shop in very different ways. And I'm not talking about what's in the cart, I'm talking about the process. For instance:

Women wheel the cart around the aisles or carry the basket with them. Men leave the cart or the basket at the end of the aisle and carry armloads back and forth. (which can lead to an argument if you are shopping with your spouse and your purse or your child is in the cart)

Women wait in one place at the deli counter, trusting that the nice deli slicer person will remember our faces or our coat color and be able to find us again. Men follow the nice deli slicer person from slicer to slicer, up and down the counter. Women ask for "half a pound of Battistoni hard salami, sliced thin." Men point and ask for "half a pound of that."

Women use coupons. Men don't.

Women may or not follow a shopping list. Men, if they have been sent by their spouse, always have a list. And will still have to call home 3 times to ask for help finding the things on the list.

To be fair, you can substitute "Home Depot" for grocery store and reverse everything in favor of the men. Not that I intend to be stereotypical in any way, shape or form, you understand.