Monthly Archives: January 2011

Laundry Grows as The List Shrinks

Originally, when I had started this blog I had thought I would write every day. Why wouldn’t I? I never had an issue with finding ideas to talk about. But then it happened, I got busy. Yesterday, I was struck by a tornado of laundry. You see, I don’t ponder over the concept of never-ending laundry. I know why there are heaps of all different shades and colors even the day after I wash five loads. I have a severe case of the WWW‘s. You must Wash What’s Worn. I can’t help it I just don’t like when things are seen repeatedly.

And so, there are days lost to laundry. I am the creator of my own problems. I have a front loader washing machine, to make it even worse, and it takes a full day to do my laundry. Fill up the machine, pour in the detergent, switch on the power, and wait two hours. Throw it in the dryer, hang what cannot be dried and power it up. The cycle is endless. The laundry is always in separate hampers according to colors so it is easier on the day I decide to do nothing but that. A day reserved for the machine.

As I type, I look down at my shirt and I see about six large, dirty spots. I was about to say that this is the life when you have children. However, being that my children are either in school or sleeping right now who am I to blame. I know I can get away with the lie- we always put the guilt on those who can not defend themselves. Sounds awful in words but it is the truth. Right now I must accuse myself. I was online and eating at the same time. I am glad the runny sunny-side-up did not leak through the letters on the keyboard. Read the rest of this entry

Totally Outnumbered

There’s an unspoken rule in our home to keep at least one light on at all times. The house is a scary place in the dark. You never know what you will step on or who you will step on. You don’t ever want to run to the bathroom and step on one of those little matchbox cars. Trust me, your feet will never forgive you. There are balls, blocks, trucks, and even large riding toys. The toy companies make announcements every day to their staff and it goes as follows: “Men, this is a factory that manufactures toys for boys. They must, and I repeat, MUST all be sharp and painful to step on and should preferably come with wheels. That should take the parents for a ride. Oh, and we mustn’t forget. Create them all with no way to switch off their sounds. They should be loud and obnoxious and go on endlessly with songs, tunes, and all sorts of announcements.” I know, how sweet. But, at least they have our boys in mind.

I refuse to have those boys who have no concept what girls really are. I can’t stand that look that they give you like you are a foreign being. I have seen them lift up skirts with wonder. I try to introduce them to everything in my world, except for the anatomy part that I skip for now. Some day, just not now. My son showed me a panty liner and asked me what it was. I told him it was a liner. He just put it down and said, “Oh. Okay,” and continued on to his cars. He asked me what I was wearing under my shirt- now how can I explain that one. Well it was easy, and I told him it was a bra. And of course the questions must go on. Where is the fun if not? “So mommy, What IS a bra?” “It’s simple” I told him, “It is a shortened version of your undershirt. We don’t need as much coverage as you boys need.”

I try to use it to my advantage that we are so different. I want them to understand me to the best of their abilities. I can’t be alone. So I tell them how awesome (and hot, of course) us w Read the rest of this entry

Out of Control

You know those emotions and reactions that just pop out of you without your consent? Well for them we are going to have to stage an intervention.

Some of you guys I will allow to continuously surprise me because I find you quite amusing. When I’m so exhausted and I’m sitting in a public area and you make my head click to the side then roll into a tumble onto my shoulder, that’s okay. I get a kick out of it every time. It is a delicious wave of sleep that just rushes over. So, there is some uncontrollable drooling that my chin never asked for, but it feels good. Embarrassing, a tad, but still worth it. Keep on rocking.

However, the feelings and emotions that arise upon seeing an old crush or high school sweetheart. You guys have got to stop. Granted, it is sort of humorous and the sensations that overcome our entire bodies are a pleasurable  rush. But sometimes we don’t want public exposure of those things we would like to keep within. It’s when the red colors rush to  your cheeks and your heart falls to the bottom of your chest and then slaps onto the pavement. Read the rest of this entry

To Battle With the Fickle

“What in heaven’s name is wrong with you? Are you really that stupid? You sound so ignorant. I don’t even know why I am talking to you. You are a waste of time.” I am pretty sure that is what people hear when I talk to them. I am a screamer and I am terribly high-strung. I am so opinionated and will not budge from my ideas, that it bothers me sometimes. As a wise man, Shakespeare, once said, “Such as we are made of, such we be.” Anyhow, who is judging, right? They are. They all are.

I used to be pretty content with my arguments. It’s how I got through my days. I am a debater and I love information. However, lately it has gone downhill. I had several people who I enjoyed talking to and verbally fighting with. I guess they were belligerent and conceited like me. But they are no longer part of my life and I am deeply saddened by that. Where have all the fervent strong-minded people gone? We are left with hoards of fickle. They are in fact a fickle group of people, easily swayed by whoever is speaking.

People are no longer forming opinions from facts. The beliefs now consist of what people think should be thought. Now that doesn’t really help me when all I want to do is create a dispute and controversy. Sounds pretty sad, perhaps, but it keeps me on my toes. I learn new information from every argument. New ideas are revealed to me. I develop further assumptions.

Nowadays, debates consists of two phenomenons. Read the rest of this entry

To Feel Or Not To Feel

Ever notice how people feel the need to conceal their true feelings to others for the fear of being smitten? Let me explain. Strangely, people associate desire with sin. It is not always sin, you know. We are allowed to yearn, dream, and wish. It is part of being human and having the ability to have requests.We are entitled to feelings and emotions. Like I said, we are human. We can’t even prevent it most of the time.

I have met pregnant women who, upon being asked about whether they want a boy or a girl, answered faster than you can finish the question with a “I don’t care. As long as the baby is healthy.” Who ever said it is one or the other. You can have a preference. Obviously, if it was an option of a healthy child and the sex you don’t care very much for, and an unhealthy child with the sex you do care for, most definitely you would choose the healthy. Just because there are couples out there that are not so lucky to be blessed with children, does not leave you at fault for longing for a son or a daughter. You have nothing to do with them. You are you and they are them. Women suddenly become saints and have no wishes. They feel like they must respond as such or they would be viewed as a cruel and heartless creature.

I have asked women how their birth experience was. Liars. I must tell you they are liars. Not all, but most. They start babbling  endlessly how amazing and wonderful. That the pain was exhilarating and when they saw their baby it was all suddenly worth it. The experience was beyond words. They were in a total place of zen and just sang softly to themselves. It was truly an extraordinary event. But was it painful? No. Nothing I could not handle. It was just amazing. Read the rest of this entry

The Sheet got the Crunchies

You know, I am a huge fan of leaves. I love when they are on the trees and blowing in the wind and I love when they are turning all different shades of colors. But most of all, I like when they are dead. As morbid as that just came out, I mean it. I am one of those weird people who walk zigzagging on the street to make sure that each foot steps on a crunchy leaf. Yup. Just like when you were a kid and needed to step from line to line on the sidewalk.

Now although that sound is quite fabulous, the dead pine-cone takes the cake. If I had to be carried all the time until there was a pine-cone in sight, I would. Ahh. That smashing, crunching, crisp, cracking sound. It really takes me to a special place.  I dream of a bed of dry leaves…

Then, running only slightly behind those, are my other two favorites. The sound when you glide your ice skate into a T-stop. That scraping-the-ice sound as you come to a complete halt. Truly a remarkable sound. Then, last but not least, one I try to create every day. The sizzling pop of freshly cut onions thrown into a skillet of hot butter. What can be better.

However, as exceptional as the sound may be, I was not prepared for it this morning. I was forced to change the linen in the childrens’ bedroom. By forced I mean that my four-year-old informed me that the linen needed to be changed. How many options did I have then. So I pulled out some sheets from the closet and I really must have not changed the linen in decades. I tried to slip the corners onto the mattress but I could not concentrate above the crunching. My sheets got the crunchies. The elastic was so far gone that it crackled and popped till it turned into a flat sheet.

So now my one skill that was giving me hope in the world was dented. Great. I don’t change the linen enough. What kind of mom leaves the linen deteriorating in the closet. Shame.

Now that sound, I did not like at all. My sheets are no longer fitted and they think that the winter has arrived and they must spread their wings. I must set them free. It’s what I must do to compensate for all the time I cooped them up on the shelf.

Another talent bites the dust.

Brains to Ashes

So I am wondering what happens when you overload your brain. I am experiencing these symptoms and now I am screwed. If I was burnt out- do my brains ever revive or do they turn to ashes. Or perhaps is it just like brain freeze. Like a temporary vacation or sabbatical. I am hoping the latter. I am just going to think of it as a beauty rest.

Now the one test to get me into colleges had to be too much for my brain. I know where that leaves me now. Not in college. I can tell you that much. Such a short course, who ever knew it can do such serious damage. I used to be stressed out and take practice tests and worry and ponder. Now, I just sit and stare at the tests. I am utterly and completely calm and fixated on the words themselves. I get stuck on the first question. I am pretty sure it even looks like I am gazing at it lovingly.

This is not a good start for a job hunt. I need college. Nowadays everyone needs college. You need papers for it all, even the slightest and pathetic of jobs. You can have papers that have nothing to do with the profession but it doesn’t matter. You want to be the cashier? Oh, I am so sorry ma’am. We took the girl ahead of you. I know she is only 18 and has no prior experience but she got the papers. I don’t care if you were doing this for 20 years, she is educated and has her blah blah degree.

Amazing. These kids are straight out of high-school and they manage to be doctors and lawyers. I don’t know, but in my days, we were happy if kids made it through school. Now they not only sit through school but they also get accredited for just sitting there. Not only that, they manage to take all these side courses and can be doctors and 22. Crazy day of age. I am not jealous or anything.

You know… I am a mom. I got skills. Whatever.

Man Vs Woman

I am all for equal rights to men and women and I believe women should work and need to work. We can do their role, however, I am pretty sure they can not do ours. I have heard it countless times too many. “I can be a stay at home mom and I would be perfect at the job. I even believe the house would run much smoother than when you do it. Why don’t you go to work instead of me.” These are the words of the naive and ignorant men.

Some days I just want to write a list of all the things I did in the house so someone, even if it has to be me, would notice. Sometimes I just want to make special billboards for myself congratulating myself for being the most exceptional mom and housewife. But I don’t. So we remain quiet and we allow the men to keep believing that we do nothing at all.

I love how they honestly believe that they would do a better job. The only person I would never allow to switch roles is my husband. He may be right. Him out of all the men out there may, to my annoyance, can do a better job than me. And that is why I will never let it happen. I would rather work and hire a sitter and not tell him so that he continues working and believing that I am at home being awesome.

You mean to tell me that men would actually sweep behind couches, under beds, and in the corners of the ceiling. Oh right. Why do you have to do things like that. No one is inspecting the corners… Read the rest of this entry

Hang In There Folks

I am desperately trying to figure out how to use this site to make my blog’s appearance viewable. So kindly be patient and wait for my wondrous chef d’ivoire to come together.

“html_issues>”

…And so I begin.

The site is still falling into place and may possibly change day by day. Every day I wonder what I will do over the day besides being a mom and a wife. Today, I am trying to be a blog designer. I am pretty much the most uneducated blogger ever to cross the internet. Trust me. Two left hands. I don’t know who my audience is and I assume there is none at the moment and I have no one to gear my conversations to. However, I will attempt to write at every chance to find those people.

I have no idea how to do html’s and honestly don’t even know how to pluralize the word. There are few websites that I have not yet visited and so there is more to do today in my goal to become a professional blog designer. Loads of little half triangles and quotations and numbers and periods and commas and slashes and dashes. And as endless as the latter sentence- is how endless these html’s look to me. I assume people learn what each one stands for, but at the moment I don’t have a clue. Read the rest of this entry