Ah, Friday. The day of sleep in. The day the kids, in theory, should quietly sneak from their beds and go downstairs to quietly watch TV and quietly eat a nutritious breakfast of cereal and milk. Friday. The day the dogs are let out and fed without an adult reminding children of their duties. QUIETLY!
My Friday.
6:00 am. Kids rough housing in their rooms. Dogs barking to be let out. Dogs running into my room on their crazy eight path. Kids shrieking to get the dogs rebounding faster until they jump on my bed and mistake me for a pillow.
6:15 am. Kids have new mission to let dogs outside!!! and to feed them and leave mama alone.
6:17 am. Loud argument from children over Scooby vs Spongebob.
6:18am. Disturbing crash from kitchen
6:20am. Loud argument inter sped with, "NO WAY, YOU clean it up!"
6:28 am. Shrill screaming and the call, "COYOTE", "COYOTE IN THE YARD"
6:29 am. Me: where? Kids: (random screaming, dogs barking) Me:I can't shoot it if I can't find it!!
6:31 am. Coyote location identified. Go to window. Nice puppy, not a coyote.
6:32 am. Put rifle away and crawl back in bed.
6:35 am. Try to sleep. Boy child jumps on my bed and says that it was William who did all the screaming. Children given instructions to get dressed and do chores.
6:38 am. Children run upstairs and get dressed with the subtly of a herd of bison in a thunderstorm.
6:45 am. House is quiet.
6:46 am. WHACK, THUMP (metallic clump)
6:47 am. Repeat
6:48 am. Get up and go to garage. Disrupt baseball game being played in garage.
6:50 am. House quiet.
6:51 am. SQUEAL thump. Cheer. Squeal thump.
6:53 am. Go downstairs and disrupt soccer game in garage. Stomp feet, make inarticulate noises and point meaningfully at barn.
6:55. Kids do chores.
7:07. Mom. Hey Mom. Mom. Are you awake?
sigh.
And how was your day?
Friday, May 13, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
In a dither
So long between posts, I have no excuse. I have reasons, which really don't qualify, but are there, nonetheless!
I learned to knit, which when learning anything new, has become something of an obsession. New legwarmers have replaced soccer socks for Caitlyn. I am working on a new stitch on a scarf and, wait for it, I am rocking some circular needles in an attempt to make a Harry Potter hat. There is a great book, found here, that is all projects inspired by good old HP.
I have been totally amazed by the creativity and complexity. I have been scared, cowering away from them, but compelled to desire them all the same! As my lovely friend Annie has said, that's conquerable! Mostly because I think she figured out if she said, oh that's easy, I was going to take delight in putting one of my DPN through her eye.
I have also been up to my eyeballs in kids stuff. Yes, it is the glamorous (cough cough) stuff that fills my usual blogs, baseball, soccer, and animals. We had a wonderful soccer season and are in the middle of our baseball season. Animal season never ends!
So, my life in pictures:
And how was your day?
I learned to knit, which when learning anything new, has become something of an obsession. New legwarmers have replaced soccer socks for Caitlyn. I am working on a new stitch on a scarf and, wait for it, I am rocking some circular needles in an attempt to make a Harry Potter hat. There is a great book, found here, that is all projects inspired by good old HP.
I have been totally amazed by the creativity and complexity. I have been scared, cowering away from them, but compelled to desire them all the same! As my lovely friend Annie has said, that's conquerable! Mostly because I think she figured out if she said, oh that's easy, I was going to take delight in putting one of my DPN through her eye.
I have also been up to my eyeballs in kids stuff. Yes, it is the glamorous (cough cough) stuff that fills my usual blogs, baseball, soccer, and animals. We had a wonderful soccer season and are in the middle of our baseball season. Animal season never ends!
And how was your day?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Sublime to the Ridiculous
I had the honor of attending the meeting dinner for the Roosevelt County Electric Co-op. James won first place for second graders in the coloring contest and we were invited.
We started off by signing in and claiming our raffle ticket to the door prizes, something that, sadly, was of no further use to us.
A very traditional High Plains spread was laid out in a buffet and then we proceeded to find places in the main ballroom. Some of you may be wondering what exactly is a traditional High Plains meal. Sadly, light cuisine is not one of our qualities as a community. The fare was heavy on starch (which I am trying to be cautious of) with chicken fried steak and white gravy. It is the food of a working family, substance to stick to you during long hours of heavy work. Folks here still have living memories of the Dust Bowl and hardship, of homesteaders and boom towns. For the generations who settled here, a hearty appetite was a requirement.
The dining room was almost surreal. So many people that looked alike. Tall, weathered men with faint tan lines across their brows sat next to bright eyed women who were quick to speak and quicker to laugh. They are all working people with calouses on their hands, muscles worn from the hard work that still moves the community.
They all look alike. Why, why do they all look alike? Because in our community, they are our everything. Across was a "neighbor", meaning closer than five miles. Down the table was one of our teachers. Across the room was members of our church. Sunday school teachers and babysitters. Linemen and dairymen.
All of the people that make up our day to day lives. Sadly, I can't name you the Supreme Court, but I could name some of the Co-op board because they are part of my daily life.
We enjoyed the dinner, heavy fare in all. Looking down the table, the light struck the ever present tea glasses and they all glowed. It looked as if the tables were lit by hundreds of amber candles.
Then, as you will find only in the heart of America, we bowed our heads in public prayer. We asked the Lord to bless our food and send the rains. We asked God to bless our fire fighters that we were so grateful for, and to continue to steer us in our daily efforts. The flag was brought in and we, as a group, stood for the presenting of the colors and the Pledge of Allegiance. No one protested, and if none participated, they weren't chided.
My children were so well behaved, models of manners and patience. It was a long dinner, with many honorable mentions and speeches. The poster winners were called and James proudly stood, and then stood on his chair when he realized no one could see him. He was proud to claim his certificate and T-shirt. No other honor was needed.
I realized as we left, a flood of well fed citizens, I must look familiar, too.
The Ridiculous:
On Sunday, I had the honor of spending almost twenty dollars on Easter baskets being auctioned by our Missions Committee. It was a silent auction. I had bid on a gardening basket. I lost. Then why did I write out a check and walk to my car with seven baskets? Because my children all know how to write their names. Never, ever explain how a silent auction works to children.
And how was your day?
We started off by signing in and claiming our raffle ticket to the door prizes, something that, sadly, was of no further use to us.
A very traditional High Plains spread was laid out in a buffet and then we proceeded to find places in the main ballroom. Some of you may be wondering what exactly is a traditional High Plains meal. Sadly, light cuisine is not one of our qualities as a community. The fare was heavy on starch (which I am trying to be cautious of) with chicken fried steak and white gravy. It is the food of a working family, substance to stick to you during long hours of heavy work. Folks here still have living memories of the Dust Bowl and hardship, of homesteaders and boom towns. For the generations who settled here, a hearty appetite was a requirement.
The dining room was almost surreal. So many people that looked alike. Tall, weathered men with faint tan lines across their brows sat next to bright eyed women who were quick to speak and quicker to laugh. They are all working people with calouses on their hands, muscles worn from the hard work that still moves the community.
They all look alike. Why, why do they all look alike? Because in our community, they are our everything. Across was a "neighbor", meaning closer than five miles. Down the table was one of our teachers. Across the room was members of our church. Sunday school teachers and babysitters. Linemen and dairymen.
All of the people that make up our day to day lives. Sadly, I can't name you the Supreme Court, but I could name some of the Co-op board because they are part of my daily life.
We enjoyed the dinner, heavy fare in all. Looking down the table, the light struck the ever present tea glasses and they all glowed. It looked as if the tables were lit by hundreds of amber candles.
Then, as you will find only in the heart of America, we bowed our heads in public prayer. We asked the Lord to bless our food and send the rains. We asked God to bless our fire fighters that we were so grateful for, and to continue to steer us in our daily efforts. The flag was brought in and we, as a group, stood for the presenting of the colors and the Pledge of Allegiance. No one protested, and if none participated, they weren't chided.
My children were so well behaved, models of manners and patience. It was a long dinner, with many honorable mentions and speeches. The poster winners were called and James proudly stood, and then stood on his chair when he realized no one could see him. He was proud to claim his certificate and T-shirt. No other honor was needed.
I realized as we left, a flood of well fed citizens, I must look familiar, too.
The Ridiculous:
On Sunday, I had the honor of spending almost twenty dollars on Easter baskets being auctioned by our Missions Committee. It was a silent auction. I had bid on a gardening basket. I lost. Then why did I write out a check and walk to my car with seven baskets? Because my children all know how to write their names. Never, ever explain how a silent auction works to children.
And how was your day?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Lament of the Cleaners
My kids are basically good kids. We have no major behavioral issues. We have no pathological lying, no stealing, no tantrums. We are blessed not to have anger issues. We have four children who truly get along and enjoy each other's company.
So why, for the love of little green apples. would something as simple as cleaning a room cause so much strife and anguish.
Sure, the twins haven't actually hung up clean clothes for the last week. Yes, it sits in a corner of the closet, next to a Santa hat and a lone shin guard. Sure, Conner stacks all of his clothes on the lower hang bar and if there is no more room for more, he simply throws it over the bar. Of course his toy box is empty but there is a stack of toys on top of it.
Yes, my boys are a bit of slobs. I think that is some what expected. Boys don't really care what they look like. I do have one son with a love of clip on ties. And boy, will he wear them with anything! But no one really expects boys to be neat freaks. It is well documented that (with a few exceptions) most males of the species aren't fully house trained until marriage.
So this brings us to the un-named member of this blog. That would be my daughter, also known as Miss Chif. When she comes down the stairs, she is in matching clothes, accessorized to within an inch.
She has a stable of hats, belts, earrings and other items that match and highlight her outfits, hair and eyes.
So imagine my complete shock when I went into her room to drop off towels. The bed was tossed, there were at least seven outfits on the floor (am I to guess rejects?), there was dirty laundry under the bed, a half eaten cookie and shoes. Dear Lord, there were shoes everywhere!
How does she come out of that room looking so good? Haz Mat should be called in before the whole room reaches critical mass and goes super nova!
So I gingerly put the towels in her bathroom (another frightening zone) and tip toed around her room. I peaked into her closet. I am sorry to say that I will likely need therapy for post traumatic stress.
I gathered all, and I mean all of her discarded clothes and made a giant pile on her bed. I disposed of the Valentines candy (note, it is in March now).
Then I left a supply of laundry baskets, trash bags and bathroom cleaners and I walked out.
I do believe we have reached the point where I am not needed to step in and do the work. We are beyond the point where I am needed to sit and point out one item after another that needs put away.
Caitlyn came how to my wrath. I explained the mess, my disappointment and then I offered her the final straw.
"If you fail to keep your room and clothing neat, there will be no spring clothes. No summer clothes. You will spend summer in cut off jeans and boy t-shirts."
She turned green. Tears welled into her eyes. She stammered several excuses that bounced off my new armor and fell away. I pointed to the mountain of clothes and walked out of the room.
I went downstairs to fold more laundry. I could here sniffling, crying and a frustrated monologue. I felt a great deal of satisfaction. I had pierced the tween facade of maturity, I had proven that I could stick by a plan and mean it.
I folded the laundry and then pulled out a sale catalog from Landsend. Man, they have the cutest girl summer clothes.
And how was your day?
So why, for the love of little green apples. would something as simple as cleaning a room cause so much strife and anguish.
Sure, the twins haven't actually hung up clean clothes for the last week. Yes, it sits in a corner of the closet, next to a Santa hat and a lone shin guard. Sure, Conner stacks all of his clothes on the lower hang bar and if there is no more room for more, he simply throws it over the bar. Of course his toy box is empty but there is a stack of toys on top of it.
Yes, my boys are a bit of slobs. I think that is some what expected. Boys don't really care what they look like. I do have one son with a love of clip on ties. And boy, will he wear them with anything! But no one really expects boys to be neat freaks. It is well documented that (with a few exceptions) most males of the species aren't fully house trained until marriage.
So this brings us to the un-named member of this blog. That would be my daughter, also known as Miss Chif. When she comes down the stairs, she is in matching clothes, accessorized to within an inch.
She has a stable of hats, belts, earrings and other items that match and highlight her outfits, hair and eyes.
So imagine my complete shock when I went into her room to drop off towels. The bed was tossed, there were at least seven outfits on the floor (am I to guess rejects?), there was dirty laundry under the bed, a half eaten cookie and shoes. Dear Lord, there were shoes everywhere!
How does she come out of that room looking so good? Haz Mat should be called in before the whole room reaches critical mass and goes super nova!
So I gingerly put the towels in her bathroom (another frightening zone) and tip toed around her room. I peaked into her closet. I am sorry to say that I will likely need therapy for post traumatic stress.
I gathered all, and I mean all of her discarded clothes and made a giant pile on her bed. I disposed of the Valentines candy (note, it is in March now).
Then I left a supply of laundry baskets, trash bags and bathroom cleaners and I walked out.
I do believe we have reached the point where I am not needed to step in and do the work. We are beyond the point where I am needed to sit and point out one item after another that needs put away.
Caitlyn came how to my wrath. I explained the mess, my disappointment and then I offered her the final straw.
"If you fail to keep your room and clothing neat, there will be no spring clothes. No summer clothes. You will spend summer in cut off jeans and boy t-shirts."
She turned green. Tears welled into her eyes. She stammered several excuses that bounced off my new armor and fell away. I pointed to the mountain of clothes and walked out of the room.
I went downstairs to fold more laundry. I could here sniffling, crying and a frustrated monologue. I felt a great deal of satisfaction. I had pierced the tween facade of maturity, I had proven that I could stick by a plan and mean it.
I folded the laundry and then pulled out a sale catalog from Landsend. Man, they have the cutest girl summer clothes.
And how was your day?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
GIVE AWAY!
Spread the word! On my "work" blog, I will be giving away fabric!
Here is a link!
Fabric Giveaway!
Win fabulous brand new Amy Butler Fabric!!!
Tell a friend!
Here is a link!
Fabric Giveaway!
Win fabulous brand new Amy Butler Fabric!!!
Tell a friend!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
If the shoe fits......
Basketball. Just the name conjures the image of large shouldered men running with squeaky shoes. Fade to black and cut to reality.....first and second graders (and Conner, yes I lied just a teensy bit to get him on the team) and uniforms too large and lots of traveling.
My boys are playing basketball for the first time since preschool. They love it and I love to go to the games. It is almost like a playdate for mommies. I see most of my friends and it is great to catch up on people! The kids play a slightly different version of the game. It has some different rules that help them learn and let them develop skills, all in all, a whole lot of fun.
Then I looked closely at my boys. William was doing fine, except for not wanting to be overly aggressive and hurt anyone, which is almost a shame considering his size!
Then there is James, and as I watched him run down the court, I thought, why do his feet remind me of clowns? I hate clowns. They are evil and only exist to eat your brains when you are asleep.
Slap, slap, slap. That was the sound he made as he ran. It dawned on me, his shoes are way to big. He is funny that way, and apparently he had latched onto a pair of sneakers from his large footed cousin.
Then I looked over at Conner (as he had a blond moment and forgot where to watch). He was wearing mock hiking boots. With mismatched socks.
Really?
Really.
So, the game ends in victory ( and at one point the boys were making shots and catching the rebounds and tossing and the ball got stuck between the hoop and the backboard. Dad got it on video, I'll post it later! Classic!) and the boys coming running over the throw themselves at me with incredible effort. I staggered under the weight of Conner. Dang, what does that boy eat?
"We need to go and buy some shoes."
Or as my husband says, "Dear Lord, just take them and get them shoes!"
So, we head to Walmart. To buy shoes. With a six year old and eight year old. Who hate to shop.
When we get in, and they make the obligatory check on the Coinstar machine, we head into a very crowded Walmart. I guess, being right before Valentine's day, there were last minute shoppers. Whatever, move over love birds, we are on a mission.
We go into the shoe aisle and start. They both insist on no laces, Velcro only. Damn, kids today have it rough. We head to the clearance rack because I am cheap! Let's face it, by next week, these shoes won't fit, why on earth would I spend 30 to 40 on shoes when I can go clearance for 7 to 10? Hello?
So we start pulling out various sizes. I honestly didn't know what size they were. I mean really, I am a Mom of four. I aim for clean underwear, homework complete and a correct headcount at bedtime. I have a vague idea of sizes, but they have reached an age where they have to be with me!
Conner starts bugging James by handing him pink Barbie Fairy shoes. James throws a pair of ballet flats at Conner. I grab ears and haul them to wear I see some sporty non lace sneakers. On sale, thank you very much.
Apparently I have been entirely neglectful in my mothering duties (come on, really, who hasn't been there!). Conner is now convinced that if it isn't a size too small, it is too big. I hunt him down some size 12. All sizes are there, but 12. As I start to paw through the racks, the smell hits me.
James is trying on shoes. Fine. But OH MY STARRY HEAVENS!! The smell is pungent and redolent of sweat and that peculiar funk known only to boys.
The clerk that is stocking is swallowing convulsively. My eyes are watering.
"James, you a size 4?" "yes" "great, here are your new shoes, but the old ones BACK ON."
I have to admit that last one came out as a loud hiss.
Conner starts to sing the "you have stinky feet" song and James throws some sparkly mary janes at him. I pull James aside and send him on a mission to find one more pair of size four clearance shoes.
I turn aside to Conner and drag him from the light up shoes. I am NOT paying an extra ten dollars so that my son can wear out an LED shoe light by jumping up in down in a closet!
Conner pulls off his shoes and I swear the world lurched to a halt, gagged and the continued.
The clerk stocking was suddenly incredibly helpful to find us shoes to fit Conner. She searched several aisles in rapid succession and produced two pairs of discount shoes in a size 12. I think we seared out her nasal passages.
I grabbed the boys, old shoes in place, new shoes in hand.
We went to the check out and I braved the self check line. As it turns out, Conner had fallen in love with the only other pair of size 12 shoes. They were light up. While I won't pay an extra 10 for light ups, it turns out I will pay an extra 5. So sue me.
I think the shoe lady was seriously happy to see the back of us.
I am also certain she brought out an industrial strength air freshener.
Little does she know, I have Haz Mat gear to clean their closets.
And how was your day?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
On this Day....
Oh, Lord, on this day:
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be Fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,
but for the Heart to conquer it.
Let me not look for allies in life's battlefields,
but to my own Strength.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the Patience to win my freedom.
Grant that I am not be a coward in Your Mercy in my success alone,
but let me find the grasp of Your hand in my failure.
--Tagore
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be Fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain,
but for the Heart to conquer it.
Let me not look for allies in life's battlefields,
but to my own Strength.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the Patience to win my freedom.
Grant that I am not be a coward in Your Mercy in my success alone,
but let me find the grasp of Your hand in my failure.
--Tagore
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