Bossy Booty

I tell my kids to do things all the time… All day, every day, the poor dears. Sometimes I explain the reasons for my constant bossing, sometimes I don’t, but I started thinking about the “real” reasons behind some of my decrees, and I wondered… What if I was completely honest with my kids about the reasons I make them do things?

Dishwasher Roulette

I’m not exactly what you would call the ideal stay at home Mom.

The taking good care of my kids part, I have that down, but the rest of it is iffy at best.

To be honest, I can barely keep up with the stuff I have to do during the day… It takes about double the time it should to do everything because of the constant interruptions of, “Mo-oooom, can you get me _____?” or “Mo-oooom, Daisy’s messing with my stuff!!!” or “Mo-oooom, Sunny’s being mean to me!!!”.  By the time I actually do manage to complete one of my projects around here, I turn around and it has been very carefully and precisely demolished so that it’s as if I did nothing at all. My kids (with the help of their six foot tall accomplice), have destroying my house down to an exact science… A system so organized and efficient that NASA should be studying it.

I’ve been staying at home for a little over four years now, and for some reason have yet to master the ins and outs of maintaining the cleanliness of my household. Instead, it is in a constant flux between total chaos and perfect tidiness. To my credit, the tidiness is holding steady at a 60% majority most of the time, and the chaos isn’t dirty, just chaos-y… That should count for something, right?  (As a side note, why do I always have unexpected visitors when my house is in its chaos phase? Why??? It is usually clean!  Are all people built with filth sensors that allow them to tell when a lady least wants them to drop in???)

Anyway, though I’ve never really figured out the whole “domestic engineering” thing, I have managed to create a system in which it seems like I’m doing it right… Yes indeed, I have somehow managed to convince my husband that I actually know what I’m doing around here! 

These are just a few of my handy little hints:

One of my little tricks is something I like to call Dishwasher Roulette.  Dishwasher Roulette is a game in which you put something that didn’t get quite clean in the dishwasher away anyway.  You are, in effect, playing the odds that you won’t be the one who ends up getting the “bullet” of stuck on egg or raisin bran that didn’t come off in the wash.  Oh, don’t judge me! It’s clean dirt (as my very own mother used to say)! This game also serves the purpose of delaying the time in which you actually have to wash the dish, thereby allowing you to have a cupboard of “clean” dishes and sparkly clean counter top!

No matter what time of day your husband happens to come home from work, always, and I mean ALWAYS be standing up.  When that man walks through the door, you better never be sitting down. In the unlikely event that you are, in fact, sitting down (this is just a crazy hypothetical, because in real life your children will never actually allow your butt to remain on a surface for more than three seconds before they need something), be sure to sit somewhere near a window so you can see him drive up.  This gives you plenty of time to rush around looking busy as hell when he walks in the door. 

Make sure to tell the man in your life how incredibly stressed out you are all the time.  Oh, I know, he doesn’t really like hearing it, but he needs to understand what a damn cakewalk going to work is in comparison to what you’re doing everyday. I would freaking kill for the chance to wander around talking to adults and getting something accomplished during the day!!! I suggest letting your hair actually literally stand on end sometimes so as to give him a visual representation of your mental state.

When your children have reached a pinnacle of grouchiness for the day, invent a reason to go on an emergency grocery store run.  This will give your husband a little taste of what your life as a stay at home Mom is like, and also give you a few minutes of blessed peace.  Also, he will be amazed by the fact that you were actually able to get the bathroom cleaned and not focus on the fact that the living room is covered in tiny pairs of underpants, broken crayons, and breakfast dishes.

Listen, I don’t always have time to fold laundry.  In fact, I rarely have time to fold laundry.  Instead of actually keeping up with this menial task (which, incidentally, I completely DESPISE!!!), I just make sure there is always clean underwear in the drawers, a couple of outfits, and a lovely heaping laundry basket full of clean clothes.  That’s right, your favorite pair of socks may not be in your drawer where it belongs, but it is clean and waiting for you at the bottom of the clean clothes basket.  Just a little gumption, a little elbow grease, and a lot of luck, and you’ll have that pair of socks on your feet in no time!!!

Well my friends, I hope you’ve enjoyed the blog this week, and I truly apologize for the delay!!!

Have a wonderful week, and may the socks of joy always be perched at the very top of your laundry pile of life!!!

P.S. Please leave me comments, I love them so very much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.P.S. Preview of next week: Special Anniversary Edition!!!

The Whys

As I was sitting down to write my little blog, all about a subject of earth-shattering importance (and sure to be the best one yet), I made a mistake.

A rookie mistake, we call it in the Mothering business.

I checked on my daughter.

Everyone knows that if you’re trying to accomplish something, you don’t check on a child that is quietly playing in their room. Whatever horrible thing they are most certainly doing is in all likelihood not life-threatening but will definitely derail whatever track you are on to accomplishing your task.

Yes, a rookie mistake.

I noticed the eerie silence as soon as I sat down to type, and against my better judgement got up to investigate. My four year old was, oddly enough, sitting still and watching a movie, but my nine year old… Well, my nine year old was up to something.

The second I poked my head in her door, I noticed something was amiss. She instantly hunched over as close to the ground as she could get.

Now, I’m not saying that I’m a freaking bloodhound when it comes to finding out what my kids are up to, but… Well, actually I am. I will catch the scent of some mischief from a mile away and follow the trail all the way back to where one of my children has inexplicably emptied an entire new bottle of shampoo into the tub. That’s how good I am. I’m like the Columbo of trouble except I work faster and both my eyes look the same direction.

“Sit up a second, Sunny.” “Why?” “Um, Sunny, you need to sit up right now.” “I don’t want to.” “Sunny. Sit. Up. Now.”

I knew it. I KNEW IT!!! The second she sat up, I realized that she had hacked off half of her hair. Half of her beautiful, blonde, halfway down her back, thick, glorious hair.

The hair that we had been growing out for about three years, since the last time she decided to do some self-barbering.

I’m not ashamed to say it, I instantly burst into tears. Okay, actually I am sort of ashamed.

She looks insane. Literally. She looks like one of those crazy ladies with psycho hair that is sitting in front of the mirror putting lipstick all over their face and saying, “pretty, pretty!”

Like this lady.

Anybody who knows me knows that hair is a big deal to me. Not my own hair, I could give a crap about my own hair, but my kid’s hair. I braid it or fix it up cute every single day. I love playing with it and making it fancy and were it left up to me, both of them would have hair down to their waist.

I cried off and on about it for an hour. I’m sort of okay now. Sort of. Thank God I was able to get her in for an emergency haircut tonight… Though honestly, I’m not sure there’s any hope. Is bald the “in” thing this season? For her sake, I certainly hope so.

There is a pile of beautiful, shiny, golden hair sitting on my counter right now that I don’t want to throw away. Can they just re-attach it??? Okay, that’s ridiculous. I just can’t believe this, seriously. I’m going through the first stage of grief, I guess… Denial.

Of course, my first question after “the incident” was “WHY???” Just why??? I mean, seriously, why??? Why would you do that??? Why??? I just. I don’t. I just wanna know why.

There was no answer.

But there never really is, is there?

In my career as a Mom, spanning lo these 9 1/2 years, that is the one lesson I’ve learned.

All the random cutting of window screens, making potions out of my brand new Moroccan hair oil, writing on the wall… There is no answer to the universal “WHY???” There is no, “Mom, I wrote on the wall because I was seeking negative attention.” There is only, “I dunno.” Seriously??? You don’t know??? “I dunno.”

And that, my friends, is why I shall most likely remain perched on the brink of insanity for my daughter’s entire childhood.

We got her hair fixed this evening, but she looks a bit… How do I put this delicately? Well, she kinda looks like Joe Dirt. I don’t know what to do about it, her hair is so short I can’t even braid the front to make it cute… I guess I’m going to have to just breathe, let it go, and make a point of telling everyone I see or meet in the first sentence, “She did this to herself ya know!!!”

Yeah, that’s normal.

I hope you have a wonderful week my friends, and may the kitchen shears of this life never touch the golden hairs of your sanity!!!