P.S.

Spring cleaning stalled out.  It stalled out hard.  However, there is a BOGO sale on paint starting tomorrow, and I have colors picked out, so I'd better get rolling on getting the place cleaned!

Nostalgia. Again.

Once upon a time, my dad would make pancakes every Saturday morning in his PJs (read: underwear) with Huey Lewis or Phil Collins on the radio.  Between mixing ingredients, shoo-ing me away from stealing licks of batter, and flipping hubcap-sized pancakes from one golden side to the other, he'd do the world's most ridiculous, overblown version of the "butter churn" dance you've ever seen.  It. Was. Epic.

I saw this video today, and it reminded me so much of those mornings that I could almost smell the sweet, toasty scent of his pancakes:

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Happy Tuesday!

Spring Cleaning

Spring officially starts on Friday.  My weather app has a big, fat snowflake next to Saturday, so I thought I'd take a peek at AccuWeather... they agree.

"Weather" or not Spring is going to cooperate, my Spring cleaning itch has hit with full force.  This is a tad surprising for me, because I'm currently battling a miserable cold.  My head is stuffed and pounding, my body is begging for a day of nothing but water and rest, but my nerves and brain are screaming to take a bulldozer to each room in a seemingly never ending effort to purge and simplify.

There is no middle ground here.

I started cleaning today.

I have it all mapped out, too.  Starting with the room furthest from the ultimate goal (the car for donations or the trash), at a pace of one room every one or two days, this house will see the end of clutter by the end of next week, so help me!

Coming at you as I progress will be before and after pictures.  I have to know that I had it all together at one point, right?

I'm also going to take notes of all improvements that need to be made as I go.  I can say, off the top of my head, that all baseboards and doors need repainting, and the wall over my bed needs patching, thanks to a certain toddler who stabbed it with a pencil because he was bored.  Ugh.

Maybe I should just lie down with a big glass of water.

I Have It All Together... Until I Don't

I woke up this morning at 6 a.m. to hit the road for a speed walking session with my sister-in-law, got the ironing board and iron set up for my husband, assembled lunches for my SIL and my husband, made breakfast and coffee, enjoyed my breakfast and coffee while it was still hot (so rare!!!), tended to the baby's diaper and breakfast needs, cubed a cantaloupe, then sat for a minute and whimsically decided that downstairs would get a deep clean treatment and laundry would be folded and put away in a timely manner since I'm caught up on all of the washing and drying as of last night.  Dotted through this would be supermom sessions of homeschooling in which my kids would diligently learn and enthusiastically recite their lessons.  All of this before 8 a.m.

Some days, I really think I have it together!

But then, true to form, Lady Reality swooped in with her billy club of truth and hit me upside my head in a way that was sobering and sickening.  On my schedule, I picked today to do our taxes.

Just like that, the Disney-like feeling of dancing sunshine and helpful woodland creatures was crushed by the anvil of government stuffs.  I can see clearly their mangled cartoon bodies broken and twisted as the life is crushed out of them... and my soul doth empathize.

I already have episodes of white hot rage when I see how they scalp my husband's paycheck every month (nearly 20%!!!), but now I get to deal with ridiculous codes and regulations and write-offs to see what pathetic amount they oh-so-graciously give back or, in the state's case, how much we still owe.  In order for this to happen, Hurricane Louis must be kept happy and fed with minimal help from me (I get unreasonably cranky when interrupted during tax time), the baby must be kept happy and fed (thank the Lord God that he's got a decent array of table foods that he likes, so boob time will be minimal), and the three older kids have to take charge of the bare minimum chores that must be done to keep me from going insane.  As filler, the TV will likely be doing a decent amount of babysitting today.

Maybe I can grasp desperately at the supermom homeschooling aspect if I make sure the TV is nothing but Discovery Channel programs on human history, space, and rain forests.  That counts, right?

It's times like these that I like to let my eyes glaze over and think about what we could do with the return money.  A weekend trip to New England or Myrtle Beach?  New flooring?  New bedding for the whole family?  A wardrobe update?  Paining the house?  Framing that picture I bought for John years ago?

Ah, here comes Lady Reality again.  She looks like she's going to enjoy this particular attack.  BOOM.  Oh, that's right, we'll be needing a newer car very shortly.  We still have student loans to pay off.  The flashing on the left side of the roof needs to be reattached.  We need a bigger fridge and a new dryer.  If we're lucky, any return will help lessen the blow.  We'll see.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh...  Well, I guess I'd better get to it then.  It isn't going to be any less soul-crushing if I wait any longer.

Edit: It's finished.  It took me two hours, including a break to feed the kids and myself.  I ordered pizza for them and I had some chopped chicken in broccoli slaw.  Now I want beer and a cheesecake.  But at least it's done. The Feds were kinder to us this year.  And, for once, the state owes us! One singular dollar.  High roller, over here!

Hey Dad, This One's For You

I keep this blog mostly for my family.  My dad has been the most avid reader, checking in every so often and sending me e-mails asking me to update.  I love that.  Since he doesn't have Facebook, he misses most of my updates.

Well Ah-eeeeeeee, here you go!  Revel in the payback your grandkids are inflicting on your all-too-deserving daughter:

I have been so bad about keeping the kids active in shared domestic duties, but today has seen a bit of a renewal. Joseph was re-schooled in making his own breakfast (egg whites and bacon) and making a pot of coffee. He also picked up the living room, *without* being asked, and unloaded clean dishes from the dishwasher before reloading it and starting it. Thomas took out the trash in spite of his runny nose and earache. Maria... Sigh... Maria made ponies out of pink playdoh and cried about a broken crayon.

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 I just spent the last six minutes exchanging nothing but laughter with the baby. He is now set to have me cater to his every whim until I die.

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I took the kids shopping this morning (yeah, you know it's going to be a doozy when it starts out like that). There were also nuns in habits and Muslim women in hijabs shopping. What did my oh-so-culturally-sensitive children do every time they saw either? Shout, "GHOST!!!" and jump into a rack of clothes. Uuuuuugggggghhhhhhhh...

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Joseph came up to me with his arms tucked into the torso of his shirt:
Joseph- "Mommy, my arms are missing!"
Me- "Well, let's get you to the hospital so the doctor can sew lizard arms on you."
Joseph- "Oh my goodness, is that what you'd say if I lost my arms for real?!"
Me- "Why not? Lizard arms would be cool! I'd ask for some while we were there because I'd be jealous of yours."
Joseph- "Does that make you the best mom ever, or the worst?"
Me- "Anybody's guess, sweetheart."

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I was logging my physical activity on my fitness app and I didn't see "wrestled my toddler into his Sunday clothes." Six minutes of that was like an hour of cardio, so I logged that instead, but they'll be hearing from me.

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The boys have noticed that their room is cleaner. They haven't noticed that it's because ALL of their toys have all been evacuated to "the staging area" (under my bed) for donation. Maria noticed. She's been quietly cleaning her room ever since.

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Thomas: "Mommy, my autism is telling me that I only want pizza."
Me: "Is your autism in charge, or are you in charge?"
Thomas: "... Pizza is in charge."
Oh, this kid!

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Please pray for my mother's safe travels today. Please also pray for my poor, poor children who have to endure the horror of cleaning their rooms in anticipation of her arrival. Nobody seems to understand the hardship of cleaning up after one's self in preparation for a week of unrestrained spoiling from one's grandparent...

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Louis curled up around my belly and said, "Hey baby John! Get out of there and play! I'll punch you in the face and then we'll eat ice cream!"
Brotherly love summed up in two sentences.

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I just yawned loudly, to which Louis lovingly exclaimed, "Mommy, you a cow! Mooooooooooooooooo!"
Oh, that will do wonders for my gigantically pregnant, fragile ego.

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Joseph, on cleaning his room: "I don't want to work hard! I want to work easy! And I hate being patient! And I don't want to give up anything for Lent!"

That escalated quickly...

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Maria just lost another tooth. As she rinsed her mouth at the sink...
Maria: "I HATE losing teeth!"
Me: "Would you like it better if we pretended that the tooth fairy was real?"
Maria: "Strangers breaking into the house and coming into my room would only make it worse!!!"

When you put it like that, it's a completely solid reason.

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While some kids play superheroes or tag or hide and seek, my kids play "Louis is a bacteria and we are all white blood cells who have a job to do!!!!!" As I sit at my dining table, they are chasing each other down and tackling each other, narrating whether the white blood cells or the bacteria are the victors of the encounter. Bunch of nerds.

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Maria: "Mommy, is Daddy awake, or did he go to work today?"

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Louis comes into my room with a Santa hat on and plops on my bed...
Louis: "I'm Santa. What do you want for Christmas?"
Me: "Louis, we don't believe in Santa."
Louis: "That's because Maria was Santa. That's dumb. I'm Santa now. I'm a great Santa. What do you want for Christmas?"

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