Holly Jolly Chaos

Im doing it again... Just like I did last year.  BLURG.  Im sitting in the same hideous recliner that I did a year ago (incidentally I still refuse to part with it, however much I despise it's lack of aesthetic beauty.) So I'm sitting in my chair, shirking my duties, surrounded by throw pillows, farm animal toys, boxes, books, cold medicines, important documents....all the stuff I keep moving and shuffling and keeping within arms reach for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days until we finally, officially move.

The thing is, I honestly just don't do well with this kind of chaos. I hate it. Haaaaaaaate it. There, I said it!  My home is my space. Its my sanctuary. Its my turf. I like things clean. I like things organized. I like things put away. I like surfaces to shine. I like to cook in my kitchen. I like to put up holly jolly decorations at the proper time in the month of December. All of this has been seriously messed with. Which is seriously messing with ME.

I keep zoning out. Just completely malfunctioning at inopportune moments! I was just rocking little brother to sleep for his nap (something I refuse to give up just yet, as he is my last baby, and Im entirely unprepared to give up those 10 minutes of quiet snuggling). I accidentally sat there for 30 minutes, wasting precious time. Thinking about how I need to organize the junk drawer which morphed into the junk cupboard. (I really don't want to do that one.) I also need to wash all the rugs and blankets before I pack them up. I need to organize the kids' sock drawers because Im sure half of them dont fit, or dont have a match, and why take 23  useless, HALF pairs of socks to the new house? Come to think of it, I need to organize our sock drawers too. And on that note, why dont I just dedicate a shoebox to live on top of the dryer as a little sock coffin for all the socks that meet their demise in the dryer. I mean really, where to they GO?!

I need to dig up the purple flowering plant in the backyard. The ONE plant that I have managed to keep alive for my daughter who loves to garden. Who tragically has a mother that cannot garden. Who CAN NOT keep anything alive. No, we definitely can't leave behind her beloved (and alive!) purple plant. I need to take the goodwill things to the goodwill because they keep tumbling all over the way back of my car. Luckily I have a "way back", so its out of sight, out of mind. That one I can save for later. Oh, I really need to go buy some special cleaner for my shower because there is wierd rust in our water that tints the shower pan orange in the cracks, and I just can't leave that there. I should pack up more of my kitchen, although that feels risky because after all, we do still need to eat for the next 5 to 7 to 10 days. I need to purge the hallway cabinets that store everything from humidifiers to movies, to placemats, to easter baskets, to framed pictures that I never put up at this house because I knew we'd be moving in a year.

A year. Did an entire year really pass by already? Can I somehow slow life down? Press a pause button? No, I suppose I can't. So I may as well learn to stop and smell the roses, even amid the holly jolly chaos that Im currently in.

This makes me sound grouchy, but I don't think I am? I think Im just floundering a little. Just a bit "out of sorts" this holiday season. I definitely am not complaining. I am beyond thrilled to be moving into a brand new home. OUR home! I am even more thrilled that soon I will have my husband back. That soon evenings and weekends will be leisurely again. So what if there's still roughly 47 projects that will still need finishing at the new place. So what if we slap up a charlie brown, helter skelter tree only a few days before christmas! So what.  There is much to be thankful for. I think I just need to get over the chaos. And quit zoning out. And get back to work.

Did I shave my legs for all this? No. Because I honestly dont have a clue where my razor is.

Did I shave my legs for this? Well I did try. I certainly did try.

In my recent post, The Thing With Dinner..., we discussed the mayhem that generally (okay nightly) ensues upon my announcing that dinner is ready.  Maybe this is normal, maybe its not, but its certainly a real thing that happens in our house. Except now Im thinking that there very well may be a THING with the shower too. And phonecalls. Any phonecall. My home could be a perfectly harmonious scene of domestic bliss, but the minute I turn on the shower it flips some imaginary switch in my children's heads. The switch that turns them from Happy to Beastly.

 Its as if kids have a radar for these sort of things, yes? They could be playing/ coloring/ watching a cartoon without a care in the world for where I am or what Im doing, but the second I step into the shower there is, naturally, some kind of dire, desperate "emergency" (as my four year old assures me) that needs my immediate attention. I'll hear a pitter patter of feet and definitive shrieks as they both bolt into the bathroom with some kind of story to tell. "Mommy! Jaxon got pee water out of the toilet and he's putting it in the dog dish!" (Oh yes. You know its true). Or,  "You better hurry- he's coloring on the counter again!" or any number of other ridiculous personal offenses- you know the type- "he's staring at me", "He keeps touching me!", etc etc.  And poor Jax, bless his heart, cant ever seem to get out more than a frustrated "Mommy! No! Bella!" followed by accusatory pointing and  helpless shoulder slumping.

 And its never when Im almost done showering. Its always right as Im soaping up my face and cant see, or right as Im attempting to shave my legs. These same shenanigans seem to apply to whenever my phone rings with an important phonecall. A perfectly quiet room can get turned upside down in ten seconds flat.  I've made peace with the fact that until the kids are a tiny bit older, there really is no sacred place left in the house for a mother. Not even the bathroom. Especially not the bathroom.
This morning Bigger One was off to preschool so I let Littler One play around in my bathroom while I showered. One by one, random objects started to appear at my feet. A rubber band. A bracelet. An earring. He'd found a tiny crack at the bottom of the glass door and was quite please with himself for finding things that would fit through that very spot. Clever boy. I had to chuckle.  So what if I consider it a small personal victory to have shaved the front AND backs of my legs before date night. A victory's a victory. And hey, we can't have it ALL together ALL the time, right?...Right?

Well Would'nt You Know...

Hello dear readers! I've missed you. Its been a busy month here at the Maxi Pad (my home) I know. Its a terrible thing to name a home. But like most jokes that stick, its slightly inapropriate and equally catchy. Im not even sure how it got started actually, considering there are an equal number of males and females living in our house. I think it traces back to Ladies Night. Not "going out" like most savvy chicks in their twenties probably do. No, we'd get in our sweats, eat desserts, and watch the Batchelor. Terribly wild of us, isnt it? Anyway, long story short, that's how nicknaming my home "the Maxi Pad" got started and this is where talking about it ends.

So life has been very busy this month, but I cant quite pinpoint why. Just business as usual I suppose. Big One is finishing her first year of preschool (single tear) and getting ready for her first ballet recital- all very grownup things for her little self. Im torn between pride and helplessness as I watch her turn into this independant little person. Little One is turning into quite the livewire and requiring much more of my attention as of late. The minute it gets quiet, is one minute too late to start looking for him. He's all dimples and innocence until he makes up his mind to be naughty. The closer we get to 2, the more I savor the days of sweetness and simplicity with him. I know they are numbered. Husband and I managed to sneak in a mini-break away together last weekend, which was lovely. There's nothing like waking up and realizing that I can shamelessly lie in bed for twenty minutes before getting up because no one needs me! Glorious. We enjoyed peaceful, leisurely meals, staying up late and sleeping in, and hours of bonding time in the car. We've been mulling over some decisions lately, and we were able to make some real progress towards that end. We always seem to get some of our best talking done in the car. Dont know why, something about the open road I guess.

In other news: I FINALLY, lost a few pounds! I recently shared my descent into fatness with you all (because you're the gracious and encouraging type) in my "For Realsies" post. I got myself into a funk and I've spent the past month spinning my wheels. I have been working out, eating clean, and that stupid scale was not budging. It could have something to do with the fact that (TMI alert) I started taking birth control pills again this month. Hopefully that's not an overshare. And if it is...too late! Im pretty sure it's contributed to at least 5 of my "extra" pounds. Blurg. 

So one whole month of these shenanigans and no real progress! So frustrating. Then my dvd player broke so I havent been able to do my P90X videos for a little over a week. Well would'nt you know, one week of not working out and even cheating a little with my diet, and I lost FIVE pounds! In one week! What the what?! I dont get it, but I am just going to be thankful and keep plugging away. Its tempting to test this theory further and see if I can do it again for another week, but something tells me that's not wise. It probably would just end up with me indulging my way back to the number I started from. The number that shall forever remain shrouded in mystery, rather than ever be spoken aloud.
Would'nt you know.

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

The Thing with Dinner...

Moms out there: What IS IT with dinner?
Breakfast is smooth. I make the food, they eat the food. Easy, done. Lunch is pleasant. What is it about dinner in particular that something always seems to go awry? It's like the witching hour! Does this happen to you guys out there?

I enjoy cooking and maybe I even take it a bit ...well, personally. I put my heart into cooking for my family. (Okay, fine, not every SINGLE night. But most nights) Im not playing the martyr here, like I slave over the stove for hours a day at a thankless, drudgery-filled job. That's not my plight. My husband almost always says thank you after eating dinner and I actually cook because I enjoy it. Its just that after I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort in the kitchen making a meal, I have high hopes and possibly misplaced expections of the dinner hour itself. Its not actually even an hour, it takes anywhere for 30-60 minutes to make the food, but the actual eating takes only about 15 or 20 minutes. And while visions fill my head of my smiling family scooting up to the table, eating and enjoying the food, meanwhile engaging in pleasant, harmonious conversation- the breakdown of what really happens during that 15 or 20 minutes is a far cry. A far cry, people! Something is lost in translation from my ideals and my reality.

Every single night at dinner at least 3 of these 5 things will happen:
1) I will announce dinner is ready and proceed to call everyone to the table...about 5 times. This, I will confess is a total pet peeve. So much lollygagging! Does no one want the food to still be hot?
2) By the time we get both kids' food cut up, any hidden tomatos, onions, or other suspicious looking veg removed and sit down to eat ourselves, my 1 year old son has already finished everything on his tray, is now bored, and proceeds to either smash or throw any remnants of food anywhere he can reach. This is usually accompanied by lots of yelling and grunting.
3) And this one is always a guarantee- my 4 year old daughter is devastated by whatever happens to land on her plate that night. She simply cannot be bothered by food. She would survive on air and saliva if I allowed it. So this of course necessitates a whole lot of coaxing, enforcing, disciplining, etc. Shute, I'd do cartwheels across the table if it would get her to eat of her own free will.
4) All conversations, trains of thought, and unfinshed sentences are abandoned somewhere around mid-meal. Its either eat your own food while its still somewhat warm, or try and remember "what was it we were saying again?"
5) The 1 year old in the highchair has long been done, bored, and pacified beyond what he is in the mood for, and is now trying to make his great escape by jumping out of his highchair. Thank God he's never been successful in this yet, but it almost gives me a heart attack every time he tries.
By the time all is said and done, messes cleaned, dishes cleared, and the dust settles, Im pooped! It feels like a 3 ring circus some nights! Now I will say this: there are lots of great moments too. Bella usually says something offbeat and funny at least once. It may be less than peaceful at times, but we are all still seated together at the table having a family dinner, and that's a good thing. Jaxon is a rowdy little guy, but he is easily pleased and will eat anything I put in front of him. This thrills me.
I know it has much to do with the ages my kids are at, and it wont always feel like so much work. I was pondering this tonight as we ran (literally ran) Jaxon straight from the highchair to the bathtub. I was watching the two of them play and squeal while I soaped up their hair and their rosy cherub cheeks and pot bellies.  I dont want to wish these stages away. It can be a lot more work when they're this little, but its still simple. They need me (and I need them). They are still eager to please and to snuggle and they dont have a care in the world. They infuse my life with laughter and joy. The purest kind of joy. Like when my daughter touches my cheek and tells me Im the best mommy and she loves me "all the way to the moon and back down to the dirt and the flowers". Or when my son laughs his raspy little belly laugh. You just cant beat that. One day they'll be moody teenagers and granted, they'll be a tad more civilized at the dinner table, but it'll be a whole new ballgame by then.
I have learned a few helpful tricks along the way for in the meantime. Such as, BE PREPARED! As long as I have little pieces of food to keep shoveling onto his tray, my son is happy. This also goes for restaraunts.  A little snack, a little coloring book, a game of "I Spy"- they go a long way. And a timer has worked wonders in our household in getting my daughter to eat. If she really isnt eating at all, we put a timer on for 15 minutes. She is so mortified by the mere idea of the timer, that she instantly starts to eat. Victory!
Someday maybe we'll reach that holy grail of all eating while our food is still hot, with no battles, while bonding over a bowl of pasta. Until then, I'll just be happy that we're still bonding. So what if there's spaghetti on the ceiling.

BLURG

To borrow a term from my fictional, tv character- kindred spirit Liz Lemon, my feelings can best be summed up in one word. BLURG.
Or maybe Hmphf. Or Phrrrt! No, dear readers, I have not lost my marbles. Yet. I am currently sitting in my most favorite, ugly-as-sin lazy-boy recliner (that is far too comfortable to part with, however contradicting it may be to my style preferences), which is in the middle of what used to resemble my home, but that is recently in such a state of unrecognizable disarray, that I see no other option than to shrug my duties and blog. Gasp. Who am I, even?! What has become of me?!

For the past few weeks we have been packing, organizing, purging, -doing our darndest to prepare for the big move this weekend. Essentially, editing and disassembling our entire lives. Or at least its felt that way.  Between all of that, and dealing with multiple (albeit minor) health issues in our household, I will candidly say Im feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. Just a teense! A scoch. Okay fine. Totally, completely overwhelmed!

There's always a silver lining: It does feel good to simplify. Trim the excess, clean out all the drawers and closets and spaces that go neglected. The plan is to move, save, and then move, once again, into our forever house. The elusive Forever House. Is there such a thing? Ha! My husband and I counted it up the other day and were shocked to realize this will be our 7th address in 8 years! Sick! We should be professionals by now. So why am I finding this move in particular to be so stressful? Probably because we are downsizing a bit. A lot. Eeek. Probably because while this house is cute, and I know I will make it homey, it is also a transition house. An interim, a means to an end. For some reason this time it feels a little bit sad to be packing everything up once again, emptying it all out, and saying goodbye to another home we've made memories in with our kids. This is the house I brought my son home from the hospital to. Its where he took his first steps. Its where my daughter has put on her tutu and danced in front of the fireplace (the only spot where she can see her reflection!) almost every single morning. Its where we've entertained freinds and played games and had a lot of good times. There's been laughs and there's tears within these walls. I guess thats all just regular life stuff though.

All this editing and disassembling of our 'entire lives' has made me realize that that's not it at all, actually. Its just a house of wood and rooms filled with things. I need not identify with it, be sad to leave it behind, or assume it affects the quality of my life. On to the next house! Where we'll fill it up will all the same craziness. Its a new year, a new home, and a new chapter! I love new chapters!
Now, about all this packing shenanigans....5 more minutes. I just need 5 more minutes of relaxing! I swear....