Annoyed

Did you ever put up with someone who was really awkward, perhaps socially inept? I can remember several instances where I've rolled my eyes at inappropriate comments. And I'm tolerant. I give a lot of leeway and a few too many second chances. Yet, even I get annoyed with people and occasionally get a little snappy too.

Maybe someone should have told me that my kids would be like these annoying pests I've put up with over the years. Maybe I could have been better prepared for the fact that, sometimes, hearing "Mama" for the hundredth time would make me feel like driving my car into a guard rail. Would I be more patient if I'd felt prepared for the 'pitter patter of little feet' to turn into the 'thunder of a migrating pack of wildebeasts'?

Probably not. It probably wouldn't have made a difference. After all, I know it now, and I'm still annoyed and want them all to go to bed and wake up two days from now...when I've had a chance to miss them, to remember why I love them, and to enjoy their energy again.

Just in case it does make a difference to be forewarned, though:
Caution: Your Children Will Annoy You!

Eskimos

Jace likes to throw things he's learned in school into any old conversation. If it doesn't relate to what we're talking about, he'll find a way to work it in anyhow.

Yesterday, Gracie said, out of the blue, "Our daddy's the best daddy ever." I thought it was cute and adorable for at least a second before Jace popped in with his two cents.

"There are some eskimo dad's that are better."

What? I had to try not to laugh. Scott told Jace he could go live with them, then! He said ok and went on to tell us why eskimo dads are better than his own!

It Might Make You Feel Better

Lately I've been reminded frequently of a record (yes, a record) we had growing up that I listened to almost daily. It was by Marlo Thomas and taught all sorts of wonderful life lessons. One of my favorite songs was "It's All Right To Cry." I'm sure this doesn't surprise any of you that know me...crying is something I rather enjoy. Sometimes I'll catch the end of Last of the Mohicans on TV just so I can shed a tear. Scott thinks I'm a little weird, and maybe he's right, but it feels good to cleanse my emotions.

I don't know why crying gets such a bad wrap. I mean, I don't promote weeping for no reason, but if you feel something...feel it. I was watching the finale of The Bachelor (I know, shame on me) and both of the final two girls were crying to the beau they were vying for, and apologized for it. "I'm so sorry...I don't know why I'm crying." Seriously? You're crying because the whole situation (of getting to know someone, finding you really like him, and facing the idea that he might like someone else more) hurts.

I was talking to a close friend the other day, who's making some very difficult decisions right now. She started crying and apologized to me. There's no need. The song says

"It's all right to cry. Crying gets the bad out of you.
It's all right to cry. It might make you feel better."

The Final Four?

I just made some cupcakes...I know, you're jealous! When I was putting liners in the pans I was hit with a burning question: What happens to the final two liners? The package I last purchased was 50 count. My cupcake tins, and I think all cupcake tins, have 12 each. The cake mix, or for those of you more established bakers...the recipe, makes 24 servings. Why 50 little paper liners? I'd already made one batch of cupcakes or muffins, so, in just a moment I would be left with two lonely liners.

Should I throw them out? Keep them? Hope I remember them with the next batch? Worry that I won't find them until I clean my cupboards out...someday?

Wait a minute...there's nothing to worry about. I ended up with four extra liners. Cool beans! A little extra for my money. And four pretty pastel papers are definitely worth saving until my next tasty treat. Just think, after my next two batches I'll be left with six liners! It gets better and better. Perhaps by the time I use the exact number of liners someone will have started packaging them in multiples of twelve.

Plan C

I'm a planner. My husband is a planner. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. But we're planners. Our kids will likely rebel and drive us crazy with their spontaneity. I can only imagine their teenage years...hair brained ideas, impromptu gatherings, hearing "sorry about the short notice, mom" over and over again. Oy vey! Luckily, I have a few years before I have teens...but I think they're breaking me in slowly. It seems that every time I have the day set out before us...they change my plans in the way that only kids can.

There have been exploding diapers when I'm ready to walk out the door. Two day trips have turned into three day trips all because somebody couldn't keep down breakfast...all day long. And just yesterday, while sitting at the bus stop in a nicely air-conditioned car, Gracie announces, "Mama, I have to pee!"

If you've ever potty-trained you know that while training, and in those uncertain months following, when the statement is made the clock is ticking to find a potty, or at least a tree for cover. There was no overgrowth around and if we went back to the house, only a minute away, we'd surely miss the bus. On the other hand, if we waited for the bus, we'd likely have an accident on our hands. Neither option seemed like a good one. Plan C was born. We went a little further down the bus route to a friend's house to use their bathroom.

If we made it in time, someone was home, the bus driver noticed my car in their driveway and let Jace off, then everything would turn out fine. If. Lucky for us, my off the cuff plan worked out. No accidents. All three kids safe and sound with me. Everything was fine, except now we were at a friend's house instead of at home. Of course the kids wanted to play a little, so we did and got home in time to start dinner. My plans for the afternoon and evening were out the window!

I'm OK though. I'm learning that sometimes half-baked ideas born of necessity are just as good as plans I've thought through and tweaked to my liking. It's all about re-evaluation based on new and pertinent information, like "I've got to pee!" After all, the laundry will be there tomorrow, right?

The Reality of Real Estate

We met with our realtor yesterday, in preparation for putting our house on the market. It went well. The to do list she left us only included a few things that weren't on the list we'd already started working on. One thing was confirmed, though. Something I new, but hadn't allowed myself to admit out loud yet. I really hoped somehow we could sell the house without having to keep it clean. Unfortunately that's not the case.

Three kids or not, there's some work to be done. This morning I packed up four plastic bins of children's toys, photo albums, and extra blankets, and there's still more to store away in the attic. And I've started a check list to complete when I get that call saying someone will be here in an hour to see our listing. I'm so excited for that call, hopefully a few times over! The thing I'm really not excited about is checking off the items on my check list when I leave to go grocery shopping, meet friends, or have dinner out. Any place I go, aside from the bus stop, will be too far away to get back home and tidy up if someone is ready to view our property. That's going to get old, quickly.

Another not so great thing is that properties are taking plenty of time to sell. So, we're gearing up for the possibility that I might be washing toilets daily, sweeping floors hourly, and constantly throwing toys back into their bins for months upon months...upon months.

Wish us luck!

One Handed

I've discovered, since becoming a mother, that there are a few things I used to do with two hands that I've had to figure out with just one. Probably my least favorite task is going to the bathroom. It's really not easy to pull your pants down, or up, with one hand, especially with a child in the other. It's also a bit tricky to make a meal, unload the washing machine, load the dishwasher and push a grocery cart. I vow never to forget my baby wrap again.

A few chores weren't as hard to adapt. Vaccuuming with one hand is surpringly ok. Blowing my nose...doable. Putting socks on isn't as hard as I might have thought. In fact, I've even become quite capable at typing with just five fingers.

This is evidence of that.