"I have found the paradox that, if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
Mother Teresa said that. I love Mother Teresa., Who doesn't? I mean, she's Mother Teresa. I love that quote, too, and I often think that's what I should be aspiring to. And some days, I do. Aspire to it, that is. Usually I fail miserably. I am too focused on other things to think about how I should be loving people more. I should probably work on that. Speaking of the other things I am focused on, we have our own version of this quote in our house. It goes like this:
"I have found that, if you scrub syrup off the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling, until you think there can't possibly be more syrup, there will still be more syrup."
There's another quote I think about alot. It's this one:
"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend".
I've always loved that quote. With NBO, though, it's a little different. In our house, it's more like this:
"Don't walk in front of me, I'm likely to push you down the stairs.
Don't walk behind me, you're likely to step in the pieces of banana I just dropped.
And, come to think of it, don't walk beside me either, cause I'm gonna hit you and tell you to get away from me".
In spite of this, or maybe because of it, I hope my kids won't be followers, unless they are following something or someone good. And I hope that, if they are leaders, they will lead in a good direction. N, as the oldest, already shows great leadership potential. I'm just a little afraid of what might happen to the people who have the audacity not to follow her. And B, well, I think he's probably a good leader, too. I'm just nervous about what exactly he will lead people into. O, as the youngest, may very well be a follower, at least until he comes into his own. He's pretty used to following N and B. Sometimes this is good, and sometimes it is very,very frightening. My guess is, like most of us, they will each have times of being leaders and times of being followers. Hopefully, though, whether they are at the front of the line, or the back, or somewhere in the middle, they will be going in the right direction.
And that brings me to you. Yes, YOU! I would love for you to be a follower--it's not always a bad thing! So, if you like what you read here, please consider clicking on that "join this site" button on the right hand side of my page. You don't even have to use your real name! I can't promise that I will always lead you in the right direction, but I can promise that you will smile, laugh, or at least breathe a sigh of relief that you are only reading about my life, and not living it. At some point, I may stop linking this from facebook, as I sometimes wonder if I am being annoying to the people who don't want to read this. And, selfishly, I like to know that people are reading. Either way, as always, thanks for reading!
The decision, of course, is yours.
After all, you can lead a camel to water, but you can't make him drink.
Or, in this case, I can lead you to tequila, but I can't make you lick it off the floor.
Showing posts with label licking tequila off the floor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label licking tequila off the floor. Show all posts
Friday, February 10, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
For the Love of...Sleep
It recently occurred to me that I have turned into a freak. Not about everything. I am not a germaphobe. I don't have to have my children in my eyesight every moment of the day. Their rooms don't have to be spotless (In addition to not being a freak about this, I am also not delusional enough to think that it would ever actually happen--hey, maybe my mental health is better than I thought!). I am a freak, however, when it comes to sleep--particularly nap time. I admire those parents who are OK with having a child with them every waking moment. I, however, am not one of them. I need some child free time in my day, however brief. This is not optional. It is required. For three reasons:
1) As it is, most days I manage only to repeatedly clean the kitchen, hopefully pick up the living room, run the dishwasher, get dirty laundry out of rooms, continually run the washer and dryer, and possibly fold, but rarely actually put away, laundry. When I try to do these things when my children are awake, I have lots of help. More, in fact, than I ever need. The dishwasher gets filled more quickly, but not run, because I have to remove the assorted cars, trucks, trains, and Little People that O has so helpfully placed in there before I can run it. I'm not sure what would happen if I left them there. Maybe I'll try that next time, but I would hate to have to buy a new dishwasher because, in a moment of weakness, I went along with O's plan to turn the dishwasher into a car wash for Hot Wheels. Meanwhile, B is taking all the toys that I just put in the play room back into the living room. If I attempt to do laundry while they are awake, they start grabbing random clothing items from wherever they happen to find them--including drawers and closets--and throwing them down to me. If I try to make dinner while they are awake, they are cracking eggs for me, even when no eggs are necessary. I'm lucky to have such helpful children. But it doesn't really help with productivity.
2) The stories I write about are, believe it or not, generally from the good days, when they have slept. You don't read about what happens on the days when they haven't slept, because I amlicking tequila off the floor nearly asleep by eight o'clock those nights, and have no energy left to write about the day's adventures. Not to mention, I don't want to relive them.
3) If I don't have an hour or two of relative silence during the day, I will lose my mind even sooner than predicted.
So, yes, I have turned into a freak about nap times.
Unfortunately, B and O are not quite on the same page as I am. Recently, in spite of my best efforts, they have started staying awake during nap times. If they stayed in their room playing and talking quietly, I would probably be OK with this, as they would hopefully be getting some rest. As it happens, though, they stay in their room laughing, screaming, yelling, throwing things, and taking O's crib apart. Not exactly restful. For any of us. I have tried to remedy this several different ways. Separate rooms--they just scream louder. Separate nap times-someone gets over tired (usually me), which defeats the whole purpose. Separate houses--the neighbors were unhappy when they found a strange child in their house. Whatever.
This is my long winded way of explaining that, when my children do go to sleep, I will do whatever I can to keep it that way. This has the potential, however, to impact my behavior in other areas of my life. I am not proud of this. I wish I could just go with the flow, like I can with so many other things in life. But, my children need me. They need me to be sane. And if that is to happen, they need to take naps.
In general, if people come to our home, I try to be welcoming. We like having company, and that's what we're supposed to do, right? Mi casa es su casa. If you can find a spot that's not covered in trains, fairies, yogurt, or dog hair, by all means, please make yourself at home. I'll even try to find something besides cheerios to feed you. If you stay long enough, I will beg you to drink with me and offer you a couch to sleep on, and then I will make you drink more so you don't notice that it's the one covered in yogurt and dog hair. Jimmy is even more welcoming than I am. He goes right to the part where he offers you beer.
If you come during nap time, however, it's a little different. If I know you're coming, I will meet you at the door and we will quietly go talk outside. You may wonder why I'm taking you outside when it's 30 degrees. It's because they are sleeping. If you don't like the cold, come back in the spring. Or at least when nap time is over. If you unexpectedly come to my door during nap time, all bets are off, but here's what will likely happen from your perspective:
You knock. I don't answer. You are vaguely aware that a dog is barking inside. You knock again. You are vaguely aware of a crying baby. You probably think some warm fuzzy thought about babies and dogs as you wonder why we aren't answering since we're obviously home. You knock again. This time, I answer the door, baby on my hip, dog at my side, three-year-old running in circles behind me, and you briefly wonder about my crazed expression, but you're happy that your mission--whatever reason you have for knocking on my door--is one step closer to being accomplished.
Here's what happens from my end: You knock. I cringe and silently curse, awaiting the barking dog that I know will awaken the sleeping children that it just took an hour and a half to convince to go to sleep. I ignore you, hoping you will go away (unless, of course, it's something important, like you are are locked out of your house, your car has broken down, you haven't eaten in two days, or you have brought me tequila). Nothing personal. I probably don't even know who you are at that point. But did you just see the part about it taking an hour and a half to get those children to sleep? But you don't go away. You knock again. If the dog didn't hear you the first time, she does now, and she is barking. My cursing is no longer silent. I hope she won't bark long enough or loudly enough to wake sleeping children, but she does, and now we have a barking dog and a crying toddler. A minute later, we have a barking dog, a crying toddler, and a three-year-old old repeatedly asking "Mommy, who's here? Mommy, who's here? Mommy, who's here?"
I know, of course, that these children will not go back to sleep, and that even if they do, I will have to wake them as soon as they fall asleep to go pick up their sister at school. I also know that they will be grumpy and whiny, if not outright combative, by dinner, which will likely consist of something frozen and barely edible, since I will have tried to get dinner together while also attempting to do the three loads of laundry that I didn't get to do while they should have been sleeping. This is why, when I answer the door, I may look like a crazed woman on the verge of tears. It's not that I'm not happy to see you. It's just that, you know, it's nap time.
I've been thinking though, that it's just not right for me to be so unwelcoming. After all, mi casa es su casa, even if you do come to my casa during nap time. So, from now on, I'm going to be more welcoming. I'm going to tell whoever it is to please, by all means, come in. After all , it must be important if you came in person. During nap time. Without calling first. Please, sit down. Don't mind the yogurt on the couch. Just push those toys over. Make yourself at home. Stay a while. Can I get you some cheerios? Or maybe something different--like cornflakes? I'm so glad you're here. Will you hold O for a minute? I'm just going to pop out to get the mail. No, B can stay with you. I'll be back in a flash. Oh no, I always take my car keys to the mailbox. In fact, I like to drive there, so don't worry if you see the car leaving the driveway. Why don't you try to get the kids to lie down? They love that.
I'll be right back.
Just as soon as you get them to sleep.
And don't worry. I'll knock.
1) As it is, most days I manage only to repeatedly clean the kitchen, hopefully pick up the living room, run the dishwasher, get dirty laundry out of rooms, continually run the washer and dryer, and possibly fold, but rarely actually put away, laundry. When I try to do these things when my children are awake, I have lots of help. More, in fact, than I ever need. The dishwasher gets filled more quickly, but not run, because I have to remove the assorted cars, trucks, trains, and Little People that O has so helpfully placed in there before I can run it. I'm not sure what would happen if I left them there. Maybe I'll try that next time, but I would hate to have to buy a new dishwasher because, in a moment of weakness, I went along with O's plan to turn the dishwasher into a car wash for Hot Wheels. Meanwhile, B is taking all the toys that I just put in the play room back into the living room. If I attempt to do laundry while they are awake, they start grabbing random clothing items from wherever they happen to find them--including drawers and closets--and throwing them down to me. If I try to make dinner while they are awake, they are cracking eggs for me, even when no eggs are necessary. I'm lucky to have such helpful children. But it doesn't really help with productivity.
2) The stories I write about are, believe it or not, generally from the good days, when they have slept. You don't read about what happens on the days when they haven't slept, because I am
3) If I don't have an hour or two of relative silence during the day, I will lose my mind even sooner than predicted.
So, yes, I have turned into a freak about nap times.
Unfortunately, B and O are not quite on the same page as I am. Recently, in spite of my best efforts, they have started staying awake during nap times. If they stayed in their room playing and talking quietly, I would probably be OK with this, as they would hopefully be getting some rest. As it happens, though, they stay in their room laughing, screaming, yelling, throwing things, and taking O's crib apart. Not exactly restful. For any of us. I have tried to remedy this several different ways. Separate rooms--they just scream louder. Separate nap times-someone gets over tired (usually me), which defeats the whole purpose. Separate houses--the neighbors were unhappy when they found a strange child in their house. Whatever.
This is my long winded way of explaining that, when my children do go to sleep, I will do whatever I can to keep it that way. This has the potential, however, to impact my behavior in other areas of my life. I am not proud of this. I wish I could just go with the flow, like I can with so many other things in life. But, my children need me. They need me to be sane. And if that is to happen, they need to take naps.
In general, if people come to our home, I try to be welcoming. We like having company, and that's what we're supposed to do, right? Mi casa es su casa. If you can find a spot that's not covered in trains, fairies, yogurt, or dog hair, by all means, please make yourself at home. I'll even try to find something besides cheerios to feed you. If you stay long enough, I will beg you to drink with me and offer you a couch to sleep on, and then I will make you drink more so you don't notice that it's the one covered in yogurt and dog hair. Jimmy is even more welcoming than I am. He goes right to the part where he offers you beer.
If you come during nap time, however, it's a little different. If I know you're coming, I will meet you at the door and we will quietly go talk outside. You may wonder why I'm taking you outside when it's 30 degrees. It's because they are sleeping. If you don't like the cold, come back in the spring. Or at least when nap time is over. If you unexpectedly come to my door during nap time, all bets are off, but here's what will likely happen from your perspective:
You knock. I don't answer. You are vaguely aware that a dog is barking inside. You knock again. You are vaguely aware of a crying baby. You probably think some warm fuzzy thought about babies and dogs as you wonder why we aren't answering since we're obviously home. You knock again. This time, I answer the door, baby on my hip, dog at my side, three-year-old running in circles behind me, and you briefly wonder about my crazed expression, but you're happy that your mission--whatever reason you have for knocking on my door--is one step closer to being accomplished.
Here's what happens from my end: You knock. I cringe and silently curse, awaiting the barking dog that I know will awaken the sleeping children that it just took an hour and a half to convince to go to sleep. I ignore you, hoping you will go away (unless, of course, it's something important, like you are are locked out of your house, your car has broken down, you haven't eaten in two days, or you have brought me tequila). Nothing personal. I probably don't even know who you are at that point. But did you just see the part about it taking an hour and a half to get those children to sleep? But you don't go away. You knock again. If the dog didn't hear you the first time, she does now, and she is barking. My cursing is no longer silent. I hope she won't bark long enough or loudly enough to wake sleeping children, but she does, and now we have a barking dog and a crying toddler. A minute later, we have a barking dog, a crying toddler, and a three-year-old old repeatedly asking "Mommy, who's here? Mommy, who's here? Mommy, who's here?"
I know, of course, that these children will not go back to sleep, and that even if they do, I will have to wake them as soon as they fall asleep to go pick up their sister at school. I also know that they will be grumpy and whiny, if not outright combative, by dinner, which will likely consist of something frozen and barely edible, since I will have tried to get dinner together while also attempting to do the three loads of laundry that I didn't get to do while they should have been sleeping. This is why, when I answer the door, I may look like a crazed woman on the verge of tears. It's not that I'm not happy to see you. It's just that, you know, it's nap time.
I've been thinking though, that it's just not right for me to be so unwelcoming. After all, mi casa es su casa, even if you do come to my casa during nap time. So, from now on, I'm going to be more welcoming. I'm going to tell whoever it is to please, by all means, come in. After all , it must be important if you came in person. During nap time. Without calling first. Please, sit down. Don't mind the yogurt on the couch. Just push those toys over. Make yourself at home. Stay a while. Can I get you some cheerios? Or maybe something different--like cornflakes? I'm so glad you're here. Will you hold O for a minute? I'm just going to pop out to get the mail. No, B can stay with you. I'll be back in a flash. Oh no, I always take my car keys to the mailbox. In fact, I like to drive there, so don't worry if you see the car leaving the driveway. Why don't you try to get the kids to lie down? They love that.
I'll be right back.
Just as soon as you get them to sleep.
And don't worry. I'll knock.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sticky Situation
There's not much I miss about my life before kids. Yesterday, though, I was reminded of something that I do miss. I really miss being allowed to be sick.
There is no good time to be sick, but at least before kids, I was allowed to be sick once in a while. Call in sick, and back to bed with tea and Jerry Springer. Oh wait, this is one of those tricky grammatical situations where one or two words changes the whole meaning. Let me clarify: I actually have an extremely low tolerance for Jerry Springer. It depresses me and makes me sad for the future of our country. But before kids, I at least had the option of watching Jerry Springer. Not anymore. So when I woke up yesterday with every part of my body aching, I knew it probably wasn't going to be a great day. (For the record: I admire those of you whose motto is "Make it a Great Day!". However, I am a realist. Some days are just not going to be all that great. On these days, my personal mottos include: "Make it a Survivable Day", "Make it a Day Where No One Gets Hurt", and "Make it a Day Where I Don't Want to Drown Myself in a Vat of Whiskey.")
I struggled through breakfast, wondering if I could somehow make waffles and lay on the couch at the same time. When everyone had eaten, I retired to the couch with the new comforter that my sister gave me for Christmas. I love this comforter. It is my new best friend. And yes, she gave it to me. I do not have to share it with anyone. And I don't. Not even Jimmy. And yesterday, I really loved it. If I didn't have the option of watching mindless grown-up TV, at least I had my new, warm, incredibly fluffy comforter.
I was vaguely aware that there was chaos going on around me, but I felt powerless to stop it. So, I encouraged lots of mindless kid TV and fortunately, N was off school and could alert me when her brothers' antics were turning dangerous by screaming "MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMM" loud enough to burst my eardrums, which were already aching like every other part of my body.
I struggled through lunch. I can't tell you what they had for lunch, but it was something edible, and I know that preparing it required me to leave my couch and comforter for some period of time. I struggled through diaper changes--struggled really being the key word here--and I think one of my three children may have gotten dressed at some point yesterday.
I finally decided that a shower was in order, though I wasn't really sure I could make myself leave my couch and comforter again. Eventually, I made my way upstairs and discovered that the hot water made things stop aching. This caused me to take a longer shower than usual. Well, that, and the fact that I think I may have briefly fallen asleep in there. When I heard N say in a very controlled, yet very angry voice "You...Had...Better..Put...That...Down...Now.", I thought I should probably get out. Wow. She does a really good angry voice. This is not good. I make a mental note to watch my tone and/or start taking xanax. When I heard her add a not so controlled "NOW!", I was afraid of what I was going to find. And I should have been.
I threw on clothes--well, as much as you can "throw" on clothes when everything is starting to ache again--and was looking forward to returning to my couch and comforter. As I came downstairs, I immediately noticed a strong smell of....something sweet. I couldn't place it immediately. But as I stepped in something sticky, I realized that it was syrup. N and B love syrup. N and B love it so much in fact, that they lick it off of their plates. (No, I don't LET them do this. I let them do very little. That doesn't mean they don't do it). Until yesterday, O hadn't had syrup. I'm pretty sure he loves it now, too.
Although I was now standing in a puddle of syrup, I still couldn't figure out why the smell was so strong. Until I looked around. And realized that there was syrup everywhere. Living Room floor: syrup. Kitchen Floor: Syrup. Kitchen walls: syrup. kitchen door: cap from bottle of syrup. Stuck to door with...syrup. O: syrup (I had remembered to put him in his pack and play. But if you can't go to the syrup, apparently the syrup comes to you). B's hair: syrup...and something else. I smell his head and realize that peanut butter had also been involved. There has been a peanut butter and syrup party while I was in the shower. N is trying to fill me in on B's escapades while I am walking around, finding more puddles of syrup. I want to cry. And then I remember my comforter, and pray that the syrup hasn't made it that far. To my shock, there isn't a drop. Thank you God.
So, while I really wanted--needed-- to be on the couch with my new syrup-free comforter, I was scrubbing syrup and peanut butter off the floors, the walls, the doors, and my children, while I was also sweating, wondering if I was going to pass out, and thinking that syrup and peanut butter really smell pretty gross together. As I found a puddle next to the trash can, I thought of N and B's love for syrup, and hoped no one had licked any off the floor. And then, when I thought I was done and found yet another puddle, I thought, why would that have been a bad thing, exactly?
Come to find out, yesterday was National Peanut Butter Day. They were just celebrating! And National Maple Syrup Day was December 17th, but we didn't know that then. Thus the joint celebration yesterday. I briefly thought of banning all future celebrations, but that just wouldn't be right. In fact, we should celebrate more.
National Margarita Day is February 22nd, but I'm just going to start a little early. If you're looking for me, I'll be licking the tequila off the floor.
There is no good time to be sick, but at least before kids, I was allowed to be sick once in a while. Call in sick, and back to bed with tea and Jerry Springer. Oh wait, this is one of those tricky grammatical situations where one or two words changes the whole meaning. Let me clarify: I actually have an extremely low tolerance for Jerry Springer. It depresses me and makes me sad for the future of our country. But before kids, I at least had the option of watching Jerry Springer. Not anymore. So when I woke up yesterday with every part of my body aching, I knew it probably wasn't going to be a great day. (For the record: I admire those of you whose motto is "Make it a Great Day!". However, I am a realist. Some days are just not going to be all that great. On these days, my personal mottos include: "Make it a Survivable Day", "Make it a Day Where No One Gets Hurt", and "Make it a Day Where I Don't Want to Drown Myself in a Vat of Whiskey.")
I struggled through breakfast, wondering if I could somehow make waffles and lay on the couch at the same time. When everyone had eaten, I retired to the couch with the new comforter that my sister gave me for Christmas. I love this comforter. It is my new best friend. And yes, she gave it to me. I do not have to share it with anyone. And I don't. Not even Jimmy. And yesterday, I really loved it. If I didn't have the option of watching mindless grown-up TV, at least I had my new, warm, incredibly fluffy comforter.
I was vaguely aware that there was chaos going on around me, but I felt powerless to stop it. So, I encouraged lots of mindless kid TV and fortunately, N was off school and could alert me when her brothers' antics were turning dangerous by screaming "MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMM" loud enough to burst my eardrums, which were already aching like every other part of my body.
I struggled through lunch. I can't tell you what they had for lunch, but it was something edible, and I know that preparing it required me to leave my couch and comforter for some period of time. I struggled through diaper changes--struggled really being the key word here--and I think one of my three children may have gotten dressed at some point yesterday.
I finally decided that a shower was in order, though I wasn't really sure I could make myself leave my couch and comforter again. Eventually, I made my way upstairs and discovered that the hot water made things stop aching. This caused me to take a longer shower than usual. Well, that, and the fact that I think I may have briefly fallen asleep in there. When I heard N say in a very controlled, yet very angry voice "You...Had...Better..Put...That...Down...Now.", I thought I should probably get out. Wow. She does a really good angry voice. This is not good. I make a mental note to watch my tone and/or start taking xanax. When I heard her add a not so controlled "NOW!", I was afraid of what I was going to find. And I should have been.
I threw on clothes--well, as much as you can "throw" on clothes when everything is starting to ache again--and was looking forward to returning to my couch and comforter. As I came downstairs, I immediately noticed a strong smell of....something sweet. I couldn't place it immediately. But as I stepped in something sticky, I realized that it was syrup. N and B love syrup. N and B love it so much in fact, that they lick it off of their plates. (No, I don't LET them do this. I let them do very little. That doesn't mean they don't do it). Until yesterday, O hadn't had syrup. I'm pretty sure he loves it now, too.
Although I was now standing in a puddle of syrup, I still couldn't figure out why the smell was so strong. Until I looked around. And realized that there was syrup everywhere. Living Room floor: syrup. Kitchen Floor: Syrup. Kitchen walls: syrup. kitchen door: cap from bottle of syrup. Stuck to door with...syrup. O: syrup (I had remembered to put him in his pack and play. But if you can't go to the syrup, apparently the syrup comes to you). B's hair: syrup...and something else. I smell his head and realize that peanut butter had also been involved. There has been a peanut butter and syrup party while I was in the shower. N is trying to fill me in on B's escapades while I am walking around, finding more puddles of syrup. I want to cry. And then I remember my comforter, and pray that the syrup hasn't made it that far. To my shock, there isn't a drop. Thank you God.
So, while I really wanted--needed-- to be on the couch with my new syrup-free comforter, I was scrubbing syrup and peanut butter off the floors, the walls, the doors, and my children, while I was also sweating, wondering if I was going to pass out, and thinking that syrup and peanut butter really smell pretty gross together. As I found a puddle next to the trash can, I thought of N and B's love for syrup, and hoped no one had licked any off the floor. And then, when I thought I was done and found yet another puddle, I thought, why would that have been a bad thing, exactly?
Come to find out, yesterday was National Peanut Butter Day. They were just celebrating! And National Maple Syrup Day was December 17th, but we didn't know that then. Thus the joint celebration yesterday. I briefly thought of banning all future celebrations, but that just wouldn't be right. In fact, we should celebrate more.
National Margarita Day is February 22nd, but I'm just going to start a little early. If you're looking for me, I'll be licking the tequila off the floor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)