Rarely Home Mom

It’s 3:28 am.  After a long, hot day, I slept from 9 until about 12:30.  But I’ve been up for the last three hours with a hungry and restless baby who is just barely sleeping right now, and there’s a good chance she’s going to want a feeding sooner than later.  Something’s telling me that I need to write off my Friday as a complete wash right this minute to avoid disappointment tomorrow (today) when nothing gets done.

If you know me well enough, you know  I have anxiety issues with the cleanliness and tidiness levels of my house.  Somewhere in the deep, dark crazy part of my brain, I have imprinted myself into believing a clean house means I am a superb mom and wife who loves her home and her family and is well organized with a happy family.  Plus, there are fewer germs.  What would be the flip side of that?  If I have a messy and disorganized house, I am a lame mom and lazy wife who doesn’t love my home enough and my family just barely, I can’t even fake organized, and my family is disheveled.  Plus, there will be lots of germs.  It’s gotten to the point where I sometimes (often?) resent this house because it’s too big for me to keep clean and tidy with little help from the littles (4 and 2 - they sometimes try, but hello? 4 and 2!) and a full time, hard working husband.  I go back and forth with wanting him to help do his “fair share” (ha - what is that, anyway?) and wanting him to do very little around the house - keeping the house clean and sanitary and organized and tidy should be one way I show him I love him, right?

Wow.  I’m nuts.

I had an epiphany in the kitchen yesterday.  I even took pictures, but I can’t share them until the good computer comes home.  Here’s my analogy: there are working farms and show farms.  Thanksgiving Point is a show farm.  You’ll never step on poop when you’re walking around on the grass, the animals are always fed promptly, the tools are put away at once, and everyone is smiling and happy.  There are lots of people visiting, sure - but there are also lots of workers to help things run smoothly and to keep all the guests happy.  I’ve never been to a working animal farm, but I have an idea it’s a good bit smellier and at least a tad bit less tidy. The farms I’ve seen on Dirty Jobs have plenty of poop to step on, Mike Rowe plugs his nose all the time, and the workers clothing is a disaster.  Talk about filthy.

My kitchen is not a show kitchen.  My kitchen is a working kitchen.  When I got out my camera yesterday and took pictures of everything going on at once, I realized that this room really is the action center of our home.  I had left the book I was reading at the table to throw dinner in the crockpot and get the salad cut up and chilled for dinner.  Josh was lying on the floor nearby, happily coloring with his AquaDoodle that was spread over an area three times larger than necessary.  Jacob was going back and forth from the kids craft drawers to the window.  I don’t remember what mess he was making, but it’s gone now (Nathan cleaned it up later) and he was content and quiet-ish.  Ainsley was in her bouncer near us all.  Tioga was lying in front of the kitchen sink, hogging the air conditioning.

I usually feel the least stressed and happiest when my kitchen counters and the table are nearly empty, clean and shiny.  At this minute, the vita-mix was still out from having ground wheat, the crock-pot was going, the toaster still had bread crumbs around it, water was boiling on the stove for the pasta, I still had the cooling racks out from making a bunch of zucchini bread and muffins.  The mixer was out (always is), the right side of the sink was full of clean dishes waiting to be put away, and the island was full of fresh fruit for people to come get, the veggies I was chopping for dinner, and some scattered mail.  The kitchen table?  My book, a few magazines, the boys almost-dried paintings, and some more paper with crayons.

It was, quite honestly, a mess. But you know what?  It was a happy mess.  It was a mess and I had no (or very, very little) anxiety with it all.  I was making food that my family would later eat and enjoy.  The boys were learning and creating and playing, and the baby was nearby, sleeping peacefully - how she does that in our house, I still can’t figure out.

So I decided that for my kitchen to be a bit disheveled like this is totally fine.  It means we’re living there and loving there and learning in there and being together in there.

You’re welcome over anytime, and I really mean that.  If you want to see my kitchen clean and the counter tops cleared, you’d better come first thing in the morning or the last thing at night.  It will probably take me a while to totally accept this whole “working kitchen” thing and not freak out at noon when things aren’t perfect.  But I’d rather have a messy kitchen full of happy family and friends than take the time and energy to stress out about keeping everything perfect.

So, like I said, come on over.  But I’m not going to apologize anymore for all the toys around house and not-totally-clean kitchen.  Just grab a drink, have a seat, and laugh with me.

That would be me.  Are you as shocked as I am?  I can’t believe that a week without my own computer has left me with little to say.  Usually I have all of these posts in my head at once, and just need to find time to sit down and write them out.  I think I am too tired to keep anything in my head for more than 2 minutes, let alone hours or days.  So those things are getting lost.  Maybe for the best.

Highlights from last week: my 3 favorite tv shows returning with new seasons.  The Closer, Monk and Psych.  Heaven on a Friday Night.

Highlight from today: at Smiths (in Utah or Kroger stores elsewhere) there’s a deal on Duncan Hines brownies and cake mixes until Tuesday night at 11:59 pm: $1 each.  Go to couponsurfer.com, print out several coupons (don’t xerox, they need original pin numbers) for $1 off of two boxes, and shop away.  Each box goes down to 50 cents from over $2.  Yes, figuring and carrying that out really was the highlight of my day.

I’m craving a vacation right now.  The kind where we can hole up somewhere private and natural with trees and water and dirt and quiet and lots of stars, stay for a week or two and go home happy.  Too bad for me.

It takes me now about 3 days to watch one movie, and I only get one in that fast because I watch tv when I’m nursing in the middle of the night.  How sad is that?  Whenever I consider doing Netflix again, I nix that idea really quick.  Thank goodness for the Encore channels on our tv that give me 2 or 3 good movies a week to DVR.  I finished “The Holiday” today, which I really enjoyed.  Last night I found that I had neglected to return a Redbox movie from NINE days ago.  Whoops.  The bummer?  The movie wasn’t even good - The Other Boleyn Girl.  Huge disappointment since I was so into the book.  Now I need to finish Season 1 of The Gilmore Girls.

I just ordered the Supernanny book from Amazon today.  And a book called “Parenting your Spirited Child” about a week ago.  Now, when I log onto Amazon, I get all kinds of book suggestions that make it look (or me feel?) like an incompetent parent.  Woot!

Any plans for the 24th of July, you Mormon friends out there?  Well, all the friends out there, I suppose.  It’s just a bigger deal for the Mormons - Pioneer Day and all.  In Los Angeles we’d always have parties at church.  We were often encouraged to dress up, which I hated after about 7 years old.  Here in Utah it’s a huge, almost 4th of July type extravaganza in Salt Lake.  Nathan doesn’t have the day off, so I’m deciding on 1 - taking the kids into Salt Lake and playing holiday at the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Museum, maybe the zoo, maybe the parade…or 2- just lying low at home and pretending the day is any other normal Thursday.

For saying I was speechless, I just proved myself a liar.  I should have known that I probably do not have the capacity to be speechless.  Things on my mind I’m not talking about tonight: religious stuff and boob jobs.  Have a good night.

We moved into this house two years ago today.  Wow.  Time flies.  All that energy I used up worrying that moving here wasn’t going to be good for our family?  Wasted.  This is a nice house, great yard, and fabulous neighborhood.  We are blessed.

 Only Peeing Allowed

Knowing I would appreciate this kind of humor, my dad took this picture on vacation this week in Ohio (or New York or Maine or somewhere).

On the way to Jacob’s birthday lunch at Applebee’s, we stopped at our mailbox to pick up the mail.  There was a box for Jacob inside from my sister, Stacy.  I used my keys to get through the packing tape, opened the box lid, and looked at Jacob.

“Guess what she got you?!”

“What?”

“BUBBLE WRAP!”  I pulled out the bubble wrap and handed it to Jacob.

“Bubble wrap?  AWESOME!”

He is so very easy to please.  Pickles for Christmas and bubble wrap for his birthday. 

(there was more than bubble wrap in the box, but that was his favorite part of the present.  by far.)

Want to make me really upset really quickly?  Tell me that you think it’s right to pay teachers based on their students test scores.

Here in Utah, the state has started approving districts plans to implement merit based pay.  And I’m pretty pissed about it, even though I’m no longer teaching in public school.

I just can not wrap my head around the logic of people who believe it is fair or right to pay teachers that way.  You think it will make them work harder?  Take their job more seriously?  What an insult.

Four of my teaching years were spent at a Title 1 school.  The kids largely came from low-income homes, very crowded houses (not uncommon to have 10 people or more in a small 2 bedroom apartment), and many were very new to the United States and the English language.  I taught lots of students who had parents in prison, students who had very young parents, students who scarfed their school breakfast and lunch because they might not get dinner. 

As a school, you bet our test scores were low.  Our distric was large.  Other schools in our distric taught children who had doctors, lawyers and scientists for parents; kids who lived in multi-million dollar homes.  Kids who had nannies and tutors and extra curricular activities and vacations and good, positive life experiences.   

Would my “trying harder” as a teacher really help?  COULD I even try harder?  I was working my butt off.  I loved those children and desperately wanted them to succeed.  Would all the love and effort on my part ever raise those test scores?  No.  If a kid came to me knowing no English and reading not one word of English - likely not even knowing many letter sounds or names - at the beginning of first grade, I was thrilled when I helped that child get to mid-first grade reading level at the end of the year.  Thrilled.  Other schools in the district could easily show end of year tests where their first graders were reading at a 3rd grade level.  Good for them!  Truly.  I’m sure it took a lot of work on the part of the parents, student and teacher.  But I worked just as hard, my students likely worked harder, and we rarely had parental support.  You’re going to pay me less?

Chime in if you wish.

Adult doing sharing time lesson: What do you say to a friend who says they don’t have a church to go to on Sundays?

4 year old: Too bad, I do.  (tone of voice: bummer for you)

*We’re healthy. Praise the high heavens we’re finally healthy around here.  It’s been 2 weeks of poop and puke and we’re done.  Unless I just jinxed the situation, which is entirely possible.  I think I have 9 loads of laundry waiting for me tomorrow.

*Jacob turns 4 tomorrow.  He won’t let me make his birthday cake, so I took his party away.  JUST KIDDING.  The cake story: I was set to make this really cool 3D dinosaur birthday cake.  Jacob was excited for the dinosaur cake, which he requested be dark green, light green and turquoise.  On Friday Jacob was shopping at Costco with me and decided he HAD to have “a balloon cake from the store - THIS balloon cake from THIS store”.  So, fine.  That’s what he’s getting.  I’m not going to all that work if he’s going to cry when I stick a candle on top because it’s the wrong cake.  The party story: we had originally thought that we’d have a small kid party at our house.  Then we had The Sick here for 2 weeks and no energy to plan or execute said party.  Solution: tomorrow is All-About-Jacob day.  He has requested lunch at Applebee’s (the kids corn dog meal), a trip to Thanksgiving Point, and playing with bubbles.  He shall be granted all those wishes.  For the “party”, we’ll have some neighbors over for cake at night.  Everyone will be happy.

*One of Angelina Jolie’s new babies has the name Knox.  What do I think of?  Johnny Knoxville and Knox gelatin.  What does Nathan think of?  General Henry Knox.  We’re different, us two (she says while flipping pages of People magazine, while her husband sits next to her thumbing through his Wall Street Journal). 

*If you have an electronic device you love, keep it away from me.  The camera is being mailed into the shop tomorrow.  We took the computer into the shop Friday night.  I dropped it twice in one minute.  Everything was fine after the first drop.  After the second, the screen did that shatter thing.  Nice.  Thankfully, it’s under warranty for about 2  more weeks.  Lucky timing.  So now I not only have my good camera, but no computer to upload pictures of my children onto and send them to poor, unsuspecting family members.  My grandma will surely disappointed, but I bet everyone else is thankful for the breather. 

*Ainsley Jane made her debut at church today.  Just cracked me up looking at all the other 2 and 3 month old babies because, holy cow they were HUGE!  Big!  As in: why are those kids not walking yet??  Whenever people comment that Ainsley is “so tiny”, I look at them as if they are insane, because I see a giant when I look at all 8 pounds 2 ounces of her 8 week old adorable baby body.   I think we can agree that my perception of baby sizes is very off.  I have forgotten that Joshua was 8 lbs 11 oz at BIRTH.  Also have forgotten that she just barely graduated from preemie clothes and newborn diapers.

Joshua had a blood draw today.  I had Josh on my lap during the stick, and Jacob was about 10 feet away in a waiting room chair, waiting and watching.  Joshua did amazingly well.  He flinched, he was sad, he said “ouch! you hurt my arm!”  Not bad, right?  Especially considering he’s 2 and he had to be poked FOUR times until the blood would come easily.

Our issue?  Jacob.  From 10 feet away we hear him shouting “Don’t HURT my BROTHER!  STOP poking HIM!  I’m coming to RESCUE HIM! Don’t hurt him!”

I wanted to melt into the chair.  I’m glad that Jacob wants to protect his brother and all, but ouch - to talk that way to adults?  I’m trying to focus on the positive right now: Jacob is going to be his brother’s best protector.