The Update That Goes On and On
I have a lot of ground to cover.
But first, can I just ask a question? Why is it that I can spend two or three hours straightening up, cleaning, organizing, sorting, putting away . . . and yet, my house looks as if debris is raining down from the ceiling? Saturday morning I did not sit down one time, yet by noon, my kitchen remained a breeding ground for dirty glasses and the family room was littered with toys. As I work, the children sneak behind me and wreak havoc. I would like to know where they learned this.
Saturday
My husband had to work a lot yesterday, so he was gone all morning while I attempted to regain control over my house and laundry. I worked until lunch-time, then put the baby to bed and took the boys to a town festival. My husband stayed home with the sleeping baby. The highlights were eating hotdogs and petting baby bunnies and--for YoungestBoy--sitting atop a placid pony named Bunny. We were laughing at the antics of some jugglers when the cloudy skies unleashed a torrential downpour and we ran back to our car--the boys holding their flip-flops in their hands and running in bare feet. YoungestBoy was extremely disappointed in me because I "made" him watch the jugglers when all he really wanted to do was play a game involving rubber duckies and prizes that I had promised we'd play "on the way out." I'm not sure he is going to forgive me.
The afternoon meandered on at a leisurely pace. I actually dozed a little while Babygirl jumped around on our king-sized bed and then became conscious of my husband taking her downstairs with him to cook dinner. He made pancakes for everyone and I eventually wandered downstairs, still feeling sleepy.
The kitchen was a disaster--which seems impossible since I spent so much time in the morning cleaning--so as dinner ended, I headed for the storage room to get a replacement trash bag for the compactor (which doesn't work, still). As I passed the laundry room, TwinBoyA walked out and said in a calm, unhurried voice, "Uh, Mom? The toilet is overflowing." I looked down and saw a stream of water rushing across the floor.
In a single bound, I flew through the laundry room into the adjacent bathroom and sloshed through the inch of flowing water and grabbed the plunger. Plunge, plunge, plunge and the water stopped flowing over the toilet rim and began to recede.
Remarkably, I couldn't find a single bath towel in the laundry room--dirty or clean--so I hollered for TwinBoyA--who was standing, watching me in silence--to "GET TOWELS! GET TOWELS! RUN UPSTAIRS AND GET TOWELS!" Then, I unhelpfully grabbed two old cloth diapers (relegated to the rag pile in the cupboard) and threw them in the path of the stream.
I flailed my arms, spun around two times and yelled again "GET TOWELS! SOMEONE GET ME SOME TOWELS!" TwinBoyA had conveniently disappeared. TwinBoyB appeared and asked what was going on. I screamed, "GET TOWELS!"
The water filled the bathroom, half the laundry room and was seeping out from under the walls, making me think of Amityville Horror, a book I read as a teenager in which a house is demon-possessed or something like that. Stuff oozed from the walls in that house (if I remember it right). Here, water oozed from under the wall.
Finally, the boys delivered an armful of towels and I sopped up the water, throwing drenched towels directly into the washing machine. Nothing like stinky toilet water everywhere to make you wrinkle your nose and mutter under your breath.
My husband disappeared from the house shortly after this ridiculous display of panic where none was really warranted. Why get excited about a little toilet water? It's only pee water squishing into my socks, after all.
TwinBoyA stood mutely while I exclaimed, "Son! Next time! Do not! Stand there! And watch! The toilet! Overflow!! It! Is! An! EMERGENCY!"
I think he understood. Later, I explained that the toilet overflowing is just an accident. Standing, watching as it overflows is what made me scream and act like a lunatic. "Please!" I said. "If this happens again, use a plunger--like this," I said, as I demonstrated sticking it in the toilet and plunging, "or get a grown-up. Please. Please? Okay?"
Today, I had at least four extra loads of laundry to deal with because of this minor flooding. Pee-ewwwww!
Sunday
After church today, while Babygirl napped, I hurried to Target to buy vacuum cleaner belts. I love my Dirt Devil vacuum, but the belts break frequently. They cost $1.99 for two, so today, I bought three packages. Take that! I thought. I will outsmart you, ridiculous machine! I managed to fill my cart, even though I only went for milk and vacuum cleaner belts. My friend, MaryKay, calls Target the Forty Dollar Store. It's true. You go in for toilet paper and no matter what, you spend at least forty dollars.
Today, I spent $65.00. I love the clearance sales.
When I got home, Babygirl was still sleeping, so I picked up the boys and took them shoe shopping. Earlier, I'd checked out the local Famous Footwear store and found they had a good selection, good prices and a "buy one, get one half-price" sale. YoungestBoy picked out a black pair of Chuck Taylor converse high-tops with flames on them. TwinBoyA picked out white "Shaq" leather high-tops with blue accents, while TwinBoyB picked out the same shoe, only with red accents. I almost bought Babygirl pink Chuck Taylors, but they didn't have her size. Instead, I bought a pair of "school shoes" for myself--black suede clogs with fuzzy, fleecy lining. My other black scuffy slippers will have to go.
Total price? Less than $110.00.
The twins couldn't figure out why they were getting school shoes when they aren't going to school. They are schooling at home with www.k12.com. I said, "Well, you will be leaving the house, you know!"
As we stood, waiting for our turn to pay, YoungestBoy nearly whirled and twirled into another customer. I said, "Hey, come here! Stand still! Stopping moving! Don't touch him! Come here! Shhhhhh! Stop it!" about a hundred times and the woman he nearly banged into said, "Oh, it's nice to see little guys since mine are like this now." She gestured a hand above her own head.
I said, "Yes, they do have a lot of energy, don't they?"
Shopping with three boys is like having eight arms and eight legs and four mouths--and only control over two arms and two legs and one mouth. The rest of my arms and legs and mouths just spin and jerk crazily, like some kind of maternal Tourette's Syndrome, where I can't predict what my arms and legs and mouths will do next. I am a creature which occupies an enormous amount of space with my blurting arms and kicking legs and shocking mouths. It's so embarrassing when I knock into someone else. I remind myself of that Ghost of one of the Christmases in "A Christmas Carol" who keeps children under her skirts--only my children will not stay tucked under my skirts, but insist on veering into other people's personal space.
I prefer to shop alone. But now the kids have shoes.
We're going to paint our living room soon, so I spent the remaining daylight hours removing electrical outlet covers and shoving furniture to the middle of the room and getting distracted in other rooms as I returned stuff to its rightful home. I have lots more to do before I even get to the wall-washing and taping.
But tonight, I've done enough. Even if it doesn't look like I've done anything.
Weekends. Not for the faint of heart.
Don't we all feel refreshed now?
But first, can I just ask a question? Why is it that I can spend two or three hours straightening up, cleaning, organizing, sorting, putting away . . . and yet, my house looks as if debris is raining down from the ceiling? Saturday morning I did not sit down one time, yet by noon, my kitchen remained a breeding ground for dirty glasses and the family room was littered with toys. As I work, the children sneak behind me and wreak havoc. I would like to know where they learned this.
Saturday
My husband had to work a lot yesterday, so he was gone all morning while I attempted to regain control over my house and laundry. I worked until lunch-time, then put the baby to bed and took the boys to a town festival. My husband stayed home with the sleeping baby. The highlights were eating hotdogs and petting baby bunnies and--for YoungestBoy--sitting atop a placid pony named Bunny. We were laughing at the antics of some jugglers when the cloudy skies unleashed a torrential downpour and we ran back to our car--the boys holding their flip-flops in their hands and running in bare feet. YoungestBoy was extremely disappointed in me because I "made" him watch the jugglers when all he really wanted to do was play a game involving rubber duckies and prizes that I had promised we'd play "on the way out." I'm not sure he is going to forgive me.
The afternoon meandered on at a leisurely pace. I actually dozed a little while Babygirl jumped around on our king-sized bed and then became conscious of my husband taking her downstairs with him to cook dinner. He made pancakes for everyone and I eventually wandered downstairs, still feeling sleepy.
The kitchen was a disaster--which seems impossible since I spent so much time in the morning cleaning--so as dinner ended, I headed for the storage room to get a replacement trash bag for the compactor (which doesn't work, still). As I passed the laundry room, TwinBoyA walked out and said in a calm, unhurried voice, "Uh, Mom? The toilet is overflowing." I looked down and saw a stream of water rushing across the floor.
In a single bound, I flew through the laundry room into the adjacent bathroom and sloshed through the inch of flowing water and grabbed the plunger. Plunge, plunge, plunge and the water stopped flowing over the toilet rim and began to recede.
Remarkably, I couldn't find a single bath towel in the laundry room--dirty or clean--so I hollered for TwinBoyA--who was standing, watching me in silence--to "GET TOWELS! GET TOWELS! RUN UPSTAIRS AND GET TOWELS!" Then, I unhelpfully grabbed two old cloth diapers (relegated to the rag pile in the cupboard) and threw them in the path of the stream.
I flailed my arms, spun around two times and yelled again "GET TOWELS! SOMEONE GET ME SOME TOWELS!" TwinBoyA had conveniently disappeared. TwinBoyB appeared and asked what was going on. I screamed, "GET TOWELS!"
The water filled the bathroom, half the laundry room and was seeping out from under the walls, making me think of Amityville Horror, a book I read as a teenager in which a house is demon-possessed or something like that. Stuff oozed from the walls in that house (if I remember it right). Here, water oozed from under the wall.
Finally, the boys delivered an armful of towels and I sopped up the water, throwing drenched towels directly into the washing machine. Nothing like stinky toilet water everywhere to make you wrinkle your nose and mutter under your breath.
My husband disappeared from the house shortly after this ridiculous display of panic where none was really warranted. Why get excited about a little toilet water? It's only pee water squishing into my socks, after all.
TwinBoyA stood mutely while I exclaimed, "Son! Next time! Do not! Stand there! And watch! The toilet! Overflow!! It! Is! An! EMERGENCY!"
I think he understood. Later, I explained that the toilet overflowing is just an accident. Standing, watching as it overflows is what made me scream and act like a lunatic. "Please!" I said. "If this happens again, use a plunger--like this," I said, as I demonstrated sticking it in the toilet and plunging, "or get a grown-up. Please. Please? Okay?"
Today, I had at least four extra loads of laundry to deal with because of this minor flooding. Pee-ewwwww!
Sunday
After church today, while Babygirl napped, I hurried to Target to buy vacuum cleaner belts. I love my Dirt Devil vacuum, but the belts break frequently. They cost $1.99 for two, so today, I bought three packages. Take that! I thought. I will outsmart you, ridiculous machine! I managed to fill my cart, even though I only went for milk and vacuum cleaner belts. My friend, MaryKay, calls Target the Forty Dollar Store. It's true. You go in for toilet paper and no matter what, you spend at least forty dollars.
Today, I spent $65.00. I love the clearance sales.
When I got home, Babygirl was still sleeping, so I picked up the boys and took them shoe shopping. Earlier, I'd checked out the local Famous Footwear store and found they had a good selection, good prices and a "buy one, get one half-price" sale. YoungestBoy picked out a black pair of Chuck Taylor converse high-tops with flames on them. TwinBoyA picked out white "Shaq" leather high-tops with blue accents, while TwinBoyB picked out the same shoe, only with red accents. I almost bought Babygirl pink Chuck Taylors, but they didn't have her size. Instead, I bought a pair of "school shoes" for myself--black suede clogs with fuzzy, fleecy lining. My other black scuffy slippers will have to go.
Total price? Less than $110.00.
The twins couldn't figure out why they were getting school shoes when they aren't going to school. They are schooling at home with www.k12.com. I said, "Well, you will be leaving the house, you know!"
As we stood, waiting for our turn to pay, YoungestBoy nearly whirled and twirled into another customer. I said, "Hey, come here! Stand still! Stopping moving! Don't touch him! Come here! Shhhhhh! Stop it!" about a hundred times and the woman he nearly banged into said, "Oh, it's nice to see little guys since mine are like this now." She gestured a hand above her own head.
I said, "Yes, they do have a lot of energy, don't they?"
Shopping with three boys is like having eight arms and eight legs and four mouths--and only control over two arms and two legs and one mouth. The rest of my arms and legs and mouths just spin and jerk crazily, like some kind of maternal Tourette's Syndrome, where I can't predict what my arms and legs and mouths will do next. I am a creature which occupies an enormous amount of space with my blurting arms and kicking legs and shocking mouths. It's so embarrassing when I knock into someone else. I remind myself of that Ghost of one of the Christmases in "A Christmas Carol" who keeps children under her skirts--only my children will not stay tucked under my skirts, but insist on veering into other people's personal space.
I prefer to shop alone. But now the kids have shoes.
We're going to paint our living room soon, so I spent the remaining daylight hours removing electrical outlet covers and shoving furniture to the middle of the room and getting distracted in other rooms as I returned stuff to its rightful home. I have lots more to do before I even get to the wall-washing and taping.
But tonight, I've done enough. Even if it doesn't look like I've done anything.
Weekends. Not for the faint of heart.
Don't we all feel refreshed now?
posted by Melodee at Sunday, August 22, 2004
1 Comments:
Maternal Tourette's Syndrome...LOL! I think I have that sometimes...
~Tina
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