Misadventures of ... Truth?

Y'all know that I like to set myself up as some sort of paragon of perfection, which is why I try never to actually know any real people in the real world. Confession Time: In the un-cyber world, I'm a mess, figuratively and literally. Today's story deals with more of a literal mess, with a little of my figurative messiness thrown in for fun.

Today found me cleaning my bedroom. I know, I'm an adult I shouldn't have to clean my room. (Believe me, my inner six-year-old threw that argument at me when I announced that I was cleaning my bedroom today.) Aren't grown ups supposed to be able to keep house and bedrooms clean? It wasn't FEMA ready, but I wouldn't be inviting company in either. There were two and a half months of neglected clutter build up waiting to be dealt with and a sad sock pile that was taller than my husband. So the iPod was plugged into the speaker, the recycle and shredder bags were prepared, my sleeves were metaphorically rolled up and I was ready to dig in. I'll spare you most of the nitty gritty details until I put my nightstand in the closet to be out of the way for when I vacuum (still not accomplished by the way) and set a sticky mouse trap on the nightstand to be equally out of the way. Later I found some earrings that needed to be put away in my jewelry box in the closet. Unable to reach the jewelry box due to the nightstand, I sat down on the top to reach over. Unfortunately, I immediately realized that I had sat down on the sticky mouse trap, wearing my favorite shorts. Google, or rather a site from Google, instructed me to put a cloth soaked in vinegar on the sticky stain and let it sit for a time, then follow with a scrub. This accomplished adding terry cloth fibers and a very strong odor to my shorts in addition to making my hands incredibly sticky. Palmolive and a lot of table salt removed the sticky from my hands, but my finger nails were unphased and I spent the rest of the day collecting things to them like magnets. As for my shorts....

Actually, the misadventure with the mouse trap is not the most interesting thing that I discovered upon cleaning my room. What actually prompted this post was the discovery of a paper, buried within a stack of junk mail that reads: "You Freaking Punch Drunk Horse!"

It is one thing to confess my lack of perfection to the whole world, but to confess to the whole world that my children might fall short of perfection is something else entirely. Still, in the off chance that one of my three readers might have children that don't always get along, I shall openly admit to having slightly imperfect mortals living in my home. The general tone of the insult sounded like an Austin and Nicole is usually the only one to whom he would fling something like that. And the fact that it was on paper...that would imply a vow of silence. There was a very intense quiet game between Erika and Austin about a month ago. See, I had pieced most of the story together before the children even got home from school. When shown the paper, Austin said, "That was when Erika and I were having the quiet contest and Nicole hit me in the shins. I was silently yelling at her, but she thought that I was using bad words so I had to spell it out for her."

That, My Dear Friends, is the truth about us. We're a little messy, sometimes to the point of punch drunkeness.

Misadventures of .... You think that I'm an Evil What?!

On lengthy (anything over 23 minutes) car rides, the children and I enjoy listening to audiobooks. However, on short rides, when we're just buzzing around town or driving carpool, we like to listen to comedy. Our favorites are Smothers Brothers, Bill Cosby (Is it politically incorrect to listen to him these days?), Abbott and Costello, and,of course, Weird Al. Our current carpool album is called, Average Anthems, by Dustin and Genevieve Ahkuoi. Our favorite song on the album is, Tap That (Snooze). It is a song about, Duh, the joys of hitting the snooze button. Some of the lyrics are:

"I'm gonna tap that snooze, because it keeps my dreams alive. Yeah, I'm gonna tap that snooze when I pry open my crusty eyes. It's the only thing I love, when that evil alarm freakin' wakes me up. I'm gonna tap that snooze 'cause that extra five gives me life"

and

"S-N-Double O-Z-E. Wake up in the morning feelin' poopy. S-N-Double O-Z-E. You know you're the one for me."

When listening to this song a few days ago, Nicole looked at me and said, "Now you know how we feel when you come in and wake us up in the morning." I confess that I was stunned silent for several seconds while thoughts raced around my little mind. How could she possibly say that to me?! How could I have raised such a clueless child?! Is she really so lacking in empathy that she doesn't know that, 17 seconds before I'm in waking her up, I have just used the strongest language that I know to chastise my own alarm after "Tapping that Snooze" for at least a half hour?! Despair and anger battle in my heart. 

Thankfully, my complacency, once again, rose to my aid when I remembered the transformation that I go through in that 17 seconds. In the time it takes me to climb from bed and cross the hall, I go from disgusted grumbling and, I'm ashamed to admit, some name calling directed at my alarm to smiling and singing a good morning song. I haven't raised completely apathetic children, I'm just a really good actress. I sure wish that someone would tell my high school drama teacher how very convincing I can be!

Misadventures of Is It Really Better Late Than Never?

As 2015 draws to a close.......Okay, who am I kidding? I may want people to believe that I started this post in a timely manner, but I didn't. Though I've been trying to write it for about 2 months now, it was all in my head and I didn't start typing until January 31, 2016.

At the end of 2013, my epic (and somewhat typical) failure to reach any of my goals, started me on a new path. I decided that, instead of forming new goals for the next year, I would reflect on lessons learned during the year. So, in no particular order of importance, here are the top 15 lessons learned in 2015:

15. This will probably feel like a cheat, but it is my list and my rules. It was easier to come up with 13 lessons in 2013 than it is to come up with 15 lessons in 2015. There are a lot of factors that figure into that beyond basic, first-grade math. Yes, 15 is more than 13, but there are other reasons.

14. Timehop (and now facebook's Your Memories) provides a great way to remember all of those misadventures that you thought, "Someday I'll look back at this and laugh," but never remembered to laugh at.

13. Having a 15-year-old (think age 15, not the passage of 15 years) longing come true is awesome.

12. Writing was much more enjoyable when I didn't need to worry about the censors crying, Child Shaming! Having young children is tough, but you are allowed more fun in the telling.

11. Even if you need to get more steps into your day, walking to the gas station to fill up the car is still a bad idea.

10. Cupcake Wars is a great way to inspire children to take up baking.

9. Having baking children in the house is a great way to increase your waist size.

8. Memory foam mattresses are not bouncy! It is very funny watching a young child try to dive head first onto one.

7. My children think that I'm really old, seeing as they think 74 BC was back in the 1990's or some other time Before Computers.

6. Cooking food burns all of the calories, making exercise superfluous.

5. Shifting your focus changes the whole picture.

4. My house is not conducive to the collection of Sunrises and Sunsets.

3. I’m not quick enough to learn new games. The new game systems are far too complex for me. I spent the whole playing time either looking at the ground or looking at the ceiling. Give me a good ol’ 2 dimensional Tetris any day!

2. My children, who will question the validity of everything that I tell them, have full confidence that I know the exact temperature, why a friend was gone from school, or when the mailman will arrive.

1. Now that I have a teenager (and a want-to-be, who still has a couple of years to wait) in the house, someone else has all knowledge and it is no longer necessary or reasonable to expect me to learn anything.

Misadventures of ...... What was I saying?

Cognitive decline is no laughing matter. Or it shouldn't be a laughing matter and in your heart of hearts you feel a little guilty for laughing at it. However, since the Little Old Lady in today's story is ME, feel free to laugh with a clear conscience.

Saturday found me at Costco, picking up some groceries (and free samples). As I walked to the far reaches of the parking lot where I had parked to get maximum steps, I sadly reflected that, with my Fitbit stuck on my wrist, most of my accumulated steps were not being counted due to the shopping cart that I was pushing.  Then genius struck. After I put my cart back in the cart keeper, I would get my steps in by walking over to the gas station to fill up the gas tank. Thankfully, I realized the problem with  my plan before I got too far in my journey.  I suppose I could have gotten my steps in walking back from the gas station to retrieve the forgotten car.

Misadventures of &##%@&!*$

As I sat at Austin's sixth grade graduation this evening, I was forcibly reminded of his first day of preschool. I had many misgivings about sending my young son to preschool. We had never been separated on a regular basis before and our worlds revolved around each other. What if he wasn't ready for the cold, cruel world? What if the world wasn't ready for him? Eventually, however, I realized that I had to loosen my choke hold and let him go.

Reluctantly, I left my boy at school and took his sisters home where we waited with bated breath for his return and the account of his first day in the wild (preschool was taught inside one of the local elementary schools in which he might encounter "Big Kids"). I remember sitting in the rocking chair, rocking the baby, as I listened to his tale (which mostly consisted of "fine"s and "I don't know"s). While we were talking, he fell off of his bed and landed on his backside on the floor. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, "I fell on my thing that starts with an "A" ". Shock and horror filled my mind! He had only been in school for one day and already he was referring to his backside as his "thing that starts with an A". Never before had he used (or even heard) such language. I had sent my son out into a corrupt world and would now be reaping the consequences of that decision. With great trepidation, I asked him to explain what he meant by "his thing that starts with an A". He responded, "You know, Mom, my alligator" and he lifted the large, plastic alligator that he had landed on when he fell. Apparently, they only covered animals that start with an A on the first day of school.

Misadventures of Life Hacks

Life hacks seem to be a big thing right now. Since I spend most of my time foundering, I wouldn't presume to give an adult any life hacks. I do, however, have a few life hacks to offer to my children:                          

1. If you hide the evidence by cleaning up after yourself, you'll get away with a lot more.

2.  If you do something the first time you are asked, the need to keep asking you disappears.

3. If you want to use Mom's possessions, don't throw a huge tantrum when she asks you to do something.

4. Mom can go from zero to crazy person in under 3 seconds, don't cook a quesadilla or a hot pocket a half hour before dinner time.

5. If you refuse to work on your homework when help is cheerfully offered, don't be surprised to find yourself doing homework by yourself.

6. When Mom offers to wash your clothes if you will bring them out, do it. Otherwise, your Saturday is likely to be filled with laundry duties.

7. Don't expect Mom to back up one of your, "Mom says....", while Mom is still waiting for you to do what she asked you to do.

8. When Mom or Dad ask if you have brushed your teeth, they mean recently.

9. When Mom is singing, "Count Your Blessings",it means that you need to run, fast.

10. Mom turns from Jekyll to Hyde at 8:30. It is in your best interests to conclude your business with her before that hour or be prepared for the consequences.

Misadventures of Super Powers

 I have tried over the years, with little success, to teach the goats to pick up after themselves.

Upon arriving home from some errands this morning, I discovered a recently opened peanut butter jar with several large scoops taken out surrounded on the counter by sprinkles of powdered sugar. When I asked my child, who had stayed home with a sore throat, to produce his peanut butter goo, he pulled it out from under his bed with a mystified expression. A little later, my search for the can opener ended when I found it on the counter with sweetened condensed milk dripping from it. When the sick child was asked for the sweetened condensed milk, he asked, "Are you psychic or something?"

I now find myself facing a dilemma, the consequences of which would be far reaching. It occurs to me that, if I point out to the children that they could get away with more stuff if they would only clean up the evidence, my house would be much neater. Though, would the clean house really be worth giving up my advantage? Am I really ready to give up my super powers?