Thursday, March 11, 2010

Over reacting? Never

For some reason dealing with a sleepy, cranky child who just won't go to sleep isn't not high on my list of "relaxing atmospheres".

Bubble baths with candles. Check.

Curled up in the papasan chair with a good book and a quiet house. Check.

Standing in the middle of my street at 2 am waiting for the dog to pee. No, but preferably to trying to calm squalling loaner toddler for three hours until she finally fell asleep.

Just as I began to rethink my plans to ever have sex again, my husband called. Even from the Middle East that man has the talent to talk me down from the edge.

I won't lie. My super power is being able to bottle stressful feelings inside, and then use them to majorly freak out about anything I cannot control. Big, small, it doesn't matter.
Today's freak-out featured topics such as "We're never going to finish paying off our car!", "I'm never going to finish my degree because I can't talk to a real person at UTSA" and "I know you want to homeschool, but all he talks about is his fictational teacher. And I can't compete with her!!!"
Somewhere in the midst of the education related "coversations" I realized that I wasn't frazzled anymore. In fact I would almost call the feeling abducting my body "calm".

Two hours later I went to the airport and picked up some Spring Breakers! So my house is now the refuge for not one. Not two. Yes THREE! Three young people who are of age to need a babysitter.

I love children (obviously), but I can't help wonder if I'm the only one person who manages to add people to her household while sucessfully practicing absintence.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

carnations and castles

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch.
Who watches over you?

Not to put too fine a point on it

-They Might Be Giants "Birdhouse in your soul" aka "Today's soundtrack"

Somedays I make plans that deep down in my soul, I just know they're destined for failure. Yet for some unexplainable reason, I have to test it.
Today was one of those days.

Surprisingly the part I thought was destined to result in my being banned from a certain part of town, went off smoothly. Of course the "safe playdate" was disasterous.

I took two small children with me to meet with a florist/event designer this morning. I've been helping a friend plan her wedding, and our assignment this week was to pick out a florist and someone to handle chair covers/bows for the reception. Since I am not the bride, bringing children along for professional meetings is a gray area. I can get way with bringing one, but two is questionable.
The children were fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic. It was actually quite surreal. I left the meeting floating on a cloud of maternal pride.

10 minutes after we got home, we had visitors. For anyone keeping count, we are now at 2 adults. A 4-year old (mine) a 13-month old (loaner) a 3-year old (visitor) and a 2-year old (visitor). Almost immediately, everyone not old enough to cross the road by themselves tried to end civilization as we know it. Castles were destroyed. Balloons were stolen. Vehicles were crashed. There was much crying.

But wait. That's not the end.

Instead of cleaning up the spilled milk and crushed cereal after everyone had gone home, Alex and I packed a picnic lunch, harnassed the dog and headed to the park for a picnic dinner. As I watched the sun highlight Alex's big brown eyes, I realized just how lucky I am to have friends that don't mind me bring my child plus an extra to business meetings. Or to have friends that can come visit us, but most importantly, to have the world's greatest 4 year old, and live 2 blocks from a park!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Oh an Ode to Maytag

The Trojans had a horse.

Achilles had a heel.

Superman had kyptonite.

I have laundry.

As I tried to stare down the pile of laundry homesteading on my laundry-closet floor, I had to ask myself how it could be possible for two people to generate so much laundry. I could swear that when we left the house today I only had one load of laundry sitting in the que, yet, when we returned I had three. The only logical explanation is that my laundry has been cross-bred with rabbits.

I started running the washer and dryer with a vengence. Load after load of clean laundry popped out of the washing machine, into the dryer and then onto my bed, where it waited patiently for me to fold it.

I moved it into baskets so I could sleep.

The next day I adjusted the papsan chair and converted it into my new clean-laundry-needing-to-be-folded holding center.

Instead of feeling accomplished, I felt guilty. What kind of June-Cleaver-Wannabe shuffles laundry from one place to another place, perpetually procrastinating on folding and putting it away? A tired one.

I need a laundry gnome.