The Man Room…

Those of you who have been to our house are very familiar with our "Man Room." It is so incredibly lacking in any sort of design that it's actually being featured over at Antique Mommy's new Inspired Spaces blog. You can check out her post on our Man Room here.

Actually, I have to take that back. Our Man Room does have design....if you like hunting. And you like seeing the targets of your hunting on your twenty foot long wall....in the form of wood paneling.

I can hardly be in the Man Room without getting an overwhelming urge to shoot something.

When we first toured the house before purchasing it, we knew immediately what that room would be used for....Richard. None of the rest of us wanted to be in there. It's ugly. He doesn't like it either, but somehow he has some inner quality the rest of us lack to be able to endure long hours in such an environment.

Oh, and just for your viewing pleasure, here is the picture of the carpet that Antique Mommy referred to as "yugly." I think you'll agree.

And, I'm officially inviting all of our friends over for a week-long Paneling Painting Party. Doesn't that just sound like a BLAST??? Hey…I would do it for you!

Uh…yeah.

How do you know when your son’s addicted?

We may have a problem on our hands. I think my son may be addicted to...are you ready for it?....Juicy Fruit gum. It would seem that not only does he love it dearly and ask for it 10 times a day, he'll now throw a kicking, screaming fit when denied. It goes a little something like this:

R: Mom, can I have some Juicy Fruit? Please? Can I? Can I? (Picture a sweet, soft little three-year-old with large pleading eyes, two inches from my face.)

Me: Sweetie, we don't have any gum.

R: Yes we do!

Me: No we don't.

R: (beginning to rifle through my purse) YES! WE! DO!

Me: (with stern, convincing…or maybe not so…mommy face) No, we, don't. I need my purse back please.

R: NO! I NEED GUM!

Me: No you don't.

R: YES I DO.

Me: How about some candy?

R: NO, I NEED GUM. WHHHHAAAAAHHHH. WWWHHHAAAAAAHH. WWWWHAAA. I NEED IT. I NEED GUM!!!!!!

All this while at the eye doctor's office today where I really just needed 45 minutes of peace so that I could get all set up to, you know, SEE for all of 2008. But, he didn't get that, I guess. He would rather have me forego good sight and instead spend my 45 minutes magically producing Juicy Fruit out of the sky. What does he think "we don't have any" means??????? We don't have any. I can't get any. They eye doctor doesn't sell any. You're nuts if you think I'm taking you to Wal Mart to get any while you're raving mad. Even if I could get any, your attitude is SO BAD that you have lost your gum privileges. FOR ALL OF 2008!

I've tried switching to mint gum. No go. It's too "hot." I've tried switching to somewhat fruity tasting sugar-free gum. No go. He spits it out like I've just asked him to eat a worm. The only suitable substitute in the case that the beloved Juicy Fruit is unavailable would be the orange Trident. Sadly, we hadn't a lick of that today either.

I started picturing myself alone with him in a video supervised, locked, all white room with rubber walls while he kicks and flails about the bed coming off of his sugar high which had been induced by Juicy Fruit gum. Can anything be done? Perhaps an intervention is in order. Or maybe we should just go cold turkey. No gum in the house. Oh, sweet. That'll be a real treat.

Everything’s better with ranch…

What is it about ranch dressing that allows it to turn the most ordinary and mundane raw vegetable into a gloriously delightful snack? What would normally send my kids gagging and hurling toward the trash can suddenly become an object of tasty delight to which they return again and again...thanks to the fine folks at Hidden Valley. My kids can't seem to eat anything without ranch. Carrots, broccoli, chicken, pizza. Whatever it is, it's better with RANCH.

Of course, who am I to judge? I have the same exalted affection for butter. Not margarine. Oh, please! Butter, real salted butter. You could serve me any type of food under the sun and I'd like it better with butter. I've read recently some (probably not so) scientific study citing that butter can actually be good for you. Or, at least it's not as bad as its partially hydrogenated substitutes. That is comforting news. I wish we could say the same for Ranch.

Why I need supervision in the kitchen…

Until last Saturday our oven had been broken. I wish it had been broken today. Then, I wouldn't have to be dealing with this:

The baking explosion you see above is what happens when one thinks angel food cake pans look like this:

When in all reality, they actually look like this:

Now, the yummy coffee cake which was intended for my girlfriends tomorrow will unfortunately be replaced with something truly inspiring like Trix yogurt and some Honey Nut Cheerios. Luckily, my dear sweet husband is giving his dancing homage and two thumbs up to the remnants which he says are quite tasty.

Blind spot anxiety…

I've noticed that I have some blind spots—places in my house that are in real need of attention, but after weeks and months of not attending to them, they seem to somewhat blend into the landscape of my life and I forget that they're there. I have little piles here and there. Places that seriously need the touch of someone who has a couple ounces of design sense. Boxes of items still unpacked from our first move (first of four!) seven years ago.

Funny, though, how these blind spots can turn into glaring eyesores the moment I invite friends over. This week, several girls will be visiting my house for the first time and I'm getting some blind spot anxiety. Of particular concern are:

1. My unfinished paint job in the living area. I did all that I could without the help of a pro or at least a willing friend with a VERY tall ladder. The remaining walls remain white until I rent scaffolding or pay the estimated $800 (yes, I said eight HUNDRED dollars) to have the pro do it.
   


2. The foot-long piece of painter's tape that has been stuck on the high ceiling since the aforementioned unfinished paint job in APRIL! I mean, why in heaven's name is that still there? Every time the in-laws come up for a visit, they mention it. I really should get up there and pull it down.
   


3. The light hanging over the kitchen table is one of these lovely numbers circa 1998:
   
   
   

   
   

   
   

   That could be bad enough on its own, but picture it with one bulb completely missing and two others burned out. Classy.
   



4. Both of my bathrooms have a "sea" motif with coordinating fishy wallpaper that we inherited when we moved in. Again, bad enough on its own, but the downstairs bath has large portions of the sea life peeled off the wall thanks to Richie getting bored during his long hours sitting on the potty.
   


5. When we moved in, we had some bad wallpaper removed from the master bedroom. Indecision has led to those walls never being painted since then…it's been 16 months.
   

I could go on, but you get the picture. I'm tending to stress about these little items only because friends are coming over. I'm not sure which is worse—ignoring these items for months on end, or being superficial enough to get stressed about them when I'm at risk of having friends think lowly of me because of them. Or perhaps the worst is having the low opinion of my friends in assuming that they actually care about these things. Somehow I have plenty of grace to offer my friends if they had, say, mismatched window treatments or wallpaper issues or a house-full of dated fixtures or weeds in their landscaping. But, I'm having trouble believing they'll extend the same grace to me. Perhaps it's because I'm not extending the grace to MYSELF!

Going green….progress!

Back in July, I bravely admitted my adverse feelings toward environmental friendliness. It's not that I didn't want to be environmentally friendly. I just wanted to do it without having to make any lifestyle changes or put any effort into it at all. Well, it's a new year and new things for me are on the horizon. I decided to call the trash company about recycling. Lo and behold it's not nearly as painful or as expensive as I thought. $1 a month. Jeepers, ONE DOLLAR? I think I can do that. AND the recycle pickup is on the same day as the trash pickup. AND, I don't have to turn my garage into a refuse sorting factory. I simply throw all the recycle-ables into one blue box. Easy. And, it feels right.

We had a family meeting about it last night and talked through with the kids what all types of items go in the blue box. Wouldn't you know it, today I found a glass bottle in the normal trash. Oh, yes I did. The culprit? It wasn't the kids, it was the hubby. I suggested posting a large sign (flashing neon perhaps?) on top of the trash can lid that says something like, "Please look at the item in your hand that you're about to throw away. Is it #1 or #2 plastic? Is it glass? Is it a metal can? Is it a newspaper? If so, get thee to the garage and put it in the blue bin you crazy fool!!!!!" He thought perhaps just a little note that says "Recycle?" would suffice.

Pirates movie…

Last night we had "family date night" for which we took the kids to see the VeggieTales movie The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. It's a fine little movie however our children spent the entire time with their hands over their ears because it was SO STINKING LOUD or trying to bury their faces into hubby's and my armpits because OH MY GOODNESS, THIS IS SO SCARY! They missed the point of the plot line, clearly. The whole movie is about overcoming your fears. I have a feeling I'll be reinforcing that lesson in the coming nights as they have vivid dreams about creepy veggie pirates. Although, they would do well to learn the lesson from the movie, because waking Mommy at 3:12am citing a bad dream from which one cannot recover may very well turn said bad dream into bad reality in which Mean Mommy sends one directly back to bed where you should not even THINK about getting up until your alarm goes off!

A day of self denial and blessing…

Hello, my name is Christie and I'm an impulse buyer. Yep. There it is. Name it, claim it and then destroy it. That's the name of my game.

My usual Thursday routine consists of dropping off Number One at school and then finding ways to busy myself (er…empty my pockets) in "town" until Number Two spends an hour learning to tendu later in the morning. (Those of you who live in a very small town near a slightly larger town know that the small town you live in is called "the country, the hills, the sticks, the boonies, etc." and the larger town near you with the big fancy Wal Mart and such is simply called "town." Hence, we go to "town.") Normally this chronic impulse pocket emptying process happens at our first and favorite stop of the day. Target. But, since I've been feeling a nudge to name, claim and destroy the impulse buying, I was listening to my inner voice today.

First, my inner voice told me to return the $80 wall hangings I bought during my recent re-arrange of the living room. I loved them, but didn't really need them. They had been an impulse buy and I felt guilty about it. My inner voice also told me to make a list of the items that I truly needed to buy today and to buy nothing more. Ok, that was going to be hard enough but THEN, while we were driving to Tar-zhay my inner voice had the audacity to suggest that I detour over to Wal Mart instead. Ugh! I recently moved from a town where the only option was Wal Mart and friends, when one has spent four years carting three toddlers around Wal Mart one really appreciates the culture and fashion leap forward that is a larger-town Tar-zhay. So, since there was a Wal Mart near the place where I needed to return the wall hangings, I drove there across town.

It was FREEZING and flurrying today, so we all bundled up and literally skated from the car to the store. In true impulse-buyer-destroyer-fashion, I decided not to even get a cart. Yes, I shopped in Wal Mart sans cart. My reasoning? My list had only three items. I should be able to carry them without the help of the cart. If I didn't have a cart, I couldn't put anything in it! So, off we went. I have to say walking around the store without a cart or stroller or some other large wheeled apparatus was a bit freeing! But, it was very hard resisting the impulse buys. There were several items I longed for as I passed by….baskets for the new shelf in the living room, Clif bars (man, those things are good!), tweezers with a light (genius). I even stopped and gazed at the Rug Doctor rental because our recent furniture re-arrange has brought to light some unsightly places in the floor. But no, I persevered. The only major problem with not having a cart was that I forgot I still had two toddlers with me—neither of which wanted to wear or even CARRY their own coats! AND, somehow one of them managed to carry a gigantic bag of 100 balls (yes, literally) around the store but, no, never, I'll scream if you make me, would not carry his own coat. So, there I was holding my three small items and two coats chasing my kids around the store and trying to pry them with the severest of words and mommy serious face out of the toys. I had no hands, you see. But, I am a victor. I did not impulse buy! And, I got $80 back in my pocket for the return next door.

Now, on to the blessing part of this post. A friend had mentioned to me yesterday that she recently went to story hour at Barnes and Noble. I thought that sounded like a great way to pass our Thursday morning time in town and not spend money. So, this morning, before heading out, I looked up the B&N schedule for our local store. Bummer, today was the wrong day for story hour. I checked the other local bookstore, but couldn't find a schedule. So, after the Wal Mart stop and the return, I decided to take the kids over to the other bookstore just for kicks. Would you believe that we arrived exactly at 10am and that it was STORY HOUR DAY??? Not only did the kids get three stories, they also did crafts and had a snack. FREE. J

I'll chalk that up to a Divine blessing and a small "at a girl" for my successful morning.

Sweet, quiet moments...

Yesterday, I spent a quiet hour in the afternoon under our favorite “family blanket” and read a good book a friend had given to me. This was one small attempt to enjoy the Jan/Feb that I traditionally loathe but newly want to embrace. All was quiet in the house with the two littlest ones down for their afternoon rest. I shortly drifted off into sleep and was awakened by sweet Richie who had entered the living room and tapped on my foot. His big eyes puffy from his sleep, he was dressed in his favorite sleeping attire—Spiderman underwear and socks, nothing more. He loves the family blanket. We purchased it last spring when Carson and I were at T.J. Maxx and looking for snuggly blankets for around the house. Carson picked out a white one. It’s huge so all three of the children and I can snuggle comfortably under it together without anyone’s feet sticking out or without the ones on the outsides playing tug-o-war to get their fair share of the warmth. And, it’s the softest blanket in the world, I’m quite sure. Richie asked if he could get under the blanket with me and of course, I said yes. We sat there together in the big brown chair under the family blanket for what must have been 20 minutes. Neither of us talked. I thought as he sat there how big he was with his head resting on my shoulder and his socked feet dangling off the seat. Just yesterday it seems he was tiny enough to fit within the crook of my arm. I sniffed his hair and felt the softness of it on my face and prayed that the scent would be burned into my memory so that when he is grown and gone (or perhaps when he is just 14 and no longer wants his mommy sniffing his hair!) that I would be able to remember. He sucked his thumb on one hand while we sat and with the other he gently played with my fingers and I returned the sweet gesture. We traded soft little hand caresses for awhile. I know his likes his arms scratched. Not the hard fast scratch meant to fight off an itch, but the slow light-touch scratch that brings a welcome tingle. So, I scratched his arms a bit and as I did, he snuggled in closer to my lap. There was still not a word from either of us. To him it was probably just a little short-lived post-nap lazy period for he was soon up, dancing in his underwear and asking me for a bowl of pretzels. But, to me it was precious. A moment I felt worthy of writing down. A tiny slice of my life that I hope rises to the top of my memory bank when I am old and gray.

Jan/Feb…not my favorites…

It's the 10^th of January and just today I took down the Christmas tree. There's nothing like a little procrastination to start off the New Year! I have never really liked winter, so I think subconsciously I am trying to extend the jolly Christmas season into my most dreaded time of the year. I like it somewhat in December when it's not freeze-your-fingers-off cold outside and the promise of snow adds all the more delightful anticipation to Christmas. I love a brisk stroll two steps out the front door to pick up my internet shopping gifts. I love hot chocolate, warm fires and snow. Cold is acceptable in December.

However, Cold becomes hideous in January. It's almost as if when the Christmas tree comes down, that's nature's signal to drop it 20 degrees and let the sickness bugs run rampant. I really can't think of anything redeemable about January and February. It's just stinkin' cold for no stinkin' reason and we generally end up with some sort of nasty family bug. They are to me the dreadful 8 weeks I must endure until the glorious Spring begins to break forth. So I delay in taking down the Christmas tree…until mid-January when I finally surrender to winter.

However, before we all start to drown in the Winter Blues thanks to my cheery New Year Report, please let me say that I have been feeling Holy Spirit-style convicted about my hatred of Jan/Feb. I mean, God created this season just like all the others, right? So, there MUST be something in which to rejoice. So, indulge me a little self-help talk here for a minute.

1. Richie was born in January, so in that we can rejoice! (Nevermind that two weeks after he was born our entire family had the stomach flu….hence one more reason to hate Jan/Feb and fear what illness they may bring. But, we're not thinking about that now!)
   
2. Today as I was driving, the clouds were full with rain and were an enchanting shade of dark blue. I noticed that the leafless trees looked so beautiful up against that blue sky and had there actually been leaves on the trees, I would have missed that sight. I actually gave audible thanks to the Creator when I saw it. Winter scenery can be breathtaking.
   
3. Taking down all of the Christmas decorations affords me a rare opportunity to re-arrange and re-decorate our living spaces. That is fun! I pushed all of the furniture around in our living room today. Not only is the change refreshing, I found $2.71 behind the couch and some socks we had been missing since Summer!
   
4. Ok, I was on a roll and now, I'm stuck. I can't think of a fourth reason to appreciate Jan/Feb. But, three is pretty good and it's three more than I had last Jan/Feb!
   

Clearly, I could use a little encouragement!

A piece of her mind…

Avery has had a lot on her mind today:

 
 

7:30am - "Mom, I promise I didn't pick my nose and put these boogers in my eye.  How did they get there?"

 
 

4:20pm - "Mom, when I die and go to heaven, can I take these with me?"  -holding up a handful of candy canes from the Christmas tree which I'm finally TODAY taking down.  "No, you can't take them."  "Why not?  There isn't candy in heaven?"  "No, they have other, better stuff."  "Better than CANDY CANES???"

 
 

5:02pm - "What is this, a WIPES MAGAZINE????  (rolling her eyes) That's crazy." - sorting through the day's mail and coming across a Huggies coupon book.

A piece of her mind....

Avery has had a lot on her mind today:



7:30am - "Mom, I promise I didn't pick my nose and put these boogers in my eye. How did they get there?"



3:00pm - "Mom, when I die and go to heaven, can I take these with me?" -holding up a handful of candy canes from the Christmas tree which I'm finally TODAY taking down. "No, you can't take them." "Why not? They don't have candy in heaven?" "No, they have other, better stuff." "Better than CANDY CANES???"



5:02pm - "What is this, a WIPES MAGAZINE???? That's crazy." - sorting through the day's mail and coming across a Huggies coupon book.

Richie put his WHAT in the WHERE???

(At 7am on Saturday.)

Carson: "MOM!! Richie dropped his NUN CHUNK in the TOILET!"

Stranger words have never awakened me from a dead sleep.

Except maybe the time in college when the RA banged on my door during what I thought was a fire drill and yelled "Get up! The doors are on fire!"

Or, maybe the year that I was the RA and one of the little freshmen on my floor woke me up at 3am with a "Christie, my roommate's drunk and I'm not sure she's breathing! What should I do?" What the heck do I know? No, that's not really what I said. But, it is what I WANTED to say, followed by a lengthy lecture on all the dangers of underage drinking.

Ah…fond memories. Anyway…back to the nun chunk…. Yes, all of the kids call it a nun CHUNK and they're referring to the nun chuck attachment for their Nintendo Wii.

(Startled out of my warm, peaceful sleep….)

Me: "Well, GET IT OUT!! NOW!!!"

(Two minutes later, in a very matter of fact tone, as if this sort of thing happens every day. And, actually, it does.)

Avery: "Mom, I got the nun chunk out of the toilet and cleaned it off."

Me: "Great, good job, wonderful."

Now I can't go back to sleep because I'm wondering what else was in the toilet when Avery so boldly retrieved it.

I'm also wondering under what circumstances exactly Richie managed to drop the nun chuck in the toilet in the first place. Oh, wait, a moment of clarity…just now at breakfast while I'm writing this he asked if he could eat his yogurt with his controller ON. I'm guessing he dropped it while attempting this.

Binge and purge…

Yes, that's a totally disgusting title. Sorry. But, it's what has been happening here in our home since Christmas. And, I'm not talking about lunch. I'm talking about TOYS. Semi-annually, I have the great joy of sorting through all of the children's toys. Keep in mind that our children have two ENTIRE ROOMS of the house completely to themselves. Not only this, but they have also taken over corners of four other rooms of our house with all their little trinkets. Add to this that every Christmas each of my three children receives gifts from about 10 different groups of people and some of these 10 give more than one gift. Add to this that my son's birthday is 2 days after Christmas, so he gets another 10 sets of gifts. Within a matter of 3 days, our home goes from to Toymania to a stinkin' Toysapalooza!

Much like that show on TLC, my typical purge procedure is to create three big piles; Keep, Trash, and Donate. I'm also compelled to make a fourth temporary pile containing pieces of toys that I KNOW belong to other pieces of the same toy….I just have to find them!

The Keep pile is exactly what you think it might be. Of course, it includes everything most recently received this Christmas. It also includes anything that the kids still enjoy OR items that I would have deemed Donate or Trash except that their loving owners rescued from Mommy's cold calloused hands as they were being banished into THE PILE. This is why I make every effort to do this work in SECRET.

Now, the TRASH this time around was insane. I finished the purge this morning and I ended up with 4 large trash bags full of…..yes, trash. We're not really trashy people, it just builds up. Lost puzzle pieces. Miscellaneous Legos. CD cases with no cds. Broken this-es and that-s. McDonald's toys from 2004. Why do we still have those and why did I pay $3.50 for it in the first place? Trash also includes any toys or books that have been so loved and so used up that they're no good to anyone anymore. That's when you know a toy is really loved.

The DONATE pile is the hardest one for me. Strangely enough, I do get attached to some of these toys. I have memories of the kids playing with certain items and as they outgrow them, it reminds me of how much they are growing up and changing. I keep anything particularly special, but I can't keep it all. So, we give most things outgrown but still in good working order, to families in need.

This year however I've done something a little different. I've started saving back a few toys for the future. I'm already secretly planning for grandchildren so I'm building a little stash of some of our favorite toys that I think will pass the test of time. I have these little fantasy glimpses of little ones coming over to grandma's (MY) house to play and getting out some of the old toys that Mommy and Daddy used to have. Some of my secret keepers this time include the wooden shape sorter, Miss Spider's Sunny Patch mama and baby bugs, the magnetic stacking choo choo train. There are others, too. And, I'm sure there will be more added to that collection over the next few years. In all the madness of out-with-the-old and in-with-the-new, I think it'll give me a little sanity—a little something to hold on to as my children's live race by before my eyes. A bit of hope for the future that one day, there will be new Little Ones and that I'll get to re-live a bit of this God-graced journey again with the next generation.

Until then, I'll remember that the best memories of toys are the ones the kids and I make playing together. And that even as toys come and go, the memories are the real treasures.

Thanks to everyone who bought toys for our precious kids this Christmas. Your contribution to happy times in our home is priceless!