The things they say...
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Overalls?
My 4 year old daughter said the funniest thing tonight. We were driving down the road and I asked her to reach in my purse to find my cell phone. After a moment she said with such a confident, helpful tone, "If you need it, the pad for your overalls is in your purse." I thought for a minute trying my hardest to figure out what in the world she was talking about. Finally I asked, "My overalls? What is it that you found?" She pulls out a feminine pad (I'm trying to be discreet with my words) and says, "This...for your overalls." Then she proceeds to try to put it down her shirt. I realized that my sweet daughter thought it was a nursing pad and that my bra was actually called overalls.
The things they say...
The things they say...
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Neurotic?
neurotic - adj.: affected by neurosis
neurosis - n.: a functional nervous disorder without demonstrable physical lesion
I am functional and do not have physical lesions, but I wouldn't have defined my "condition" as a disorder. That said, I have come to believe that one of the reasons I have three young children is to break me from my neurotic tendencies. And I cannot help but be broken. In a house where my attention is continually demanded, petty neurotic behaviors have no place (and no time to be fulfilled). Let me give you an example.
When my husband and I were engaged, we registered for our everyday china in two complimentary colors. Prior to having children I diligently stacked my everyday china in an alternating pattern... behind closed cabinet doors. (Have you ever seen Sleeping with the Enemy?) I was able to keep this behavior hidden from most; except our occasional friends who would come for dinner only to peak into my cupboard of secrets when reaching for a bowl.
The other morning, I was hurriedly putting the clean dishes away while my coffee brewed. (I knew the day would quickly be in high gear and wanted to start it with an empty dishwasher... can I get a witness?) I paused as I realized that two blue plates were stacked on top of one another, and three yellow plates were likewise touching. What had happened? And when? I fought the inward pull to rearrange the entire shelf and felt a sense of pride as I closed the cabinet door without giving in. It was the same feeling I felt when I called my sister just to tell her that I had allowed my daughter to mix the play dough colors. What freedom. What rebellion.
So have I overcome this nervous disorder? Not completely; but there is hope... one plate at a time.
neurosis - n.: a functional nervous disorder without demonstrable physical lesion
I am functional and do not have physical lesions, but I wouldn't have defined my "condition" as a disorder. That said, I have come to believe that one of the reasons I have three young children is to break me from my neurotic tendencies. And I cannot help but be broken. In a house where my attention is continually demanded, petty neurotic behaviors have no place (and no time to be fulfilled). Let me give you an example.
When my husband and I were engaged, we registered for our everyday china in two complimentary colors. Prior to having children I diligently stacked my everyday china in an alternating pattern... behind closed cabinet doors. (Have you ever seen Sleeping with the Enemy?) I was able to keep this behavior hidden from most; except our occasional friends who would come for dinner only to peak into my cupboard of secrets when reaching for a bowl.
The other morning, I was hurriedly putting the clean dishes away while my coffee brewed. (I knew the day would quickly be in high gear and wanted to start it with an empty dishwasher... can I get a witness?) I paused as I realized that two blue plates were stacked on top of one another, and three yellow plates were likewise touching. What had happened? And when? I fought the inward pull to rearrange the entire shelf and felt a sense of pride as I closed the cabinet door without giving in. It was the same feeling I felt when I called my sister just to tell her that I had allowed my daughter to mix the play dough colors. What freedom. What rebellion.
So have I overcome this nervous disorder? Not completely; but there is hope... one plate at a time.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
How did I let it get this bad?
I decided it was finally time...time to clean the Bling (if you are new to my blog then you may be unaware that the Bling, short for Blue Bling, is my minivan). I never actually made it to the exterior of the vehicle because the amount of sweat I had to put into scraping, wiping, and sucking up the interior left me exhausted. How did it get this bad? If you have children you have asked the very same question.
I am not sure what motivated me; maybe it was the crumbs that seemed to stick deep into my knees every time I knelt in the rear of the car to strap my 2 year old into his car seat, or possibly the portable, fold-up potty (which by the way is my most genius purchase) but today just seemed a little too used. It was time for Clorox wipes to jump into action!
So I took everything out...EVERYTHING! I lined it all up neatly in my front yard. In fact, if you were driving by you may have thought I was having a yard sale. I told my four year old that if she helped me she could keep any money that she found. So in the background of my deranged cleaning attack I hear my precious first born saying (over and over...loudly), "I found another money mommy. Now I have 18."
Once everything was out and accounted for, and the surfaces had been wiped down, it was time to bring in the big guns...I borrowed my husband's shop vac! There is something about a shop vac that just makes me feel more powerful, like I am really doing a serious clean-up job. "Back up, I am turning it on!" I said to my daughter. And it felt so good. I was sucking up things I didn't know a vacuum cleaner could suck up. Crayon pieces and goldfish crackers, dried chicken nuggets (I think) and even a pencil were thumping loudly as they were pulled into the vortex. There was thud after thud as my cleaning frenzy continued. At one point, as the blood was rushing through my veins, I even tried to suck up a fly that had made it's way innocently into the van. "Watch out, fly, you are entering cleaning zone." Thankfully he was pretty fast.
Finally, it was finished. And despite the stains that adorn almost every square inch of the mats, my car felt clean. As we left for soccer practice my kids asked if they could have a snack, "Yes," I said with a satisfied grin, "but you may not eat it in the car...I just cleaned."
I am not sure what motivated me; maybe it was the crumbs that seemed to stick deep into my knees every time I knelt in the rear of the car to strap my 2 year old into his car seat, or possibly the portable, fold-up potty (which by the way is my most genius purchase) but today just seemed a little too used. It was time for Clorox wipes to jump into action!
So I took everything out...EVERYTHING! I lined it all up neatly in my front yard. In fact, if you were driving by you may have thought I was having a yard sale. I told my four year old that if she helped me she could keep any money that she found. So in the background of my deranged cleaning attack I hear my precious first born saying (over and over...loudly), "I found another money mommy. Now I have 18."
Once everything was out and accounted for, and the surfaces had been wiped down, it was time to bring in the big guns...I borrowed my husband's shop vac! There is something about a shop vac that just makes me feel more powerful, like I am really doing a serious clean-up job. "Back up, I am turning it on!" I said to my daughter. And it felt so good. I was sucking up things I didn't know a vacuum cleaner could suck up. Crayon pieces and goldfish crackers, dried chicken nuggets (I think) and even a pencil were thumping loudly as they were pulled into the vortex. There was thud after thud as my cleaning frenzy continued. At one point, as the blood was rushing through my veins, I even tried to suck up a fly that had made it's way innocently into the van. "Watch out, fly, you are entering cleaning zone." Thankfully he was pretty fast.
Finally, it was finished. And despite the stains that adorn almost every square inch of the mats, my car felt clean. As we left for soccer practice my kids asked if they could have a snack, "Yes," I said with a satisfied grin, "but you may not eat it in the car...I just cleaned."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
