Phoning It In This Season

Reading about someone's struggles with Writer's Block is about as interesting as hearing a coworker's blow-by-blow recap of last night's dream.

Kill me now.

But alas!  I have the Block.

I stepped away from my blog because after three years, I'm not only covering topics two million other mommybloggers are smothering to death--I'm bored with it.   

I'd kill to write something more meaningful, but I'm also at a season of life where I can't even write blog posts.  

My children are both in demanding stages.  I can barely keep on top of the housework and meal prep.  What little free time I have is divided between working out (mentally, I need it) and trying to maintain some sort of non-roommate status with my husband.

Moments of easing back in an armchair with a new journal and the perfect writing pen aren't happening.  Even staring at my laptop during nap time isn't an option, because the work here is nonstop.  

These girls need me.  If I'm not on the ball, they are fighting and screaming and tearing the house apart within seconds.  It's overwhelming and at times, really discouraging.  Mothering THIS stage has pushed me to the brink. 

Writing is a huge part of me that's being silenced by...life.  I'm so ragged that my mind is fried and I can't come up with anything creative while words just slip through my fingers.  I don't have it in me now, and that scares me.  What if I never get it back? 

That's the fear of every Mom, isn't it?  We all give up something to have our children; some speck of selfishness has to go up on the highest shelf with the sharp scissors and the bottles of alcohol because the kids come first.  And occasionally, we glance up at that shelf and long for our old adult things and hope that we don't forget about them when the kids stop grabbing at our pants...in ten more years. 

It saddens me, but I'm almost resigned to it.  Writing isn't in the cards right now.  Blog posts will be sporadic at best, and I'm glad I have this place to write SOMETHING.  Because otherwise, I would be totally lost in Momdom.

The Great Bus Stop Debate

At 8:52, Elizabeth's bus pulls up in front of our house to pick up two kids:  The Big E and another little Kindergardener who lives across the street.  Then her bus coasts 30 yards down the street and stops again for another group of 4-5 kids...then another 30 yards...  

I still remember the morning in September when I woke up from my normal Mombie Walking Death state and said, "The hell?  Why not have all the kids walk to the corner and just make one stop?"  Then I shut up real quick because having the bus stop right in front of my house is convenient.  Screw common sense and childhood obesity rates! 

I walked Elizabeth to the bus stop (ie., the sidewalk off our porch) happily for the first couple months.  Then the weather got cold.  And the baby started to walk and throw herself on the ground in massive temper tantrums.  And now standing on my sidewalk in the snow with a writhing toddler who wants to bite me is a giant pain.

So occasionally (ie., mornings I can't be bothered to put on a bra) I send Elizabeth out to GET ON THE BUS ALONE.

I make her stand on the porch so I can keep an eye on her--not because some weirdo is just lurking in the bushes waiting to snatch her--but because she can't be trusted not to load her book bag with "interesting nature rocks" from the landscaping.  (Seriously, kid? It's just lava rock.)  

Okay, she's really on the porch because the other kindergartener always has his Grandma with him, and letting Elizabeth stand on the sidewalk with them feels like I'm pawning my kid off on the woman.  "Oh, hey!  Since you're standing there anyway...watch my kid!"

But the bus stop is my house!!!  I don't want to stand on the sidewalk helicoptering over my more-than-capable-6-year-old and pat her rump gently as she climbs up the bus steps!  Especially when I can see the whole thing going down from the comfort of my living room window! 

I'm torn.  If Elizabeth were the only kid being picked up, she would be standing alone on our porch every morning while I watched from the window  She's on our property.  Free-Range Kids and all that.  But since Grandma is out there, I drag myself out all angry with a screaming toddler tucked under my arm.

So I ask you:  Should I continue to stand outside with Elizabeth, helicoptering her for that 3 minute wait before the bus pulls up?  Or should I do the Free-Range thing and let her walk out alone, Grandmother or not?

Liz Lemon, Marla Hooch and House Fraus. Yeah, I don't know where I'm going with this.

I've been working out every day for anywhere between 15-30 minutes.  As Liz Lemon would say, "I have been BMing like a pro!"  Seriously, my poop schedule has never been this regular.  

However, all this working out is translating into a big fat ZERO on the weight loss front.  Me and Weight Loss just aren't friends.  So I'm upping the ante by consuming as little as possible throughout the day and going to bed so hungry my chest aches.  Meh.  It worked in college.

Speaking of Liz Lemon...Elizabeth watched an episode of 30 Rock with me and then said, "Mommy!  You look just like Liz!"

We share the same glasses.  And stress eating.

I took it as a compliment because most days?  I think I look like Marla Hooch.

But, here I am, with my recently dyed-back-to-brown hair.

Taken in my work bathroom, because it is the only place in the world where no one will barge in on me, demanding "cheese cackies" and "ooce."

I'm pushing the weight loss because Kevin's 40th Birthday is this weekend and I'm throwing a big party for him.  (A real party!  At an adults only bar!  NO KIDS!!!)  I'm stupidly vain and want to look like his 10-years-younger-hot-wife and NOT the frumpy house frau in a Target sweater.

(see above pic)

I was going to wear this semi-skanky one shoulder top (Britney Spears circa 2001) but I put it on and horrified myself with my upper arm cellulite + an underarm boob roll.  I ripped the shirt off in the midst of a small panic attack.  I'm a 31 year old mother who hasn't really looked in a mirror in 3 years.  I should have known better than to try that thing on.

Now I'm rethinking that lion shoulder tattoo I've always wanted.  I can't pull that off.  Probably just as well, because I wanted it to be a dark brown medieval lion--brown like a big mole--and everyone I've shared this idea with thought it was disgusting.  I guess I'm the only one broad-minded enough to embrace moles.

I would have ROCKED that mole.

Resolutions I Already Started (And No, I'm Not Making Any More)

1. Read the Old Testament

I'm up to II Chronicles (which is a nice chunk!) and I'm not allowing myself to read another book until I hit Malachi.  I'm using a study bible that explains all the confusing stuff in the margins, otherwise I probably would have bailed somewhere around Leviticus and grabbed my ratty copy of Gone With the Wind.  Again.

It dawned on me that I sludged my way through Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged--a horrible, boring, difficult book that I despised--but never put the same effort towards a book I'm staking my life on.  

Pathetic. 

2.  Fly Lady

I can almost hear you scream, "NOT ANOTHER FLYLADY BLOGGER!"  

(I know, right?  What is the deal with this woman and why are internets so in love with her?!?)

FlyLady is a free web site that shares cleaning plans for overwhelmed, unmotivated, craptastic housekeepers.  It's a little Stuart Smiley ("you're good enough, you're smart enough") mixed in with lots of e-mails reminding you to get off your ass and clean something. 

First:  I'm not wearing shoes in my house, and I don't shine my sink with Windex.  It's porcelain.  I also heard signing up for her e-mails means you'll get spammed 20 times a day, so I skipped it.  But I like her idea about dividing the house into four Zones and deep cleaning each zone for one week. 

I tried her plan (loosely) for 3 weeks, and I'm amazed at how smoothly my house is running.  Instead of cleaning something because I noticed it's totally disgusting, I'm cleaning because it's on this week's list.  Therefore, nothing has a chance to get totally disgusting--and I am always always ALWAYS cleaning.

Okay, that part sucks--but it's worth it when my house is pristine. Nothing beats that feeling.  (Other than thin, probably.  Which leads us to...)

3. Exercise and Stickers!!!

Of course this is on the list.  

(Since we're on the topic, I have been uncontrollably jamming food in my face!  I don't know WHAT my problem is, but I'm gnawing my way to being uncomfortable & self-conscious & nothing fits again.  Even worse, I'm starting to shrug my shoulders and think, "Meh.  I'm 30-something and a Mom.  Time to hang it up for the next generation anyway."  NUM-NUM-BAGELS-NUM-NUM)

But, a weird FlyLady You Tube segment inspired me to pledge to climb on the elliptical in my spider-infested laundry room for just 15 minutes everyday.  "You can do anything for just 15 minutes!"  She wanted people to "Shine their Sinks!" for a month, and reward themselves with stickers on a calendar every day they do it.  I don't share her sink obsession, but the idea appealed to me.

Yeah.  It's lame, but I don't care.  On my huge MOM CALENDAR (have you seen those things? a line for each family member? it takes up half my wall!) I'm sticking little stars and flowers and hearts on my line for working out for 15 minutes each day.

And okay, I realize 15 minutes is LAUGHABLE and doctors and health magazines all want you on there for at least 30--but it's better than parking it on the couch with a tub of French Onion dip, amiright?  "Just 15" gets me on the machine.  "30" makes me give up before I even get on.



I also want to share one New Year's tradition we started 3 years ago:  Kevin and I write the bad events of the past year on bits of paper, read them out loud to each other, and then throw them in our fireplace while sharing a bottle of wine.  They usually range from funny to serious to make-me-cry-painful, but it's just a good way to unload all that...crap...and look forward to a fresh start.

So, I hope you all had a great Christmas, and here's to a fabulous 2012!  

Bring it. 

Tricks I Stole From Other Mothers

1.  Touch it Once

No, not that "it".  Get your mind out of the gutter.

It's a cleaning mantra that means, "If you pick it up, go all the way with it."

...

Why does this keep sounding dirty? 

Maybe I should just use examples:  Take the laundry basket all the way upstairs rather than dumping it on the steps for later.  Put your water glass in the dishwasher instead of throwing it in the sink.  Put the loose Lego back in the box instead of scuffing it under the couch with your foot.  Touch it once.

LIFE CHANGING, mofos.  LIFE CHANGING.  I don't waste my time with half-assed chores anymore.  If I put my hands on it, I go all the way with it.

Yeah.  You heard me.  Prrrrr.

2.  Well, what would the pioneers do?

This is from my Grandma, and it's in regard to cooking.  This woman will make soup out of a box of spaghetti noodles and an old head of broccoli--or, potato soup out of instant mashed potato flakes which I DARE YOU TO EAT WITHOUT CHOKING.   She makes all these...ahem...substitutions...while blithely muttering, "Well, what did the pioneers do?  They ate what they had!"

It means, "Oh, to hell with running to the store for missing ingredients.  It's just food.  We'll have another chance to eat again in like, FIVE HOURS, so if this meal sucks DON'T WORRY!  There's another one coming."

Which, oddly enough, is very freeing for me whenever I make dinner.  It doesn't have to grace the cover of Snooty Foodie Homemaker.  It just has to be edible.

But I don't have her drawer-full of used sandwich baggies and worn out twist ties, because that is just WEIRD.  And a byproduct of growing up during The Depression.  I grew up in the 80's, so my drawer is full of hot pink scrunchies. 

Don't judge.

3.  Homework Wrestling

A very dear, mentor-ish friend of mine is the education department head at the local private college with hilariously expensive tuition rates.  And she is freaking awesome.  Anyway...she said that her son was a kinetic learner (say wha--?) and needed to move around in order to learn, so they taught him his spelling words with Beanie Baby Wars and wrestling matches for words he spelled right each night.

THIS IS BRILLIANT.  

Elizabeth is only in Kindergarten, land of no homework (so they claim), so we wrestle with sight words.  If she gets them all right, she gets 5 minutes to BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF DADDY.  (I'm the ref, because the ref just sits on the couch laughing and shouting out Daddy's weak spots.  THE UNDERARM!  DIG IN THERE!)  For everyone she misses (or whines about how she hates them) she loses a minute.

The girl begs to go over sight words.

4.  Buy Awesome Kid Foods

My best friend Myndi is beloved by children everywhere.  She's laid back.  She's nice.  And she always has a freezer full of fudgsicles.

I want to live at her house just to nosh on the food in her cupboards.  She's got name brand Fruit Loops!  The juice pouches that are all metallic and come with their own straw!  (What aisle are those even in?)  Wait...are those pizza rolls?!?

And?  AND?  She always has wine and beer stocked in her basement.  I BOW TO MYNDI AND HER MAD GROCERY SHOPPING SKILLS.  

Because seriously, yesterday I made Manwich Spaghetti thanks to pure laziness and....well...see Item #2 What Would the Pioneers Do? 

Planning - The Ultimate Comfort

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It's December 5th, and:

1. Christmas shopping is done (AND WRAPPED, MOFOS!)
2. Decorations are paired down to "I love this and must have it out or it isn't Christmas!" rather than "Well, it's in the box so I should find a spot for the damn thing."
3. Unloved decorations are at Goodwill.
4.  The advent calendar full of Super Fantastic Christmas Family Fun Time!!! that I created months ago is making my life ah-mazingly simple now.

Last Christmas, I read lots of blog posts about homemade, candy-stuffed advent calendars and thought they were brilliant.  (Those craft bloggers.  Man.  Full o' The Genius.)  But instead of candy and little toys, I wanted our calendar full of activities for the entire family to enjoy.  Ice skating!  The Nutcracker Ballet!  Children's Theater!

Annnnd...then I realized my dream calendar would leave our family exhausted and broke.  (Damn you, craft bloggers and your unattainable ideals!!!)

Okay, so The Nutcracker was out--but how about a movie night in our family room watching The Polar Express?  Or playing board games?  Or a slumber party under the Christmas tree?  That crap is FREE!

  

There are some ridiculously gorgeous advent calendars on the internet and frankly?  I'm embarrassed to show mine.  It's a generic scrapbook page hanging on my fridge with mismatched magnets.  (I know.  GET BACK.  The craftiness is underwhelming.)  But it's a fun way to give the girls a little non-negotiable surprise each day and keeps the whining and "When is it going to be Christmas???" to a minimum.

Planning it forced me to get my act together back in October and schedule special events like Breakfast with Santa and A Christmas Story theater performance while the good seats were still available.  After that, it only took a few hours to brainstorm a list of cheap free activities with Kevin and plug those into the empty days.  And, okay, I did slip a few holiday related chores onto the calendar (baking cookies, anyone?) hoping that it will magically morph into something fun.  We shall see.   

So far, one little paper advent calendar has been a huge comfort to me and is making our Christmas season relaxed and fun.

Well.  That and hot chocolate with raspberry vodka.  Mmmm.


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How I Roll (Job Interview Edition)

I have a job interview phobia.  I sit there with an eager smile plastered on my face until my cheeks ache.  

It doesn't matter how big of a douche the interviewer is or how quickly I realize I would never, ever, EVER want to work there, that stupid grin stays in place.

HI!

I am always interviewed by an asshole, and at some point, he/she always insults me.  And I just sit there and take it.

Liberal arts degrees are sooo pathetic! I know, right!

Like the woman in charge of X-ray records at the hospital who said, patronizingly, "I don't think you would fit in here with my girls.  I see you more as a receptionist."

If I have to wear one of your scrunchies to fit in, then...yeah.  Point me to reception.

Or the panel interview with old men who pounded me with personal questions like, "Is your husband okay with you working?"

Wha--?  Don't think that's legal...

Once a pervy old man directed all questions to my left boob in his isolated, dingy office.  He never looked at my face and I still kept smiling.

Should I walk out?  WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?!?

I smile like a loon even when I say something totally stoopidz.  I read somewhere that you should ask questions and seem really interested in the job...but at the end of the interview I couldn't think of anything to ask.  (DATA ENTRY is not that complicated.)  Feeling like I need to ask something, I burted out:

"Can I listen to the radio here? Because at my last job, we weren't allowed, and IT WAS HELL to hear nothing but keyboards clicking.  Er...I mean...not that I'm going to blare the radio or anything!  Hee. Snort.  Bwahahahahahaha!  Wow.  I did not just say that to you."

Annnnd...that's how I landed my current job.