Already Thursday?

I'm having a really hard time motivating myself to do ANYTHING this week.

I'm going to blame it on going back to work after the Christmas break. I come home exhausted and don't feel like doing anything but sit in my chair, watch the news, and check in with all my friends that live in my computer.

I've been tempted almost every night this week to feed the children ice cream and pop tarts for dinner, because I haven't felt like cooking.

Our stacks of clean undies and socks are dwindling while the hampers are overflowing, because I haven't felt like washing. In fact, Keaton had to wear a pair of Sawyer's socks today, and you would have thought that I had asked him to give me a kidney....the horror.

My Christmas decorations are still up, too.....go figure.

I just can't get my mojo back. I can't remember how I managed to (not very well, mind you) juggle all of it before. I've been racking my brain trying to remember how it was that I managed to come home after work and do laundry and cook and clean -- and only 3 short weeks ago. I can't figure it out...because I am beat!

One thing that we have been doing every night that I'm so happy about is our nightly Bible reading as a family. We have been terribly out of habit of that, and I was reminded of the need for it (by something that Sawyer said) just the other day. So, every night this week, before bed, we've been sitting down and reading. In the past we've done devotional books, but I really wanted to just read from the Bible. I think my kids have been "taught" the Bible a lot, but I don't know that they've actually "heard" the Bible....and to me, there is no better source. Keaton has a great Bible version for kids to understand at this age. It is the Contemporary English version and it says everything in everyday language. (Please hear me....I think version choices of the Bible are an individual decision and I really do feel that prayer should be involved in that choice. I wouldn't choose this particular version for me personally, but for my kids....it seems to be so on their level that it holds their attention and they are able to "get" it...even Tate, who I was worried about.) Tate has loved every minute of our Bible time together. He has sat mesmerized by the reading of the Word. I love it! We aren't using fancy books or visual aides...just the Word. Love that.

So, I guess my week hasn't been a total flop. Although my sink is full of dishes, my laundry is piling, and my floor needs sweeping.....we've made the time to spend together in the Word...

....not sure it gets better than that!

(P.S. I failed to mention that another reason for my lack of household duty motivation might possibly be attributed to my new found addiction....Pathwords, WordTwist, and WordScramble on Facebook.....thanks a lot, Lisa! *smile*)

H.O.R.M.O.N.E.S.

I'm thinking that I'm just a bit hormonal today.

Clue#1 -- I cried while watching Horton Hears a Who......it's just that a person is a person no matter how small.

Clue#2 -- I bought a bag of bakery rolls at the grocery store today and ate the entire bag.

Clue#3 -- I cried again when I peeked into my laundry room. Not the good kind of crying either.

Clue#4 -- The menu for tonight's dinner includes cheese, cheese, and more cheese.


Um...

Hormone. Meet my good buddy, Raging.

One Little Bite

"You have to try at least one bite."

These are the words that only mothers should get to say. These are not the words to be spoken by an 8 year old boy TO his mother, with his father sitting close by with a smug grin on his face.
These words also shouldn't be spoken to a mother who has an extremely weak stomach when it comes to gross food. Just not good.

It all started with a duck. One measly duck that Kirk killed while duck hunting this past weekend with a buddy.

It has been sitting in my fridge since Saturday just waiting to be cooked up. Last night seemed like a good night for duck on the table, since we had a huge pot of roast left over and I knew I could eat that....because I knew that I wouldn't eat the duck. I just knew.

See....I don't like any kind of wild game. I don't mind it being dressed or cooked in my kitchen, just don't make me eat it. The only wild game I'll eat is deer....and only then if it is ground. No deer steak. No squirrel. No rabbit. No thank you.

Kirk fried up the duck, because we decided that everything is good fried (well, not for me, but for my fellas), and we sat down to dinner.

I heaped my plate full of roast, carrots, and potatoes, and watched as my boys all eagerly tried the duck, very proud of their courage in trying something new....especially when they so closely relate a duck with their beloved cartoon character, Daffy. My boys are terrors when it comes to trying a new vegetable or other side dish, but if it comes from an animal and is fried....they'll eat it.

They gobbled up the stuff. Duck...check...one more meat that my kids will eat. Great.

Then.......

Keaton says, "Mom, you always tell us that we have to try one bite. You have to try at least one bite."

I pretend like I didn't hear him as I became totally engrossed in forking a carrot on my plate.

"What's that?" I finally ask under my breathe.

"One bite. You have to try it."

"Oh, Mom doesn't like duck. Thanks, though."

*Kirk is snickering and giving me sideways glances, trying not to let his duck come out his nose.*

And then he (the husband) says, "Yah, Mom, you need to try at least one bite."

*Ooooohhhhh....if looks could kill, we'd all have a funeral to attend.*

After muttering ugly things to my husband (who is still sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face), I agree.

I took ONE bite.....

And threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Thanks for Nothing, Santa

Who does this Santa guy think he is anyways?

He thinks he can slither down my chimney one night a year and stuff all 5 of our stockings with the most delicious, most scrumptious choices of chocolate available.

Doesn't he know that the mother of the family will feel compelled to display all the yummy candy on a Snowman platter dead-center in the middle of the bar, so that every time she walks into and out of the kitchen she will not only smile at her platter, but grab a candy bar....or two...or three?

Doesn't Santa know that because of his stocking stuffing, he not only promotes impulsiveness for the mother, but is also now the sole reason as to why the mother needs to go on a diet?

Thanks a lot, Santa.

Really appreciate that.

Say It Ain't So

Just one more day.

That's what I've prayed for.

Just one more day of Christmas break. One more day with the kids. One more day with the husband home. One more day before I have to wear a pair of khakis again. Just one more day.

It's not looking good.

So, tonight I will set my alarm for 5:30 a.m. for the first time in 16 days. I will probably sleep fitfully so dreading the return of routine. In the morning, I will drag myself to the shower, wishing that it wasn't true. I'll stand in front of my closet looking for something teacher-y, so wishing that it was a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt which I've grown so accustomed to wearing these past few weeks. I'll drag the kids out of bed, feed them a pop-tart, and probably holler at them about finding tennis shoes or a backpack....and then....

We'll be in the car.

On our way.

And it will be over. Christmas vacation will be over.

It really is enough to make me want to cry. It isn't the going back to work part that really gets me. It is the end of our lazy days. Kirk's been off work for these two weeks with us, and we are used to doing what we want when we want to do it.

I learned how to play chess in these past 2 weeks. I've stayed up late watching girl movies because I knew I could sleep late the next day. We've spent days in our jammies. I've rearranged my furniture. And I've cooked dinners in my crockpot....because I've been home all day to smell it!

I'm making it sound like our lives are over. But, I really am in mourning. I'm just not ready for hours of homework and late nights of laundry. I'm not ready for early mornings and being too tired to cook a really good meal. Just not ready.

So, I'm going to go now. Going to go put on my jammies and snuggle on the couch with my kids and watch a movie. May play Keaton in a game of chess. We're going to eat the leftovers tonight from yesterday's crockpot meal and enjoy eachother for a few more short hours....

Before routine hits us.....just like I'll be hitting my alarm clock....at 5:30 in the morning.

A Little Green, But A Lot Blessed

I've decided that I got the raw end of the deal.

There are 7 years between my big sister and me, and I can remember countless occasions where I busted out the "everyone likes you better than me!" argument on her. She has a different opinion, since I was the baby of the family and had a tendency to be a little spoiled, but I can remember getting so mad that my mom would just "hang out" with Michele all the time, or that she would get to go do stuff and I wouldn't. Never mind that I was 11 and she was 18......but, that didn't seem to matter to me at the time. Now I get that my mom would have much rather had a girly talk with my teenage sister than play Chinese jumprope with me....but, whatever.

Anyway....the whole "everyone likes you better" monster crept back on my shoulder just yesterday when I read this post written by my beloved sis on her blog. You should go check out all this stuff that she put on here....

Why?

Because it is all the stuff that I DON'T HAVE!!

My sister is a lover of antiques. And she is a fantastic decorator. Her house leaves my house in total Wannabe Land.

And her antiques? Not many are antique store finds....they are heirlooms. Heirlooms that I DON'T HAVE!

She's got dishes, furniture, and well, dishes and furniture. All which were lovingly handed down to her by various family members.

She claims that it is because at the time that we were "putting our names on stuff," she was a young adult....so, she knew what was worthy of the taking. She got the hundred year old china and depression glass. Me? Not so much. The things I scrawled my name on (probably with a crayon) were Coca-Cola glasses and salt-n-pepper shakers shaped like cartoon dogs.

So, am I bit envious? You betcha.

My sister did graciously "share" a portion of these beautiful antique green glasses that were my grandmother's, because she felt pitifully sorry for me and my Coke glasses when our goodies were being dished out. (I really do love my glasses, so thank you very much, Mich!)

It is so easy for the little green monster to begin to take over. I've been pegged in the family as the one who appreciates the more "practical," while Michele gets the "beautiful." And it is probably for good reason. My home is very practical, minimally decorated, and if I had anything nice it would most likely be adorned with a lightsaber or legos.

But, this is where I have to insert my change in attitude. It is so easy for me to get all "I want pretty dishes from Aunt Fay" and "I didn't get a plate from Grandpa Sib." But, as I look around my quaint little house....I see the things that I did get.

Mine are much more practical....but no less from the people that we loved than her pretty stuff is. So....because I love my things so much, too, and just need a reminder that my family does like me (therapy is not in order at the present moment)....here are a few of my favorite things....

1) My dad painted this. Isn't it beautiful? It hung in our dining room when we lived overseas and I have always loved it. When Kirk and I bought our house, my dad dug it out and had it reframed for me. It hangs over my mantle....love it.

2) Kirk's grandmother is a seamstress like none I have ever seen. She's an even better quilter. She taught me how to quilt, in fact. I have been given stacks and stacks of her quilts. All of them are tidily tucked away inside several chests that I have. Each are hand pieced and hand quilted....amazing. And the rate that she could turn these puppies out was superhero-ish. Her eyes and arthritis will not allow her to pick up a needle anymore.....so what I have is it. This one is my favorite. I know that it isn't really "cool" to hang quilts up anymore, but I have tried and tried to take this one down and I just can't do it. I love it too much....so hangs it still does.

3) This is a small portion of my Nanny's bell collection. Her bells were one of those things that I picked out when I was a kid...fascinated by all the shapes and sizes and colors. It was a known fact throughout the family, that one day.....I would get the bells. She even started to refer to them as "our bells." When she died, my mom and I carefully boxed them up and I lovingly looked over each one....remembering how proud we were of our bells. I also got her china cabinet when she passed away, so our bells sit in it here at my home, just as they did at hers. Love that.

4) These are the green glasses that Michele shared with me. Supposedly they are worth something.....to Mich and I they are....worth lots of memories of our Granny.

5) And these are my Coca-Cola glasses.....fabulous aren't they? I sure thought so when I was a kid. I think my Granny collected them at garage sales and auctions.

6) This desk was made by my Grandpa Jack for my Nanny. It sat in her kitchen for years and was painted a lovely shade of mint/pea green. I begged for the desk when she passed away and got it. Kirk stripped it and refinished it for me. I think it is beautiful. My dad didn't even recognize it without its green paint!

7) This is my Nanny's honey pot. My Grandpa Jack and I shared many a slice of toast slathered in honey from this pot.....she knew I loved it. When she passed away....we found a slip of paper in it with my name written on it. She wanted it to be mine.

8) My Great Aunt Fay never had children of her own, and my mom and she always had a very close bond. Aunt Fay had remarkable things. My sister got her china....so pretty. And because Aunt Fay wanted to give me something "comparable" for a wedding present....she gave me her silverware. Our family still uses them everyday.

(Aunt Fay is still going...at 96 or 97 years old...I lose track. She is also the one that gave me toothpaste for Christmas that I mentioned here. What a great lady!)

9) My Grandpa Jack was, not only an amazing carpenter, but a gifted artist. He went through a stage where he painted a lot of still-lifes, and my Nanny had a lot of them displayed in her kitchen and dining room. When they both passed away, everyone in the family got at least one of his paintings. I'm so happy about that, too. I think that is what he would have wanted. This is the one that I picked. I hate fruitcake...but, I love it in this painting!

I am blessed....really, really blessed. So, I'll lay off my sister...I'm so glad that she was given the things that she was. She adores them, and it is as it should be. Even though my eyes flash green every once in awhile!!!!

97 Hours

I've been home for exactly 97 hours.

97 hours that I cannot blame Christmas, or family, or traveling for my dirty house.

97 hours that I have literally done NOTHING. I've watched a couple of movies. I've spent a few hours (give or take...no, just give....a few) on the computer. I've played games with my kids. Other than that....I have zero idea as to where these past hours have gone.

These were supposed to be the hours that I used to clean my house and organize it for the new year. I was even going to clean out the toys that disappear under the couch from time to time, and go through and find new homes for all the Christmas presents while ditching all the has-been stuff. Has any of it been done?

Nada.

Zip.

I'm going to cushion a bit of this on myself and the fact that I did kinda just want to be lazy for awhile after all the running here and there of Christmas, but I honestly did have great goals of getting the house all put back together. I really thought one day of lazy would be enough.

So....I have figured out my problem.

It's Kirk.

The husband.

He's the problem.

He, too, has been home all week, and I have discovered that I can't clean when he is home. Just can't do it. It isn't that he is super-messy so the mess is messier. It is just that when he is home, I want to hang out with him and the kids.

They'll be playing a game....so, I'll put down my dishtowel to play, too. They'll be watching a movie....so, I'll chunk the broom for a cozy spot on the couch to watch, too. My bathroom scrubbies get replaced with long talks with him (even if they are about random and pointless topics.....nothing philosophical for us!). My Mr. Clean is replaced with Mr. Goodrum.

Is that bad?

It is if you are the house.

A few of my friends have said the same thing....that they find it harder to clean when the husband is home. Is this a universal problem? Let me know how your cleaning goes down....is it better husband free or not?

(By the way.....my house is getting the scrub-down tonight....thanks to a duck hunt!)