Archive for November, 2012


Anatomy 101

November 27th, 2012 at 4:09 pm » Comments (3)

Last night Caden-8yr yelled at me from another room, “MOM! ETHAN-12YR SAYS WOMEN DON’T HAVE WEENIES! IS THAT TRUE?!”

I walked into the doorway of the living room and tried to gauge the “just messin’ with ya” vibe that often follows Caden-8yr pretty closely. But it wasn’t there. He didn’t see me, standing there, staring at him.

So he kept yelling.

“BECAUSE I THOUGHT ONE TIME I SAW YOURS.”

I stood there, silent. Mouth fallen open.

He stared at the ceiling a moment and then yelled, “WAIT. NO. NEVERMIND. THAT WAS DAD.”

At that point I found my voice and screamed from the hallway, “NO! I! DO! NOT! HAVE! A! PENIS!”

He looked completely shocked that I was standing there, and that I had said the word ‘penis.’

Then he said, skeptically, “Really?”

And I said, “OH YES, REALLY.”

And he said, “Then where does the twinkle come out?” He smirked as if he’d caught me.

I couldn’t help but wonder about that extremely detailed study his class had done on the human body and also where those books were that explain these things that i KNOW i gave to him. I know I gave them to him because a couple months ago he asked me if babies come out my HINEY. And then he got worried I was going to have a baby and I reminded him that it takes a husband AND a wife and then he seemed to have NO clue what I was talking about and so we went over it all again.  In detail. How babies are made. And how they don’t come out anyone’s hiney. I gave him the books. Said we’d review soon. Then we moved and I forgot and suddenly remembered I shoulda revisited this subject sooner, yaknow, when he seemed incredulous over my outlandish claim to be penisless.

With Caden-8yr, you have to get fairly detailed. A LOT. And he’s really direct. And there’s no way he’ll let you off any difficult conversation for any reason. So he repeated, “Where does the twinkle come out?”

(That’s not a difficult question. That’s not what I meant.)

I was wearing jeans and an old t shirt, so I did a dramatic grand plie and pointed to the general area.

He gasped. Then giggled. Then said, ‘NUH UH!’

“WHY HAVEN”T YOU READ THOSE BOOKS?!”

“Oh! They’re still packed.”

 

I unpacked them today. Caden-8yr has a special reading assignment. There will be a quiz later. And there will not be any tolerance for usage of  the word “weenie.”


Beige Roachy Stripes are UGLY

November 19th, 2012 at 11:40 am » Comments (5)

* I’m hungry. And I just had a massive shower tower caddy thing fall on me in a surprisingly painful way. And I screamed and not one of three boys heard me. Which is good because I don’t like it when they barge into the bathroom, but it also doesn’t make me feel better to know that my screams do not penetrate through these walls. YIKES. So  I’m hungry and I just got attacked by a shower thingy and basically there’s no flow to this blog post. I’m just warning you. It’s all over the place. So am I.

 

I have learned the value in vertical storage. over the door hooks, shoe racks, tall shower shelf tower thingies, etc. Suddenly there is space where before there was nothing. it’s glorious. All of y’all probably already knew that. I know. I’m new to space maximization and it’s still a thrill. (tell me your other ideas, if you have them. i do not pinterest or facebook – the virtual bastions of such helpful tidbits, I would imagine.)

Also. Be careful if you spray roach spray a bit too emphatically. My first night here there were boxes stacked floor to ceiling in my bedroom. I sprayed in the small spaces between each stack in my bid to win the roach war. Now I’ve unpacked and I’ve wondered what those interesting beige vertical lines are on the wall. It’s sort of like a faux paint treatment, but not well done. it’s a bit tacky looking, really.

And then one morning I was gazing at that wall and realized that I was responsible. Roach spray as a paint treatment. Multi tasking.

I’ll paint the walls and cover it up when I’m completely unpacked, as a reward of some sort. I’ve decided on Benjamin Moore’s pink swirl. It’s subtle. Light. Peachier than a baby pink. Single momhood is the PERFECT time to have a pink bedroom I think. I can’t wait. Pink Swirl bedroom walls that have a secret roach repelling power. I love it. I need it. (I’m SO winning the roach war.)

SO.

Business. It’s taking off! That little obsession with painting old grody furniture and giving it new life? TOTALLY working out. And thank GOD, because I needed it to take off riiiiight now. A business I love and I can work from home and still be here for the boys, especially in the summer. This is good. I think, dream, sleep, breathe combinations of delightfully garish paint colors.

The other night I had painted until I hurt everywhere. I’d finished up 6 requested pieces. (yay!) I was falling asleep and had just envisioned the world’s most perfect hug. It came to my front door. It was that last unrealistic thought somewhere between conscious and subconscious. And then. THEN. There was a knock at the front door.  A real one.

My eyes opened and my heart raced and I thought how no one knows where I live and i did not once think, “oh. that’s a warm and fuzzy perfect HUG that has miraculously appeared at my doorstep.” GEEZ. I stayed perfectly still and waited until the person left. The kids weren’t here. It scared me to pieces. I don’t know who lived here before me. If that person had visitors dropping in at midnight. But I don’t. And that’s creepy. I should have gotten up. Grabbed a phone and a mop or something. Or roach spray. that’s always handy. I shoulda grabbed that.

(No, I don’t own a ‘welcome’ mat. Welcome mats blow away here because it’s so windy. And because I’m unapologetically unwelcoming, I just WILL them away with the power of my mind.)

 

ohmygosh i’m hungry. that didn’t make any sense at all.

love y’all.

 

 


Note to Self:

November 9th, 2012 at 5:11 pm » Comments (2)

 

Dear Kelsey,

The next time you move….

1. beware of awesomely pristine looking cardboard boxes in dumpsters. it’s entirely possible to grab a friend – who is similarly not opposed to dumpster diving – and fill an ENTIRE large SUV with hundreds of gorgeous like-new and totally free badly needed boxes. And then to go thoroughly wash hands, eat breakfast,  and come out when it has warmed up 15 degrees and realize you have managed to make your entire car reek of garbage. hot garbage.

2. do not hesitate to clearly label all boxes. don’t be secretive. don’t be modest. label one box, clearly and in large capital neon letters, “THIS IS THE MAXI PAD BOX RIIIIIIIGHT HERE.” Trust me. This is a good idea.

3. check with the moving company and when they give you a quote, ask if there’s a way you could CAP that should they be off by, say, a WHOLE LOT.

4. have a game plan of exactly what to do when one kid poops in the potty and the plumbing freaks out and then the poop travels through pipes in surprising ways and ends up in the BATHTUB another kid is in. A specific game plan. With bleach. And plumber products and phone numbers and more bleach, and like, PLANS. Because sending a panicked all caps text out that fully conveys the magnitude of the Traveling Poo incident might be an okay thing to do, but it’s largely unhelpful. So is running around and screaming.

5. exterminator. hire one BEFORE you move in. (or follow Jenn’s advice in the comments in the previous section to the LETTER.)

6. give stuff away. mountains and mountains of stuff. otherwise you’ll get to the new place and have three BOXES marked “cardigans” and realize you are a sweater hoarder, and cold natured or not – that amount of cardigans is ridiculous. Give some away already. No texan needs three boxes of cardigans. certainly not with this closet space. downSIZE. do it BEFORE you move so that you don’t pay the movers to move all your excess.

7. edit the stuff your mother will pack.

“I feel like you have a secret LIFE. When do you wear all these dresses?”

why don’t you ever wear this bikini? it’s SO CUTE.”

“You don’t REALLY want all these Christian save your marriage books, right?” 

(helllll-no. don’t  give them away, THROW THEM AWAY. what do you mean… that one trash bag isn’t big enough?)

8. nevermind on #7. those were good talks.

9. have a REALLY good reason for moving. because it’s a lot of trouble.  (totally had that. no problem.)

10. move somewhere with squirrels. it’s fantastically entertaining to watch the dogs lose it over squirrels. there’s no going back to a non squirrel home after this.

 


Checking In

November 4th, 2012 at 6:41 pm » Comments (7)

I’ll be brief.

I’m fine. I hope and pray that all of you are as well.

 

I’m internetless at my new house, so i’m VERY behind on emails and blogging and news and everything else. This doesn’t bother me much. I’ve been busy.

 

You know when you move and you end up with bruises from head to toe just from… moving?  The boxes that smash your fingers and the walls you run into, and all of that? Just part of it. I’m still there. The bruised, but relocated, unpacking part. And that is FINE.

It’s a sweet little house and I’m SO grateful to have gotten it. There’s a fire station nearby and I awake to sirens a lot… but I’m getting used to it. The biggest dilemma was the roaches. OH MY GOSH. They were everywhere.

I battled them night and day and researched and consulted experts and bought and sprayed and sprinkled and disinfected and vacuumed and  then did it all over again. And again. And again. And I’m getting there. I will WIN this battle. I WILL. I’m very close to winning.  I only saw one alive today. It was a good day.

Until then, I twitch every time the cat brushes up against me at night and wake up fully to assure myself it’s just the cat in bed with me. One time it was NOT the cat. And that’s enough to make a light sleeper of me.

My mom helped me move. By ‘helped’ I mean that she packed i don’t even KNOW how many boxes for like, 6 weeks, and then she was there working with me all day on Move Day. Move Day is difficult to talk about. To think about. It hurts to remember.

I have no emotional pain about the move.

None.

I have relief and gratitude.

But it took the movers FOURTEEN hours and a 44 foot long truck and by the time we were done I thought I’d just die. I smelled, I was beyond exhausted, bruised everywhere, sore everywhere, and aching everywhere for days. It cost a WHOLE lot more than I’d planned. I’m still recovering financially and physically from Move Day.

My dad came out. He saw one picture of the roach right next to my bed at 11 at night and texted back, “Your stepmom says I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to bed.” He drove out first thing the next morning and stayed for a couple of days and fixed everything he could get his hands on. He’ll come back and do more in a few weeks. There’s no shortage of broken stuff to fix or improve. It’s an older house and I ADORE every bit of it… but there are issues.  Daddy plans to replace every electrical outlet in the house. For some reason, when you plug something in, the plug falls right out. You can duct tape a vacuum cord into the outlet and vacuum… but you better not wiggle the cord or you’ll be re-taping.

The kids are good. The animals are good. I’m so, SO thankful.  I’m so grateful to be settling into this new life. It’s very sweet.

Home is a good place to be.

I hope y’all are home safe and sound as well.