Cleaning House...What a drag!

I am a pathetic housekeeper, really! The only time I accomplish some deep cleaning is, oh, you know...when company is coming! So, my parents are arriving tomorrow morning from the West coast, and I have been scrubbing, washing, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming like a madwoman for the past two days in between running kids to tennis, gymnastics and the pool. Why do I do this to myself? My kids and husband avoid me during these times because I turn into the wicked witch from the west.

Certain friends of mine have actual cleaning schedules. I tried that...once. I guess it required too much self discipline or something. Monday was laundry day; Tuesday, floors; Wednesday, bathrooms, etc. I'd really like to implement something like this into my days. Then, perhaps I wouldn't become such a basket case right before family shows up on my doorstep. Instead of washing 18 windows and 3 sliding doors inside and out hours before, I could actually start weeks ahead of time. I could space out the vacuuming over a few days to avoid the incessant barking of our dog, who goes completely loony during the cleaning process. Imagine having a clean house weekly instead of quarterly!

Tony doesn't understand any of this madness, not that I'm too concerned about it. Goodness gracious, I need to keep up the appearances that my house looks like it's spotless all the time. I guess it's one of those masks I wear, you know, the "I have it all together" look or at least my house does. Truly, when I clean my house, it's less about the fact that it's dirty and more about people's perceptions of me. This is the part Tony doesn't get. "Who cares?" is his cry. Well, golly, jeepers, I sure do care. How could I even think of having family or friends stay at my house with toys strewn about, dust on my shelves or bird doo-doo on the windows? It's okay if my family and I live in that muck most of the time, but I sure don't want to advertise that to anyone else.

Now you know the "real" me. I'm coming out of the closet, coming clean! I am a severe procrastinator with regard to cleaning. I may even be allergic to it. I'll let you know if I break out into hives or my eyes become puffy or swollen. Perhaps then Tony will fire that lousy housekeeper! Wishful thinking, I'm sure.

Alas, I'm tired and sore, but my tasks are complete...mostly. I didn't get all the white doors wiped free of fingerprints and other odd stains; a few windows are still dirty; weeds still permeate the front flowerbed. Oh well, there's always tomorrow at 6 am before I leave for the airport, or not! I don't want my parents to think I'm perfect.

Benefits of Drug-Induced Insomnia

1. Uninterrupted computer time at 12:30 am to research the antibiotic I'm taking, Levaquin, and discovering certain side effects can be insomnia. Confusion and hallucinations are other affects of the drug which I also experienced as I lay tossing, turning and generally wigging out before I actually arose out of bed to do my research.

2. No distractions while I'm responding to my email.

3. I don't have to hiss at my children, "Be quiet because I'm having my quiet time with the Lord" since they are all asleep during the hours I'm awake.

4. Finishing the book Envy by Bob Sorge by 2:30 am.

5. Enjoying extended prayer time for everyone/everywhere, even though I'm in a catatonic state and can barely think clearly.

6. Eating a piece of Milky Way dark chocolate and noone knows or cares.

7. Listening to the silence; it's golden.

8. Plenty of time to plan the next vacation.

9. Contemplating that this might be a good time of the day to scrapbook....or not!

10. Thinking bad thoughts and harboring anger towards the doctor who prescribed this without telling me that one of the side effects is severe sleeplessness.

11. Crawling in bed at 4 am wishing for sleep but knowing that when the alarm clock rings at 6:00 am, I'll still be awake.

I think I'll ask the doctor to prescribe some Valium to go with this Levaquin...Nap today, anyone?

Warning! Caution! Take Heed!

Mostly, you better just get off the roads now because my 16-year-old just got his driver's license today. He tells me he wants to "go somewhere" tonight "by himself"; however, he doesn't know where to go. Maddie, 6, says, "He's all grown-up now." Yeah, like she'd know anything about that. Well, I have a whole new set of things to worry about, so please pray for me! Just when life was getting to be such a breeze...yeah, right!

Whispers

Many times as I read God's word, a verse literally jumps off the page and grabs hold of me. This morning was like that. Proverbs 26:20 says, "For lack of wood the fire goes out, and where there is no whisperer, contention quiets down." I've been a whisperer before, have you? I've thrown more wood on the fire, keeping it burning, hurting others. It's embarassing to get caught adding wood to the flame. So simple the solution! Don't whisper; don't be the source; don't be the wood. Your words will never come back to bite you if you're quiet. Reminds me of another verse in James which says, "So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. Behold, how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire!" It's the whispers that start out small and quiet, yet can quite quickly become a raging fire out of control. Help me, Lord, to keep my mouth shut!

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Maddie to her grandma (Tony's mom) while driving the two hours to Portland, Oregon on our vacation: "Why do you keep on talking?" It didn't faze grandma one bit, and she kept right on gabbing! Now, if I'd have said that...

Maddie to me during dinner with grandma and grandpa: "Why is grandpa's nose so big?" Hmmmm....

Maddie to me in the car with grandma and grandpa: "Why did grandma pick a man who smokes?" Everytime grandpa would go outside to puff on his pipe, Maddie would report to us that he was smoking...as she does everytime she sees ANYONE smoke!

Blonde Confessions

I have what is now becoming a very serious problem. This weekend I locked my keys in the car for the 6th time in 6 years! What is wrong with me? I really thought I was becoming a paranoid schizophrenic about my keys because it is not uncommon for me to check at least twice BEFORE I shut the car door to make sure my keys are in fact in my purse. But, I still did it!

Let me recount that myriad of other instances in which I have accomplished this feat. The first time, I had just moved to Indiana when I locked them in the car at a Pizza Hut. I didn't realize it at the time because I had been talking on the cell phone while my then 1 year old had knocked the keys on the floor after playing with them. After my kids and I had a nice pizza dinner and returned to the car, I panicked after not locating them. Peering in the car, I noticed they were laying on the floor, completely unavailable to me. Of course, Tony had to be in New York and was also completely unavailable to bail me out. That time, I called a locksmith, who thank goodness, seemed to be on call 24/7. Unfortunately, he charged me more than my husband would have.

The second and third occurances were at post offices, and oddly enough, also happened while I was distracted on the cell phone. That blasted phone and my blonde brain are just not a good combination. The fourth happening? I still can't figure this one out, but I locked the keys in my running car at a Wendy's. I didn't think that was actually possible, but apparently it is. Don't try it! The fourth lock-out was at a craft store. Fortunately, this a good place to be when you are waiting for your hubby to rescue you. I shopped until Tony had me paged on the store intercom. All was well once again.

I know you are wondering at this point why I didn't have enough brains to buy a magnetic key box. Tony did too. He strongly encouraged me to drive post haste to the hardware store and buy one of those thingamajigs. Being the submissive wife that I am, I obeyed his urgings. But, alas, I drove around with it sitting IN my car for weeks before I finally lost it. So, I never took care of my problem. Instead, I just became a freak about checking to make sure my keys were in my purse. It didn't help, obviously.

This weekend, while traveling back from a tennis tournament with Nick and Maddie, I locked my keys in the car while pumping gas at a convenience store in a town about an hour from where we live. Not only that, but my cell phone and my purse were in the car. How did you do that, you ask? I have no earthly idea. I mean, I wouldn't have done that! I merely threw the keys in the driver seat while I was standing beside the car waiting for the tank to fill. Personally, I think the force of my throw caused the wrong button to get pushed on the remote which apparently, locked all the doors. My first thought, honestly? "Tony is going to kill me!" My second thought? "Does Tony really need to know about this? I can just call a locksmith, right? What Tony doesn't know doesn't hurt him, right?" Bad idea!

The nice ladies in the convenience store became a big help to me in my efforts to avoid calling hubby by allowing me to use the phone to try my first plan of action...the police! This became my main resource because when I asked them about a locksmith, they gave me blank looks. Ahhh, the police it is! Not such a good idea it turns out. Did you know that vans have an anti-theft locking system installed? Neither did I. The police's antiquated tool doesn't work on these new-fangled vans. I also discovered that itty bitty, hole-in-the-wall towns don't apparently have locksmiths that work when people need them. If you haven't guess it by now, I was at my last resort...hubby! I guess I did give him quite a scare, however, when I told him I was in this tiny town with a policeman beside me. He later told me that he thought I was crying. I wasn't crying; I was scared to tell him my horrible sin!

Needless to say, while the three of us were sitting in the store, waiting an hour for Tony to arrive to unlock the car, we constructively occupied ourselves by playing "I spy with my little eye something...." Not many have the opportunity to spend such quality time together. Well, we had to do something to keep Maddie from bouncing off the walls. She wanted to eat everything she in sight, and I only had 3 dollars in my pocket because my purse was in the lock-up. Two of those dollars came from the nice policeman because Maddie said she wanted something to drink. The boldness of a 6-year-old. My 16-year-old would have died rather than admit he was thirsty or hungry yet had no money. So, this little guessing game entertained the energizer bunny, aka Maddie, for the next hour until you-know-who arrived.

My knight in shining armor rode in an hour later on his white steed and rescued his princess from her idiotic predicament...complete without a "what were you thinking" or a "I can't believe you did it again". He even took us all out to the DQ for an ice cream. What a man! My next goal besides getting a more brunette brain is to buy another key box!

There is a spiritual application to this story. How many times do I repeat the same sin, am afraid to confess to my Savior (as if He doesn't already know), and wait from Him to rescue me? Jesus delights when I come to Him, admit my mistakes and my shame and ask for help. He isn't standing there with a baseball bat, either, saying, "I can't believe you did this again. When are you going to learn?" While I am attempting to get help through other means, Jesus is waiting for me to crawl into His arms full of love and forgiveness. I simply need to quit trying to do things on my own, conjuring up my own faulty solutions to my problems and run to my rescuer. He's waiting!

"What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:24-25

"...he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Psalm 103:10-12

"'Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He was call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. Psalm 91:14-15

The Purse Hunt

Ok, I admit, this is a completely frivolous posting; however, because I am a woman AND a shopper, I must tell about this. I have been purse hunting for a few months now searching for the perfect purse. It must be just the right size, not too big, not too small, the right number of pockets inside and most definitely include a cell phone pocket! My dilemma most of the time is cost. I just don't want to pay through the nose for a purse. My sister, who is the supreme opposite of me, would say, "If you like it, buy it, whatever the cost." She does this well, and I'm glad for that, but I just can't!! I need a deal, a sale, a bargain.

So, I don't mind telling you that I finally struck gold. I was looking at Macy's again and discovered THE purse. It was a Kathy Van Zeeland for you brand name snobs, the right size, with all the appropriate pockets, and the right price. It was marked down from $89 to $22, a real steal in my pocketbook. Incidentally, I've been told before not to advertise to others how much I pay for things, but I've thrown that advice right out the window. Sorry, Miss Manners. If I get a deal, I want everyone to know about it.

I showed my fabulous find to Tony when he arrived home from a long days work. "So, how much do you think I paid for this?" He gives it a cursory glance. "I don't know." Of course, I want him to guess, but he's not playing today. I excitedly spilled the amounts to him. "I saved almost $70 buying this purse." Typical husband response, "So, you saved me money today." It's the simple things in life that make us girls happy. I saved my husband money and bought a purse!

Could It Be...Satan??

I've lost track of how many times M has "'accidently" spilled a drink. At the Seattle airport, she dropped her Starbuck kid's hot chocolate, and it occurred again just this morning. My routine this week after I pick up N from tennis is to order a Tall Nonfat Marble Mocha Macchiato and a kid's hot chocolate in the Starbuck's drive through, drive out that lot and into the very next McDonald's lot and order two Egg Mcmuffins for N. Healthy, I know, but I don't want to hear your criticism!

We get home, walk in the door, and suddenly, I hear this wailing, "I spilled my hot chocolate!" Of course, it's M. This possibly couldn't happen again. Maybe that hot chocolate from Starbuck's is cursed! Amid cleaning up the mess and lecturing M about the "rules" for holding a drink, using two hands, she says, "It was Satan's fault! He made me drop it." Yeah, right...how many times have I used that excuse in my life? I reiterated, "Use two hands when you hold a drink. It wasn't Satan's fault!"

We're Making a Memory!

When I was growing up, a frequent phrase in our house was, "We're making a memory!" Usually this occurred when some situation or event didn't go as planned and instead of dwelling on the disaster that happened or the unpleasantness we were faced with, my mom would pipe up with, "We're making a memory. We won't forget this!" It was a brilliant way for my mom to turn grumbling, complaining and potential bad attitudes into a positive experience.

For example, I recall the time when we were travelling through the Palm Desert in California by train to visit our grandma and of all disasters to occur, the air conditioning quit working. Not a problem if it's frigid outside, but when it is over 100 degrees and three young children are cooped up in a train car, the whining is inevitable. Perhaps we began to do this, I'm not sure, but what does stick in my memory is that quip, "We're making a memory, kids! We certainly won't forget the summer that the air conditioning stopped in the sweltering heat of Southern California!" Since that time, the three of us siblings actually look for opportunities to "make a memory" with our own children. And, let me tell you, if you haven't already figured out how life works, there are plenty of potential "make a memory" events!

Just this summer, while my oldest two children were travelling with their grandparents in Whistler, Canada, they pinpointed a "memory" moment. As they rode the gondola down the side of Blackcomb Mountain, they viewed two bears doing "it" in public. Not only that, but the papa bear aggressively pulled mama bear underneath him. Talk about a lesson about the bears and the bees. If my two teens didn't know about sex before, they do now! Of course, my mom (grandma) had to get it on film, so they have a constant visual of the act in progress.

Last, but certainly not least, is our airplane saga earlier this summer when Tony, M and I were flying to Seattle. Not only was our flight delayed getting to Chicago thereby causing us to miss our connecting flight to Seattle, but the next flight we were scheduled to take was also delayed, not once but three times. We became well acquainted with the very nice food court at the airport and planted ourselves in some comfortable seats for a long wait. Ever entertain a very active 6 year old while waiting hours for a plane? You know, those new toys and books one purchases to make the plane trip exciting and fun and not long? Yep, we used them in the airport instead!

Finally, we board the plane, taxi to the runway and wait to make sure that threatening thunderstorms and lightening aren't going to ground us from flying. At this point, everyone is anxious to be airborne to Seattle when a jolt from behind stuns all the passengers. "Did we just get hit?" is the only thing flying through the air now. There's a light stirring of panic as an odd odor fills the cabin. I'm thinking, "Hmmm, I wonder if we might blow up" when the pilot confirms over the intercom that yes, another plane's wing has hit our tail and they will be assessing the damage. Great! We haven't even been in this plane twenty minutes, and now we've been hit on the tarmac no less. Guess what I'm thinking by now? Yep, this is a fantastic day for memory making! I'm choosing not to panic, not to think about that I've already spent way too much time in the Chicago airport and about to have an even more intimate relationship with it, not to worry about missing out on time with my family in Seattle because Chicago wants me more and most importantly not to become more loony with M who has already exhausted her backpack full of fun. Nope, this is a day to just relax and spend some quality time in Chicago, not going to the Navy Pier, not going to the American Girl Place, not going the Field Museum or Aquarium, but instead seeing the sights and developing relationships in the airport. Just what I always wanted to do.

Continuing on with the saga, we discovered that the odor filtering into the cabin was merely hydraulic fluid which would not injure us in any way, thank goodness! And, the fire engines that arrived on the scene checked to make sure that we did not immediately need to disembark. Shew! The pilot informed us that since they were unable now to steer the plane, we were waiting for a vehicle to tow us back to the gate (no! no! no!). I wanted to scream, "I want to see my mommy", but felt sure it wouldn't help the situation. Of course, then we had to wait for the thunder and lightening, which had begun while we were lingering on the runway, to subside before a vehicle could tow us. We used this time wisely to do some more relationship building with our newfound friends. Cell phones were madly put to use as folks called family and friends to inform them of our predicament. Many were trying to book new flights to Seattle. We simply relaxed and chatted wondering how this many people were going to get rebooked on different flights. We heard rumors of no flights available until Friday...and this was Wednesday!

After the storm subdued, we finally arrived at our destination...the gate! Everyone cheered when the powers that be announced that a new plane was on its way to get us in the air at our new flight time of 6 pm. Yea! We'd only been in Chicago since 11 am getting to know our surroundings. Everyone groaned when a new announcement reported that although we had the new plane, we now needed a new flight crew. I guess the old one had been grounded for investigation. Our new flight time was now 9 pm. Well, we figured we had time to grab something to eat, so it was back to round two at the Chicago airport food court. Our biggest decision was which restaurant should we eat at this time? Of course, M's choice was McDonald chicken nuggets again!

Well, the rest of the story is basically history except for waiting for Clarence, the story I already related in an earlier blog! We flew as planned at 9 pm, arrived in Seattle around 11:30, rode a shuttle to our destination, arriving at 12:30 pm, and slumbered into dreamland an hour later...which incidentally was about 4:30 am our time. The longest day of our lives? Might be! Full of mishaps and unfortunate circumstances? Assuredly yes! Chock full of memories and situations we can turn into positive? Most definitely!

There is a point to this madness. In the midst of this odd day, there were many who were angry, many who were demanding to talk to the head personnel, many who panicked. Yet I also saw many who took this frustrating day in stride and made the best of it. One gentleman actually filmed the dangling tail of the plane and all the emergency vehicles outside our plane and donated his burned CD of the event to TV news people. Those who chose to remain relaxed in the face of chaos, transform a horrible event into something memorable and trade potential bad attitudes with cheerful dispositions were clearly better off. They were "making a memory" as we all have the opportunity to do every time life doesn't go as planned. When I get lemons, I'm going to choose to make some lemonade!

Clarence, who?

I have a quick minute to post something before I run out yet again to deliver another child to his designated activity. This morning was cheer camp; this afternoon is Sounds of South camp! At some other point, I will relay the entire saga of our day spent in the Chicago airport, but for now, I will just mention another "Maddie" story.

As we were getting ready to fly out of the Chicago airport, we spent many minutes sitting on the plane waiting to get airborne. Maddie complained, "When are we going to go, mom? Why aren't we leaving, yet?" "I think we're waiting for clearance, honey." Seconds later, she asks, "Who's Clarence?" Out of the mouth of babes come the funniest things! And, for all I know, maybe that co-pilot we were waiting for was named Clarence!

When It Rains, It Pours...Part II

Does it ever seem like to you that everything falls apart at once? The toilet overflows one day, and the next day, my washer refuses to rinse or drain. I really hope it has nothing to do with the mega mess of rugs from the bathroom that I shoved into the washer to be cleaned. So, this time, before calling the Mr. Fix It Man from Sears, I allowed my MAN to have an attempt at the problem. After an hour, he was on the phone to Sears. Turns out, it's just some sort of simple water pump (or something) issue to the tune of a couple hundred dollars. Not bad, I think! Over a course of two days, we have managed to spend over $300 on repairs. At this rate, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Posted at 08:24 pm by astonger

When It Rains, It Pours!

A few days ago, while my husband was in Salt Lake City, an eruption of great magnitude occurred in my bathroom...my toilet overflowed. Now, while this is not a regular occurrance, it is something that has happened frequently enough to warrant purchasing a handy dandy plunger no family should be without. So, of course, the first thing I did was run for the plunger. Let me tell you, I plunged that toilet not once, but twice, no three...I take that back...four times. Actually, I've lost count. You'd have thought I'd have gained some wisdom that continuous plunging at this point was not going to work, especially with crap now flowing like a river over the side and onto the tile floor. Did I stop? NO! I tried just one more time while Maddie was screaming, "Mommy, call the plunger...NOW! You need the plunger!" Yes, she meant the plumber!

She recognizes a job too big for her mom. What did I do? Of course, I called Roto-Rooter! In the meantime, after I had completely mopped the floor and cleaned the toilet area as best I could while waiting 4 hours for Plungerman, I inadvertantly left the bathroom door open while attending to lunch. I woke up a few seconds later as one name burst into my blonde brain, "Bella!" Yes, Bella, our dog, was at that very moment slurping up the mess in the toilet. In fact, she managed to lap up, in my estimation, about two 8 ounce glasses worth of you know what. We have since changed her name to Potty Mouth.
Posted at 07:59 pm by astonger

Go Figure!

My 6 year old is constantly trying out new phrases. For example, just the other day, she says to me, "Go figure" out of the blue. "What does that mean, Mom?" Sometimes these simple questions that she asks quite often perplexes me. I mean, what exactly DOES "go figure" mean? How do I go about explaining American slang? I hedged a bit and finally asked where she heard that phrase. "Oh, I just thought it up in my brain," she says. Yes, her brain contains a plethora of surprising thoughts just waiting to be uttered. By the way, I never answered her question!
Posted at 10:39 am by astonger

Do You Have Any Glue?

My 6-year-old daughter believes that glue is the answer to all life's problems! If something is broken, simply glue it back together. So, when she came to me after ripping apart one of those long, stringy hand toys that one throws against the wall only to watch it slowly slide down, I had to explain the truth to her. "Honey, you can't glue everything back together." She stomped her feet with an adamant, "Yes, you can."

You see, she's had a lot of experience with glue since she is my most destructive child, and in all actuality, her dad has salvaged quite a few things she has broken (all by accident, of course.) There was the time that she dropped a momento given to me from our exchange student in Thailand...you can barely see the crack where my husband glued it back together. But, what about the lamp that was destroyed through carelessness or some of my jewelry that she "accidently" ruined due to seeing what would happen if she stretched that bracelet out as far as possible? Gone forever!

After arguing for a few seconds about repairing the cheap toy, she relented while I told her to throw the broken whatchamacallit away. She wanted to keep it and refused to throw it in the garbage. Did I mention that she's also a pack rat of broken and junky toys? This is an entirely different problem, however, since my subject is the benefits or lack thereof of glue on certain objects.

Yes, glue does not fix everything. Looking at my life, I can plainly see that. Sure, there are some things that can be repaired, but not without a scar, a crack, or some other evidence that something was broken. Marriages can be like this when someone betrays trust, yet the couple works together to stay married. However, not all broken relationships can be mended. No amount of glue will work. That's when the party has to agree that it's not going to be restored and moving on is for the best. This is extremely painful, much more so than a bracelet broken accidently. Although I mourned (shortly) the loss of my accessory, it wasn't a life-changing event, like my divorce. Unfortunately, glue just didn't have enough stickability for that. The break was irreparable; the damage done. This is when I had to, in a much deeper soul-searching way, realize that a patch job wasn't going to mend the brokenness. And, although my heart was hurt, and my life changed, God picked up those broken pieces, and did what no amount of glue could ever do. Just like a potter has the authority to reshape clay, so he took my broken life and pieced it together into something beautiful.

No, glue can't fix everything, but God can take our tattered selves, our scattered pieces and bring out something new, so that His glory can shine through. We become a new piece created to reflect His work and magnificence in our lives. That is something to celebrate!




Posted at 03:21 pm by astongerComment (1) Permalink

Where Does The Time Go?

I don't know where it went, but it's gone! Just yesterday I was having my firstborn son, Nick, and today I went to his honor's award's night for his sophomore year in high school. How did 16 years pass by so quickly? I distinctly remember when Nick turned 2, and I felt like we were eons away from things like junior high and high school. Isn't it crazy how we can't wait for our little ones to roll over, sit up and finally walk for the very first times, yet we stand at the brink of high school graduation and want to slow the clock way down.

I'm suddenly realizing that I'm now experiencing some of the "last" things I'll see Nick do...the "last" tennis matches he'll play, the "last" Sounds of South musicals he'll be performing in, the "last" time he'll be a Sophomore in school, and someday quite soon, the "last" day he'll spend in high school. I want to treasure these moments. I know I've wasted far too many days hurrying time to get to the next milestone...or worse, being too busy to enjoy precious time with my son, thinking falsely that I have many other days to enjoy with him. It's just not true! Time slips away as quickly as a snake slitherering quietly into the grass. It's gone, and I can't retrieve it no matter how desperately I want to. Not that I want a snake to come back, by any means!

My solution? Enjoy each moment I have left; treasure each conversation; hug him as much as I can (if he'll let me); be accessible and available...and never too busy!
Posted at 05:14 pm by astonger
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