My hands trembled just a bit as I buttoned the pink silk blouse. I felt like a busty- rebel. For a nursing mom- DRY-CLEAN ONLY was not just risky-- it was downright DANGEROUS. (Just how dangerous I was about to find out. The Hard way.) This day was special. I was going to a MOPS event, just over the state line. (A regional event in Toledo- Ohio) I was looking forward to entire day devoted to building up MOM'S. That's ME! It was within driving distance and more importantly, within the range of security for a nursing mom. (Just over an hour from home.) A Mom's day out- a Mom's day of refreshment.. The first since my second child had been born.. I needed it-- BAD. I'd been planning and pumping extra milk for days. But, now? I was nearly ready. Labels: humor, MOPS events, MOPS International, mothering, nursing
I stepped back to take a look at the over-all effect. "Not too bad" I said to myself. Black dress pants.. pumps... pink silk blouse, full make-up AND hair both washed and styled on the same day (*gasp* amazing...I know!). I grinned at myself in the mirror. I double checked that breast-pads were in place and well secured and hidden in my NON-NURSING BRA. (... a bra without flaps-- this was truly a big day out..) I made sure I had an extra set in my purse.
I checked my watch, "Just enough time, for one more nursing before I leave." I grinned at my preparedness. For a nursing mom- "empty before leaving the house" is just as important as for a mom getting a potty-training toddler into the car for a long ride..
I tiptoed into the baby's room sat down in "our" chair and we both enjoyed one more for the road....quiet early morning nursings were some of my favorite times. When we were done- I took him in to a sleepy daddy, I kissed them both.. then went to the kitchen to go over my list one more time.
1) Pumped Milk in freezer- check.
2) Formula and bottles on the counter in case of emergency- check.
3) Diapers- clothes and necessary baby supplies phone numbers and instructions - out and visible so daddy could find them even if he were truly..blind.. check.
4) Cell phone charged and ready.. check. (this was an old school cell phone- about the size and weight of my current laptop.. It's been a while)
I was as ready as possible.
Time to go. I felt a twinge of sadness as I pulled out of the driveway. I headed over to meet my girlfriends - and we drove on together. Guilt and giddiness fought for control of my postpartum emotions as we crossed the state line. Giddiness won. I was out for petes sake!
We arrived on time.. (something rare for a groups of nursing moms) We took our seats- and enjoyed the entire day. There were laughs... there were happy tears as I heard things that reminded me how much I love being a mom... and a few happy tears of relief as learned I wasn't "the only one".
The day offered up everything I'd hoped for, and needed. Fun- encouragement-something to challenege me and make me think, girlfriend time and mommy time. I missed my guys- but was relieved that everything went so well. My check-in calls (oh, probably enough of them billed one minute at a time..to fund the current economic crisis relief plan...) revealed that the frozen milk supply was holding out.. and the diapers were too. Added bonus- I didn't hear crying in the background. (much). SCORE.
When my girlfriend asked if I wanted to stop on the way home to eat... I should have known I was pressing my luck. But- I was having sooo much fun..... and I had everything "covered" with my preparedness...and things were well at home...so I figured, "why not?"
There was one thing I hadn't counted on.. A newborn baby crying at the restaurant.. and the power of milk-let-down on a pink silk blouse. The baby's cry sounded like "Danger, Danger Will Robinson!" But, it was too late. My milk let down like a bad levy.
HELLO. DRY CLEAN ONLY? More like GARBAGE ONLY. There were not enough extra breast pads in North America to soak up that mess. When that tiny baby started to cry-- my Mom-ness kicked into overdrive. In record time- I drenched the entire front of my blouse, which- promptly turned see through. I was now busty- (a bonus to nursing) and see through- OOPSY. Not the look I was going for.
I ran into the bathroom- ""GREAT.. no papertowel" Save the trees, but soak the moms" I thought to myself..I aimed the hand dryer down my blouse in an attempt to dry up the mess.. it didn't exactly work. I made powdered milk. Yuk.I hadn't planned for this. I didn't know what to do... My tears flowed just a little slower than the milk.
The moms I was with, found a sweater for me in someone's bag.. and together- they brought it into the bathroom for me. (Friends, don't let friends, drive soaked.) I slipped it on. It wasn't my sassy pink dry-clean only-- but it was DRY. That's when the silly began. The other moms had all been there- or somewhere like it in the land of Mom...They rolled out breast feeding horror stories that made us all laugh until breasts weren't the only thing at risk of leaking....the bathroom turned into an impromptu MOPS Meeting...
It didn't take long before I felt better. Soggy- but better.
We drove home still laughing.. and talking and giggling... I wondered if my hubby would notice that I had changed my top.. (He didn't,of course.) I arrived home to a hungry baby.. and plenty of milk to feed him. (apparently it doesn't take THAT MUCH milk to soak the front of a silk blouse..)
At the end of the day-- I wondered if it was worth the work..
preplanning- and milk pumping- 10 + hours
writing out instructions and worrying in advance- countless hours..
cost of a trashed clearanced pink silk blouse- $24. (I just couldn't figure out how to explain a breast milk stain the size of Texas)
A day of encouragement, refreshment and connection with other moms?
Priceless.
If you can make it to a MOPS event in your area-- I can't recommend it enough...it's worth the time the expense and the preparation.. a hundred times over... - I also recommend wearing wash n wear.. and maybe a raincoat for a blouse if you're nursing:).... you won't be the only one.. that's for sure:)
PS- if YOU ARE at a MOPS event- or anywhere else for that matter- and see a busty woman in a soaked see-through top---don't hate on her... offer your sweater or jacket to her-- really- she's probably not holding her own wet-t-shirt contest... she's just a nursing mom at the end of a mom's day out....:)
Labels: humor, random domesticity
Extreme Adventures In Motherhood, Live Mom Report:
Leaking condiment bottles are a capitalist conspiracy of waste and consumerism. The condiment producers have formed an alliance with the cleaning supply manufacturers.. they have created a self maintaining vortex of mess making and cleaning… Be forewarned.
Which means- no matter HOW often I clean the fridge- it’s disgusting.
"Did you forget to flush?" I asked the culprit, without a doubt that he was, in fact guilty. Labels: humor, parenting, random domesticity
"What color was it?" He asked slyly avoiding the question.
"Ummm brown" I replied- parrying his dodge.
"Was it lumpy, or smooth????" He asked- evasive, once again.
"Both." I answered- readying myself for the next blow.
"It was probly Keeb* " Was his answer. *keeb aka: the cat
"The cat does not use the toilet and you have toilet paper hanging out of your pants. Please , flush next time!" I shouted, exasperated by his attempt at "tefloning" and pointing the blame at an innocent kitteh.
"I can't" He replied.
"Why?" I ask- afraid of the answer.
"Cause I want my brothers to see it.. it was HUGE" He says, eyes the size of saucers with pride and awe.
Parenting- the stuff they DO NOT tell you in books. But, I will, in mine;)
I shall refrain from a picture today... the word picture here should tide you over;)
PS- this morning I was the mom of 2 highschoolers and a kindergartner- now I have a college kid. *sigh* grief and joy-- I have it:)
Labels: garbage, humor, mothering, parenting, random domesticity
Shoe boxes, sushi containers, empty coffee cans, paper toweling of nefarious sorts. Empty milk bottles, dirty bamboo chopsticks and a few vaguely-recognizable foodstuffs.
Each object, precariously perched upon the other, a leaning tower of garbage- a haz-mat situation in the kitchen- really- a rousing family game of Garbage Jenga.
What started as a necessary kitchen garbage can, has become a family past-time. Each day's game of Garbage Jenga offers a chance to win. The game grows through out the day, every family member adding to the tower, bit by garbage-y bit. Each one quietly backing away from their last addition, afraid the meer sound of their footsteps could lead to jenga-tastrophe.
The rules of the game are simple: Whom ever placed the last item on the garbage pile prior to it's toppling, is the tortured soul who must: (cue the scary music) TAKE OUT THE TRASH.
It's truly amazing to see the engineering skills employed to reinforce the garbage tower. Please note the turned up edge of the garbage bag that gives just enough additional room in the can for items to be slipped into the sides without adding to the height. (It's the height that gets them-every time.) I have explained countless times- that the energy exerted in reinforcements, arguing (about who's turn it is) and studying garbage tower engineering is considerably more than what would be required to simply TAKE out the TRASH... but alas... they disagree.
And so- each day..the game begins anew. An empty box- coffee grounds, a candy wrapper, a broken toy or *gasp* a pile of old schoolwork at a time...
Just one question? Garbage Jenga- does this count towards our one million minutes of family game time?
I will refrain from describing the argument that ensues over who has to replace the garbage bag with a clean one...or who has to pick up the garbage that inevitably drops off the jenga pile and onto the kitchen floor as it's being bagged.. let's suffice to say it's not a pretty sight. Really- I have no clue why my extremely intelligent family seems to be incapable of taking out the trash without waiting for a trash-alanche or my (loud) complaints.... but there you have it- just another adventure in motherhood, you gotta laugh to survive ;)
The sump pump is running and my allergies are in full, sinus attacking bloom. It would seem that Spring is attempting to Sprung. (sprang? spring? Whatever.) Labels: humor, pets, random domesticity, spring
However- I'm not yet convinced that it's here to stay. I am jaded. I do not trust Spring. I live in a land where Spring likes to tease. Spring arrives for an hour or two in the morning-- all sunshine and green...and then flees to somewhere that the snow has abandoned, by noon. One day it's 60 degrees and sunny, the next day, we get a dumping of 4 inches of snow. The chances of a thunderstorm and a snowstorm are about equal in any given day. In Michigan, Spring is more of an "in the moment" thing than an actual "Season."
Spring, is also attacking Mothers. It's doing it's best to make us look bad. We promise a park trip and the weather immediately turns sour. We plan an indoor activity... and the sun pops out and demands attention. If it snows and I make my kids shovel... the rest of the snow will melt by noon. (Which I did last week--- and will never hear the end of.) If I don't make them shovel... the snow will solidify into a mass of dirty ice that could only be compared to the driveway's attempting to turn into a comet--- and my kids will slip on the way to the bus stop. Of course... they will then say: " Can I sue my parent for a slip and fall accident?" and: "You said it would melt, mom." To which I offer the lame: "I guess, I lied."
As of today- the snow is nearly all gone. The sun is shining in my backyard, I grabbed a cup of coffee and joined the cat in front of the doorwall to soak up the sunshiney goodness through the glass. Once my eyes adjusted to the brilliant light.. (takes a while after the long winter here in Michigan...) I noticed the dog poo. Perfectly piled little gifts our beagle has been leaving us all winter long---like left over Easter eggs found in July, they are not a welcome surprise.
What I do not understand, is this: A winters' worth of garbage that blew through the yard, is gone. The papers and bits of plastic that blew out of frozen garbage cans before they could be emptied into the truck...are all gone, blown away by the Spring breezes (read: near gale force winds) or somehow melted away with the snow. The left over fall leaves have disappeared, becoming one with the grass, as they should. The yard looks pretty good aside form the mud, until you look closely, thats when you'll notice the poo.
Perfectly preserved little piles, dotting the yard. The one thing that is naturally biodegradable (it's already halfway there- for pete's sake, it's been digested!) remains. The poo piles. WHY does dog poo- not biodegrade? Why does it last through snow and ice and rain and sun and global warming and global cooling and sleet and hail all seemingly, un-changed? I don't get it.
I have no answers. I have no spiritual analogy... only preserved piles of poo. And the task of assigning my sons to clean them up.... which they are already arguing about. They have offered munerous suggestions in regards to the poo:
1) Leave it until the "Lawn guy" comes and the mower will turn it to mulch.. (Ummm no- that's a good way to lose a lawn guy)
2) Let's call it a science experiment and see what happens to it. If we document it carefully maybe it will someday win us a Nobel Prize.
3) The grass will grow and cover it.... (It will... until one summer day we turn on the sprinkler, instantly re-constituting the poo-piles into slippery death traps...which will of course be the day the youngest want to run through the sprinkler...)
4) Haz-mat? (Ummm a possibility)
5) Can we move? (a thought to consider...)
A final thought.... there MUST be some chemical or industrial application for this (seemingly) indestructible and renewable (daily) resource.... cars running on dog poo? Roofing made of dog poo? Bricks made of dog poo? I don't know....if only I could come up with something....and patent it... and sell it.... then I'd be able to pay the "poo patrol" to come and take care of it for me.....*sigh*.
Until then.... I'll knit.... in front of the doorwall basking in the pseudo-Spring sun, with the cat.... our eyes on the sunny-blue sky... not the ground...the ultimate in poo -pile denial;)
Items from actual grocery list in cart? Check. Labels: how green is green enough? paper or plastic, humor, random domesticity
Decision made about brand of toilet paper? Check. (why is this so hard? side note- my guys have only one request--- no recyled paper product TP... they KNOW it isn't actually recycled Toilet Paper- but paper that's been recycled and made into TP... but they just can't get over the hint of recycled-ness in this case Takes a LOT to gross out my guys--- but this does it. ;)
Coupons remembered, and used? Check.... (Well ,I remembered I had a couple in the bottom of my purse- I get credit for those;)
Child not permanently harmed due to parental paranoia and desire to avoid purchasing 500 candy bars...(PUT THAT DOWN!) and same child still in possession? Check.
Debit Card located, and ready to use? Check. (I can't be the only one with a weekly panic attack because I can't find my debit card... can I?)
Major impulse purchases avoided? Check. (well... mostly.. I think I may have a problem with magazines....)
Just when I thought I'd safely navigated through a trip to the grocery store without incident... it happened........
"Paper, or Plastic, Ma'am?" Asked the boy at the end of the lane...
We shall, for now, ignore the entire "Ma'am" portion of the statement. (It deserves it's own post) For now- let's focus on the guilt inducing question: "Paper, or Plastic?" As in bags. For what felt like forever- I stood, mouth agape and debit card in hand.... In shock and fear. My mind went 1,000 directions at once.
"Paper? Is it recycled? How many trees will I destroy? Plastic? Is it recycled? Is it recyclable? From what source? What chemicals were used in it's making ???? Is this a trick question?" It feels like a set up.
The pressure and weight of the decision was crushing my brain. I felt like a character in an old cartoon.... a giant vice squeezing my head--- it's handle being cranked by a teenaged grocery bagger--- his cartoon voice echoing maniacally as he asks over and over...."Paper or Plastic, MA'AM??????"
All I could think of was why didn't I bring my big blue Ikea bags... perfect for toting so much.... or the cool handmade morsbag I'd been gifted. But, no, I was all worried about toilet paper grocery lists and coupons. I was more concerned about keeping from killing my clepto-kid, (Hey- he doesn't ASK me to buy things--- he PUTS them in the cart... isn't that stealing?) than the good of the Earth... "Can I phone a friend? " I wondered if 411 would have Al Gore's number....
I must have mumbled plastic...Because that's what I got. But- even now..... I'm stressed over the results... it takes 1000 years for a plastic bag to break down??????? and 50 years for a tree to grow to harvest size???? Trees produce oxygen..... I like breathing.... Sheesh. The guilt. Either way.
Next time- I'm taking my own bags... (If, I remember) I don't need the stress;)
So- how bout you? Paper or plastic... or whatever they got? What do you say????
I personally believe (now I sound like a beauty pagent contestant) we should be good stewards of the Earth- as God created it and has given it to our care... but what does that mean? Does it mean Paper? Or Plastic? I couldn't find either one mentioned in the bible.Genesis 1:26-31 (NIV)
Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground."
So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.
God blessed them and said to them, "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground."
Then God said, "I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds of the air and all the creatures that move on the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food." And it was so.
God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.
For now- for us...it means paperbags--- or bring my own... I think. Trees seem more renewable than plastic is degradable...
I also think it means I need some chocolate.....to recover. ;)
PS---- The one thing I have no guilt over- is having used disposable diapers... I'm just that selfish! Besides- they probably saved my guys from watching their mother have a total breakdown over washing and soaking diapers... just sayin;)
Sheesh- can't I just go to the grocery store without drama? Apparently, not.
Here's the updated check list-(scroll down to my previous post for the original plan) ***If you happen to read- and see me there- (pudgey red-head- in either a dusty deep lavendary rose-ish- long strapless gown...(or a long black one from the closet- or a short black one.....I can't decide...sans glasses due to my extreme vanity and excitement over the once a year wearing of false eyelashes...) Say hi;) Told ya- panic has set in...... Labels: formal wear woes, humor, north american auto show charity preview
1) Nails- done. (not much stress there... except I'm always somewhat paranoid that the nail techs are talking about me in Korean...totally my own paranoia. I hope.)
2) Roots- (Hair- not tree) currently undergoing their chemical transformation from gray(ish) to red.
3) Shoes?- done- they meet the requirements afore-mentioned- black, high heeled (small platform as well) and beaded. Comfort level? May be able to avoid a visit to the podiatrist next week- (see post below) ;) However- never really can tell until they've been worn indoors and outdoors (WHY is this event always one of the coldest days of the year?) over hill and dale....
4) Dress--- well- let's just say I have options. (yes- I know what day it is... and yes- it really IS this hard for me to decide)
5) Bionic tummy-tuck underwear? Purchased. I will breathe during the day- but asphyxiate by night. If you don't hear from me- Look for my body under some random car-where I will have been swept by the cleaning crew-- think: The Wizard of Oz witches death by house---but without the striped hose and with higher heels.
6) False lashes? Purchased.... Twice- accidently bought some glittery ones the first time... NOT the look I'm going for. (you would love to see pics of my trying to affix these anorexic caterpillars to my eyelids. Picture something akin to agility training the same anorexic caterpillar.)
7) The epic shaving/plucking of all things hairy? (I'm Italian- this is a long-term project) This shall begin when I sign off. (insert horror movie music here. And- be very glad that I am not posting a *Blair Witch type video of this event- but- know--- it would be an appropriate venue. Trust me, it's scary. )
8) Accessories: Panic has set in- I can either: no longer bear to carry or not locate any of my (too small to carry anything I need) handbags-I'm running out after the chemicals are rinsed and dyeing is complete. It's quite possible that I de-cluttered/ gave them away in the great house cleaning saga of 2007. Crap.
9) Steel myself for the quizzical looks and conversation stoppage when people ask what I "DO" and I tell them I'm a stay at home mom......get emotionally prepared for the small percentage of people who do not know how to respond to this- and who choose the following options for response:
a) Completely ignore me for the rest of the conversation
b) Feel like they have to justify their own decision to work... I don't judge someone elses calling- choice or situational need to work...I'm just doing what I (we) feel is right for us;)
c) In-advertantly invalidate the choices and sacrifices we've (my hubby and I) made for me to stay home... by saying "I wish I could ..."
d) Try to engage me in "appropriate" topics such as---Marth Stewart's imprisonment/ subsequent release, Which mini-van hybrid I prefer or drive (I don't, seriously my dream car would be convertible and red...but I digress;) and "How I can stand just being home all day"....
FYI- I am fully aware of my over sensitivity here.... I know, I know....which leads us to:
10) Attitude- God and I will be working on that, for the rest of the day. (OK- the rest of my LIFE;) I will have a good time. I will get over myself.... (mostly)
I don't actually hate this event- because
a) A number of local charities benefit.
b) It is a valuable networking event for DH.
c) The cars and stuff are all actually quite cool....
d) It really IS fun to play adult dress up once a year....
e) God always grows me (as you can tell there is a lot of room for growth here) through this event....
SEE YOU ON THE OTHERSIDE.....
Labels: cooking, dead microwave, flower basket shawl, free knitting pattern, humor, Lace, random domesticity
It's just one of the many things I am culinarilary (just made that word up- I like it) dependant on.
It takes up my counter space and requires constant cleaning. (Why can't ANYONE put paper-towel or a napkin over what they are cooking???? Including me:()
Like a magic black box- (sometimes considerably brighter than me) it heats everything from spaghettios to cold coffee-it has faithfullyu served.
In addition- as a SAHM- it is one of my few and much trusted friends/co-workers. The microwave- has just been so close to me- being in the kitchen and all--- where I spend so much of my waking LIFE!) (along of- course, with the washer-dryer, the stove, dishwasher and fridge- we also chat- but they tend to be more reserved.)
At least- it was. Until Sunday night.
When my microwave gave up the ghost.
We (ok- maybe it was just me) quickly went through all the phases of grief:
Shock- (WHAT? Something is wrong with my microwave?)
Denial- (It's just a fuse- it'll be fine)
Bargaining- (Maybe, if I clean it- it will work...)
Guilt- (maybe I worked it too hard...I should have cleaned the vent more often.. it's all my fault.)
Anger- (I can't believe I ever bought such a piece of crap!)
Depression- (I have no microwave. *sniff* )
Acceptance/hope- (I can get another microwave... maybe it will even be better! I CAN live without a microwave!)
By Monday night- I could stand it no more. There was no popcorn... I am incapable of cooking vegetables on the stove-top and I had a pile of pans with burnt spaghettios begging to be cleaned (that part isn't true- I swear FlyLady!- but sounded funny) ...so I trudged off to Walmart- in search of a replacement.
I stood in the microwave aisle like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic. I had no idea there would be so many demands on me so soon after my grief. Overwhelmed, I looked from shiny microwave to shiny microwave.
There were: White ones. Black ones. Stainless steel ones. Microwaves the size of my first car. Microwaves barely big enough to make a bag of popcorn. Microwaves with grilling capabilities and microwaves with more buttons and options and computer memory than my laptop.
I settled on a (cheap) stainless/black model with a grilling capability. (Which I will probably never use- but- my kids (probably to bring green army men to a painfilled, melting doom) will.
As you can see in the pic above- she now proudly sits on the countertop. Maybe, a little too proudly. Although, she's already proved competent in the cooking of last nights green beans, I have a concern. She seems to be glaring at the toaster and cavorting with the coffeepot. I think she is unhappy with the cultural diversity on the countertop.
Apparently the toaster is not of their "ethnicity". White plastic is frowned upon by the much prejudiced stainless crew. Too bad. It's my house.
I like cultural diversity.
I think I need to get out more.
Instead- I'll distract you with my shiny pretty current knit:
In a fit of unoriginal hat overload rebellion- I cast on a new piece of lace that I plan on wering for Christmas.
It's the Flower Basket Shawl- from Fibertrends/ interweave press. A very simple 10 row repeat. I love the yarn- Zephyr silk/wool laceweight- 2 strands held together- Ruby and Garnet. I'm knitting on US size 5 Addi Turbo Lace Needles.
Maybe this will calm my Christmas cleaning- shopping nerves.... more pics are on flickr.
Personally- I think it's mis-named. To me- it looks like angels with their wings raised over their heads.... like this- but then- I think I need to get out more--- or maybe use less fumey cleaning supplies;)
And now- to work on painting the trim where the bad cat has scratched away the wood AND the paint....
"Mommy- your eyes look fat" At least this time he wasn't talking about my butt being boinky. Labels: allergic reactions, humor, shopping
The boy is right. I have to squint to see the screen as I type. (OK- I have to squint to see my fingers... since I'm the queen of hunt and peck typing;) It's not a problem with my glasses. My prescription hasn't changed in years. It's not a problem with the computer. It's a problem with my eyes. They are swollen, burning, itchy and puffy. Not a good look. (I am however- amazed at the body's ability to shape shift beyond recognition.)
This weekend I succombed to yet another clearance shopping hazard. This time it was way discounted make-up. Discounted enough to make me try a brand that I haven't bought before. Hence the allergic reaction that has left me with more bags around my eyes than I have in my closet... (I tend to collect bags- what can I say?) Bring on the hydrocortisone/ benadryl cocktail. Could I get that in an IV drip, please?
This would be fine, if it were a first offense of poor clearance- risk management. Alas- it was not. I am a repeat offender.
Other hazards I've encountered:
1) Clearance hairdye that resulted in purple hair. (Fine if that's what you want- but let's just say my kids wanted to take me in for show n tell- the purple haired mom- a classic) Also clearance hairdye that resulted in jet black hair- but I kind of like the snow-white thing;)
2) Clearance Christmas gifts- OOPS- two left gloves. Not good unless you're family has a birth defect of this type. Gift recipients are rarely impressed with my skill at getting more for my gift budget.
3) Countless pair of clearance shoes that are either- "not quite" the right size- two different sizes or two left- or two right shoes.... The worst part? These are most often purchased for the mister.....which means my shame is public. EVERY time! (One would think I could learn to double check... but I tend to be blinded not just by allergy swollen eyes- but also by the words "Clearance" and "final Markdown"
4) Clearance clothes that I MIGHT fit into... (this could go either way- too big or too small. When I went to MOPS convention- I had to wear black dress pants- I found a pair I liked- ON CLEARANCE and bought without trying on---they were 3 sizes bigger than I normally wear- I thought they'd work. They did not. They were clown pants.)
5) Clearance name brand bags in colors that are pretty in nature- but not so much in clothing. (In other words- I cannot bring my matchy-matchy self to carry them- even IF they were a GREAT deal.)
We will not discuss my many sins of clearance purchases for my kids clothes. Suffice to say teenaged boys do not like "past season" .
Safe clearance items?
Yarn.
thats' about it;)
Oh my word. I just thought of something- what if it wasn't the new makeup- what if I'm allergic to knitting?
hydrocortisone infused candles to burn? Benadryl laced chocolate? Coffee benadryl martini? (I don't actually drink-(Dad's a recovering addict) that's as close as I'd get to a martini;) Mask gloves and goggles?
I better go lay down. I think I'll ice my face.
Sister clearance shoppers- be careful out there. Those deals can be brutal.
The hunters enter with a glint in their eye. Their faces are set, in determination. Labels: house-keeping, humor, random domesticity, Spring Cleaning
There is also a small glimmer of hope, at the corners of their eyes, both that they will today catch the hunted, and that the hunted will escape, to be hunted again.
They are prepared for battle. They carry their weaponry proudly, in the same manner as the generations that have gone before them. The elder hunter teaches the 2 younger hunters how to read animal signs and prepare for the hunt. Traps are set- further weapons are readied. Together, they search out the hunted. Every fiber of their beings- tense and waiting for action.
They are not on an African Savanna, They are not deep in the jungle or in a forest of untold age and depth..... they are in my garage. They are hunting mice. Not exactly big game. However, you'd think they were slaying dragons the way they proclaim "ANOTHER ONE!" With pride.
They are ridding the world of field mice, one mouse at a time. And they are driving me nuts. It has meant- 3 trips to Home Depot for traps of varying types and prices... nearly a full jar of peanut-butter (The little guy suggested adding jelly- as he prefers PBJ's to plain peanut butter;) And a number of fake smiles, as I pretend to be thrilled with the results of their "hunt". At least they aren't trying to make me look at it.... they just want me aware of their "score"... At the moment I believe it is 6.
Although, I'm a little concerned over their enjoyment of the sport, I'm also quite glad this isn't one aspect of Spring cleaning that I have to take care of. My approach would be to attempt to catch the mice alive- and let them go-somewhere far, far away-- which would involve my physical proximity to said mice--putting them into some kind of chew-proof container- and then DRIVING them to the "country." Not gonna happen.
I think I'll leave this one to my guys.
All hail the conquering heroes!.....Hunters of mice.
No pic today, as I just don't have the heart to post mousey cuteness.... it's too sad.
*****every spring the mice try to move into the garage.... every spring it results in mouse carnage of domestic proportions....will they never learn? Apparently, not.
PS---- men are weird.
Today is TUESAY---- So, you know--- I'm posting at LACED WITH GRACE...... today's post?
"My Martyrdom?... or Not. " A little clue--- the answer is NOT.
