-A mostly true journey of a girl, her man and their three kids; all trying to live harmoniously in a house somewhere in Utah. Names and exact locations may be changed in order to protect the grouchy.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

RIP, Mr. dryer...

It was a slow, painful death for the old Kenmore. I'd like to say it hurt me more than it did him, but if you heard the metal on metal screams or witnessed his last electric smokey breaths, you'd know better. My crying pleas and hopes of resuscitating him ala kicking and jumping up and down like a three-year old were fruitless.  My washer's life partner is no more.

I've mentioned before how grateful I've been to have my own washer and dryer. I know the nightmare of hoping for enough quarters to keep a load at the laundromat going. I've fought with other tired moms for a non-squeaky rolly-cart. I've prayed that I had enough detergent. I've even told an old man that I could fold my undies all by myself. (thank you very much).  I joke about doing laundry all the time, but it is one thing I really don't mind doing. At home.

And yes, I referred to my dryer as a "he". People call their boats and cars and wives, "she" ; my dryer (and other appliances) deserve at least that much. Plus, when a door to door salesman asks if I'm at home alone, I can always say, "Heck no, I have a houseful of guys here...." That's me. Classy, protected, AND 50 shades of "something" all at once.. Who wants to sell magazines/vacuums/home security systems to that kind of crazy?

In memory of my lovely, lint catching appliance and in the spirit of the holiday, I leave "him" these words of gratitude...

 Mr. Dryer :

*Thanks for keeping my toddler calm during those difficult years. If he wasn't laying up against you feeling those vibrations, he was watching clothes spin through your clear door during time-outs.

*Thanks for collecting everyone elses' money during your cycles. The crispy dollar bills and hot quarters paid for more than one cup of coffee. Finder's keepers, right? Shhh...

*Thanks for not burning up my house when I forgot to collect enough lint to make a new sweater.

*Thanks for not jumping across the room like your partner when drying comforters and tennis shoes.

*Thanks for drying stuffed animals, un-wrinkling emergency dress clothes and even warming up huge bath towels for the little ones coming in from the snow.

*Finally, thank you for taking one for the team of appliances. If the oven, fridge or dishwasher decided to die during the week of Thanksgiving, I probably definitely wouldn't be so kind.....

You were very appreciated.

-Michele

Happy "Thankful-for-the-not-so-the-little-things" Day, friends


Friday, November 16, 2012

Fly on the Wall Challenge #1

Hello friends!

I've been away from the blog world for forever and six days a bit. I'm hoping to fill you in on why sometime soon...

A good way for me to get back in the swing of things is to jump on the next blog challenge that my dear blogger friend, Karen has created. Yep, that would be Karen, the genius behind Baking in a Tornado. Let's face it. If it weren't for her, you'd be reading my blog entry from the LAST challenge she created. So thanks again Karen, for helping me find my groove thang...

On to the Challenge:


15 shameless bloggers have invited you to be a fly on the walls of their homes. We are all sharing snippets of some of the drama/fun/embarrassing goings-on that happen behind our closed doors.

Yeah, yeah, I know. That is usually what my blog is about! Sometimes my posts are only a sentence or two. Usually, they ARE about the embarrassing behind-the-scenes happenings in my home. But let's remember, I have no shame. I am ALWAYS ready for someone to laugh with (never at!) me.  This is also a challenge for 14 other bloggers and I can not wait to feel as if I'm not alone in the crazy-town I call my house.

I'm using funny quotes heard 'round the home from my dear family members. Think of it as a super-sized "quote of the day" post. We are always "on"here. So come in. No need to knock. Laugh or cry. Just don't call the Police.

If you were a fly on the wall this month, this is what you would have heard:

The Exercise Room:
"I want to go run, but I also want ice-cream. What kind did you buy?"- the man
"I hit the punching bag and a bunch of dust came off of it. This tells me two things. I haven't exercised and I haven't dusted."- Me
"The window in that room scares me. Someone may look through and see you just lying there, Mom. They may think you're dead."- the youngest
"There's nothing like a Poptart after a workout."- the eldest, to me.

The Kitchen/Food:
"When is Dad coming back from his work trip? I need him to make me the macaroni out of the box. That kind is the best"- the youngest, turning up his nose at baked Mac and cheese.
"I'm going to church AND I look like a Hobo. Do you think I can get double Communion if they think I look hungry enough?"- the eldest
"You have to stop letting people push you around, Mom. Stop feeling like you have to help everybody!.... Will you make me some potato soup?"- the eldest

Things we shouldn't say to visitors:
"Our prayer is better than your prayer and we just didn't say it aloud because our prayer would kick your prayer in the neck."- the eldest's response to the middle child's friend who made the wrong comment about us not saying a prayer before snack.
"Hahahahhaaahaha. Oh, you're a cute young man. It was nice knowing you. Memorize the inside of our home; you won't be seeing it again."- an in-unison nervous laugh and comment from the kids to a visiting friend who said, "You should come to my house. My mom doesn't yell."

Random, but funny enough to make the cut:
"Mom, I've heard how my friends talk to their parents and I have to wonder, How do they still have a face?"- the eldest, gabbing with me about Respect
"I'd like to tell you a secret, Mom....but then you'd know." the un-trusting youngest
"Any pre-cleaning of the house isn't going to lessen the nervous ranting on the morning of Thanksgiving"- the middle child, trying to get out of cleaning.
"Good going, little brother on drinking the last Sunny-D! You know, Sunny-Ds were made in the name of kindness. I'm not sure you're showing that kindness by gulping down the last of it."- middle child.
"Yes, and I'd TOTALLY stick up for you, little brother. But my voice is too sore from not having a Sunny-D to quench my thirst. Your loss. But you probably figured that out while drinking the last of the Sunny-D"- the eldest, joining in on making my son a future serial killer.

Finally, TV:
"I like getting out of classes early. Afternoon TV is ridiculous!  I'm starting to notice that Dr. Phil is picking up his game....and I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty excited about it."-the eldest, making her mother proud  scared.
"If you want to feel better about your life, you should absolutely watch the Maury show. I already feel like I've exceeded a million expectations."- same child, half-studying- half trash-talking.
"Have you seen this "Deadly Women" show? These wives may not know how to cook or clean, but they can wrap up and hide a body like nobody's business! Oh, BTW, you forgot to take the trash out. It's okay I guess. Sleep tight!"- yours truly, to the man, trying to spice up the ol' marriage :)

And that, dear visitors, is a small peek into our home. I can already hear you now, speaking through a forced smile... "There's THAT family. Quick! Lock the door!"

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Please check out the great bloggers who participated in this challenge. You're sure to get a belly laugh or two. Better yet, you may get an, "Oh thank the Sweet Detroit Lions, that happens to other people too!".
In fact, that is my favorite part about the blogging world. Those tiny common threads that bind us together. You can nod in agreement or shake your head in disgust; no one will ever know. Hopefully.

Leave kind comments, kids :)

Happy "Pride-sometimes-IS-on-the-outside" day, friends :)

Blogs participating in today's challenge:


The Insomniac's Dream                             
De Bie Hive                                       
My Brain on Kids                                                                               
The Mommy Chronicles
Raising Reagan 
Sanity Waiting to Happen
Momaical

Life on the SONny Side


BTW:

A Big Old Happy Birthday to my baby sister today! If you're reading this far, girl, I hope you know how much I love and miss you :) You know what your birthday means? McRib is right around the corner :)

Friday, November 2, 2012

Secret Subject Swap #2 Stripper heels can't be worn everywhere.

Hey friends! Well here we are again. Swapping secret topics with other writers across the blogosphere. The first swap was supposed to be a one time deal. It ended up becoming a regular thing because well, it was so much fun!  Not only did we swap subjects/questions/sentence starters, we did not know who was given who's topic or how they would blog about it.  From this, we ended up meeting new bloggers and by chance, made a few new friends.

My Secret Subject was given to me by, well what do you know? My sweet friend Karen@ Baking in a Tornado. Woo Hoo!  Her topic was : "I'd like the opportunity to explain..." Here goes nothing!

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I'd like the opportunity to explain why I wore heels to do the laundry last week.


Yeah, I said it. Heels. High, strappy, patent leather heels. To wash dirty clothes. At home.

You see, I'm a stay at home mom now. Actually, I've been one for a few years. Not to seem stereotypical, but SAHMs need to dress comfortably for, um...staying at home. Or going to the grocery, or making that run up to the school for the occasionally forgotten backpack/homework/instrument/lunch. Most of the time though, we're tending to things inside of the house.

I also work from home running my little bag shop. Still. If I'm not lying on the floor drafting patterns, I'm contorting myself like a kid playing Twister to cut fabric. Even sitting up to the old Singer sewing machine does not involve dressing in wool slacks or blazers or ahem, stripper-height shoes.

It was an epiphany (brought on by a much needed swiffer-fest of my closet.) -The "aha" moment when I looked around and realized that I live in holey jeans, tank tops and cardigans. They are the uniform of my life. Usually topped off with a pair of flip flops. The colors of tanks or sweaters may change. I might venture into the occasional yoga outfit or ballet flats, but in reality this is who I had become.

I decided that night (mid-pout) that I didn't have to look "comfortable". There are always the moms with the bejeweled jeans and heels hanging out at the elementary school. (Don't ask.) There are ladies with perfectly coiffed hair buying up the healthy cereal at the market. Why couldn't I try a little harder?

The next morning, I made it happen. I brushed ALL-the-WAY through my hair. I brushed and flossed the BACK teeth. I put on my nice wool pants that had a dust line from where they had laid on the hanger so long. I buttoned up my blouse and slipped on those gorgeous shoes. Stopping at the mirror, I clasped on my metal bracelet and fastened a tiny pair of pearl earrings. I was set.

I carefully walked down the stairs. I was standing a little taller (both figuratively and literally). I walked over to the laundry room clicking on the tile floor as proper ladies do, and opened the laundry chute. Jeans first. Little boy jeans with a pocket full of sand and a package of half-eaten gummy bears. The sand fell and left a trail down my nice pants. I tried to throw the gummies onto the counter. I wasn't even close. They scattered across the floor. Breathing harder, I pulled a fully soaked towel out that was connected to 37 other towels and assorted socks. The socks were sandy too. As I reached over the side of the dryer for the "sock that got away", my rock-star shoes slipped on the sandy tile and I landed on my fancy-looking butt atop the soaking wet pile of towels.

A few words not worth repeating. A deep breath realizing how ridiculous I looked. A weak moment when I dusted off one of those gummies and ate it. Who was I kidding?

I undressed right there, down to my skivvies. I pulled open a drawer and grabbed a rubber band. The jewelry went in the drawer and my hair went in a bun. I finished the laundry that day. Looking just like that. The heels sat there in the laundry room for a few days to remind me how foolish I had been.

There may have been tears. There may have been shocked neighbors watching a 42 year old women folding towels in her underwear. There may have even been a few less gummy bears. Who can tell?

I've learned my lessons.
1. No more playing dress up.
2. Kids MUST empty their pockets before throwing their clothes down the chute.
3. Kids must notify mom before throwing down soaking wet towels.
4. Gummy bears, in a crisis, can surpass the five second rule.

Happy "Be-yourself-all-of-the-time" day, friends!






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