In remembrance of my memory

I had this great idea for a blog post, then I forgot it. Then I remembered it again while playing some word game on the iPad (you know to keep my mind sharp), but I figured there was no way I would forget it again so I continued playing, thinking I would jot down my idea later. By the time I was done with the game (some five minutes later) my mind was blank again. This is the story of my life lately. I have lots of ideas in my brain but remembering those ideas is somewhat of a miraculous feat. So now I have lots of little notepads around the house with words or ideas jotted down, most of them indecipherable within hours.

The other day I went downstairs and completed various tasks, none of which were the original intended reason for going downstairs because I had forgotten what that original intended reason was. So I yelled to the Husband, “Why did I come down here?!” And I can’t remember the answer he gave but it was the correct one.

Sometimes I’ll also have to ask the kids if I gave them their vitamins for the day because by lunchtime I am on auto-pilot and can’t necessarily recall what I have or haven’t done in regards to vitamins. I trust their memory more than my own and this is slightly scary unto me.

Yes it is scary that I rely on them sometimes for memory. It is also scary the things they can remember. For example, every time Bubba stands on the scale in the bathroom, he will exclaim in the most incredulous tone, “WHHAATT!!” And he does this because one time I think he witnessed me doing the same thing.

ONE TIME. Like when he was in utero.

But really all that memory must be cumbersome. Yes? I feel a little bad for their sharp exceptional brains. Because a forgetful brain can be quite useful at times I’ve found. I will always have the great excuse of “I forgot” and I won’t even have to lie about it. And also there have been instances when I was really grateful that I woke up not remembering what day it was. So, there's that.

I can only handle slushies and 80s movies right now.

My brain is shot. More than usual. It’s amazing the repercussions one thunderstorm can apparently have on me. For future reference I now know that if a torrential downpour makes the power go out, and somehow destroys my computer’s modem, hence causing severe unrest in the internet department, hence causing major changes in who provides me with life giving internet (no small feat or sum), and if that same storm causes flooding in my son’s room, which therefore causes major upheaval in said room as well as emergency action to be taken outside which sadly involves uprooting some of the grass seeds I have diligently watered FOUR times a day (the ones that survived the torrential downpour), which have just started to sprout(!), all of which coincides with an bunch of other STUFF and my monthly friend and the fact that there are no potato chips in the house(!), well if that same storm were to strike again I now know that my brain will take a vacation all on its own accord, without even asking for permission. And everyone around me is just going to have to be extremely sensitive and understanding, and slightly able to read minds, particularly minds that are gone.

Bosco is doing the best at this so far. Today I told him, “Hey you. Take your hands off and wash your shoes.” He then proceeded to take off his shoes and wash his hands. Not even realizing my blunder, I was simply amazed that he was doing what I thought I asked  him to do. Then when my sister, who had witnessed the interaction, pointed out my brainlessness, not only was I amazed that Bosco listened to me, but likewise in awe that we obviously have a telepathic connection. Also glad he didn't try to take off his hands. Such a champ I tell ya. I’m very grateful he has been able to be “in tune” during this my time of need and stupidness.

I fear others in my family are not quite up for the challenge . . . yet. This becomes evident when Bubba is still requiring me to change his dirty diapers and the Husband is determined to bring up topics that involve numbers and eye contact.

I guess you could say Mondays are hard for me.

If I had the DNA of June Clever, the motivation of hundreds, the energy of thousands, and if unrealistic expectations were actually realistic, this is how a typical Monday would go:

6:00 AM Wake up feeling refreshed after five hours of sleep. Shower. Fix myself up to look real nice.

7:00 AM Awaken the Husband with a good morning kiss. Iron his clothes for him and make lunch for him to take to work.

7:30 AM Cook wholesome delicious breakfast for the husband and boys. Read a few pages from a novel whilst doing so.

8:00 AM Kids wake-up and rush into the kitchen showering me with love. I dress them in clean clothes and comb their hair.

8:15 AM We all fill our bellies with the hearty breakfast I made and we smile at each other repeatedly. Some of the children's food ends up on the floor but no matter! That's what a broom is for. I quickly clean it up, do the dishes, and say goodbye to the husband as he heads off to work.

9:00 AM I call school into session and teach the boys a riveting lesson about different world cultures, followed by a thorough run through of the alphabet in English and French.

10:00 AM Educational playtime. This includes nature walks, reading while running, and marbles while doing squats. If weather permits, we put on our helmets, knees pads, elbow pads, and teeth guard and take a bike ride around the neighborhood.

11:00 AM Run errands while the kids behave excellently in the car and in the stores. They are rewarded with a trip to the P-A-R-K where they use up their last reserves of energy.

12:00 PM Lunchtime. I make a homemade meal from scratch and the children wait patiently in the kitchen while I prepare it. We eat and talk and laugh. Again some of their food ends up on the floor, but I bring out my ever faithful broom again. No problem.

1:00 PM Naptime. The children nap soundly. While they do so, I write thank you notes to anyone who did something nice for me the previous week. I do any prep work necessary for dinner. Then I take care of any cleaning that can be done quietly, i.e. dusting, watering plants, sorting mail, arranging/ fluffing pillows. If time permits I check email, read worthwhile blogs, leave a comment on each one, write up a fantastic blog post of my own. Then I paint my toenails.

3:00 PM Children awaken bright eyed and cheery. They play together nicely while I exercise in the living room. Then we all do some sit-ups together just for good measure.

3:30 PM Dance time. I turn on some lively classical numbers and we dance around the room. This serves the purpose of exercise, coordination, music appreciation, and bonding.

4:00 PM Reading time. First I read to them, then they read to me. Even the 20 month old does this because I've devoted hours to teaching him. My devotion has paid off.

5:00 PM Cook dinner while the kids clean up their toys and their bedrooms.

6:00 PM Husband arrives home right on time. Dinner is served. We talk about how productive the day was, and how wonderful the meal is. Unavoidably some food ends up on the floor, but I have my trusty broom ready. Do dishes.

7:00 PM Family time. Activities include a rousing game of guess who, 20 questions, and duck, duck goose.

8:00 PM Bath time for the children if necessary. Usually it is.

8:30 PM Bedtime for the children. Bedtime stories, hugs and kisses. Done.

9:00 PM The Husband and I discuss world news, our retirement funds, and any upcoming vacation plans. He rubs my back because I humbly admit that it is sore.

10:30 PM Husband goes to bed while I stay up and catch up on random interests such as writing and illustrating a children's book, editing photographs, and tweezing. Publish blog post after editing it.

12:00 AM Write a list of what needs to be done tomorrow. Complete daily skin care ritual. Brush AND floss teeth. Make sure nothing has been left out that a four year old or a two year old can get into the next morning, just in case.

1:00 AM Check on the children. Go to bed.

Now, what a Monday in my household is REALLY like:

8:00 AM Husband is getting ready ready for work. Children wake up. I am not awake.

8:30 AM Husband says goodbye to me. I just groan in response. Get out of bed, and get the kids breakfast. Cereal and fruit. Lay down on the couch and sort of fall asleep again.

9:00 AM Realize there is a mess of food all over the floor. Tell the kids to pick up after themselves.

10:00 AM Eat breakfast myself, then get the kids dressed.

11:00 AM Attempt to teach Bosco how to write more letters and numbers. Bubba throws blocks around in the other room.

12:00 PM Try to get them to pick stuff up.

12:30 PM Lunch for the kids. Peanut butter sandwiches it is. Food on the floor. Decide not to waste my time sweeping because dinnertime will be the same story.

1:30 PM Naptime for the kids! Or attempted naptime, since the weekend has thrown them off schedule.

2:00 PM Eat my own lunch in peace. Take a nap or blog depending on which seems more entertaining at the time and if the kids are cooperating.

3:30 PM Kids wake each other up. I am not awake.

4:00 PM Play something or go outside. Probably won't go outside though because I'm still in my pajamas.

5:00 PM Try to get the kids to pick stuff up. Attempt to make something edible for dinner. Kids fight. Both end up in time outs crying.

6:00 PM Headache of the century. Husband gets home. Dinner is served. Kids won't eat it. "Five bites and you can be done." Sweep up most of it off the floor. Dishes can wait until tomorrow.

7:00 PM Family time. I and the Husband can barely keep our eyes open during a session of blocks and legos. Postpone bath to tomorrow.

8:00 PM Bedtime for the kiddies.

8:30 PM Still attempting bedtime.

9:00 PM Veg on the couch, appearing lifeless. Apparently still attempting bedtime for the kids.

10:00 PM Catch my second wind. Shower and change into a fresh pair of pajamas.

11:00 PM Bedtime for the Husband. Adios. Think about doing a lot of worthwhile things. Instead stay up and watch TV and/or read blogs and eat popcorn (okay, chocolate too). 

1:30 AM Throw some water on my face and brush my teeth. Even lazy people brush their teeth.

2:00 AM Walk aimlessly through the house forgetting what I was going to do. Decide to go to bed.

Apparently not only do I lack June Clever genes, but I barely have the motivation of one person and hardly the energy of half a person. On Mondays anyway. I think the rest of the week is slightly better. Slightly.

I hope there is a cure

As of late, like the last five days, I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, what’s wrong with my brain. I can’t seem to hold a coherent worthwhile thought. And just when I think I’m about to have a mental breakthrough and actually think my thought out from beginning to end, before that thought can even be satisfactorily concluded, another thought presents itself and I’ve forgotten the thoughts that I had just spent the last ten minutes thinking about. And I’ve gotten nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. You know?

My mind is one big muddled mess. And it took me ten minutes to adequately form that last sentence.

It’s a wonder I’m even able to type. It will be even more of a wonder if you all can get my drift. Hello?

I’m thinking this all might have something to do with my last post. I can’t be sure. That’s just conjecture, but all signs point to yes, reply hazy, and cannot predict now.

Perhaps I’m just using too much valuable brain power to contemplate unimportant things. Like apples. I’ve been thinking about how I like apples, but they are a very annoying fruit. First you need to wash it. And then you need to unhinge your jaw to eat it. That, or cut it up into more manageable pieces. That requires the use of a knife, and a cutting board, and concentration that I lack. And then that thought ends. I haven’t been able to reach a decision on whether or not apples are worth it.

Cheerios or Kix? Which one would I rather step on all day long? Kix kind of surprise you when they bust up under your foot. Do I like that kind of shock? Cheerios just hurt, but they hold up better under pressure. Is that a good thing? I got nowhere with that thought.

And shower curtains. Shower curtains have been on the mind. So many to choose from. Such lovely designs, yet nary a one that will match the bathroom rugs I bought on sale. And then I’m pretty sure I approached this design project arse backwards. But that doesn’t help me now. I need a shower curtain. See what I mean?

It’s also possible that I’m trying to do too much, in too little time. Big things, little things. I’ve got this pressing need to get them done now. NOW! And I don’t know why. I need to go to Europe NOW! I need to find cheap airline tickets, NOW. Except I need to work this around my menstrual cycle of course NOW! I can’t be schlepping feminine products around with me in Paris. Unchic. Parisians don’t have periods. They have monthly week long vacations. 

But then I also can’t do this trip while I’m PMSing the week before because then I’ll be all pissy and that will wreck my trip of a lifetime. And . . . then that’s where that thought ends. No solution in sight.

It’s all just so highly annoying. How is one supposed to think, when one’s brain will not cooperate. And surely it doesn’t help when Husband types interrupt possible thinking to say, “The hard drive needs to be reformatted,” for no particular reason besides, “It needs to be done.” To which I reply, “I’ll reformat your hard drive.” It’s all my brain can conjure up. I’ve got no idea what that even means, but I’m quite positive it involves pain. Anything that will stop further mental anguish being brought down upon me.

Here, maybe a picture will help say what I can’t think.

The end.

P.S. Did I tell you that my hair is on the fritz. New hair on the top is curly, while the old hair, the hair that existed while pregnancy hormones still ravaged my body, is straight. I’ve depicted it accurately in the above picture. It’s left me in a bit of a quandary needless to say.

P.P.S. Stick figure Me is almost always shirtless. Don’t be alarmed. And stick figure Husband is shirtless and pantless because the laundry needs to be done.

Please Christmas don't be late.

Since Christmas Day is almost upon us, I thought it appropriate to take a little mental snapshot of the state of my home at this very moment, an end of the year holiday inventory if you will.

-Our Christmas tree is dead. Like touch the needles and shards of pine will embed deep into your skin dead. Completely dry and sullen looking. This is to be expected though when some crazy person insists on getting a real tree and getting it the first day of December. No worries though. The ornaments and lights disguise its lifelessness well enough. I am, however, worried about spontaneous combustion. That would be a sad state of affairs for all involved.

-My skin is dry. Perhaps this can be linked back to the Christmas tree.

-I made/asked the Husband to bring in some old tree limbs, for decoration purposes of course. He said a cat had probably peed on it. He's probably right. But it looks so dang festive I don't care. And it was free.

-Bubba will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with the occasional consumption of treats from the advent calendar.

-Bosco's musical talents have reached new horizons, thanks in part to Christmas songs. We've had the pleasure of hearing Jingle Bells at least fifty times, first line only of course, followed by mumbo jumbo, followed by putting his entire life to music. I have a truck . . . not just any truck. It's a truck that does not give off poopy yuckiness. It picks up trash instead. And look! My mommy is cooking dinner for me. I will not eat the trees (broccoli). Singing all of this, mind you. And I've come to realize even more now that I did indeed give birth to the male version of me. Also, I've started to wonder how, after raising me, my parents can still manage coherent thoughts despite their exposure to my own daily barrage of singing.

-There's mistletoe (fake) hanging in an entryway. To be honest, I should have put it in a less frequently used hallway because my lips are always chapped this time of year.

- There's nearly a foot of fresh snow outside and just in time for my snow cone craving.

- 2:00 A.M. has become my new bedtime.

- Presents have been wrapped and stuffed in the closet with an average amount of care. Although, there may be a few gifts I have yet to find because I've forgotten my hiding places. I always wondered how my mother could just plum forget about a present and then find it in February. After spending nearly an hour looking for the whereabouts of the Husband's present and on the verge of hysteria, now I know how something like that can happen. No need to worry though. The Husband found his present right where I had forgot I left it.

-Our carpet is in desperate need of cleaning after the holidays are over. This became apparent when I spot cleaned a few places and now they stick out like a clean thumb. I'm thinking about going over the spots again with dirt just to get the uniform look back. It's seriously driving me nutso.

-I've gained one pound and couldn't be happier about it. I'm stocking up for the cold winter months ahead. Thank you holiday treats.

And now my friends, perhaps you should do the same. I shall see you in the new year! Merry Christmas from this particular redhead and her gang.

My sister said we look freakishly tall in this pic. Nearly the size of a barn! I figured something like that doesn't happen to me everyday so I need to spread the falsehood while I can.

Another reflective installment of Have you Ever?

The following account may or may not be based on actual events. Most likely not, but probably so perhaps of course.

Have you ever, dear reader, set up a time when two lady neighbors could stop by your house just for some friendly conversation and some contact with the outside world. Your neighbor calls you the night before said appointment just to remind you. You then go to sleep thinking of how you will need to make a little extra effort on the morrow to look presentable.

Upon awakening in the morning, you groggily carry on about your usual routine, of course having forgotten that visitors are coming. It’s not until the doorbell rings at 11:00 A.M. sharp that you remember your brain is mush and that you shouldn’t have trusted that gray matter of yours to remind you of things.. You should have posted signs on the toilet as well as on the milk jug, both places you are sure to look.

As you curse your forgetfulness and scatter-brained-ness, you start to panic. Your cheeks begin to burn as they always do when you are flustered. Should you ignore the bell? Should you feign sickness and ask them to come back at a later date?  Should you answer the door and act like you have no idea who they are, then tell them no solicitors please?

These questions run circles in your mind over the course of just seconds. And after twenty or so Mississippis have passed, the pressure has reached the maximum and you decide to just invite them in, to your real life. Not before putting on a hoodie though for heaven's sake.

So with unsightly hair, pajamas on, no makeup, no bra, and remnants of yesterday’s fort making still scattered across the living room, you answer the door, and prepare yourself for unimaginable embarrassment.

Well, have you ever?

A pithy title is illuding me right now

You’ll have to excuse me for the time being. I am cranium deep into this book, whilst also trying to read this book. And even though I am a world renowned horrible multi-tasker (what with the mommy brain and all), I have also taken on the task of making poof balls. No, that is not a typo.

And now that you know I did indeed mean to write poof balls, you’re probably asking yourself or the person sitting next to you what is a poof ball. Well, if I may be so bold (and I will) you should probably already know what this thing is I call a poof ball, but I will enlighten you because I care, about you. They are big balls of poof . . . and I’m handcrafting some myself. If this were a crafty blog I would now provide step by step instructions, but this is most definitely not a crafting blog. Heaven help you if it was. No, no. A wise person would go here for those sorts of things, and then come back to my blog when the poof balls (or pom poms) don’t turn out so poofy or pom-pom-y. I am not speaking from personal experience

So whilst I divide my brain cells betwixt all of the aforementioned activities, feel free to peruse a few pictures taken today, titled “The End of Summer Is upon Us, and Yes This Is as Tan as I Get.” (I got tired of trying to remember what to capitalize in sentences so just deal.)

Disgust much?

Well today is one I would like to just file away under the category of “Never to be repeated or I will shut myself in a closet.” It just so happens that both of the fruit of my looms decided it was no-nap day, if you can believe it. I’ve dealt with one no-napper before, but not two . . . at the same time. One was always asking for food, the other was teething. One had a melt down when I went to the bathroom and refused to let him watch, and the other cried great big huge tears whenever I pulled him away from a dangerous situation. It was pure insanity. Try as I might, they just wouldn’t listen to reason or the throbbing of that vein in my neck.

Eventually my mind went somewhere else. Who knows where. But while it was gone I very nearly deposited one of Bubba’s dirty diapers in the refrigerator, and then started making dinner whilst missing two-thirds of the ingredients. Mommy brain strikes again.

I haven’t even mentioned yet how the whole Mel Gibson drama is weighing heavily upon me. I mean, hello. Forever Young. A movie that my dear impressionable childhood mind saw as the epitome of magical romance. Then years later, I find out that the man playing the frozen hunk of true love is actually the kind of man who turns into a blithering gorilla, who gets his briefs in a lunatic twist, and goes ballistic when his lover decides to sleep instead of have relations with him (It's true. I saw/heard it on TV). Crushing. I am crushed.

So for all these reasons and more, I’m going to write the remainder of this post and then call it a week. That’s right Thursday. You have been weighed. You have been measured. And you have been found unnecessary. Or maybe it’s Wednesday that needs to be banished. Either way, today is now Friday.

But now let’s get to the crux of this ramble, which is obviously something disgusting judging from the title.

Back when our air conditioner was working less than stellar, I considered that maybe our vents needed to be cleaned out. Some of the vents are on the floor so I pulled up the one closest to the kitchen and found this.

Don’t worry about me. I gagged on the spot. I’ve gotten it out of my system. I’ll wait for you to do the same.

Ready? Well, we’ve lived here for almost two years now, and I can assure you most of the things I found in this vent were not from us. There was stuff in there from before this place was remodeled and updated, probably even stuff that accrued during renovation. Previous tenants must have had severe issues considering they used this vent as their dinner table. I was so in awe of it all I had to investigate the photo further. Let’s take a closer look-see (feel free to enlarge, but I'm warning you. You are warned).

A. A piece of cheese. Honestly this could have been Bosco’s cheese. He nibbles it like a mouse.

B. Needles from an artificial Christmas tree. Definitely not us. We only do real.

C. Pieces of maroon shag carpeting which is actually not the carpet on our floors right now. Darn.

D. A penny, actually two, tails side up. Not good luck.

E. French fries. Not ours. I would slap anyone who wasted fries like this.

F. A dried, shriveled pea. This one is just a flat out mystery.

G. Cheerios, that spiders have most assuredly pooped on.

H. Pistachio shell. Can’t remember the last time I had one of those nuts outside of the pudding.

I. Crushed M&M. This one was sad to see. Chocolate left all alone. It looks like a jack-o-lantern though. So it’s creepy. To think this thing has been staring up at me every time I went by the vent. Heebie jeebies. That’s what you’re feeling right now.

J. Spider. Deceased. But not before it had the chance to poop on those Cheerios.

K. A bead. I don’t own crafting beads. Period. I’m surrounded by males who would use them as bullets.

L. Bat wings?

M. Child’s drawing on a post-it note. I almost felt bad disposing of it even though it wasn’t ours. But I had to. It was touching the bat wings?

N. Blood stains. I’m sure of it.

O. Leaves. Ok. This one could have been us.

And that’s literally only scratching the surface. The junk was a good inch thick, the majority of it being some sort of dried spackling or plaster chunks.

They’ve all been cleaned out though, yet somehow the horror still lives on in my mind. Maybe it’s because I keep looking at this picture . . . duh.

Mommy Brainers Unite!

Alright folks. My brain literally feels fried. Want to know what fried brain feels like? Fuzzy. I’m operating my fine little self on about five hours of sleep. And to put it in the words of one dramatic crab, “My nerves are shot. This is a catastrophe!”

The kiddies and the Husband are finally nestled safe in their beds while visions of monkeys and popsicles dance in their heads. I should be doing the same. “But I’ve got to blog”, my fuzzy brain says. And I’ve got to finish my luscious Sonic Lemon Berry slush of course! The last thing my noggin is equipped to do right now is write a post worthy of your attention. But I’ve got an itch, an itch that can only be scratched by this here keyboard of mine. That was so lame. I’m sorry.

Speaking of fuzzy brain, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’ve quite possibly been living with this condition for the past three or four years. Mommy brain, as some call it. It is a legitimate ailment mother’s go through while they multiply and replenish the earth. Google it readers. The internets never lie. And I stand before you as prime specimen of the affliction.

Since I first gestated a human being in my body I’ve racked up a plethora of evidence to support mommy brain. I NEVER would have done these things pre-kiddos.

*I’ve been known to leave the car door open . . . and not realize it until the NEXT morning. This only happened once. But still. The Husband can hold this over my head for the eternities.

*I’ve been known to butcher popular phrases or sayings. For example instead of saying, “I’m putting my foot down!” I might say something like, “I’m putting my finger down!” Again, more fodder for the Husband.

*Just yesterday I put the milk in the cabinet, instead of the fridge. My son said, “What are you doing!” It’s a sad state of affairs when your three year old “thinks” more than you do.

*In preparation for a lesson I had to teach at church, I was looking for Luke in the Bible and became very frustrated when my attempts to find it in alphabetical order were fruitless. Matthew, Mark, Luke? . . . this Bible is all screwy. To defend myself a little, I had been looking in the Merriam Webster Dictionary previous to that.

*Last week I was putting wet clothes in the dryer, to be dried obviously. Only when I pressed the button the dryer didn’t come on. Blast this thing isn’t even five years old yet! Then I realized I hadn’t closed the dryer door. That was a major low point in my day.

And I’m just scratching the surface here. I know I’m not alone in this either. I see moms doing stupid stuff everyday. I choose to give them the benefit of the doubt and blame it on the mommy brain. Unless it is something really horrific, like giving their child Cheetos and cranberry juice while they are wearing a white T-shirt and sitting on a white couch, which is on a white rug. There are just no words or excuses for that heinous mistake.

But aside from that, I think we need to create a judge-free zone amongst us mommy brainers of the world. A group of mothers who aren’t afraid to confess some of the things they’ve done, all in the name having posterity. So confess away dear readers. I’m listening, not laughing. Promise.

Want to cheer up a mommy brained friend of yours (or perhaps yourself)? You should probably give her this lovely handwritten note that she can display on her own blog, just to let her know that all is well. Right click/save/put on blog. Easy as that.

P.S. I now have a community on BlogFrog. Now all I need is . . . people in my community. Stop on by. Check it out. I really like it. So if your not signed up yet, you should probably just do it, then be a part of my community of super peoples.