Today is one of those days where I just want to leave my house for a solid three hours. I don't have the faintest idea what I would do with my mythical free time, but I need out. Pronto.
My four-year-old son is to blame.
No matter how hard I clean. Regardless of the fact that I JUST PUT HIS CRAP AWAY, he is constantly making a new mess in another area of the house. If I wash the floors, he spills apple juice. If I vacuum, he steps on a cracker. If I get the baby down for a nap, he wakes him up. And yes, okay, that's not making a mess, but it ain't helping.
So yesterday was a disaster, which resulted in me losing my mind and completely giving up. I instructed my kids to clean up every mess, one room at a time.
"But whyyy are you making us clean so much???" Said in an insanely whiny voice.
"Because, you made the mess. I'm done cleaning."
"But it's soooo unfair."
So that was about four hours of my yesterday, dodging their whining as they cleaned up their own mess.
Today would be different, I told myself. So I vacuumed up all the chip crumbs. Used my wetjet (I love that thing) on my floors and plopped myself down on my computer to check my mail. I ignored the sounds coming from my kitchen. I shouldn't have.
Because what was my dear son doing? Making a surprise concoction out of crap from the fridge. Applesauce was all over my clean floor. Yogurt on my counters. Cheese everywhere else. Now I remember doing this when I was probably in Junior High. I'd make some gross drink out of condiments from the fridge and force my friend to take a sip. I did that in Jr High....with A FRIEND. He's four and making it purely for himself. Who is this kid?
"What the heck?" I asked, my eyes rolling into my head.
"I'm making a special drink? Want a sip?"
I give up. Palms to the air, I leave the kitchen.
Is it bedtime yet?
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Just Dance
So my wee little one is almost 3 months old, which means that I am getting super excited about returning to my old weight. At this point, my diet and exercise regime should be melting the pounds off me. Unfortunately, they're not. I blame the fact that I'm almost 30 for my severe lack of metabolism.:)
ANYWHO...
I decided to change up my aerobics to confuse my muscles and yadda, yadda, yadda. Not even looking at the cover, I rented a dance video from my library; Julianna Hough: Just Dance. Sounded easy enough. And in my head, it would be super fun. Perhaps I'd become an amazing dancer with my killer moves. Maybe if I conquered this video, I could take one of those pole dancing classes are the rich housewives take.
So tonight I was all set to go. Kids are in bed. Dishes are done. House is close enough to clean as it's gonna get. I'm so stoked that I'm even foregoing watching the Bears play their first pre-season game tonight. See how determined I am?? See?
Yea. No. I can't dance for shit. Julianne, however, was awesome. I couldn't even move my hips because I was watching her. "Wow, she has awesome abs." "Wow, how do her legs move that far back?" "Wow, so I just need to rotate here and thrust here and I'm doing the snake??"
Needless to say, I got 5 minutes and forty seconds (five minutes being the warm up) into the work out before I gave up altogether.
I. Just. Can't. Dance.
ANYWHO...
I decided to change up my aerobics to confuse my muscles and yadda, yadda, yadda. Not even looking at the cover, I rented a dance video from my library; Julianna Hough: Just Dance. Sounded easy enough. And in my head, it would be super fun. Perhaps I'd become an amazing dancer with my killer moves. Maybe if I conquered this video, I could take one of those pole dancing classes are the rich housewives take.
So tonight I was all set to go. Kids are in bed. Dishes are done. House is close enough to clean as it's gonna get. I'm so stoked that I'm even foregoing watching the Bears play their first pre-season game tonight. See how determined I am?? See?
Yea. No. I can't dance for shit. Julianne, however, was awesome. I couldn't even move my hips because I was watching her. "Wow, she has awesome abs." "Wow, how do her legs move that far back?" "Wow, so I just need to rotate here and thrust here and I'm doing the snake??"
Needless to say, I got 5 minutes and forty seconds (five minutes being the warm up) into the work out before I gave up altogether.
I. Just. Can't. Dance.
Introducing....Me!
So, I told myself I would never blog.
I lied. To myself.
But then again, I have a history of lying to myself. I swore I'd never wear capri's. And that I'd give up caffeine forever. And that I would never, ever, EVER drive a mini van before I turned 30. Well here I am, currently wearing capris, drinking a diet coke ( which I swore just this week to give up), and toting my kids around in my awesome mini-van (<---- anything that has two televisions to keep the kids from not talking to me is considered awesome).
So yea, I have a history of lying. Mainly to myself. And possibly my parents over the exisitence of my flute, but that's another story. My hubs has been putting the blogging bug in my ear for months. I told him I didn't want to, and left it at that. I was writing books and raising kids, when would I blog? Plus, all my creative juices went into creating my third child, meaning I was rendered dull for about nine months. Now that's he's out, I'm slowly returning to my silly self (note: I think I'm funny. Others might disagree)
But it was my sister that put the final nail into my coffin of lies. We both read a blog post this morning, recounting the story of when a woman met her dream man, and seemingly squashed all chances of being with said dream man when she let a giant, SBD fart off in the car on a date.
http://hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/
"That was hilarious. Sounds familiar," I had said to my sister.
" It sounds like something you would write. You should blog."
And so I put my youngest down for a nap and put video games on for the older chillin's (mental slap on hand for my awesome parenting) and set up my account. We'll see how it goes, but I have a feeling that my offspring will provide many entertaining stories for me to recount.
I lied. To myself.
But then again, I have a history of lying to myself. I swore I'd never wear capri's. And that I'd give up caffeine forever. And that I would never, ever, EVER drive a mini van before I turned 30. Well here I am, currently wearing capris, drinking a diet coke ( which I swore just this week to give up), and toting my kids around in my awesome mini-van (<---- anything that has two televisions to keep the kids from not talking to me is considered awesome).
So yea, I have a history of lying. Mainly to myself. And possibly my parents over the exisitence of my flute, but that's another story. My hubs has been putting the blogging bug in my ear for months. I told him I didn't want to, and left it at that. I was writing books and raising kids, when would I blog? Plus, all my creative juices went into creating my third child, meaning I was rendered dull for about nine months. Now that's he's out, I'm slowly returning to my silly self (note: I think I'm funny. Others might disagree)
But it was my sister that put the final nail into my coffin of lies. We both read a blog post this morning, recounting the story of when a woman met her dream man, and seemingly squashed all chances of being with said dream man when she let a giant, SBD fart off in the car on a date.
http://hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/
"That was hilarious. Sounds familiar," I had said to my sister.
" It sounds like something you would write. You should blog."
And so I put my youngest down for a nap and put video games on for the older chillin's (mental slap on hand for my awesome parenting) and set up my account. We'll see how it goes, but I have a feeling that my offspring will provide many entertaining stories for me to recount.
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