Fold My Laundry Please

Say you were an 18 year old girl and you had been asked to give a talk at church on Sunday.  You may or may not have spent a lot of time preparing what you were going to say.  Sunday arrives and your mother, who doesn’t attend church on a regular basis, accompanies you to watch you speak.  Because she loves you.  And is proud of you.  Do you:

a)  Deliver a touching speech detailing your testimony of the Savior and all that He does for us.

b)  Tell amusing anecdotes about your family and the loving home you were raised in.

or c)  Announce to the congregation that the reason your mother doesn’t come to church often is because she feels unworthy because of her sins and if she would only REPENT and LET JESUS INTO HER LIFE she could once again be pure and worthy.

Answer:  A or B would have been more appropriate, but C was MUCH more amusing!!

Repent, Humor-Blogs.com, lest judgement arrives early!!

HALLELUJAH!!!  The school finally, FINALLY, called!  Both of my boys will indeed be able to go to our school of choice and Gideon will have the same kindergarten teacher that Ethan did last year.  PHEW!  And so what have we been up to lately?  Buying school supplies, of course!  It’s a good thing that the school took so long to notify us about our transfer request, because otherwise school shopping might have been a one-stop trip.  This way, we got to go to three different stores (Target, Walmart, and Winco) to get all the necessary supplies. Because you just can’t get enough of watching grown adults crash carts into each other and fight over the very last Hannah Montana lunch box.

There weren’t even that many things on the list.  The hardest to find items?  The ever popular 24 count box of Crayola crayons and the highly coveted Pink Pearl erasers.  I found the crayons at Winco last night while on a late night cookie dough and root beer run, but the erasers remain elusive.  Now, I know that he is not going to be ridiculed in front of the classroom by his teacher if we aren’t able to find them, but Ethan’s nervous enough about starting first grade as it is.  The horror of showing up without them or with *shudder* a GENERIC VERSION is unimaginable.

And so begins Operation Pink Pearl.  I’ll be spending the next few days scouring the grocery stores and other Walmart and Target locations near us looking for the blasted things!  Curse you Papermate and your high-quality, non-smearing, non-paper-tearing erasability!

 At our house, we know how to party.  I mean, we REALLY know how to party.  Especially when the celebrants are turning 5 and 3 years old!

 First, you need balloons…

…and party hats…

…party blowers…

…colorful birthday cake for the boy…

…and slightly off purple cupcakes for the girl.

Yes, I mixed the colors for the cake icing myself.  Why do you ask? 

Oh, and don’t forget about the overly-excited baby.

You can’t have a proper party without one of those.

Now, when you have two partiers with the very same birthday, they each get to pick their own theme. In our case we had Ponies…

…and Ninja Turtles.

Complete with matching napkins and party favors.

And pizza!

Gotta have pizza! 

Then come the presents!

Presents…

…presents…

…and more presents! 

And now, cake!

We like cake.

We like it a lot.

I’m talking about a CRAZY love of cake.

It’s really very serious.

And last, but not least, never under estimate the after party playability factor of packaging.

Especially colorful packaging.

Happy birthday, Gideon and Aurora! 

Summer is still here for another week at our house.  Ethan starts first grade next Wednesday and Gideon starts kindergarten the Wednesday after that.  I send my kids to a school that is not our local school which means I have to fill out transfer paper work and all manner of fun stuff.  Last year, we moved in sometime in the beginning of October, so the necessary paperwork got processed in a single day (since I drove it back and forth between schools myself).  This year, the school sent home transfer paperwork during the last week of school and I filled it out and carried it into the office myself.  I was told that they wouldn’t be reviewing transfer applications until the first week of August when the school’s office opened again.  I was okay with that.  There were three whole months before panic needed to set in so I didn’t worry about it.  Also, they wanted me to go to the local elementary and register Gideon for kindergarten there and then fill out all of the same transfer papers for both boys at their end.  I was okay with that, too.  All that was left was for us to enjoy our summer and wait for the promised letter to arrive sometime during the first or second week of August. 

August is very nearly over.  School starts September 3rd.  And I have yet to hear anything from either school.  When we lived in Wilsonville, we got several letters in the mail leading up to the first day telling us about kindergarten orientation days and a back to school ice cream social where we could meet Ethan’s teacher, see his classroom, and drop off his bulging backpack of supplies.  Ethan even recieved a letter from his new teacher telling him how excited she was to get to know him and all about all the fun they were going to have that year.  Here in Salem, I’ve received exactly SQUAT!  I don’t even know which school they’ll be attending this year, much less whether Gideon will be in morning or afternoon kindergarten or who their teachers will be.  I’ve called the school several times and each time I was told that the principal is going over transfer requests "this afternoon" and that they will be calling everyone to let them know as soon as she finishes.  At this rate, by the time we get around to purchasing school supplies, the stores will have taken down all of their back to school displays!

*sigh*

I don’t presume to tell the principal how to do her job, but isn’t this something that should have been taken care of much, MUCH earlier? I can only assume that other, more pressing matters arose and she was forced to put off this very important task.  Other matters like maybe alien invasion.  Anal probes can really get in the way of completing paperwork.  Or goblins.  Goblins can be very mischievious and should be taken care of immediately so as to prevent other, more detrimental, delays.  Either way, I’m going to hve to resort to the old parent standby.  Nagging.

I have been calling them daily, grasping tenuously to the hope that today, today I will get an answer.  A real answer.  An answer that doesn’t involve the principal getting around to it "this afternoon".  In fact, I’ve got to go.  I’ve got phone calls to make. 

UPDATE:  I just got off the phone with Elementary School.  It would seem that, "Mrs. [Principal] is going to go over the in district transfers today and will make her decisions today." 

Grrrrrrrrrrrr….

Last week, Andrew was called in for a third interview with a company in Wilsonville.  He already had two phone interviews, but this third interview was an in person thing.  When it was over, Andrew said that he felt like it went pretty good.  Which is great.  So now it’s a week later and just as we were discussing what day Andrew would call them back to see if they had made any decisions yet, he got a phone call from the agency acting as a go-between.  They told him that things look "really positive" but that they couldn’t say definitely for sure whether or not he got the job yet because they didn’t want to get his hopes up…just in case.  So now our hopes are up about the job.  Because things haven’t looked "really positive" on the job front since he lost his job back in May.  It’s going on three months sans income and The Money, she is almost gone.  So it would be fabulous if "really positive" turned out to be a good thing.  My question is this: What on earth did that lady mean by that?  Is it "really positive" that they might reach a decision sometime soon?  Is it "really positive" that Andrew unofficially got the job, but they have to run it by the higher ups before telling him?  Is it "really positive" that the other guy got the job?  And just how many more times do I think can say "really positive" before I’m removed from all your blogrolls?  I’m sure she meant the phone call to be something to settle our minds a bit, but I’m really positive that it did just the opposite. 

*sigh*

So what do you guys think?

Humor-Blogs.com is "really positive" that it has hundreds of funny blogs just waiting for you to read them! 

As babies, each of my children were somewhat needy; beyond the feed me, change me, rock me to sleep type of needy that is.  They wanted attention and they wanted to be held…a lot.  But as soon as they started walking, they no longer seemed to need me for much other than the basic necessities.  They were perfectly happy to take themselves hither, thither, and yon without the help of Good Ol’ Mom.  It was a little bit sad.

Aubrey, on the other hand was always very happy watching The Happenings from her own safe place; whether that was from a blanket on the floor or from her swing chair, it didn’t matter.  She was kind of a spectator, always smiley and happy, glad to be held or to be on her own.  Aubrey was a completely content baby girl.  Then she began crawling.  And she LOVED IT!!!  Suddenly, she could go (almost) anywhere she wanted!  Self-propulsion!  Infant mobility!  It was a great thing.  From crawling, she quickly progressed to climbing which was rapidly followed by walking.  Now we’re up to running.  (Try to keep up, will ya?)  Aubrey runs like the wind, I tell you!  That is, if the wind had fat little baby legs and arms that flail about frantically.  (Hmmm, perhaps she’s trying to fly.) 

And where does my little angel fish run to?  Sometimes, she runs when she’s been caught doing something she knows she’s not supposed to do, like climb up the stairs.  All I have to say is, "Whatcha doin’, Peanut?" and WOOSH!  She takes off like a shot!  But mostly she runs to…me.  Or Andrew.  And she looks so sad and pitiful reaching up with those round little arms, clinging to my legs and trying to climb right up my pants leg with her eyes overflowing with tears and her little ribbon lips twisted into a pout.  It’s as though this newfound independence, this autonomy, frightens her.

But I don’t mind it a bit.  You know why?  Because I know what’s coming.  I know that all too soon, we’re going to go to the playground and she’s going to run off with her brothers and sister and not look back.  Sure, there’ll be the Mom-watch-this’s and the Look-at-me’s.  But for the most part, she’s going to be content being a part of something that belongs solely in her own little world.  And before I can take nearly enough pictures to cement the memories in my mind, she’ll be putting on a brand new outfit, sliding on her backpack and disappearing through the front doors of school. 

*sigh*

 Man!  Did this post get depressing fast!  I was just sitting here, writing a cute , amusing little post about my baby girl’s personality quirks when, BAM! out of nowhere I was sideswiped by a bad case of the gloomies!  Hand me the map, will you?  I must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.  No I will NOT ask for directions!  What do you take me for, A WOMAN?!?!  What?  Oh.  Right. 

Excuse me, ma’am.  Can you tell me how to get to Humor-Blogs.com? 

This morning, Claudia wrote a post about being honest about herself.  She even confessed to some rather scandalous (She dyes her hair!) tidbits about herself.  It would seem that revealing your flaws is what all the cool kids are doing, so I thought I would take a shot at it.  Claudia had 10 things, but I only have 6.  But that’s only because I have fewer flaws than she does.

I kid!  I kid!  It was a joke! 

So here they are.  Six less than pleasant things about little ol’ me.

1. I am terribly shy when meeting people in person. This makes it really hard to make real life friends. I love the internet because I’m not afraid to talk to people here, but when I’m face to face with someone, my insides scrunch up, my anus puckers (Teeheehee! That image cracks me up!), and I have to work really hard to appear as if I’m breathing normally. It usually takes about two years or so of being around someone before I finally turn into the same person that you see on my blog.
2. I spend longer than I need to when leaving comments because I have to try and spell a couple of words using the letters that the word verification thingy comes up with.  By the time I finally hit the Publish Button, the server has reset the letters and I have to type in a whole new set of letters.  This presents a dilemma for me.  I have to type the new letters in quickly or else I will sit there and play with the new ones and a whole vicious cycle begins.
3. I am a recovering arithmomaniac.  I used to count everything.  And I do mean everything!  I knew exactly how many steps it took for me to walk from my car to the kitchen.  I knew the number of stairs I needed to climb in any given building I frequented.  Eating jellybeans?  Counted them.  Pulling weeds?  Counted them.  Now I just count small things, like how many times I swipe the dish rag over a plate when washing the dishes or how many times I run the comb through each child’s hair when I comb their hair in the mornings.  My saving grace?  Distraction.  Plain and simple.  Believe me, there is nothing more distracting than a toddler blowing snot bubbles and trying to lick your computer monitor while you’re trying to count keystrokes as you type!
4. I cry when I see marching bands.  I absolutely LOVE to watch marching bands, but when I hear one, my eyes involuntarily fill with tears and my throat clinches tight.  Weird, huh?
5. Despite the title of my blog, I don’t actually want anyone to fold my laundry for me.  I have…issues…with how my laundry is folded.  If it’s not just exactly right, I have to redo it.  If someone else folds my laundry, I smile and thank them.  But as soon as they leave, I pull all the freshly folded clothes out the the drawers and refold every last piece.  Now if anyone wanted to do my dishes…that is another story entirely!  Perhaps I should change the name of my blog to "Wash My Dishes Please".
6. I am terminally lazy.  And for the oddest of reasons.  It’s because I can’t do any small task without turning it into a VERY LARGE JOB.  Take this morning for example.  My van has gotten completely out of control crazy what with the amount of toys, papers, and stale, moldy bagels in it, toys being the biggest offender.  I woke up early and found Ethan getting himself dressed and ready for the day.  I took him out to the garage with me and handed him a plastic bag and told him to fill it with toys, empty it in his toy bin, and come back and fill it again, empty it again, fill it, empty it, until every last toy was out of the car.  That was all I planned to do.  I wanted to tone the crazy down a bit was all.  Then I decided it wouldn’t be a half bad idea to get myself a plastic bag and remove all the trash from the car.  This morphed into me pulling the vacuum out into the garage and wedging myself in between all the seats to vacuum out the nooks and crannies.  This involved the use of various vacuum attachments, you know, to increase the complication factor.  Then I couldn’t bring myself to leave without wiping clean every leather and plastic surface in the vehicle and cleaning the windows to remove all of the nasty fingerprints.  Mirrors had to be cleaned, towels under baby seats changed, the baby seats themselves removed and the covers washed, the back of the van vacuumed out and all the items we keep in there reorganized for maximum neatness, the handheld vacuum I keep in the van had to be recharged (yes, I keep a vacuum in the car), and all the carpets had to be liberally Febreezed.  If I had a small, portable steam cleaner, I would have steam cleaned the carpets, too.  Goodness knows they need it.  Believe me, it pained me to walk away with that left undone.  But walk away I did.  Now I’m completely exhausted.  My car is sparkling, but I need a nap.

Phew!  Number six was a long one! 

You know, as I read over these items to check for grammar errors, I realize that my personality may lean a little towards Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.  Huh.

Humor-Blogs.com washes their hands exactly eight times using a new bar of soap for each wash.  Eight times a day.  Every day.  But only seven on Sundays.

On our way home from the airport Thursday evening, we decided that it would be a good idea to stop at a restaurant.  After navigating the friendly skies, there was no way I wanted to even think about cooking dinner.  On the wall next to our table was this picture:

Gideon spent most of the dinner pondering the many twists and turns.  It must’ve really blown his little four year old mind!

Maybe this would’ve been more his style.

Humor-Blogs.com just doesn’t "get" art! 

We’re back!  And we survived!  More importantly, I survived! 

• 3 kids
• 1 baby
• 1 diaper bag
• 2 backpacks
• 1 stroller
• 2 carseats
• 4 suitcases
• 2 airports
• 2 security checkpoints
• and 1 entirely stressed out mom!

From Portland to Phoenix and back again.  Phew!  But all the stress melted away as soon as I walked in the door and saw that Andrew cleaned the house top to bottom!  He organized what was disorganized and washed what was dirty!  He even steamcleaned the carpets people!  No, you can’t have him.  He’s all mine!

It’s good to be home!  Now to just catch up on the 649 posts that my feed reader is saying I’ve missed!

Humor-Blogs.com always gets "randomly selected" at the security checkpoint! 

Dear Southwest Airlines: Thank you for keeping an eye out for a poor Mother of four braving the friendly skies alone with children. It’s not that I couldn’t have done it without your help, but every step of the way someone was there asking if I had it under control, offering to ease my burden. I was worried about such a trip, but it couldn’t have gone smoother. Dear Shuttle Driver: Thank you for announcing through the speaker system how well behaved my children were being. I do believe they took the charge seriously from my husband to be my protectors on this journey, you’d have thought the angels themselves were holding their hands for that trip. Dear Strange Lady: Ummm…. Thanks, they are all mine, and no… I’d rather you didn’t hold the small one while I get my luggage. My Husband wasn’t able to join us for this little visit to my Mother’s house, but I can almost hear him singing at home: Billy Joel Travelin Prayer Come fly the Humor-Blog.com skies