In the parlance of babies, lightening is the change in a pregnant woman’s body when the baby’s head engages in the pelvis. The baby “drops” and suddenly the woman is able to breathe but now waddles and tries to not laugh or cough with anything in her bladder. It is the first part of that phenomenon that is my focus right now. (Although after 3 babies, heaven knows that I am very aware of emptying my bladder before doing high impact activities such as jump rope!)
The new year always gets me thinking about less. It must be the logical reaction to putting all those Christmas decorations in their Rubbermade totes and lugging them back up to the attic. But each new year, I feel like I should weigh less, have less, be less.
I crave lessness. Continue reading
I’ve been lamenting for several days over the sad, sad condition of my kitchen floor. I’m pretty sure that if it were any more sticky, I’d loose either a flip-flop or a 6 year old in there. But of course, mopping said floor is never very high on my list of things to do. (Obviously.) But this morning, as I schlepped across the kitchen to the coffee maker, my slippers making a sound much like when I give my dog peanut butter, I figured I’d better actually mop the dang thing. And therein lies the story. Continue reading
I could use some sympathy here people. It seems my Kitchen Goddess has left the building. Actually, I’m pretty sure I forgot to pack her when I moved to my current home in 2004, but I am particularly missing her today. I’ve blogged before about my personal fantasy of living at IKEA (Heaven on Earth) as well as how a normal morning in my kitchen often includes a higher than average danger rating due to precarious balancing acts on counters and refrigerator shelves (Known as Prime Real Estate). I realize this whine of mine is not particularly new to you. Or me, for that matter. But it is what is on my heart at this moment.
Who knew being a slob could actually have a “positive” spin to it? Actually, I’m not so much of a slob as an overwhelmed mom. The chaos factor of a household rises in direct proportion to the ratio of children to adults, multiplied by the number of home improvement projects in the house. I’m not sure if that is an actual math problem, but the ensuing nightmare sure is. My home has been under some sort of renovation since 2005. That means that my youngest child has never lived in a normal home – you know, one without power tools laying about. Start looking closely at any photos I upload and you’ll notice more than the usual household debris. Seriously, how many people do you know who have a bucket of electrical components, a tile saw, and a power drill all at the ready in the dining room?
However, I did realize one thing as I was frantically picking up before the babysitter got here last night. As I carried a load of laundry downstairs, I realized that the bottle of bleach had been sitting by the tub long enough to be dusty. And not once have my kiddos dinked around with it. Why? Because there was so much other clutter in there that they must not have been able to see it.
Heaven help my kiddos if they ever live in a clean house. Suddenly all the outlets will be a temptation.
Okay, I’ll be the first to admit it, I am not a great housekeeper. No Martha Stewart or Mrs. Cleaver merit badges for this girl. I’ve been known to say that a person won’t catch any diseases at my house, but it’s not all that clean. In fact, it is pretty much always a fine balance between the organized and disorganized chaos. Junk mail and Legos appear to be my nemeses. But I do try to keep the hygiene level at least close to “acceptable.” Continue reading
So, I don’t know about the state of your kitchen, but my particular “state of the nation” is really all about some of the most prime real estate on the planet. As in the 4 inches of space on the front of the counters and shelves in the refrigerator. Every time I walk into my kitchen to do anything more complicated than pour a cup of coffee, I am reminded that what I want my world to look like is far, far from what it actually looks like. Even more depressing is that I have come to see that the state of my kitchen pretty much mirrors the state of my life in general.