Life is Messy

Someone asked me recently how I keep my house so clean. At first I hesitated. Do I reveal my secret, and therefore make it so other people's houses are also clean? I decided to take my chances. My secret to a clean house is this: I clean it all the time. Constantly. I vacuum everyday and pick up toys countless times and wash the dishes after every single meal.

Life is messy. Kids are messy. I have two small hurricanes going through my house making messes all the time. I do make them pick up their toys, but they're little and can't exactly do all of the chores. That day will come soon enough. I have two choices when it comes to cleaning up their messes: Pick them up as they make them so that it only takes a few minutes and my house doesn't look like it's being taken over by toys. Or: Leave them all and wait a day or two so that the mess has piled up and is taller than me.

I choose pick them up, because my sanity is on the line. It's easier to pick them up little by little, and stepping on legos hurts. Bad. Big piles of laundry take way longer to put away then one load with a couple pairs of pajamas. Dirty dishes are gross. If they're overflowing from the sink onto the counter then I have to wash them. But life is still messy. My kids are still messy. I have proof.

Symptoms

Normal everyday life has been on hiatus at our house for the past four days. Ava got kind of sniffly, then graciously shared her germs with David and I.

We started to get sick Friday with a sore throat, which carried over to Saturday and was then joined by a runny/stuffy nose. Sunday the sore throat kindly bid farewell, but solid head congestion stopped by for a visit, joined by some all out fatigue. Monday arrived with a cough that made me feel like my brain was rattling around in my head and someone was stepping on my larynx. Today all symptoms are less than before, but still crappy.

Ava seems to have rebounded mostly, but she was about a day and a half ahead of us. Alana didn't join in on the fun until yesterday afternoon, but she still refuses to admit that she's sick. I'm still amazed that they're able to play and function with the same cold that I have, because I can barely drag myself out of bed. While I'm struggling to hold up the weight of my head, my "sick" kids are running around and playing.

You can tell by the weekend's menu that we weren't feeling great. All I cooked was egg sandwiches and spaghetti, but I had made the stuff for spaghetti the day before. Brownies I had made Friday to eat throughout the weekend sat on the counter virtually untouched the whole weekend, and I threw away the whole pan this morning. They were stale and I still don't really feel like eating anything but honey nut cheerios and peanut butter sandwiches. I don't even really like honey nut cheerios, but our cereal selection is limited until I go get groceries.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we all feel better for the holiday weekend, although with half of AZ on fire we will have no fireworks. Fourth of July is probably my least favorite holiday, because it's so fricking hot. We typically go to a parade at 9 am, and by the time we leave it's over 100 degrees and we're all sweaty and red faced. This year we're taking a different approach and skipping the parade. I think instead we'll revert to our favorite summer activity of going to the movies. Nothing sounds funner to me than sitting in an air conditioned room. Cars 2 and stupid Transformers 3 are both likely candidates, and we'll probably see both.

Right now I'm being held hostage by Alana's insistence on watching home movies constantly. They get old quickly. Wait...I just checked in on Alana and the home movies have bored her to sleep. Yes! I think I'll take advantage of two sleeping kids and go watch TV.

Sick Day

There are few things in life that wake you up faster than a puking kid in the middle of the night. Coffee and energy drinks have got nothing on the adrenaline rush of trying to avoid being thrown up on.

Last night Ava was really restless and rolling around like a crazy girl at 3 am, so I picked her up and headed out to the living room. I stopped at the linen closet to grab a blanket and just as I picked one up she started to gag and puke. Not your ordinary run-of-the-mill puke. Bbq chip puke. My instinct told me to lean her over the floor, to avoid being puked on. If there was a gold medal for avoiding being thrown up on, I would've won it. Put that in the olympics. It's harder than sychronized swimming. Puke ended up on the blanket and the floor and Ava.

I had to clean it, which meant touching soggy bbq chips. I'm still traumatized. I can't even look at the bag. Then I sprinkled some baking soda on it to avoid the always enticing smell of stale puke and headed to the couch to sleep with my baby the rest of the night.

Sick babies are one thing. But when I feel crappy too it's even worse. I have some sore throat/congestion issues today. I haven't been sick in so long I forgot how much it sucks. I really love breathing through my nose. It's the best. I miss it when it's gone.

The thing about being a mom, especially a stay-at-home mom, is you can't call in sick to work. Back in my pre-children days, if I was sick, rest was only a phone call away. I even got paid for my absense. That's a huge benefit. Sometimes I'd go to work anyway when I was sick, but I took comfort in knowing that when I got home I could go straight to bed. But when you're job is taking care of some stinky ladies all day, you're always on the job. I can't call in. No one will pay me to lay in bed everyday. No one pays me for anything, except in little girl hugs and kisses.

When I'm sick, and so is Ava, and so is David, I'm still on the job. Ava is wiping her boogers on me and David is watching boxing. I'm pretty much left to take care of myself. Alana is still healthy, so she can fetch the occasional thing, but she's only four and she's not my slave. I'll enslave her more when she can cook me stuff and drive.

I'm on the clock all the time, because motherhood doesn't rest for a head cold. It should take a one day hiatus for my birthday though.

I'm ready for bed. Typing is tiring.

Cousins are the coolest

There's something undeniably cool about an older cousin. Something mysterious. Alluring.

They have different toys than you. Different parents. Sometimes they can give you a piggyback ride, which is awesome. They can build anything out of legos. They are ready made friends, who you've known your whole life.

I remember thinking my older cousins were the coolest people ever. They had different toys. They had different parents. They were mysterious. Now Alana thinks that her cousins are the coolest. Grayson's so strong, he can pick me up. Colby's so funny, he kept giving me bunny ears in all the pictures. Jayden's so fun, we were playing zombie mom & dad. Brinley's so cute, she ate your chapstick. I forgot that if you leave your purse on the floor by a crawling baby, they will get into it. And she needed to make some calls. Check her facebook and stuff.

My kids only have 4 first cousins, which is kind of a tiny number around these parts. Especially since there are so many kids in my family. My sister and I are the only ones with any offspring so far, and David's only got one brother who has yet to marry and reproduce.

Growing up around your cousins is fun and fulfilling, because it guarantees some sort of playmate at most family functions. When you have a cousin who's only 3 weeks younger, you've always got someone who thinks your jokes are funny and who you can refuse to share your toys with. Ava doesn't have anyone that close in age, but Brinley is only one year younger, so eventually she'll catch up and be ready to have some adventures too.

Playing dress up, eating chapstick, watching wimpy kid movies and giving bunny ears to people while hiding behind them in the picture are only a few of the adventures they've had recently. I'm sure they'll have many more and get into their share of trouble.

Father's Day Bi-laws

There are rules that must be followed in order to have a proper Father's day. At least my husband thinks so.

• Father's day should be celebrated the entire weekend, starting with Friday afternoon.
• Breakfast meats such as bacon and sausage should be in abundance. If at all possible eat them with every meal.
• Fathers should not do any type of household chore the entire weekend. Or at any other point ever.
• Fathers should be allowed to nap. On the couch. Then complain that people keep bothering them. Cause they're in the middle of the living room.
• A minimum of 50% of the weekend should be spent sitting/laying on the couch, in full possession of the remote control. Bare minimum.

These rules were all followed very strictly here. No room for error. Next year I'm writing some rules for Mother's day, because I got screwed out of sleeping in.

My girls definitely love their daddy. They watch zombie shows and music videos with him. They are always trying to get into the shower with him. They dutifully wave goodbye at the window everyday when he goes to work. They even let him have the remote control whenever he's home. That's love.

Alana made a masterpiece of a card. She should work for Hallmark.

Watching Daddy leave for work

An obligatory picture with Daddy

Victims of Alana

This decapitated Barbie and lonely right shoe have been victimized by my child.

Today Alana left a shoe at McDonald's. Seriously. Who leaves a shoe at McDonald's? And then mentions it casually once you're on the freeway and can't exactly make a u-turn? Alana does. So I called them, and asked them to look for my shoe. They couldn't find it. R.I.P. $2 Old Navy flip flop. You will be missed. Especially by the right shoe, who will now be getting thrown out, because what good is one shoe when you have two feet.

Barbie will never be the same. Giant forehead and ratty hair aside, she could've done something with her life. Started up a relationship with Flynn Rider, because Rapunzel is too busy for him now with her newfound fame and we don't have a Ken doll. Driven around in one of our two convertible Barbie cars, corvette or Volkswagen, her choice. Spent more time with the Littlest Pet shop gang, because who doesn't like a pig on a tricycle? But now all of that is behind her, due to headlessness.

Who will be the next victim?

Last Train to Crazyville

Every mother, whether they're willing to admit it or not, has moments when their children drive them a little bit crazy. It doesn't mean you don't love them, it just means that you, and they, are human. My ladies drive me crazy everyday. I still think they're cute though. Who wouldn't? Look at them.

Every day is filled with ups and downs. Like when Ava sticks her finger in my wet toenail polish, which is annoying. But then she holds her chubby little foot out to me to paint her nails. So how can I resist her cuteness? I cannot. I paint her nails, then help her blow on them till they're dry. Or when Alana tells Ava to do bratty things at the store, like hang on the cart. But then she sits nicely in the cart, behaving and not asking for candy. It still confuses me that my four year old will sit in the cart, but my one year old thinks she's too big.

When you have more than one kid, they're not always going to agree on everything. Sometimes one will cry because she doesn't want to watch Gnomeo & Juliet, but the other one does. Sometimes one of them isn't interested in a toy until her sister starts playing with it, then it becomes the. most. awesome. toy. ever. It must be played with immediately. Part of the mom resume includes being a referee. But then the same bratty children also comfort and hug each other. That's when I really like them.

Ava makes the saddest crying face humanly possible. Alana doesn't care. She still insists on watching a movie that Ava doesn't like. But then they eat popcorn nicely together on the floor.

Sometimes they're so good I almost think they're planning something, like world domination. Then I walk into the living room and the floor is covered in crushed goldfish crackers. The only plan was to drive me crazy. World domination can wait. After I vacuum for the third time in one day I dream about hiding in my closet with some ice cream.

That's not what I usually do, because my closet is dark and they will find me. They always find me.

After I've reached the end of my patience and David is home for the night, they usually behave themselves. Look Daddy, we're so nice. Buy us stuff! I don't care, as long as they're good. Beggars can't be choosers.

Cuteness and sweetness, plus an ability to say hilarious things and rock a Rapunzel shirt everyday of the week, are Alana redeeming qualities. She has a fiery temper, and will give me the cold shoulder when I make her mad. She always forgives me though, cause I'm awesome like that. Plus, she will inevitably fall asleep, and that's when she's nicest.

Ava's a baby, so it's harder for me to get mad at her. She's cute and squishy. Her mullet rocks. She dances along to music on the TV, growls and grunts her way through the day, and makes her mean face just often enough. She gets more excited about bubbles than I get for anything, even York Peppermint Patties. She will eat as much white chocolate as possible, she's not a quitter. And her long eyelashes really push her cuteness over the limit.

She always gets bubbles in her hair. Crazy lady.

It doesn't hurt one bit that she looks so cute when she's asleep. And her big sister makes sure to give her a toy to snuggle with, in case she gets lonely during her nap.

At the end of the day, when my kids are asleep and it's nice and quiet, I'm most grateful to be a mom. Even when they're fighting and screaming and crushing goldfish crackers into the carpet. I just tell myself that eventually they have to go to bed, then they'll be nice. 

A Convenient Haunting

There was a time in our house where everything that Alana was accused of was blamed on Ava. Somebody wrote Alana's name all over a bunch of stuff? That was Ava. Somebody took all of the books out of the cupboard when Ava was asleep? Ava. Without question. Somebody took off Alana's pants and left them on the floor? Ava. No hesitation. Always Ava.

Now that Ava can deny acts of mischief with the emphatic shaking of her head, someone else must be blamed. Alana is never the guilty party. Not when she's the only kid awake, not when I see her do it, not when nobody else could've possibly done it. It's never Alana.

There has to be somebody to step in. To take the blame. Accept responsibility for the wrong doings. That someone must be strong enough to take the punishment. Humble enough to admit fault. Brave enough to take the blame. Or invisible enough to escape it all. Who fits this last description? A ghost of course.

Yes it seems we have a ghost. A literate ghost who writes Alana's name on things. A troublesome ghost who makes Ava cry. A sneaky ghost who gets into the Cheetos. A mean ghost who doesn't allow Alana to share.

This ghost is always around when something bad happens, but it's so quick and sneaky that I never see it. It's a ghost of the most invisible type, who cannot be seen by any mommy, just by children, so that they may blame it for stuff. Does the ghost mind taking the blame? I don't know, because it's so fast that I never catch up to it to ask.

I'd like to have five minutes with this ghost, one on one face time, to get inside it's ghost brain. Really get to know it. Ask why it tries to frame my children, especially Alana, for it's mischievous crimes.

I hope this ghost isn't a longterm resident, but since I can't talk with it to ask, I'll never know. And since I've seen the movie Little Monsters, I can't entirely rule out the possibility of a third party causing trouble in my house. Anything is possible.

A ghost spilled these M&M's, then told Alana not to clean them up.

Kinda Sorta Maybe a Little Bit Lazy

I'm a slacker. My blog has collected dust. The unthinkable has occured: I washed my hair more in one week than I posted on my blog. I posted one time this week, and it was a half-hearted attempt at best.

My blog currently lacks an abundance of recent posts. Every idea I have for a post is just a crazy random thought, which is fleeting and not substantial enough to fill a page. As thoughts pass through my head while I drift off to sleep I often think That would be a good blog post. But then I forget, cause I'm half asleep. I don't want to feel pressure to blog, because that would be doing it for the wrong reasons. I want to record my life as a digital scrapbook of sorts, but free, cause scrapbooking is way too expensive.

Maybe I should just put some of my random thoughts in one post, but not as a whole random list of crap, cause that's what I do when I'm super lazy, and I can manage more energy than that. So instead I think I will give one huge run-on sentence of random things. Ready. Okay. Here goes: I'm ready for the stupid NBA finals to be over, thank goodness it's the last game and the Mavericks are probably gonna win, not that David really cared either way, he just had to watch; Ava can take off her diaper, which isn't a new skill, but has become more frequent, and she peed on the potty, totally on purpose, at 22 months of age, but then pooped on the floor the same week; my router broke, so I'm a slave to the desktop without any wireless internet signal, and I really wish my computer wasn't next to the pantry where I'm looking at donuts and cake mixes all day; we're not really morning people, so we've all been sleeping in till at least 8 am each day, which has allowed me to stay up till 11 every night, which I love doing; as much as I'm glad it's summer, I really hate getting in my car after it's been sitting in the sun all day and I'm so dreading the eventual humidity next month which will render my swamp cooler obsolete; And the award for longest run-on sentence ever in one blog post goes to.......ME! I don't know what to say! I should thank people. Thanks to my peeps, and stupid facebook for distracting me from posting on my blog till I have so much to say that it forms one long sentence! Thanks to the AZ heat for making me kinda extra lazy! Thanks to my lack of motivation! Thanks to my former followers, who rudely unfollowed me which I always kind of take personally, so suck it! Alright, moving on already.

I did get out of my house quite a bit more than the norm, which accounts for my craziness, but not laziness. We went to storytime, which was deemed a success. I grocery shopped child-free, which was wonderful, even if it was at 6 am. We went swimming in freezing cold water, which was at first cold but then refreshing. We saw Super 8, which was awesome. I had a chocolate milkshake while watching it, which was equally awesome. I got some snazzy 80's looking sunglasses, so now David keeps calling me Ferris Bueller. We went to Target, which is always a cause for celebration, but I did not manage to purchase any of the stuff I put into my cart for myself. Instead I opted for birthday presents for Ava and my niece Brinley, even though both of their birthdays are in August.
Perhaps the most anticipated and nerve wracking event of my weekend was taking pictures of a friend's wedding. I felt tons of pressure to be good, even though I'm only a hobbyist photographer and I've only had my dSLR since February. My camera and I are best buds though and I've been using it on manual since day one, so I pushed through it. The posed couple and group shots were a breeze, mostly because we were outside, in great sunset light which I had prearranged. Oh how I love sunflare. LOVE. But the inside more candid pictures were a different story. It was a dark and wood panelled bar. There were at least five other people with their own personal camera/phone taking pictures at the same time as me, which was kind of disorienting but I can't hate on them for wanting pictures. Pictures are priceless. And have I ever mentioned that I loathe using the flash? No? Well, I do. It's ugly and harsh. I dream of an off-camera flash, but it's not really the most practical thing I dream of.

I managed to get some okay shots inside, but not great. I do really love the outside shots though. Sunflare = happy me. And the golden hour truly is magical. Although we almost missed the sunlight altogether trying to round up members of the wedding party. It's like they didn't want to be in pictures. Crazy.

Again, I love me some sunflare. It's just plain awesome.

I love when babies cooperate, instead of just staring down my huge camera. Awesome!

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go neglect my blog for a little while.

Uneventful Storytime

I took these wild children of mine to storytime at the library. They had cabin fever and storytime is free, so it seemed like a great solution. Best part for Alana is that it involved a craft, and coloring is her forte. It was one hour of fun, books, and impatiently crawling around the carpet in a public place. And it was free. Free!

Alana dutifully posed for a picture by the giant quilt thing that they made. It's quite a masterpiece.

More of the Same & Why I Would Make a Terrible Hostage Negotiator

My life has been somewhat monotonous lately. I'm in a blogging rut, do to the absence of any kind of blogable event or thoughts. I'm in a dinner rut, do to lack of appetite caused by a 3 pm snack and complete boredom with everything I have ingredients for. There's nothing on TV, except crappy reality TV shows that I would consider torture to watch. It's hot outside, and I have a low tolerance for the heat.

Everyday seems like the exact replica of the previous one. Wake up. Change Ava's diaper. Watch cartoons. Look at Facebook. Vacuum. Eat breakfast. Change Ava's diaper. Wash dishes. Maybe wash and dry hair. Big maybe. Sweep and mop. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. Pick up toys. Bike riding indoors. Bubbles. Break up a fight or two. Diaper change. Snack. Dishes. Change Ava's diaper. Barbies. Pick up toys. Coloring. Hide and go seek. Pick up toys. Cartoons. Lunch. Dishes. Laundry. Dishes. Disagreements over what to watch on TV. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. Decide what to cook for dinner. Eat something unhealthy and unnecessary. Play-doh. Pick up toys. Dinner. Dishes. Sweep again. Pick up toys. Break up more fighting. I'm a regular referee. Playing with random Disney toys. Cartoons. Change Ava's diaper. She's kind of a poop factory these days. Maybe a bath, if the ladies are looking grubby. Pajamas. Bed.

We did manage to break free yesterday to watch Kung Fu Panda 2. I'm a rebel without a cause and brought my own candy. A bag of Cookies and Cream Hershey's Kisses and Sour Patch Watermelons. As strong as my love of said watermelons is, it's not strong enough to pay $7.99 a pound. Then I somehow managed to buy myself something with some leftover financial aid money, before spending the rest on useless crap and stuff my kids didn't need.

The fun of the day was jeopardized when Alana put us in a hostage situation with Mermaid Dora at Toys R Us. She refused to settle for one toy. We refused to buy both. Negotiations were made. She wouldn't budge. She kept asking. And asking. She left the store with zero toys. Buckling her into the car was quite a dramatic scene, involving tears, sweat and pleading, from all parties. At one point I wanted to leave her and David at Toys R Us to work through it, but neither of them would have compromised and they would've eventually ended up just living there, forever locked in a no-deal situation.

Sometimes I think it would just be easier to give her what she wants. Give my little bank robber one million dollars and a helicopter to escape. But that would definitely send her the wrong message. I cannot negotiate with terrorists, or they will start to think I'm going to give in to all of their demands.

Tomorrow is Monday, and that means starting the whole routine over again. Dinner planning has become the bane of my existence. I'm tired of chicken. I'm tired of trying to talk my stubborn and dramatic child into things that she will never do. I'm tired of Wow Wow Wubbzy.

I need a nap. I'm grouchy and short on patience. I miss naps. They are a distant memory. I'd like a nap, where I can dream of wearing my new cute shoes, that my children are obsessed with, to lots of fun places. Places where the air conditioner is on full blast, and someone brings me a giant chocolate ice cream cone. Like at Jason's Deli, where they have free ice cream cones, all the time, and delicious club sandwiches with avocado. Or maybe I'll just wear them outside while my kids play in the sprinkler in their cute new bathing suits. Bathing suit wedgies on little girls are one of my favorite things, and just might help me remember how much I love these little monsters.

Some sexy one-shoulder bathing suit action going on here. And sprinkler running. Always some sprinkler running.