It is Thursday. My cleaning day. I find that as the week goes on, the more frustrated I become as stuff keeps piling up, even though I quasi-attempt to put everything in their spots and keep up with laundry. I do it to myself.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM

It is so frustrating losing things or finding things that have gone MIA after they have been replaced especially after you have paid the overdue fines. And it is even more irritating when you discover the thing is gone at the time when you need it most. We have lost a couple of things in the last couple of days and now I am out some money and have to go through the steps to getting these things replaced.

Labels: Chores, DDM

Doing anything that includes hauling the Wee Ladies around is always a chore. There's buckling, unbuckling, keeping together, keeping hands off merchandise, and it all takes forever. It is Hubby's birthday today and we had a list a mile long to get done in order to surprise him at work. Throw a missing Doggy into the mix and we have automatic panic and chaos.

I got the Wee Ladies winter-dressed. I loaded them into the van. We proceeded to make a stop to get him new ski gloves. I only said, "Stay with Mom," a few hundred times as they ran around in and out of the Burton gear. The only mark we left were some fingerprints on the change room mirror. I threw them back into the van and headed for some caffeine relief. Oh, and some Timbits. I know. I caved.

We continued to the balloon shop where we had a balloon bouquet made for Hubby. Upon our arrival The Destroyer leaned over and pressed the button to open the door on her side of the van. I quickly pressed it again from the other side of the van and pulled her out. We went into get the balloons and during our short, but chaotic stay, EvieG learned not to try and blow up balloons we hadn't ordered. So a balloon covered with 5 year old cooties was purchased using money from her money bank. The Destroyer tried to play with balloon sculptures that were waiting to be picked up. Wouldn't that have been fun if she had popped one of those?

I placed the order and returned them all to the van so I could pay up and easily carry out the balloons without my entourage.

We made one other stop before heading home for a snack.

When we arrived home, I was unloading the Wee Ladies and noticed something potentially disastrous. The Destroyer's stuffed Doggy, which is her version of a security blanket was not in the van. I know she had taken it with her. I know I remember seeing her cuddling it. Where did it go? I searched the van high and low. Under the seats in the Timbit box. No Doggy.

This was bad. So bad because I have no back up in case it should get lost. EvieG has Lovesy, one of those Ty Pluffies that she can't live without. She sticks her finger through the tag and sucks her thumb as she is falling asleep.
I bought 3 extras on eBay to keep just in case we lost them. And she has lost it once, so we are on number 2.

Spark Plug has a chenille blanket she got from a good friend of mine when she was a baby. It comes from Toy R Us and she lives for this thing. She calls it her Kiki (pronounced kee kee). I made a special trip to Toys R Us to buy back up. I have 2 others. She sleeps with 2 and there is one still in the package. So if she ever loses the original, she has another already worked in. I have it all figured out.

But leave it to The Destroyer to have a dog with long legs and arms and a big, blue bow that she can't sleep without. There is no duplicate for this thing. And Doggy was confirmed to be officially lost. Crap.

So I hurried them to finish their snacks and then piled them all into the van. Again. We drove like mad back to the balloon store. As I was pulling into my original parking spot, EvieG and I both spotted Doggy. Along with her hat. EvieG shouted, "Look! There's Doggy in the snow bank! And her hat! It didn't get stolen!"

You can imagine the feeling of relief that came over me.

I was seriously panicked over this. I didn't want The Destroyer to lose her true love. That would be a horrible loss for us all. Not only would she be devastated, but we would have to suffer her wrath. The screaming and stomping and crying would have been hard to deal with and no doubt would have led to more Timbits.

I had already had a Plan B ready to execute if Doggy wasn't in the dirty brown, salt saturated snow. I was going to run to every store within a one block radius and ask store employees if anyone had been kind enough to bring a stuffed dog into their place of business. The whole town would for sure know me by then end of this caper. Thank goodness it didn't get to that.

I gave Doggy back to The Destroyer. She squealed with excitement and gave her a tight hug. I felt like a true hero. And then she looked at me and held Doggy out towards me and said, "Yuck, foot!"

You're kidding me. I just swooped in to save the day like a grand super human with x-ray vision and the thanks I get is a complaint that Doggy's feet are wet and dirty?

I turned around with my knuckles clenched around the steering wheel and stared out in front of me. I put it in reverse and drove away in silence. No appreciation. And there will be worse eventually. I will have sat in front of the computer or on hold trying to get tickets to the coolest concert ever and I will end up with amazing seats, to which they will say, "You couldn't get us any closer?" And then I will say, "Well, if that isn't good enough for you, I will go with Auntie Lisa, Auntie Missy, and Nenny with Twins. Oh, and I will be sure to tell you all about our VIP access after we get home."

Carrying on to Hubby's office with balloons, cupcakes, and a gift, I rallied the Wee Ladies together as we headed into his building. A lovely lady on the street helped me keep them all together. We went in to surprise Hubby. We were on-the-edge-of-our-seats-excited only to be told that he was not there.

What?What?What?

I told him this morning that he needed to be at the office over lunch and that I would bring his suit jacket to him!

I even called his boss two days ago to get permission to bring my entourage to the office!

He forgot and ended up having a meeting out of the office.

We waited for a while and one of his colleagues graciously helped keep the Wee Ladies contained in one area. She gave them paper, markers, and even helped EvieG blow her nose. Amazing.

We waited and waited some more. We left the gifts and went home.

After all that work and drama, it ends like this?

Yes, it ends just like that. In complete and utter disappointment.

It is now time to make and eat cake.

Happy birthday, Hubby! We love you even though you pulled a guy move and only listened to part of what I said! I know 'something came up' and you had a meeting and that's okay! We will forgive you! Over some double chocolate cake.

Don't forget EvieG wants a cupcake!

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a fun weekend! Thanks for reading!

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Drama, EvieG, Hubby, Nenny with Twins, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

Nenny with Twins and I have the same dream. And we continue to work to excel and make it a reality. We try not to give up. We try to persevere, we try to practice. Because we truly believe that practice will make close to perfect. At least practice will get us from an F to a B. We hereby declare and publicly vow to do our best- to properly and successfully fold a fitted sheet. After that declaration, I take it all back. It will never happen.

We cannot for the life of us fold a fitted sheet. We have been working on it for years. Even when I was a kid, I remember my mom and even my Nana showing me how to do it. My mom laid the sheet on the ground, folded the corners in a way that made the sheet a nice square and then proceeded to fold it into a flat, wonderful, straight 4 sided quadrilateral.

And can I do this? Nope.

Exhibit A: The poor excuse for folded fitted sheets

Look at these pathetic bundles of fabric, all wrinkled and well, pathetic.

No matter how hard I try, or how many times I convince myself that 'this will be time I finally get it right', it never happens. And so I continue to hear the words of my mom and Nana, plus the words of my great-grandmother tsk-ing in my ear from the heavens beyond, "Now, you can do better than that. Take your time. Don't get frustrated. Maybe you should get out the iron for once."

Instead, I ignore them and roll the sheet into a ball and throw it into the back of the closet, making sure that I put a flat sheet on top to flatten the fitted sheet. And then I shut the door. Loudly.

I currently sit at an F in the folding of fitted sheets. I truly suck at it. And even though I want to get it right, I just don't think I am capable of achieving a higher grade.

I don't have the time or patience to lay it all out on the floor and fold it. Because we all know what would happen. The Wee Ladies would come along and start rolling and running across it. They would pretend it was their picnic blanket, or the sheet for their Princess Tea Party. They would bring all of their stuffed animals and dolls in and sit them around the perimeter with cups of water in front of them. And then the water would spill and there would be cookie crumbs all over the place. Which means the fitted sheet would have to be washed again. And then I would have to try and fold it all over again.

Not in this lifetime.

The fitted sheets that are behind the door in the linen closet, stay in a huge ball behind the door of the linen closet.

And my elders can shake their heads and fingers at me all they want. At least I can fold the towels and pillow cases. In rectangles or in rolls! Man, I'm good. And I didn't even have to haul out the iron!

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, Nenny with Twins

I have moved way beyond my role as damage control manager. I used to be in charge of quality control. I have now been promoted to CEO of damage control. My job is so much more demanding that it requires a lot more time, effort, and resources.

In our old house I had cleaning help once every fortnight. Bi-weekly, our amazing cleaning help would come and give our place the what-for. She even straightened the beds all resort/hotel like. It was awesome. Since we have moved and I have automatically been promoted to take on more tasks. I have so much more responsibility now to keep our hacienda clean and tidy.

I miss my cleaning lady. A lot.

I knew I had a great thing in our last house. She did a bang up job. But I have to say, I got a little lazy in the cleaning department. I did manage and I was comfortable with my role in quality control. I kept up the surface maintenance well. But I was far from being thorough. It's because I depended on my cleaning help.

I am on my own again. Just like I was before kids. Cleaning my apartment before children was easy. It is a whole different story today trying to clean up after a family of five. It takes so much more time!

I have declared Thursdays my cleaning day. And as I go through the place, I have noticed something. I am a bit anal. Now that I am only depending on myself to keep this place spic and span, I am cleaning every corner, nook, and cranny. I have noticed that I am even cleaning the walls. I pay more attention to the hard to get places. And I am using products that smell super clean. So that when I am done, I can take a whiff and give myself a pat on the back.

I have spent about 3 hours cleaning in between taking care of the Wee Ladies. And the thing is, everyone is going to have to tip toe around here, being careful not to mess anything up or get any crumbs on the floor. Or else. Or else I will make it known to all as I shout from the rooftop, I just spent half the day cleaning this place, and you are going to treat it well, with respect, and you will not mess things up! You will promise to keep this house clean and crumb free. You will eat at the table only. You will remove all shoes and boots at the door. You will flush the toilet when you are done and bring your dishes to the sink. You will pick up after yourself and keep your bed neat and tidy. For one week! Until I have to do it all over again!

By the time the Wee Ladies go to bed, the place looks like it hasn't been cleaned in a month.

I wish I could keep it clean all the time. I know that it is an unrealistic request with three Wee Ladies, a Hubby, and a Wee Westie.

I sometimes ask Hubby to help me tidy up at night, but somehow we both forget because we are too tired. And the next morning, I come downstairs and immediately get annoyed because I have to start the day tidying from the day before. It is so irritating. So in between my Thursday cleaning day, I continue my role as damage control manager.

I am not a fan of cleaning from top to bottom. I do not enjoy scrubbing toilets.

But I love the smell and the feeling of a clean house after I am done. There is nothing like truly knowing that the place is clean.

And so overall I am okay with my promotion to CEO of damage control. It's a big job, but I will do it.

But I do look forward to the day when I can have someone come and help me again. Maybe even once a week! Wouldn't that be ideal?

Hey, I can dream.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores

We have entered a new phase with Spark Plug. This phase requires strategic thinking and physical strength. It is a chore and a battle to get Spark Plug dressed anymore.

Lately Spark Plug has been overly obsessed with her nighties. Her pink one with the Disney Princesses in their Paris Hilton poses, her blue one with Dora and Boots smiling awkwardly, and her mint green nightie with Tinkerbell glancing with flirty eyes. It is the flirty eyes that Spark Plug uses to get what she wants, especially from Hubby. She bats her eyelashes and delivers a perfect toothless smile. I should get her an agent.

She wants to be in these nighties everyday, all day. And to try and get her dressed takes as long as it did to get all three Wee Ladies decked out in their winter gear this morning. EveiG was almost late for school.

I get out her clothes and tell her to come and get dressed. She throws a conniption and painfully shouts, "NO!" at the top of her lungs, like I am ripping her toe off or something. Or taking her new FurReal cat Rosie complete with carrying case away from her.

I grab her after chasing her through every room and pin her down on the bed. She is half laughing and half crying. She wants to make it a game, and really for the record it is. She tries her hardest to win the battle of the nightie. I sit on top of her while trying to get her shirt on. She kicks and squirms and wiggles the entire time looking for a way to escape my grip. I place a forearm across her stomach and hold her wrists with my hand as I attempt the pants. Still writhing about she turns onto her tummy and I pull her pants on. Next comes the sweater. I wrap my legs around her to hold her still as I pull one arm through the sleeves at a time. I have even put her in a Nelson, like a cop would do.

Obviously this is gentle and we for the most part giggle our way through this grappling match. I can't get too upset when this is her way of playing. I always come out the winner, even if I have lost the grapple and then try Strategy B, which is to take away Rosie or her princess shoes. I have also been known to pull out Strategy C too. That is where I throw down her clothes and then say good-bye, all while walking myself to the door to get my coat on. Then she freaks out and we get her dressed without incident.

Our day moves on and we go where we need to. We end up accomplishing what we set out to do. I have just run my errands and burned many calories from my grappling match and Spark Plug comes back though the front door and strips down to her underwear. She then marches up to her room and pulls out her Princess nightie and pulls it over her head. She prances back in forth in front of me like a dressage horse and looks at me with her flirty eyes and a solid expression of satisfaction.

She thinks she has won. Maybe she has.

I am still the grappling master.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, Spark Plug

Happy New Year to everyone!

I am wearing a grey turtleneck and pants today. I did this purposely to match my hair. With the moving experience, my hair has gone several various shades of grey. It is funny because the more stressful the situation, the lighter the grey gets. I have three different shades of grey going on right now.

Charcoal Grey: This is a nice dark tone that matches my outfit quite nicely today. I noticed a few hairs this colour as we were in the throes of packing the rest of our house and getting it into the moving truck.

I thought we were pretty organized in getting packed and moved. We had been working on it for a couple of months. I was wrong. We were totally scattered and by the end, we were throwing things in boxes and tying clothes to the side of the truck. I called this experience Tetris Packing. Hubby was in charge of packing the truck, along with his brother. Dear friends also came over to stick some fire in our pants and without their help we would have been completely screwed. I thought Hubby was doing a good job at the Tetris Packing by placing boxes and furniture strategically in order to fill up every available space without losing points and then the game. He started off well and then I noticed about at about the half way mark that he was leaving some holes. Big ones. Game Over.

I was starting to get tense, thinking we would not have enough room to put everything. He reassured me that we would be fine. I had doubts. The glass was half empty this day. Good thing we had two vans to fill.

Hubby and I started to get on each other's nerves. We started nipping and barking and spatting. He told me I took too long to pack the boxes leaving too much space in the truck and therefore the only other option was to put in more furniture. I told him that his Tetris Packing abilities were lacking. Thank goodness our friends were there to diffuse any brewing explosions.

We had to leave a little bit of stuff behind because it wouldn't fit. We will be back to pick it up when Hubby returns to get his truck.


Silver grey (like tinsel): We hit the road and drove through freezing rain the whole way. I had the Wee Ladies and Hubby was driving the 26 footer. My MIL came with us and drove the other van.

The Wee Ladies have handled the change very well and they were all super during the ride up. My silver grey hairs were matching my knuckles as I gripped the steering wheel for dear life as we were pelted with freezing rain. I had to keep using my wiper fluid to clean the windshield off and at one point I ran out. Crap. I was on a four lane road and pulled off to the side to refill my container. I was stressed. It was a long and slippy ride. After a morning of packing the rest of our stuff, this four hour drive was tiring. We made it up in one piece.

We rented a condo for two nights. We went for dinner and called it a night the first night. We were to meet our movers the next morning. They helped Hubby with the big ticket items.

My MIL looked after the Wee Ladies as Hubby and I moved our stuff into our new place. She totally saved me from slitting my wrists. She was there to help with food, laundry, kids, organizing, running around. She was amazing and we are really going to miss her. The kids adore her and they have a very good relationship with her. We will have to make sure that they see her as often as possible.

Cloud Grey (a very light shade when the sun is almost peeking through): My MIL left today. And my blood pressure has been up ever since. Hubby started work yesterday. I am trying to get unpacked and organized while dealing with the Wee Ladies. So far I have applied bandages to fingers dripping in blood from a broken piggy bank, I have counseled EvieG through her first fight with her stuffed animal/best friend, cleaned up the same messes made by The Destroyer a few times, settled fights, and wiped many runny noses. All of this in between getting situated.

EvieG has started school and Sparks. Spark Plug wants to live in her princess nighties and trying to get her dressed to go out is a nightmare. The Destroyer is busy climbing and trying to get into everything. She also tries to help sweep by swinging the broomstick around and nearly decapitating anyone in her proximity.

We will persevere. Moving with kids is hard and if anyone tells you differently, they are lying.

All I want right now is a stiff drink and tweezers to pluck out these grey hairs.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Thanks to Nenny with Twins for blogsitting again. I-LOVE-HER.

PPS I have a list a mile long of blog topics. Please come back to check it all out. Who's DDM for January will be up as soon as I have time to take a pee and sit down to do it.

PPPS There will also be some more reviews heading your way in the DDM's Try Ons section. I will keep you posted on that front.

Thanks for sticking by me through this transition.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Family

I am procrastinating. And the pile gets bigger and bigger by the day. I speak of laundry. With three Wee Ladies, Hubby, our Wee Westie Basil, and myself, some days the laundry is never-ending. Today is one of those days.

We have our laundry area upstairs which is very convenient. It is about three steps from our bedroom, so it is very easy. I pile the dirty clothes in the hall in front of the machines (in the basket when people come over), and then pile it up on our bed to be folded. No laundry baskets or lugging for me. It is nice. Right now the pile is growing in area and in height.

This pile is almost as tall as the headboard.

There are towels, sheets, and clothes of all sorts in here.

We had an accident that led to the bedding being washed-again, for the second time in a few days. The blankets had to all be washed too. They are hanging to dry right now.

This is our laundry area. You see the blankets on the bi-folds, the pile of dirty clothes at the bottom left, and the sexy beige bra that is a guaranteed turn-on. What you don't see is the floor mat from in front of the sliding door in the kitchen and the drapes that were barfed on by the dog.

I am telling you, it is one load after another and it can easily be argued that one can break a sweat during the laundering process. I am making it worse for myself too, as I leave the to-be-folded pile to get larger and larger. I make more work this way.

And when do I find time to fold it? I wait until before bed time, when the Wee Ladies settle in to watch TV in our bed. Spark Plug gets ticked off as she snuggles in and then complains that she can't see over the pile of fabrics in front of her. So I throw a few cloths her way and tell her to help me.

EvieG, Spark Plug, and I fold the laundry together. They do all the towels and cloths and I do the rest. It is such a nice family activity!

And then The Destroyer enters the scene and tosses all of the newly folded piles across the bed.

I then break another sweat as I look at the strewn about clothes and think about re-folding. Then I gather it all up, throw it in a clean-laundry pile on the floor, and wait for a better day to tackle it.

I usually wait until the day when the underwear are all gone.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, DDM, EvieG, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

I am on a mission this month. I need to find replacement lights for our tree. These are lights that I have had on many Christmas trees throughout my life. The worst part is that they have been discontinued. Probably because they are a safety hazard.

Hubby thinks I am ridiculous. He does not understand why I love these lights so much.

Here is a photo of the lights that I cannot and will not do without-

These are Bubble Lights. They were made by NOMA. These lights are long glass tubes filled with coloured liquid. When they are turned on, they warm up and start bubbling, just like a lava lamp; only the bubbles are smaller and faster. I could sit and stare at these lights for hours. I did too, I think. I would turn out all the lights in the house, except the tree, and I would sit and stare at the bubbling. Sometimes I would have the Disney Christmas record on in the background, or Alvin and the Chipmunks.

You did have to make sure that they were upright because they could get pretty hot. You didn’t want the tree to get too heated and sparky, if you know what I mean…

These lights were available at Canadian Tire up until recently when all of a sudden they were discontinued. I went for a few years without bubble lights, but would yearn for them. I would go to CT, stand in the aisle gawking at them and then with my head hanging, I would sadly turn and walk away empty-handed. They were always a bit out of my price range. It was something like $15.00 for 7 bubble lights.

Finally, I bit the bullet and decided to splurge. I bought 2 boxes. So that’s 2 strands of bubble lights, 14 lights in total, for $30.00. I was ecstatic. I couldn’t wait to get them up.

They lasted well the first year. And I had so many people tell me how cool they looked. Even Uncle Jeff was taken back to the late 70’s. He didn’t know they still existed. I gleamed with pride as I happily declared Canadian Tire my new favourite store.

The next year was a bit of a different story.

I got the 2 strands out to put on the tree and noticed that 3 bubble lights had dried up over the past year. I didn’t think much of it. I knew that Canadian Tire sold the lights and their replacements. You could buy singles. I went on over and ended up scouring the holiday aisles over and over again. I couldn’t find them anywhere.

I asked a smiling employee where he was hiding the NOMA bubble lights. His happy face turned into a frown instantly as he foresaw a potential disgruntled customer. His response was, “I am sorry ma’am. They were discontinued.”

What? What? What?

I stood staring at him in silence. My face fell. I asked, “I’m sorry, but could you repeat that please?”

“They have been discontinued. We don’t carry that line anymore. They were declared unsafe.”

I scoffed. “Huh. Unsafe? They have been around forever! Those lights are the best! Canadian Tire doesn’t know! They don’t know how cool those lights are! You don’t just go around discontinuing cool looking retro bubble lights! Who does that?”

“I am sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I know what you can tell me. You can tell me where I can find more bubble lights. Because I have 3 that are dried up and all I need are some replacements.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone carries those lights at all anymore.”

“This sucks…Thanks.”

And off I went. Out the store at quite a fast pace. I felt cheated and betrayed. I was let down. Destroyed and hurt that Canadian Tire took them off the shelves, I rode home thinking about where to get them. I went through that Christmas with a few dried up bubble lights. I hid them in the branches so no one could see them. The working ones were front and center for all to enjoy.

That was last year. And here we are another year later.

I am at a crossroads.

I need the replacement bubble lights. If my Canadian Tire can’t help me out, where do I turn?

I think I have the answer. eBay.

This is how I am going to get my bubble lights.

All’s I’m sayin’s all.

PS We are going away for a couple of days. I am going to try and get to a computer for tomorrow. If I cannot, we will try and post a doozy from the archives.

PPS If you are in town this Friday night, go on down to Eve's Chocolatier on King Street. She is hosting, 'Mingle Bells', a cocktail party and open house. It starts at 7:00. This place has bar none some of the best chocolate I have ever tasted. It is the perfect place for PMS or hormonal, or even pregnant people. Or anyone really. Her sweets can solve any problem.

PPPS Hubby wants you all to read his comments in reaction to this post. He felt no one would go to the comments to read it. I guess he feels strongly about this. I say, whatever. He should feel lucky that I am keeping us young.

Hubby's 2 Cents

The 80’s and 90's were cool….right? Because I just realized that my children will all be products of these decades. I originally thought DDM’s love of Madonna was cute, and then I found the collection of jean jackets consuming most of our basement closet. DDM continues to keep an assortment of circa 1992 sports garb, just in case her girls would like to see how much of an athlete their mom was (is). Then there is that damn grey Patagonia fleece pullover that she refuses to part with, the one with the burn holes in the shoulder from some gravel pit party in 1993. Recently, I walked in on a conversation DDM was having with one of her best friends. They had been debating who was the coolest musician in the band BandAid…..Was it Phil Collins, George Michael or maybe Boy George? The Tupperware, the bubble lights, the Glamour Gals? What’s next?

Hubby

Labels: Chores, DDM, Fun

When Hubby took EvieG out to the pet store to replace our Betta fish, Goldie, they were gone an awfully long time. They said they were heading to the pet store and then to the grocery store to pick up bananas. An hour and a half later, I thought they were bringing the menagerie home for sure.

As I anxiously awaited the new addition to our house, I put the younger Wee Ladies down for a nap, blogged, and then surfed celebrity gossip sites. What were they going to bring home? You never know when you send Hubby out on a mission.

The door finally opened. EvieG barreled in empty-handed. Hubby followed with several bags from Home Depot. No fish, no bananas, but a whole lot of bathroom accessories.

It was just like when I send him to the grocery store. He ends up bringing home a bunch of stuff not even remotely close to what was on the list. He'll bring home things like wasabi and Parmesan cheese.

I asked EvieG where the fish was. She matter-of-factly stated that they had decided to wait.

Hmmm. Wait for what? Was this Hubby's way of ending the fish saga? For good?

Nope.

Hubby then piped up and said that they thought it might be a good idea to ask Santa for an aquarium.

What the?

An aquarium. A big glass box filled with water, heaters, pebbles, fake plants, a backdrop displaying a lovely freshwater aquatic scene, algae eaters, and perhaps the odd guppy.

At this point I could see the expenses rising and rising some more.

And then I envisioned myself up to my armpits in sludge as I slaved to keep the box clean and the fish alive. I had a hard enough time keeping one Betta fish going. Having an aquarium is one big, constant trip to the pet store to replace fallen guppies or angel fish. The only ones that ever seem to survive are the algae eaters and the Neons.

Where did they decide this aquarium would be situated? They did agree that EvieG's dresser would be a good spot. Obviously forgetting that The Destroyer climbs onto the dresser from her crib now. We have had to move the crib into the middle of the floor because she climbs onto and grabs anything she can.

There is no way. It is not going to happen. No aquariums allowed. This mom is putting her foot down. I do so knowing I would be the one pretty much responsible for its upkeep.

Santa will just have to send a brand new Betta tank and fish. He will have to chince out a little bit like he did the year I asked for a human size, wooden, accessorized doll house and ended up with the small, plastic retro one from Consumer's Distributing.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, EvieG, Family, Hubby, The Destroyer

To get things done efficiently while out of the house requires a couple of things. When I go to the grocery store, I strategize from start to finish. The other night my no nonsense, quick thinking, and prompt action caught the attention of fellow shoppers. I knew my childhood gaming would be good for something later on. My years of playing Atari's Pressure Cooker, the game where you make burgers as fast as the joystick and your reflexes would allow you, has made me into a perfect U-Scan customer.

I have discovered that in order to use these machines most effectively, you need to:

- keep your eyes looking ahead
- make sure there are openings or soon-to-be-openings
- make sure you don't get stuck behind a machine-impaired individual who needs technical assistance every 2 seconds
- make sure you are not surrounded by tech-impaired people who demand the attention of the one store employee who holds the key to the U-Scan operations
- know where the UPC Codes are
- be sure to place your Green bags on the carousel BEFORE you ring your stuff through
- use TWO hands to punch in produce codes, not one....that takes too long
- listen to the machine's instructions, read, and pay promptly
- don't eat half your chocolate bar and then ring it through because the improper weight distribution will confuse the machine and hold you up
- bag your groceries like you are playing a game of Tetris

This is not me in the picture.

You have to be sharp. You have to be on the ball to make the time spent at the U-Scan worthwhile. You are in control. Not the person behind the cash.

While I was loading my groceries into the van, a man in his sixties was getting into his bronze coloured Corolla beside me. He looked over at me and declared, "You are a really serious shopper. You know how to run those machines like I have never seen before!"

I laughed. I said, "I know. It's all about efficiency."

He drove away and I thought to myself, I wonder what my expression was? I was actually being observed?

I must have looked like a total you-know-what. It took a woman in the U-Scan zone with a don't-talk-to-me-now look on her face to get a comment from some random old guy. Who happened to park beside me.

Maybe there was a crowd around staring in disbelief at my impressive U-Scan talent.

Perhaps I should offer a tutorial and put it on DVD and sell it on an infomercial. I bet I could make a fortune.

I better not let my ego get the better of me now.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, DDM

I thought we were the only family left. The only ones who are breaking the cardinal rule. A rule similar to the 'no white after Labour Day,' or the 'no sandals before May 2-4 Weekend.' But we are not the only ones. I found someone else guilty of the same laziness. We have completely broken the, 'Take-your-Sport-Rack-off-the-top-of-your-vehicle-after-your- summer-holiday-is-OVER-so-you-don't-look-like-a-complete-lazy-arse-procrastinator' rule.

Yesterday Hubby and I had a repeat conversation. This conversation is almost identical to the Christmas lights talk. It goes something like this:

DDM: Are we going to take the Sport Rack down off the top of the van soon? (Sidebar: WE CLEARLY meaning HIM)

Hubby: At least I can see you coming.

DDM: Well, true, but the whole town can see us coming. And you know what they are all thinking, right? I will tell you. They are all thinking to themselves, Oh, look! Those lazy arse people STILL haven't taken their Sport Rack off. Don't they know summer is over and fall is here? Summer vacation is not until next year!

Hubby: I don't think so. I think they are saying, Wow! Those people are really smart! They are prepared for their vacation and have ample storage room too!

DDM: Take the damn thing down, would you?

Hubby: Maybe this weekend. We'll see. (Sidebar: Always trying to get the last word in...)

DDM: Humph. (Turn on heel and walk away)

I went to London today with the Wee Ladies in tow. By myself. Daring of me, I know. When we were on our way home, I saw it. Another vehicle with a Sport Rack on top. And I got excited. Just like I did in my early driving days when I should have had a bumper sticker on my car that read: If This Car's a Rockin', Pull Over to the Right Immediately: Dangerous Teenager Behind the Wheel. I reacted in the same way I did when playing the Punch Bug, No Punch Backs game when a VW Bug came into view, or my personal favourite- the One Eye game. The One Eye game is when you spot an oncoming car with only one working headlight. If you are the first to spot it, you slam your hand against the interior roof as hard as you can and shout at the top of your lungs, ONE EYE! You startle everyone around you, thank the stars above that you just didn't land in the ditch and then you keep tally of your numbers. Whoever has the most one eyes, wins. It is very easy to get carried away with this game.

I had no one to play with today. This bummed me out. EvieG was watching Nim's Island on her portable DVD player that is only allowed out on trips of an hour or more. Spark Plug and The Destroyer were asleep. Just as I was about to hammer the back of my hand against the ceiling of the van and shout Sport Rack!, I realized that this would do nothing but bring the Wee Ladies to tears. And that clearly is not the object of the game. So I kept driving looking for more Sport Racks. And no, the cool looking Thulle ski racks are not the same. They don't count for any points. They are out of the Sport Rack league.

I didn't feel so bad after seeing the other member of the I-will-keep-my-Sport-Rack-on-however-long-I-want-club. There are others like us out there. And I bet they have their Christmas lights up until March too. Just like us.

March isn't so bad. It could be longer than that. In the northern Ontario town where we vacation with the Sport Rack, Hubby and I estimate that two of every three houses has their Christmas lights up in August still. They just never take them down up there. Their summers are so short and before you know it, the snow is flying again. So to them, there is no point in taking them down, when all you are going to do is put them back up again.

At least we unplugged the lights by the end of January. Plus they were camouflaged in the snow. And Hubby didn't want to end up in the Marble Orchard prematurely by hopping out onto the roof. Only a few people commented on our lights still being up in March. Hubby wanted to wait for the nice weather to take them down.

But what exactly is he waiting for with the Sport Rack?

Like everything else in our world, it will get done. In due time.

He has until the end of this weekend. And that is the last word.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Hubby

The Wee Ladies love playing in the tub. They have a few bath toys that they really dig. The most popular toys are the ones that squirt. They are the most disgusting as well. Have you ever forgotten to let the water out of the squirt toys?

We usually put the Wee Ladies in the tub all together. They have a bath most nights-it is part of the routine. We don't use soap on them every night. They like to play and splash about. Sometimes it gets really tight in there as they splash and try to glide around, but generally speaking they have a grand time.

One thing I have noticed is how there are some toys that have standing water in them. And although these toys are not mosquito breeding grounds, they are breeding grounds for something else. Mold.

I have not always been due diligent when it comes to cleaning out every bath toy after each bath. And sometimes the toys are left laying on the bottom of the empty tub. Most nights I clean it all up and EvieG helps. And most nights I take the gripper off and hang it over the side of the tub.

I have noticed that the squirt toys that have water left in them mold very quickly. I remember the first time I noticed this. One of the Wee Ladies was squirting water but there was dark looking gunk coming out. I looked into the water and saw all of this black stuff floating around. Slimy strings of goo. I got the girls out and washed out the tub. And then I pitched the squirt toys.

So now I replace these toys with dollar store squirt toys whenever I see that the mold is forming. I empty them out after the bath whenever I remember, but I often find myself distracted and busy with other things.

Like so many things we are cautioned about regarding the health and safety of our children, I have never heard of anyone getting sick from ingesting mold from a squirt toy. But if I can see the unknown gunk, I know I don't want to risk them drinking moldy, dirty bath water on a regular basis. I refrain from worrying or freaking about it.

Just like I refrain from worrying and spazzing out about them eating dirt from the garden. I just remove them from the dirt or vice versa.

I don't want to have to deal with pinworms or something gross like that, thanks. That would just be one more thing on an already full plate.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a great weekend and I will be at it again on Monday.

Labels: Chores, Responsibility

Changing seasons means partaking in the most time consuming and tedious task- changing over and cleaning out closets. This is what I have been doing today. Between tantrums, diapers, and nap time.

EvieG started Kindergarten today. She was so excited and I was happy for her. She picked out her outfit last night, was up early, and was asking if it was time to go to school every 2 seconds this morning. We pulled out her new lunchbox and backpack, went over how to operate it all, and assembled everything. As all of this was happening, I was feeling excited for her new experience and a little separation anxiety at the same time. This change in routine is going to be good for everyone, I think.

I got home with the other 2 Wee Ladies and we went upstairs. I began with The Destroyer's closet. I sorted, separated, eliminated, and reorganized. I made a few trips to the basement to retrieve the Rubbermaid containers that are storing the hand-me-downs. The poor kid has barely had anything new of her own from the second she was born. But such is life with the younger siblings. I sifted through the bins and hung up the clothes that will take her through the fall and winter, keeping some things from the summer just in case it stays warm.

While this was going on, The Destroyer was melting down, nagging at Spark Plug and rustling through the clothes piles while spreading it around the room. I put her in her crib for some regrouping time and she fell asleep. This does not happen very often. I let her be.

Spark Plug decided to make hanger sculptures. As I organized the closet, she was finding multiple ways to hang the hangers. This kept her quiet and busy. I think she was glad to have The Destroyer out of her hair-literally.

I eventually got Spark Plug's clothes arranged. I did EvieG's closet last week.

I do not look forward to this job. It is a pain in the you-know-what and it is all the lugging, sifting and rearranging that I dread. Some people may think it is so much fun to arrange girls' clothing! I feel different. It is stuff I have seen once or two times before and it takes up so much time. And then everything has to be put away and stored until the next season.

I am complaining today. Some tasks are not as fun as others. And I have gone through today all like, this sucks. Are we done yet? And we are. I finished just before quiet time.

One of my half-assed habits has reappeared. I have not taken the stuff all the way back down to the basement. Some of it is sitting on the stairs and some is at the bottom of the stairs. I figured I will wait until the Wee Ladies go to bed to finish the job.

How much do you want to bet Hubby will see the pile and accuse me of wanting to send him to the Marble Orchard before his time?

Would I like this task of rearranging closets better if all the clothes were brand new from some fun kids store?

What is going to happen when it comes to my closet? It will probably be February and my capri pants will still be hanging there; my flip flops by the door.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Am I complaining because I miss EvieG today? It's almost time to go and get her.

Labels: Chores, DDM, EvieG, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

I have met my outing quota for the week. It is back to school and my babysitter just started high school. So it's me and the Wee Ladies. EvieG starts Kindergarten next week. We had to go out and get her a new backpack and a couple of back-to-school pieces.

I mean a couple pieces because that is all A) I had time for, because B) I was running on empty in the patience and sanity departments. Taking the three Wee Ladies anywhere is a chore, but toss them into the shoe section at Zellers and you are in for a swirling good time.

Our fridge has nothing but condiments in it because I am heavily procrastinating on the whole grocery store outing, and as I mentioned, I have reached my outing quota for the week. So I guess that means we resort to the canned goods (many kinds of beans and mandarin oranges) and the wide variety of Uncle Ben's so-called rice pilafs that have been sitting in the back of the pantry for the last 3 years.

Picking the backpacks was the first on the list. It should have been the last because it was the easiest of the tasks. EvieG picked yet another Princess backpack. We are now 2 for 2 on this backpack theme. Spark Plug had to feel she was a part of the game and she chose a Tinkerbell backpack. Does she even need one? Nope. But getting it for her just saved me from a meltdown extraordinaire. I had to strap The Destroyer down to the seat of the cart to avoid her falling and cracking her head open.

We then went for a walk through the aisles at cosmic speeds as we made our way to the clothing section. Here's where the inner diva in Spark Plug emerged and it was a big, blossoming, coming out party. Her new nickname is Shiny Accessory. We had glasses, bags, hair clips, hats, and anything that shined. It was like watching a fish swimming towards the sparkly lure. And she got caught every time, only the accessories were the ones being thrown back in.

We found EvieG a shirt and skirt. She tried to get me to buy her new socks and underwear. Yes, socks and underwear. Unlike her impractical sister, she goes for the things she probably needs most. And what a way to start a fresh school year. New stench free socks and gitch. Perfect. My kind of shopper. When I first proposed the whole back-to-school-shop, she just looked at me sullenly and said in a half moan, half pout, "Well, Mommy, I really don't like shopping very much." It was all you could do not to peel me off the ceiling... This moment brought to you by The Proud Moms Network.

The last phase of our outing was set in none other than the (my opinion here) dreaded and overstocked shoe department. I do not have the patience to outfit my Wee Ladies in shoes. It is a daunting and tedious task. I loathe it. I really have difficulties with anything shoe related when it comes to the Wee Ladies because I never know if it fits right. EvieG told me that a size 9, 10, and 11 were all, "Just right, Mom!" Crap.

By the end of our time with the soles and the Wee Ladies, I was done. And I looked into the cart only to find a pair of teeny tiny work boots, teenage sparkled fuchsia flats, adult sized bright red patent kitten heels, and a pair of Dora light-up running shoes.

As a sidebar, those shoes that shine a bright red light every time a kid takes a step effects me in a way that I am always on the verge of a seizure. They are the worst things ever. I once sent Hubby out to buy EvieG a pair of indoor shoes for school and he broke our household cardinal rule. NO LIGHT-UP SHOES ALLOWED ON THE FEET OF THE WEE LADIES. EVER. I almost had cardiac arrest when I saw them. I sent his butt back to the store for a FULL refund. And then I made him sign a statement swearing on his life that he would never, ever, even think about purchasing light-up shoes again.

Besides the wide array of colours and styles in the cart, there were multiple pairs of shoes surrounding us on the floor. And there are so many rows and columns of shoes, I never know where to return them. I get lost and overwhelmed as I stare at the multitude of plastic shoes. They all kind of blend in together. So I just end up messing up the depths of the Zellers shoe department, and as we leave, the employees are cursing at me all the way out the door.

By the time our mission was complete, I was at the point where Spark Plug had no shoes on and was insisting on staying to try on more. I began to walk away with the others and bid her adieu. She started screaming, "Mommy, wait! WAIT! WAIT, Mommy!" I just looked back over my shoulder and matter-of-factly replied, "Well then, let's go!" And she ran barefoot across the crusty floor to me where we got her own shoes back on.

I was right ready to kill someone at this point as EvieG wanted to dilly dally her way to the cashier, Spark Plug was ranting, and The Destroyer was strategizing her way out of the confines of the cart. Of course there were only 2 cash registers open. I mean what was that all about? It was already 9:00 for crying out loud. They should have at least 3 open. So I stood back and stared. Like waiting at the border, I had to pick the fastest, most efficient line. I usually fail miserably every time and get in the slowest line ever, but I had to make the right choice today. I had to get out of there.

I got behind a lady who was in the last moments of getting her stuff rung through. Once it was done, she was given her total. And then what did she do? COUNT OUT THE EXACT FRIGGING CHANGE! Ugh! She was taking forever! I was huffing and puffing annoyingly loud. By now EvieG was picking at the gum and chocolate bars, Spark Plug was playing in the empty cash register bagging area beside us, and The Destroyer was picking the taped signs off the wall. I kept maneuvering the cart to keep the little hands away, I got a hold of Spark Plug just as I was getting the stink eye from an old lady in the next line, and told EvieG no candy till after lunch.

Finally it was our turn. The stuff was rung through, HBC points and card offerings flatly and firmly denied, and debit done. I threw the bags into the cart and raced to the van. Everyone and everything was tossed in, I got into the drivers seat, started the van, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. What a chore that was!

Another mission complete.

Will I ever like going out ever again?

Cause right now it just plain old sucks.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Be sure to check out the info for our Girl's Night Out below. You can enter to win a free ticket to a night of great food, wine, and fun.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, EvieG, Hubby, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

It has been a whirlwind of a day. And I can say for once, that I actually got something decent accomplished. This really doesn't happen very often with the Wee Ladies running around. I find it hard enough keeping up with basic things like laundry and meal preparation. Today was one of those days where it seemed like it was never ending and it was non-stop all at the same time. I for sure lost a couple pounds.

Our best babysitter came over this morning to mind The Destroyer and Spark Plug. EvieG had a sleepover at Grandma's and Grandpa's last night. I have to say, that as much as I missed her, it was good for Spark Plug to get some decent shut eye. And she even slept in.

So instead of getting groceries this morning, I went for a 3 mile run. Yep. I have decided that I am going to train for the Toronto Half Marathon in October. I did it last year and would like to keep the tradition going. The best part about that weekend is that Madonna is performing in Toronto. Wouldn't that be fun? Run a half marathon, get a massage, and then go see Madge? I want to make that happen.

I went to pick up EvieG and took her downtown to try on her flowergirl dress for my brother's wedding, which is October 4th. I informed her of what we were doing, but my Mom must have filled her in because she knew exactly where we were going. When she laid eyes on her 'wedding dress,' they became saucers. She was gobsmacked. We put it on and she spent about 10 minutes dancing in front of the mirrors. All of the ladies in the shop were watching and giggling. She was very dramatic as she envisioned herself at the ball, dancing with the Prince. She was singing under her breath and prancing about like she was surrounded by flora and fauna and all of her woodland friends.

So now it is all about the wedding all the time. "Mom, how much longer to the wedding?" and "Is it time for the wedding yet?" and "I've been waiting and waiting and waiting, but the wedding is not coming!" All of this on the ride home from the bridal shop. She was very heartbroken that she couldn't wear the dress out of the store today. But I explained that we have to make it fit just right for her and we can go and try it on again this Friday at 5:45. She was cool with that.

We went looking for shoes, but were unsuccessful. We will save that for another day.

After lunch I went into the horrid, mountain of a mess that is the state of our garage. It is a state of squalor all on its own because of the Great Flood of 2008 and Restoration Hardcore has yet to complete the reconstruction of our basement. Hubby and I decided that we were going to eliminate a lot of 'stuff'. We want to cut down on the crap. We want to reduce the number of Rubbermaid containers by a good third. Which meant parting with the baby clothes.

Most of the clothes from Newborn to 12 months are now history. I went through all of the bins, got rid of the stained pieces, returned some outfits to friends, kept the really special pieces for the Wee Ladies, and gave the rest away. I thought I could have made some money by selling it, or having a garage sale, but the amount you actually come out with in the end isn't worth the headache of pricing, selling some, and being left with most of it. And so I donated it all to the local Women's Center. I figure it would be put to good use this way.

I was having a bit of a hard time as I was sorting it. My womb cried and ached a little. And for an split instant- maybe a couple of split instants, I missed having a baby. But then reality hit hard- really hard, square in the jaw. No way, no how. Not going to happen. EVER. AGAIN. I was driving it to the shelter with a pang of separation anxiety; already missing the days of babies. I was mourning this stage of life with the van filled-to-the-top-and-spilling-over-to-the-front-seat with plastic bags. And it wasn't even gone yet. But after I dropped it off, I felt good. I felt I did the right thing. A good deed done for others who need help. I left without second guessing what I had just done. We are moving on.

We can move in our garage again. And on either side of the pile of junk too! We have garage aisles now. We have many full Rubbermaid containers still, but we now have many empty ones after today's clearance-returns not accepted.

I couldn't believe I did it. I finally let go. I decided that was it. No one I know is having baby girls right now and we need to downsize our stuff. So off it went. Last week we put an end to the bottles. This is another sign that the baby days are gone forever. I do miss it, but things are becoming more action packed every day with the Wee Ladies.

To almost end the day, I had an email from a writer with Readers Digest.ca. She wrote requesting an interview with me for an article she is writing about mom bloggers. HOW COOL IS THAT? I have never been interviewed before for something fun like this. Job interviews don't count. Oh, I was interviewed on the Kingston Cable Channel about a play I was in back in 1996. Oh, and Auntie Lisa and I were interviewed by some Brits while we sat on a beach surrounded by naked people, while fully clothed in the South of France back in 1998. They told me I was too pasty; that I needed to undress because I needed a tan. They were probably perverts looking to get some action. From the fully clothed Canadian tourists. Not the many naked people sitting around us. Scoff....

I can't wait to tell you all about the interview. It is on Wednesday.

Booty Bootcamp ended the day. Followed by this blog and a cup of tea.

After all the excitement today, I should most definitely be down a couple pounds. I will step on the scale tomorrow morning, only to realize that I have not lost any weight, but am simply 'retaining water'.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Announcements, Chores, DDM, EvieG

I have been frantically running around today. We are washing, packing, organizing, freaking, bitching, laughing, and trying to keep the Wee Ladies under control. As we prepare to drive up north, I am one moody mom. I can say I am a borderline lunatic right now.

We are leaving at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning. At around 4:30 am to avoid long weekend traffic through Toronto. And we want to throw the Wee Ladies in the Guzzler so they can continue sleeping....ask me how that goes later. Then we will stop mid-morning for some serious running for a couple hours followed by the last stretch of the trip. We should arrive at the cabin around dinner time. It will be a long day, but we are so ready for a break.

EvieG packed her bag. Take a look at this....

Labels: Announcements, Chores, DDM, EvieG, Family

I moved the carbon monoxide detector from the kitchen counter to the top of the fridge. That's one less thing off my culinary surface area. And so we are on the final installment of the mini series. Today I write and leave this theme with the mire state of The Guzzler. Our frosty blue MINI-VAN that costs me my life savings to fill up. Two friends of mine and I took our kids to the beach this morning and I looked around the van. All I could do was cringe.

There are things in the van that seem to be permanent fixtures. Like Gremlins, no matter how many times I get rid of these items, another one miraculously appears.

Exhibit A: The Children's Section (Like its Their Mess)
We could play a fun and challenging game of Eye Spy an Empty Plastic Water Bottle. Be careful, don't let your eyes trick you. It's there among all of the other objects situated whose sole purpose is to distract you. See it? Right there to the left and slightly under the fuschia floral beach bag with the suntan lotion falling out, and slightly on top of the DOOR HANGER EvieG made for her bedroom. Why is that even in the van? I am still asking that myself. The other empty plastic water bottle is poking its head out of the top of my purse, which is forever in a state of squalor all on its own.

Beside my purse is one of Hubby's sweatshirts for those cold and romantic evening strolls along the beach that never happen. There are 2 sets of baby blue Crocs. One in a size 10 and the other in a size 3. And the van wouldn't be complete if there wasn't the trusty, empty box of Timbits. This is my old faithful. You can bet your sore right hip that you will ALWAYS be able to find a Tim Horton's box in our vehicle.

Exhibit B: Further into the Depths of The Guzzler
Behind the beach bag, it becomes evident what exactly is covering the what-used-to-be-blue-carpet. It is a fairly thick layer of sand. And this is not from today. It has been there for a while now. I am going to guess about 2 weeks. There is an empty yellow plastic kids sippy cup among the Crocs. There is another blue sippy cup on the seat with a sticky, eaten sucker stick glued to it, but you can't see it. The doll is laying on top of the sand yelling at me to free her from the grip of nastiness which surrounds her. She begs for mercy. She cannot be left among the rotting Timbits as the heat bursts the mercury at over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Exhibit C: The Grand Finale
And so I wondered what it was that was jabbing me in the back from behind the driver's seat. I looked and realized that it was none other than A-SECOND-CIRCA-1988-AAA-ROAD-ATLAS! Only unlike the first Road Atlas I wrote about in Part I, this one has its front cover intact. Who is the Road Atlas Fairy placing these throughout my home and van? I would surely like to know. For all of the traveling we don't do throughout this wonderful continent (it includes a map of Mexico), I think that it would probably be better and wiser if I carried an extra blanket and emergency kit, with flares, a jack, and extra water, as opposed to empty water bottles.

I think that no matter how hard I try to stay one step ahead of the squalor, I am always going to be two behind. With the Wee Ladies requiring so much of my attention, I find I can only get the bare essentials accomplished. I have days where I feel as though I am never going to get ahead and that my life will forever be one of damage control. Because that is all that I can seem to get done.

I will eventually get around to it. So I may rant about my state of squalor, but eventually it all gets done. Complete squalor elimination is simply not going to happen, but it might improve slightly if I devote a block of time to de-cluttering. Shall we bet on it?

I guess I should take the vacuum from its friends fine crystal and clean up the sand in the van. The last thing I need is for the Wee Ladies to add to the squalor by dragging a bit of Lake Erie into the house.

I'll do that right after I get back from my trip that was planned using the circa 1988 AAA Road Atlas.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Thanks for reading. Have a fun weekend! I will be back on Monday, right after I attempt to partially de-squalorize the house and van.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Guilt, Responsibility

I cleaned up the mess that was our playroom/office, only to have The Destroyer pull most of it back onto the floor today, just as I predicted. And today I am writing the second part of the mini series about the squalor that we live in. The focus of this post is on our neglected culinary quarters. Our kitchen. And it is a vision of sheer filth.

Between the grime on the floor and the other surface areas is random junk placed unstrategically across the counters and on the fridge. Take a peek-

Exhibit A: The Ecosystem
Sitting on top of the film of sludge are some pretty useless knick-knacky things that have no solid purpose of even being there. The Leap Frog animal-match-game for one. The Wee Ladies don't even play with this. Correction- The Destroyer pulls the pieces from the fridge to the floor for me to step on and break a hip. There is also the Leap Frog phonics tool. Again, the kids put the letters in to get the their names and sounds. Most times, it is even debatable what is even said. To me it sounds like the voice in the box has had one too many cocktails and is having speech difficulty. There are some magnets, photos that are hidden under the drawing, car insurance that should be in the car's glove box, a shopping list pad that I never use, and wedding invitations. The invitations are the only things that should be on there, so I don't forget to show up.

The fridge is its own living creature. I swear it could breathe and exist on its own. There are many small organisms that give the fridge its life. The handle is sticky, the dust is thick on top but the phone books cover it, the light bulb inside hasn't been changed in 5 years, and things fall out when you open the freezer. And in the recent past I did witness the ecosystem living underneath. We had to plug in a new phone which required us to move the fridge out. We took one look at the sediment that had collected over the years, saw something move, and quickly moved the fridge back to its place without even daring to attempt to clean. We figure the next people who move in can clean it. Plus, I am sure we would need bio-hazard gear. And that is expensive.

I think there are several ecosystems who have inhabited various places in and around the fridge. Speaking of which, I better open that unlabeled container sitting at the back of the second shelf and see what it 'was'. I better remember to mask my face first. I don't want to inhale and unknown spores.

Exhibit B: Unsafety
This is my counter space to the left of the fridge. As you can see there is a variety of random items that have every right to inhabit my space. Placemats are leaning against the wall. Seems like a good spot. Why would anyone have placemats on a table? Then there are the knives. As you can see, there are some vacant spots. I hope my Wee Ladies haven't taken them. In front of the knives is half a child proof door handle. Obviously there is a door that is not safetied properly. The Wee Ladies now have VIP passes to the toilet water until I find the other half. There is my water bottle, empty oil and vinegar jars, a measuring cup, a plastic plate from the toy kitchen (we are big on proper portion sizes), and the most necessary item of all. The carbon monoxide detector. On-the-kitchen-counter. So if we don't wake up in the morning, you'll know that it was because we didn't hear the beep.

The dish towel is my dish rack. At least I am caught up in that department. Oh, I lied. The pile is to the left, in the sink.

Exhibit C: The Butter Dish and More
This is the counter space to the left of the sink. As you can see, I am avoiding even showing you the sink. We have dirty cloths in an unsanitary pile, an empty paper towel holder (Note to self: put the role in the recycling), an empty, but clean, juice container, a dish of soothers and syringes for Children's Tylenol, the bread/salt and pepper/butter/unused Bodum/unused mortar and pestle/cookie-jar-that-I-hide-from-myself cupboard, and the well-used pound of butter. It's corn season. There is a splattering of butter on the unwiped surface. There is a picture behind the soother dish of EvieG and Spark Plug from 2 years ago, facing backwards. The one useful thing? The box of anti-viral Kleenex. But I guess with the state of squalor of this room, it's all null and void anyway.

The floor in the kitchen is constantly in a state of filth. It's one of those floors with the grooves in it, so the dirt gets in there like it does under your finger nails. And the only way it comes out is with a decent scrubbing. Our floor is like the kid in class who never bathes- dirty nails and waxy ears all the time.

Like the bear is to the salmon run, the house flies are to my kitchen. And right now it's a free for all for the flies. I keep the fly swatter on top of the microwave. There are several things you can be GUARANTEED to find on our kitchen floor:

- spills of all sorts
- juice splats
- crumbs
- dirt from outside
- pieces from the fridge
- shoes
- hardened, or overripe Cheerios and KD
- flies
- grass
- the occasional ant coming to get in on the goods
- fruit residue

We can pretty much declare a state of emergency in our kitchen. We can tape it off for the germ experts from Dateline to come in and do a swab test to find out our levels of bacteria. I am sure that besides salmonella and e. coli, they might even find a new and even more vicious bacteria that has yet to be catalogued.

I vacuum so often to ward of illness that I don't even put the vacuum away after I'm done. I just house it in the dining room along with my fine crystal.

I have no rhyme or reason why my culinary quarters are in this condition. Other than the obvious fact that my time is consumed with the Wee Ladies. I try to keep things clean and organized, but I guess that is why we have our Wee Westie Basil and a cleaning lady who comes once every fortnight.

If we didn't have that, then our house would for sure be condemned.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Come back tomorrow for the final installment of our mini-series.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Guilt, Responsibility

I am feeling like we have reached new heights in our current state of homeland squalor. And so I am writing the first of a 3 part mini series about the filth that I inhabit along with the Wee Ladies and Hubby. Part I exposes the state of our office/playroom/pit/junkyard/place-where-mom-is-supposed-to-pick-up-toys/billing centre/blogging haven.

Squalor can be described in several ways, according to Roget. This pretty much sums up my life right now.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Guilt, Responsibility