Stuff grows! I'm quite certain as soon as I turn my back, the toys multiply. It seems like we get rid of all of Daelyn's little matchbox cars except two or three and the next time we clean out the toys, he has another 30 or 40 again. They propagate.
And it's not just the cars. It's all the junk. It seems like I just got rid of about 4 garbage bags full of stuff. Yet, as I clean out the Spare Bedroom (which isn't even supposed to have "toys" in it, just a large bin of dress-up clothes and games stacked neatly in the top of the closet) in preparation for my cousin from Canada, who is coming down for my nephew's wedding next weekend, staying with us for 3 weeks, I find that we have, easily, 4 more garbage bags full.
This morning, the kids and I loaded up the van with clothes that no longer fit them and dropped them off at Good Will. We had so many bags that they were even taking up the back seat and the floorboard between the two middle seats. Deanna held yet another bag. And, still, there are more toys than F.A.O. Schwartz!
My friend, Rachel, tells me not to get discouraged and that I really AM making progress. Kelly says that you have to constantly work to get rid of the junk and that I should plan to go through it every 3 months or so and thin down the new accumulation. I just can't seem to understand where it all comes from.
The children have outgrown toys, for the most part. There are a few things that they still enjoy. My in-laws gave Deanna a very nice set of wooden blocks when she was small. They all still like to make castles and Beverly Hills-style homes with the blocks. Daelyn pulls out his cars and parks them in the 17-car garage (and he hasn't even seen Leno). They love those blocks.
There might be one or two other things that they still use or would use if they could find. But the rest of the stuff just collects dust and gets in my way.
Deanna was sorting through a large Rubbermaid bin for me today. She was sorting into 3 piles: throw-aways, Good Will, and Keep. After she had worked for about an hour, I peeked into the living room, where I had stationed her. There was a very small pile to the far left, a huge pile in the middle, and another small pile to the right. Which was which? I couldn't believe my ears when she told me the huge middle pile was the "Keeps".
"Deanna!" I nearly screamed. "We're trying to get rid of stuff!"
"But, Mama, everytime I pull something out of the box and look at it, I remember some cute story about it. I think about when Dane or Daelyn got it and I just can't get rid of it."
That settles it. If I can just manage to get everything out of the spare bedroom, get it clean, set up the dresser, bedside table, lamp, and bed and make enough room in the closet for my cousin's clothes, I'll take over the sorting. The room shouldn't take me longer than 2 more hours to finish. Then I can invest the next 3 days in figuring out what to keep and where to keep it.
I guess I should be thankful that my children have things. I'm sure there are many children in the world that don't even have simple toys with which to play.
Maybe I should do some research, box ours up, and mail them out. Perhaps if Deanna knew those cute things with all the wonderful memories were being sent to a needy child for them to make memories, she'd be more inclined to sort a little more like me.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
It doesn't happen often,
thank goodness, but occasionally, I'll be in a real hurry to dress and forget something important. Like, today. Don had left for the grocery store. Milk is on sale for a GREAT price ($2.28/gal) so we had talked earlier about how much he should buy. I had 4 gallons on the grocery list but had already picked one up. The discussion centered around whether or not there was enough room on the top shelf of the fridge for 4 more gallons of milk plus my gallon of tea, plus Don's Crystal Lite, plus my big jug of coffee creamer, etc.
"There's NO WAY we can fit 4 gallons more in there," Don said.
"I'll check it," I promised.
"Last week, I had to move a ton of stuff around just to make room for 3 gallons."
"I said 'I'll check'!"
Then we had launched off on some other topic. Later, while Don was in the shower, I HAD checked and decided that we could fit 4 gallons in there. It might take some work, but well worth the effort to get that 4th gallon for $2.28. By the time he was out of the shower, I had completely forgotten and never told him.
Anyway, he left, I was drying off after my bath, and I realized my lack of communication. I threw on some clothes, ran into the kitchen to look up his cellphone number (it's a work cell phone and I seldom use it because - it's a WORK cellphone, but I have the number in case I need to call him, I just don't have it memorized), then dialed wildly. No answer. I let it ring and ring and ring. Frustrated, but resigned, I returned to the bathroom and started sorting laundry.
A few minutes later, Don appeared.
"You called?" he asked.
"Yep!" I responded happily, noting that there were no groceries in his hands, only a bag from the drug store containing Daelyn's antibiotic, another of the chores on his list. "I forgot to tell you. I checked the fridge and we can handle 4 gallons."
"I had already decided to head that direction," he told me.
About that time, I noticed my arms felt a little sticky. You know, underneath. I flapped them a little, then realized that in my rush to call him, I had completely forgotten . . . anti-perspirant. Very important item! I quickly remedied the problem.
I wish I could say this is the first time I've made this mistake. It would be a sad, sad lie. I've also forgotten other important things, like brushing my teeth, perfume, jewelry, slips. As a matter of fact, for my nephew's wedding last year, the one in Atlanta, I forgot to pack a slip and had to borrow one. Once, I even forgot my shoes and ended showing up somewhere in slippers.
The worst part is, it seems to be happening more frequently. I have a friend that would say, "It's an age thang," but I choose to believe it's because of being overly busy.
That's my story and I'm . . . stickin' to it.
"There's NO WAY we can fit 4 gallons more in there," Don said.
"I'll check it," I promised.
"Last week, I had to move a ton of stuff around just to make room for 3 gallons."
"I said 'I'll check'!"
Then we had launched off on some other topic. Later, while Don was in the shower, I HAD checked and decided that we could fit 4 gallons in there. It might take some work, but well worth the effort to get that 4th gallon for $2.28. By the time he was out of the shower, I had completely forgotten and never told him.
Anyway, he left, I was drying off after my bath, and I realized my lack of communication. I threw on some clothes, ran into the kitchen to look up his cellphone number (it's a work cell phone and I seldom use it because - it's a WORK cellphone, but I have the number in case I need to call him, I just don't have it memorized), then dialed wildly. No answer. I let it ring and ring and ring. Frustrated, but resigned, I returned to the bathroom and started sorting laundry.
A few minutes later, Don appeared.
"You called?" he asked.
"Yep!" I responded happily, noting that there were no groceries in his hands, only a bag from the drug store containing Daelyn's antibiotic, another of the chores on his list. "I forgot to tell you. I checked the fridge and we can handle 4 gallons."
"I had already decided to head that direction," he told me.
About that time, I noticed my arms felt a little sticky. You know, underneath. I flapped them a little, then realized that in my rush to call him, I had completely forgotten . . . anti-perspirant. Very important item! I quickly remedied the problem.
I wish I could say this is the first time I've made this mistake. It would be a sad, sad lie. I've also forgotten other important things, like brushing my teeth, perfume, jewelry, slips. As a matter of fact, for my nephew's wedding last year, the one in Atlanta, I forgot to pack a slip and had to borrow one. Once, I even forgot my shoes and ended showing up somewhere in slippers.
The worst part is, it seems to be happening more frequently. I have a friend that would say, "It's an age thang," but I choose to believe it's because of being overly busy.
That's my story and I'm . . . stickin' to it.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tackling the Linen Closet
Whew! I'm in the process of cleaning out and re-organizing the big linen closet in the children's bathroom. I did this job over the summer, but things have gotten out of place and they always seem to grow. When we could no longer close the closet door, I knew it was time to tackle it again.
I've been jamming stuff (truthfully, putting it neatly) into Space Bags, then dehydrating them like pancakes. I've found that, over time, the air seems to creep back into the bags, but as long as I stash them while still deflated, I can best utilize the tall top shelf. I've finished all but the bottom shelf. And it shouldn't take too long. The bottom shelf holds rugs and mats and is spacious. So, a few more minutes and I can line that job off my list. And, I'm getting rid of a few items from the closet, as well, which always makes a job seem more worthwhile.
I still have the Den and Spare Bedroom to tackle before my cousin, two aunts and uncle arrive from Canada for my nephew's wedding April 4. My cousin will be staying here, his parents with my parents. I'd would be nice if he has a room to use without having to crawl over the legos.
But we're making progress - ever moving forward, cleaning, organizing, getting rid of yet more stuff. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. My kitchen counters have actually stayed clean for 4 weeks. YAY!
I've been jamming stuff (truthfully, putting it neatly) into Space Bags, then dehydrating them like pancakes. I've found that, over time, the air seems to creep back into the bags, but as long as I stash them while still deflated, I can best utilize the tall top shelf. I've finished all but the bottom shelf. And it shouldn't take too long. The bottom shelf holds rugs and mats and is spacious. So, a few more minutes and I can line that job off my list. And, I'm getting rid of a few items from the closet, as well, which always makes a job seem more worthwhile.
I still have the Den and Spare Bedroom to tackle before my cousin, two aunts and uncle arrive from Canada for my nephew's wedding April 4. My cousin will be staying here, his parents with my parents. I'd would be nice if he has a room to use without having to crawl over the legos.
But we're making progress - ever moving forward, cleaning, organizing, getting rid of yet more stuff. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. My kitchen counters have actually stayed clean for 4 weeks. YAY!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Happy St. Patti's Day Birthday!
It's my birthday - St. Patrick's Day! My whole life, it's felt like the entire world was celebrating with me. I love having my birthday on a special day.
I think I would hate it if it was on Christmas or Easter regularly. Then it'd just get lost in the shuffle. But St. Patti's Day is perfect! A minor holiday but lots of beer, green, fun, etc. We have a parade in town which is great fun and the people on the floats throw candy and necklaces. It's getting longer and longer each year. Within 10 years or so, it probably will last a couple of hours. This year, it was a full hour of fun.
And, this time of year is usually warm without being hot, comfortably nice. You don't need coats but don't have to strip down to nothing, either. The sun is just beginning to peek out again after winter and the birds are chirping, flowers are beginning to bloom, and grass is yet to be burned up from the heat.
Gotta go. I'm making an ice cream cake for myself.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
Oh, and my niece, Amanda, who was born the year I graduated from College, sandwiched in perfectly between the last final exam of my college career and my birthday dinner party. Thank you, baby, for being kind enough to hold off until after my exam and not ruining dinner. I love you, Baby Girl (she's 26 today!).
I think I would hate it if it was on Christmas or Easter regularly. Then it'd just get lost in the shuffle. But St. Patti's Day is perfect! A minor holiday but lots of beer, green, fun, etc. We have a parade in town which is great fun and the people on the floats throw candy and necklaces. It's getting longer and longer each year. Within 10 years or so, it probably will last a couple of hours. This year, it was a full hour of fun.
And, this time of year is usually warm without being hot, comfortably nice. You don't need coats but don't have to strip down to nothing, either. The sun is just beginning to peek out again after winter and the birds are chirping, flowers are beginning to bloom, and grass is yet to be burned up from the heat.
Gotta go. I'm making an ice cream cake for myself.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
Oh, and my niece, Amanda, who was born the year I graduated from College, sandwiched in perfectly between the last final exam of my college career and my birthday dinner party. Thank you, baby, for being kind enough to hold off until after my exam and not ruining dinner. I love you, Baby Girl (she's 26 today!).
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Disdogbedience
I've always known that we spoil Donovan horribly - all of us, even the children. Don may be the absolute worst. He's like the 4th child, especially over the last two weeks while he's been on antibiotics for colitis.
It's just that he's so lovable. He greets me with such enthusiasm whenever I return to the house, even if I've only been gone 10 minutes, taking the kids to school. He sleeps pressed up against me and is my constant companion, even laying at my feet when I'm on the computer. He doesn't talk back or argue (although, sometimes he does argue with me - growling at me when he doesn't like what I tell him; in him, it's cute), he doesn't fight with his siblings or leave messes around the house (unless he has a new stuffed chew toy that he pulls the stuffing out, but only a new one - the old ones are all stuffing-less), he's not picky about his food and I don't have to work hard to come up with creative meals so he'll enjoy them. He eats everything, loves everyone, and is quite predictable in all his actions. Besides that, he's just plain cute.
However (we all knew there was a down-side coming), "familiarity breeds contempt" is true even in animals, I've found. He's developed several bad habits over the last month or so. If I'm sitting at the kitchen table, only at the kitchen table does he do this, he'll whine and bark to get in my lap. I don't know why he thinks he should be in my lap. I think it's because it's so rare for me to sit during the day, he wants to take advantage of the time for snuggling. But I refuse to have him that near a table where we eat and I'm not going to start bad habits. Plus, when I sit at the kitchen table, it's to work and I can't get my work done with him in my lap.
Another bad habit is the occasional argument from him. Often, this is associated with wanting to sit in my lap, either on the couch or at the table. If there are things in the way or I'm working in the den (sometimes I'll shell pecans in the evening while I watch t.v.), he'll growl and even bark at me. He gets this funny look - he'll turn his head sideways, glance at me out of the corner of his eyes, then bark or growl. It's as if he is angry but trying hard to not let me know he's the source.
I laid down on the bed last week, just to give myself a 10-minute break. It had been a particularly rough day and I was exhausted and still facing choir practice with up to 10 laughing, rambunctious 4, 5, and 6 year olds. I needed a little rest, just 10 minutes or so, to get my second wind. Donovan jumped up on the bed. He wanted to play.
"Donzie, I'm too tired and I need to rest. Go away," I told him. He growled at me. I raised my head.
"DONOVAN," I said sternly, "DON'T GROWL AT ME. I can't PLAY right now." He jumped down and I heard him run off down the hall. Uh-oh. Running. That's a bad sign. I sat up and looked down the hallway, but couldn't see anything. As I laid bsck down, I noticed one of my slippers that I had just taken off to lay down, was missing. Deanna came into my room just then, laughing.
"Does Donovan have my slipper?" I asked her, less a question and more a statement.
"Yep," she answered with a smile. "I caught him in the dining room with it."
He was punishing me for not playing with him, the stinker.
But, I suppose, in the balance, he's such fun and such a great companion (not to mention the sense of protection that we have when he's around, vigilantly listening for strangers), not to mention the fact that even these bad habits are mild in comparison to the children, it's well worth putting up with his little bad habits. After all, I wouldn't get rid of a child, and he's just a hairier, four-legged mutation.
It's just that he's so lovable. He greets me with such enthusiasm whenever I return to the house, even if I've only been gone 10 minutes, taking the kids to school. He sleeps pressed up against me and is my constant companion, even laying at my feet when I'm on the computer. He doesn't talk back or argue (although, sometimes he does argue with me - growling at me when he doesn't like what I tell him; in him, it's cute), he doesn't fight with his siblings or leave messes around the house (unless he has a new stuffed chew toy that he pulls the stuffing out, but only a new one - the old ones are all stuffing-less), he's not picky about his food and I don't have to work hard to come up with creative meals so he'll enjoy them. He eats everything, loves everyone, and is quite predictable in all his actions. Besides that, he's just plain cute.
However (we all knew there was a down-side coming), "familiarity breeds contempt" is true even in animals, I've found. He's developed several bad habits over the last month or so. If I'm sitting at the kitchen table, only at the kitchen table does he do this, he'll whine and bark to get in my lap. I don't know why he thinks he should be in my lap. I think it's because it's so rare for me to sit during the day, he wants to take advantage of the time for snuggling. But I refuse to have him that near a table where we eat and I'm not going to start bad habits. Plus, when I sit at the kitchen table, it's to work and I can't get my work done with him in my lap.
Another bad habit is the occasional argument from him. Often, this is associated with wanting to sit in my lap, either on the couch or at the table. If there are things in the way or I'm working in the den (sometimes I'll shell pecans in the evening while I watch t.v.), he'll growl and even bark at me. He gets this funny look - he'll turn his head sideways, glance at me out of the corner of his eyes, then bark or growl. It's as if he is angry but trying hard to not let me know he's the source.
I laid down on the bed last week, just to give myself a 10-minute break. It had been a particularly rough day and I was exhausted and still facing choir practice with up to 10 laughing, rambunctious 4, 5, and 6 year olds. I needed a little rest, just 10 minutes or so, to get my second wind. Donovan jumped up on the bed. He wanted to play.
"Donzie, I'm too tired and I need to rest. Go away," I told him. He growled at me. I raised my head.
"DONOVAN," I said sternly, "DON'T GROWL AT ME. I can't PLAY right now." He jumped down and I heard him run off down the hall. Uh-oh. Running. That's a bad sign. I sat up and looked down the hallway, but couldn't see anything. As I laid bsck down, I noticed one of my slippers that I had just taken off to lay down, was missing. Deanna came into my room just then, laughing.
"Does Donovan have my slipper?" I asked her, less a question and more a statement.
"Yep," she answered with a smile. "I caught him in the dining room with it."
He was punishing me for not playing with him, the stinker.
But, I suppose, in the balance, he's such fun and such a great companion (not to mention the sense of protection that we have when he's around, vigilantly listening for strangers), not to mention the fact that even these bad habits are mild in comparison to the children, it's well worth putting up with his little bad habits. After all, I wouldn't get rid of a child, and he's just a hairier, four-legged mutation.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
A Bard Off the Top
Ever since Dane was in "Hamlet", there's been a lot of Shakespeare-speak around our house. This evening, Deanna and Dane were joking about something. When Deanna ran out of fun, Dane-stimulating comments, she resorted to,
"Fie! Fie on you!"
Dane cracked up, then responded with some other line from the Play. I was standing at the sink, cleaning up after dinner, listening to this whole routine. I couldn't help myself. It was time to get involved.
"Get thee to a bedroom," I yelled at Dane.
Deanna, quick-witted as usual, responded.
"Is this a bedtime I see before me?"
What would we do without Shakespeare? After all, "All the 'kitchen's' a stage."
"Fie! Fie on you!"
Dane cracked up, then responded with some other line from the Play. I was standing at the sink, cleaning up after dinner, listening to this whole routine. I couldn't help myself. It was time to get involved.
"Get thee to a bedroom," I yelled at Dane.
Deanna, quick-witted as usual, responded.
"Is this a bedtime I see before me?"
What would we do without Shakespeare? After all, "All the 'kitchen's' a stage."
Monday, March 09, 2009
Stocking the Pantry My Own Way
With a Recession at hand which may become a Depression, I've decided I need to work very hard at using all our resources better. Since there are very few areas over which I have control, feeding and clothing my family are the things I'm tackling.
I'm trying to utilize everything possible. On Friday afternoons, the local food bank gets rid of all their perishables before the weekend. There is an organized distribution of sorts. Outside a local food pantry, a truck arrives, a couple of volunteers set up tables and unload boxes full of food. People gather around, looking over the produce, dairy, etc. Announcements are made, a prayer is said, then the starting gun fires (metaphorically) and people begin grabbing and gouging to get the pastries and the best items. There is a contribution box for anyone who can afford a few dollars.
For several years, I attended regularly. It was a great source for Romano and Feta cheese, salad, bread, sometimes milk or juice, fresh pineapple, or strawberries. Occasionally, there would be unusual items, such as large bags of brownie mix from Gloria Jean's or 5 lb. blocks of baking chocolate. After returning from England, I never got back into the routine of going.
I tried once or twice to get back into the swing of it, but some young man stole my filled box out from underneath my nose one Friday afternoon, and it upset me so much I didn't go back.
But with the economic situation, I decided I should take advantage of relatively free food. I've begun going again. One of the problems I had in the past was that I would always end up coming home with things that would go bad before we ate them. I was determined this wouldn't happen again, so I've been slow to fill up my box. I usually arrive with at least a sketchy mental list of items I need - fruit, sandwich bread, rolls, a bag of salad, a bell pepper . . . It has helped tremendously. However, some things always manage to creep into my box.
Several weeks ago, my father (who has helped run the "Friday Food Giveaway" for several years now) snagged 3 large containers of whole mushrooms for me. I absolutely LOVE mushrooms and these were huge, crisp, and plentiful.
How would I ever use all of them up before they went bad, I asked myself. Finally, the solution hit me. I cut them up, laid them out on a pan, popped them in the oven at 170 for several hours, and dried them. Then I put them in a baggy and tossed them in the freezer. Next time I need mushrooms for a crockpot meal, I throw in a handful. The liquid should reconstitute them and I think they'll work great. They sure taste good.
This whole drying concept has opened up a whole new world to me. The pineapple that we didn't finish eating quick enough, along with some tomatoes, were sliced and dried. I've used the tomatoes on pizza, in quiche, and several other ways, and saved the expense of buying sundried tomatoes. The fruit also dries well.
Then I branched out to beef jerky. My children love jerky and Slim Jim's, but they're expensive. So, I made my own chewy treat by marinading thin strips of steak, then drying them. Next, I tried croutons. My children were crazy about them. The next week, I picked up an extra loaf of Italian bread at the Giveaway and made a large batch of croutons and tossed them in the freezer.
My herbs are getting dried, rather than buying herbs at the store, and just about anything that I fear will spoil can be used up somehow. Right now, I have tomatoes, pineapple and orange peel drying in a low oven. The fruit gets real chewy, about the consistency of gummy fruits, but far more nutritious and much tastier. I have two jars of sundried tomatoes in olive oil and now put the ones I make in baggies dry.
This summer, a family friend has agreed to teach me to can. In the meantime, I'll dry what I can and store up for the winter (crisis). If none comes, we'll eat well in the future.
I'm trying to utilize everything possible. On Friday afternoons, the local food bank gets rid of all their perishables before the weekend. There is an organized distribution of sorts. Outside a local food pantry, a truck arrives, a couple of volunteers set up tables and unload boxes full of food. People gather around, looking over the produce, dairy, etc. Announcements are made, a prayer is said, then the starting gun fires (metaphorically) and people begin grabbing and gouging to get the pastries and the best items. There is a contribution box for anyone who can afford a few dollars.
For several years, I attended regularly. It was a great source for Romano and Feta cheese, salad, bread, sometimes milk or juice, fresh pineapple, or strawberries. Occasionally, there would be unusual items, such as large bags of brownie mix from Gloria Jean's or 5 lb. blocks of baking chocolate. After returning from England, I never got back into the routine of going.
I tried once or twice to get back into the swing of it, but some young man stole my filled box out from underneath my nose one Friday afternoon, and it upset me so much I didn't go back.
But with the economic situation, I decided I should take advantage of relatively free food. I've begun going again. One of the problems I had in the past was that I would always end up coming home with things that would go bad before we ate them. I was determined this wouldn't happen again, so I've been slow to fill up my box. I usually arrive with at least a sketchy mental list of items I need - fruit, sandwich bread, rolls, a bag of salad, a bell pepper . . . It has helped tremendously. However, some things always manage to creep into my box.
Several weeks ago, my father (who has helped run the "Friday Food Giveaway" for several years now) snagged 3 large containers of whole mushrooms for me. I absolutely LOVE mushrooms and these were huge, crisp, and plentiful.
How would I ever use all of them up before they went bad, I asked myself. Finally, the solution hit me. I cut them up, laid them out on a pan, popped them in the oven at 170 for several hours, and dried them. Then I put them in a baggy and tossed them in the freezer. Next time I need mushrooms for a crockpot meal, I throw in a handful. The liquid should reconstitute them and I think they'll work great. They sure taste good.
This whole drying concept has opened up a whole new world to me. The pineapple that we didn't finish eating quick enough, along with some tomatoes, were sliced and dried. I've used the tomatoes on pizza, in quiche, and several other ways, and saved the expense of buying sundried tomatoes. The fruit also dries well.
Then I branched out to beef jerky. My children love jerky and Slim Jim's, but they're expensive. So, I made my own chewy treat by marinading thin strips of steak, then drying them. Next, I tried croutons. My children were crazy about them. The next week, I picked up an extra loaf of Italian bread at the Giveaway and made a large batch of croutons and tossed them in the freezer.
My herbs are getting dried, rather than buying herbs at the store, and just about anything that I fear will spoil can be used up somehow. Right now, I have tomatoes, pineapple and orange peel drying in a low oven. The fruit gets real chewy, about the consistency of gummy fruits, but far more nutritious and much tastier. I have two jars of sundried tomatoes in olive oil and now put the ones I make in baggies dry.
This summer, a family friend has agreed to teach me to can. In the meantime, I'll dry what I can and store up for the winter (crisis). If none comes, we'll eat well in the future.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Brothers-At-Arms
The boys are driving me crazy. They play with each other (when they're not fighting or arguing) constantly - all through dinner, while they should be dressing for school, in the bathroom with toothbrushes in their mouths . . .
This evening, when one was supposed to be bathing and the other was supposed to be laying out his school clothes for tomorrow, they came chasing down the hallway and into the dining room with light sabers ablaze.
"STOP!" I shrieked.
"What?!" they asked, innocently, as if clueless they were converting our home into a field of battle in some perpetual jousting tournament.
I spend more time separating them than cleaning the house. It gets VERY frustrating.
Tonight, when Don got home from work, I was talking to him about how much I was struggling with the all-day play date.
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked. "Don't we want our children to be close?"
Yeah, right. Close is one thing, battling siblings is quite another. You just wait until this weekend, Daddy. I'll leave you with them for about six hours, take Deanna and go shopping. Then we'll just see how glib you are.
This evening, when one was supposed to be bathing and the other was supposed to be laying out his school clothes for tomorrow, they came chasing down the hallway and into the dining room with light sabers ablaze.
"STOP!" I shrieked.
"What?!" they asked, innocently, as if clueless they were converting our home into a field of battle in some perpetual jousting tournament.
I spend more time separating them than cleaning the house. It gets VERY frustrating.
Tonight, when Don got home from work, I was talking to him about how much I was struggling with the all-day play date.
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked. "Don't we want our children to be close?"
Yeah, right. Close is one thing, battling siblings is quite another. You just wait until this weekend, Daddy. I'll leave you with them for about six hours, take Deanna and go shopping. Then we'll just see how glib you are.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Police Presence in Our Backyard
So, I'm awoken at 1:30 a.m. by sirens. It took me several minutes to realize they hadn't moved away. I poked Don, trying to rouse him from deep sleep, then pulled off my breathing mask and headed down the hallway. I could see the flashing lights reflecting off the walls near the children's rooms.
The boys had gone to bed without closing their door, so I scooted into their bedroom and peeked out the window. There, in our second driveway (which is on the side of the house with both Deanna's room and the boy's room) was a police cruiser with lights flashing and sirens blaring. In the middle of the street, just up a little ways, another cruiser was stretched across both lanes blocking any access by vehicles. There were policemen standing in the street and a lot of yelling. I considered walking up to find out what was happening, then it occurred to me that there could be a "bad person" (as the children call them) running around and figured it was best I stay locked safely inside, away from any stray bullets.
Deanna appeared at my elbow.
"What's going on, Mama"" she asked. "The lights are flashing in my room."
Before I could respond, Dane sat bolt upright in bed.
"Yeah, Mom," he added. "The sirens woke ME. What's happening out there?"
I explained what I could see, which wasn't much except policemen milling around and yelling. After a few minutes, one of them approached the cruiser in our driveway and turned off the siren. It looked like he was going to leave when he pulled out his flashlight and headed down our driveway into the backyard. I ran into Deanna's room to watch out her back window, which looks into the backyard.
A few minutes later, he walked back past the window, heading back into the driveway. I went back to bed, where Don finally stirred and asked what was happening. I told him what I had seen, put my mask back on, and settled down to sleep.
Then Donovan began growling. It's very unsettling to be lying in bed with a dog on top of your legs growling at the door that leads from your bedroom onto your deck and into the yard. I heard what sounded like a barrel (Don has several rain barrels next to his shed, which just happen to be outside Deanna's back window) being knocked to the ground. I immediately began to worry about Deanna and considered crawling into bed with her to make sure she was safe. But I was pretty sure she was sound asleep and didn't want to wake her. I laid in bed and prayed.
Around 7:30, Don called from work. He told me that he had called the Sheriff's Department, that they said they had just changed shifts, and didn't know anything, to my astonishment. Don suggested I call a few of the neighbors, which I did.
The most I've been able to piece together is that the police were chasing a car down our road. We don't know why, just that there was some type of chase. Just past our house, where a side road turns off from our road, the car stopped, and the driver took off running, with the police in pursuit, behind OUR HOUSE! There was a woman still in the vehicle, so one police cruiser kept tabs on it and her. No one seemed to know if they had caught the driver or why he was running.
When I told Deanna what I had found out, she said that the police remained in our driveway with lights flashing for about 2 hours. She said, at one point, they were right outside her bedroom window. She thinks they may have knocked on her window with a flashlight and heard them yell, "Are you in there?"
She was scared out of her wits. I told her about the barrel sound and she said it was probably the door of the cruiser being shut, that the officers were very noisy. I told her she should've come and told me. Either I would have slept with her or put her in our bed.
Of course, it's easy to give advice now, after the fact. Truth is, I was scared, too. I didn't know what was happening, but it seemed to be happening right around my children's bedrooms.
To lighten Deanna's mood a little this morning, I told her that if that even happens again, she should immediately open her blind, stick her little face against the window, and yell out to the policeman,
"Yes, I'm in here. But I'm only 12 and have school tomorrow. Could you catch the crooks a little quieter, please! Oh, and, by the way, we're all out of coffee. You'll have to get that from Krispy Kreme."
She laughed as she chided me. I just hope she's not going to be scared again tonight. Humor can only make things better for so long.
The boys had gone to bed without closing their door, so I scooted into their bedroom and peeked out the window. There, in our second driveway (which is on the side of the house with both Deanna's room and the boy's room) was a police cruiser with lights flashing and sirens blaring. In the middle of the street, just up a little ways, another cruiser was stretched across both lanes blocking any access by vehicles. There were policemen standing in the street and a lot of yelling. I considered walking up to find out what was happening, then it occurred to me that there could be a "bad person" (as the children call them) running around and figured it was best I stay locked safely inside, away from any stray bullets.
Deanna appeared at my elbow.
"What's going on, Mama"" she asked. "The lights are flashing in my room."
Before I could respond, Dane sat bolt upright in bed.
"Yeah, Mom," he added. "The sirens woke ME. What's happening out there?"
I explained what I could see, which wasn't much except policemen milling around and yelling. After a few minutes, one of them approached the cruiser in our driveway and turned off the siren. It looked like he was going to leave when he pulled out his flashlight and headed down our driveway into the backyard. I ran into Deanna's room to watch out her back window, which looks into the backyard.
A few minutes later, he walked back past the window, heading back into the driveway. I went back to bed, where Don finally stirred and asked what was happening. I told him what I had seen, put my mask back on, and settled down to sleep.
Then Donovan began growling. It's very unsettling to be lying in bed with a dog on top of your legs growling at the door that leads from your bedroom onto your deck and into the yard. I heard what sounded like a barrel (Don has several rain barrels next to his shed, which just happen to be outside Deanna's back window) being knocked to the ground. I immediately began to worry about Deanna and considered crawling into bed with her to make sure she was safe. But I was pretty sure she was sound asleep and didn't want to wake her. I laid in bed and prayed.
Around 7:30, Don called from work. He told me that he had called the Sheriff's Department, that they said they had just changed shifts, and didn't know anything, to my astonishment. Don suggested I call a few of the neighbors, which I did.
The most I've been able to piece together is that the police were chasing a car down our road. We don't know why, just that there was some type of chase. Just past our house, where a side road turns off from our road, the car stopped, and the driver took off running, with the police in pursuit, behind OUR HOUSE! There was a woman still in the vehicle, so one police cruiser kept tabs on it and her. No one seemed to know if they had caught the driver or why he was running.
When I told Deanna what I had found out, she said that the police remained in our driveway with lights flashing for about 2 hours. She said, at one point, they were right outside her bedroom window. She thinks they may have knocked on her window with a flashlight and heard them yell, "Are you in there?"
She was scared out of her wits. I told her about the barrel sound and she said it was probably the door of the cruiser being shut, that the officers were very noisy. I told her she should've come and told me. Either I would have slept with her or put her in our bed.
Of course, it's easy to give advice now, after the fact. Truth is, I was scared, too. I didn't know what was happening, but it seemed to be happening right around my children's bedrooms.
To lighten Deanna's mood a little this morning, I told her that if that even happens again, she should immediately open her blind, stick her little face against the window, and yell out to the policeman,
"Yes, I'm in here. But I'm only 12 and have school tomorrow. Could you catch the crooks a little quieter, please! Oh, and, by the way, we're all out of coffee. You'll have to get that from Krispy Kreme."
She laughed as she chided me. I just hope she's not going to be scared again tonight. Humor can only make things better for so long.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Sitting Exercise
My nephew, James, owns a gym in Atlanta. He opened it last year. It was no real surprise to anyone who knows him since he grew up working out and lifting weights in his garage on the exercise equipment his father kept there, as did his sister (Alicia, the personal trainer with the degree in Exercise Physiology who's now obtaining her Master's in Public Health) and brother (an Investment Banker with a large, international investment company in Atlanta). It's a Crossfit gym, which is the rage in exercise these days - they call it Crossfit Addiction, which is understandable considering the growth rate.
Within two months of opening, the gym was already operating in the black each month. I haven't talked with James about it in a while but it can't be too much longer before he can draw a salary, if he isn't already.
He's gotten even more fit since opening the gym, as I'm sure you can imagine. He posted a video on the gym website of him doing a 44" standing box jump. It's unbelievable. He measures off 44" - a box with several large barbell weights on the top. Then, before our VERY eyes, he pumps his arms twice or three times, bends his knees, and JUMPS! 44 INCHES! It was like watching Superman.
Anyway, when my Hematologist diagnosed me with two genetic blood-clotting disorders and told me it would be very dangerous for me to kneel or squat, I told James. He scoffed at me, which surprised me.
"Aunt P. (which is what most of my nieces and nephews call me), can't you sit in a chair? That's squatting. Why don't you pull a chair out into the middle of the floor and sit down and stand up 100 times each day. That would give you a GREAT workout."
I started out, determined to do 100 and discovered, 20 sits later, that my legs burned so badly I could barely move. I've been working at my sits (as I call them) and got up to 55 today! I was thrilled. I'm hoping to reach 100 within another 2 weeks.
I'm just not sure what to do about my Y membership.
Within two months of opening, the gym was already operating in the black each month. I haven't talked with James about it in a while but it can't be too much longer before he can draw a salary, if he isn't already.
He's gotten even more fit since opening the gym, as I'm sure you can imagine. He posted a video on the gym website of him doing a 44" standing box jump. It's unbelievable. He measures off 44" - a box with several large barbell weights on the top. Then, before our VERY eyes, he pumps his arms twice or three times, bends his knees, and JUMPS! 44 INCHES! It was like watching Superman.
Anyway, when my Hematologist diagnosed me with two genetic blood-clotting disorders and told me it would be very dangerous for me to kneel or squat, I told James. He scoffed at me, which surprised me.
"Aunt P. (which is what most of my nieces and nephews call me), can't you sit in a chair? That's squatting. Why don't you pull a chair out into the middle of the floor and sit down and stand up 100 times each day. That would give you a GREAT workout."
I started out, determined to do 100 and discovered, 20 sits later, that my legs burned so badly I could barely move. I've been working at my sits (as I call them) and got up to 55 today! I was thrilled. I'm hoping to reach 100 within another 2 weeks.
I'm just not sure what to do about my Y membership.
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