Rambling

So far I've vacuumed and steam cleaned the office carpet (Thursday)
I cleaned out and reorganized and labled (yes, I actually labled) my pantry (yesterday & today)
I've caulked the walls in the office and painted half of it. (today)

I really need to eat lunch. When I'm in the zone I rarely stop to eat and then it hits me like a truck that I have to eat NOW. Almost like pregnancy hunger. Not pretty.

I have so much more to do on my master to-do list.

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Heard on the radio on Friday:

"It's Friday the 13th. THE perfect day for a boob job."

Huh? I don't get it.

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My kids spent about 2 hours outside today playing. My son is still his English, white little self, just like his momma would be. My daughter is a luscious rosy brown, just like her 1/8th Cherokee daddy is. Where's the justice?? Guess I should break out the self tanner and get started, possibly adding it to Trey's morning routine. ;)

Kid Quotes

During a very regular conversation with Trey:

"Trey, please go find something to do and quit whining! You have, like, a hundred toys you don't even play with. Go pull one of those out."

"I DON'T HAVE A HUNDRED! I ONLY HAVE 57!"

My bad.

Y is for Yuck

Things were weird this week. Bill, who is never sick with anything more than a cold, was sick. I mean the baaaad kind of sick. "I feel like someone punched me in the gut" he tells me and then it hit him. Not the 24 hour mystery stomach virus but the three to five day torture round. Instantaneously, I was back to being a single parent a lot quicker than I'd expected. He spent two days in bed, the hours he wasn't at work, that is. He survived. I survived and most importantly, the kids survived.

Friday night my darling children were their somewhat normal monstrous selves when it came time to have dinner. "No popcorn", I threatened. Popcorn and movie night is a big deal come Fridays. They didn't care. They spun out of control across the family room, doing sommersaults and dancing to music no one heard but them.

2:45am Saturday. I heard THE cry. The one that makes you jolt awake, knowing that your kid just rejected everything they ate within the last six hours. Great. I let Bill sleep and took care of Leah and her sheets by myself. I cleaned her up, calmed her down and put her back to bed at 3:00.

3:15am. Wave number 2. Crap. Again, I let Bill sleep. There are times during his sleep cycle when he's absolutely useless and I pray he's never caught by the enemy. He'd give away all of our secrets, including my grandma's famous chocolate chip pie recipe. It was just easier to do this on my own.

I stayed up with her until 4-something, going in and out of sleep with her on my chest. She woke up again at six, this time just ready to be up. I passed the baton to my husband and slept until 10am, something I haven't done in at least five years.

My baby was miserable. Her longest awake period on Saturday was an hour and a half and that was from the time she woke up until nearly 8am. She'd wake up in spurts, sometimes just long enough to shift on the couch, others, for a sip of water. She'd wake up to be sick again, cry and need more comforting. Later in the day, she woke up and asked for french fries. Later again, she popped up and said she wanted to color. She didn't really want any of these things, seeing as how she'd fall back asleep within seconds of her request.

No Easter dress and hat for Leah on Sunday. She stayed in pj's with daddy while Trey and I ventured off to our usual Sunday spot.

She’s on the mend, fortunately. She still wants french fries. She still wants to color. She’s chasing the bunnies out of our yard. I’m hoping she keeps her meal in her belly so I can go to work in the morning. I’m hoping Trey and I fend off whatever voodoo germs that are floating around our home. I can deal with a sick hubby. I’ll complain about it, but I can live with it. I can live with sick kids. It’s a good excuse to watch cartoons all day. But me? Who picks up the slack when mom is down and dad can’t take sick days? Good thing I bought the big pack of Airborne at Costco.

The Daffodils Made Me Do It

I don’t think it’s actually spring, so much, that makes me want to break out all of the attachments on the vacuum or gives me the desire to take every screen off the window and wash them thoroughly so much as it is the advertisement of everyone else who is organizing, labeling, cleaning and picking berries to make home-made pies. I’m an organizing freak. I hate to clean. I’ll let my cleaning go until I gather the urge to just bust out the soap and the sponge but show me a closet or drawer in disarray and I’ll become giddy with the thought of making it look perfect. All of the magazines addressed to me that have entered the home these past couple of months have brought my attention to spring cleaning. Other blogs have mentioned it, friends are doing it, so why not jump on the bandwagon?

I’ve had a friend kinda sorta living with me while Bill was gone. For some reason, I just don’t do my normal thing when company is around. Even though she technically wasn’t company, I was still way more Mary than Martha. Things got done, but not in my micro-managing way. She’s on her way out. This means my office moves OUT of my room and back into the spare bedroom. WOOHOO! Purging, refilling, tossing, recycling, donating. Love. It.

We’ve never lived anywhere as long as we’ve lived in this house since we’ve been married. Two years was tops for us. I’m used to being forced to go through everything we own every two to twenty four months (yes, we actually lived somewhere for two whole months) and evaluating what actually needs to stay in the family. We’re coming up on our fourth anniversary here. Time to touch everything and make a decision. My baby is almost three. Baby stuff: OUT. My oldest just moved from toddler stuff to full fledged kid stuff. Boy toddler stuff: OUT. I organized my upstairs linen closet this morning. I rearranged my laundry room cabinets which house not just laundry room items but paper plates and plastic cups, utensils, extra crepe paper left over from parties, extra food that won’t fit in the pantry (because I’m a Costco whore like that), baby wipes and cleaning supplies. I’m on my way to pulling everything out and getting the floors washed. Next on my list is my downstairs closet which is a dark tunnel that ends up underneath the stairs. Fortunately, I was anal enough to set up a shelving system in there when we moved in, so really, the only thing I have to organize is the first two feet. There are walls to magic erase and painting to do and carpets that need to be steam cleaned. My calla lilies are ripe for the cutting and Yankee is calling me to come get spring scented jar candles.

Are you busting out the rubber gloves?