ADD Housework

If you give a mom some housework, she'll probably start in the kitchen.

When she stands in the kitchen, she'll see a pile of mail to sort.

When she finishes sorting the mail, she'll throw a pile of paper in the recycling bin.

When she sees the recycling, she'll want to take out the trash.

After she takes out the trash, she'll come inside and wipe her feet.

Seeing the dirty rug will make her shake it out, and then she'll need to sweep.

When she gets the broom from the closet, she'll need to straighten the pantry so she can shut the door again.

When she shuts the door, she'll find a pile of paint supplies that need to be put away.

When she puts away the drop cloths, she'll remember that she needs to uncover the tulips.

Uncovering the tulips will make her see that a kitchen towel is in the dirt.  She'll need to put it in the laundry basket.

When she puts it with the laundry, she'll straighten up the bedroom.

When she straightens the bedroom, she'll glance in the mirror.  She'll see she forgot to put on make-up.

When she's standing in the bathroom, she'll find an extra paint brush.

She'll take another load of paint to the garage.  

In the garage she'll see the dirty floor and want to put that chore on Saturday's list.

She'll walk to the kitchen to write it down.

Standing in the kitchen will remind her that she hasn't eaten lunch.

She'll make a green smoothie. 

Making a mess will remind her do the dishes.  

When she collects breakfast dishes from the table, she'll find a pile of Legos on a chair.

Seeing the Legos will remind her that she saw some other Legos in the van.

She'll walk outside to get them.

When she's in the van, she'll find a pile of dirty socks, three gloves, a coat, two pairs of shoes, and a shirt.

She'll put away the shoes and clothes in a room downstairs.

When she's downstairs, she'll find a load of laundry from four days ago that still isn't folded.

She folds them and puts them away.

The laundry includes a stack of dish towels, so she'll walk back to the kitchen.

And chances are, when she's back in the kitchen, 

She'll forget why she's there and start over.
....

P.S. If you haven't read If You Give a Moose a Muffin, the book from which this post was derived, you should.

Washing the dishes

When Garry and I had been married about 18 months, we moved into an old, small apartment on BYU campus. Our new digs boasted cinder block walls, industrial grade carpet, and closets without doors.  A bonus: no dishwasher.

Our life circumstances were in no way unique, but as full-time students and part-time employees, we felt busy and stressed. When we weren't working or studying, we just wanted to relax. This mentality led to a sink full of dirty dishes.  Neither of us liked washing them and we gradually let them stack up. After a week (at least) we had a pretty big mess on our hands. That's when our home teachers wanted to visit. Every Mormon on the planet probably cleans the house (at least the visible living areas) a bit before a home teaching appointment, right?  In order to avoid some embarrassment, we stacked up all of those plates and bowls and cups and pots and pans...and hid them in the oven. That's right. The oven. That way no one else would know our dirty little secret.  It was quite satisfying at first, but pretty soon the facade of cleanliness gave way to guilt. So, finally, we started washing the dishes.  It took quite a while to wash and dry and put everything away, but after that we never got too far behind on the dishes.

Today I shared this story during Primary sharing time.  As I did, I pulled out lots of dirty, sticky dishes and displayed them on a table.  Some had fresh maple syrup dripping, some were covered with ketchup and mustard, and some had the remnants of sandwiches, pasta, and rice.  I had cups with crusty milk in the bottom or green smoothie on the sides.  I displayed a bowl and a casserole dish leftover from German pancakes, and a small frying pan from the omelet Garry made this morning. I also placed a big handful of dirty silverware among the dishes.  The kids gave lots of "gross!" and "ewww!" exclamations as I perfected my little display.

When I got to the oven part of the story, I stacked up all the dishes and put them in a plastic drawer I had brought along.  When I closed the full drawer, the kids were shocked!  Some even had their hands over their mouths.  They couldn't believe the crazy thing I had done, especially because I had really put dirty dishes in an oven before.

That's when I asked the group what dirty dishes had to do with our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Hands went up quickly (even in Junior Primary, where the oldest kids are seven).  The kids drew the parallel I was looking for: dirty dishes are like our sins, and the Atonement provides a way for us to be clean again.  We talked about our responsibilities in the repentance process (we have to do work to receive forgiveness) and also that repentance isn't possible without Jesus' help (without soap, our efforts are pointless).  We talked about the need to repent (wash our dishes) every single day. Sometimes we have larger and more painful sins (big, dirty dishes, like the mixing bowl and casserole dish) that we can't wash ourselves. Our bishop can help us overcome those struggles.

I shared another real-life story to make this point.  Quite recently, Zachary had dish duty at our house.  He steadfastly refused to complete the chore, even though we have a dishwasher!  With a family of seven, the dishes stack up very quickly, and after a few days, he faced a literal mountain of dirty dishes.  He was very overwhelmed.  Wouldn't you be?

One day while he was at school, wanting to help with the work but not take it away entirely, I washed all of the pots and pans. When he came home that night, the mountain was smaller and the task more possible.  While a bishop can't actually do the scrubbing, he makes the repentance process possible in more serious situations.

That's when I invited a few children to wash some dishes.  I dumped a few pitchers of water in the same drawer I had used as my "oven," squirted some soap in the tub, and offered a sponge.  While the three kids took turns washing a dish, I showed some pictures of Book of Mormon scenes that represented a person or groups of people who had significant repentance experiences.

My favorite story on the subject is that of the group of Lamanites who converted to the gospel and thereafter called themselves Anti-Nephi-Lehies, or the people of Ammon.  They had been ferocious warriors in the Lamanite army and had spent much of their lives slaughtering the Nephites.  When they heard the gospel of Jesus Christ, they were sorry for all they had done and underwent what must have been a very difficult repentance process.  As a token of their covenant not to fight anymore, they buried their weapons of war in the ground.  I love that story, partly because of the physical, symbolic act they took to remind them of their desire to be clean.

As each Primary child cleaned a dish today, he or she held it up for all to see.  The dish was shiny and bright.  The kids were thrilled.  I bore my testimony about the Atonement and the Savior's gift of repentance.  I also challenged the children to think about repentance every time they helped their parents wash the dishes.  That's a symbolic reminder they can see every day of their lives.

This post is huge.

Here we are, more than a week since I last blogged.  I don't know where the time goes.  I mean, I do know where it goes...to kids and cleaning and lots of time in the car and naps (yep, I take 'em) and my calling. Occasionally my time goes to friends or projects or exercise or playing the piano or other household tasks. But mostly my time goes to kids and eating and sleeping (not enough on that last one...people always say, "Man, you're yawning a lot!  Do you ever sleep?"  The answer is "Yes, but not well, and clearly not enough.")

So I'm catching up, mostly for family history's sake, on this here blog.  I know in a few years I'll be glad for the little snapshots of our daily lives.  Although if I progress at my current rate then my posts will never make it into a book for us to enjoy....

Last Friday Lexi had a ballet recital.  She was super nervous, and she doesn't like people--particularly unfamiliar people--to look at her.  However, we bribed her with a special ice cream treat if she got on the stage and danced to all the songs, and dance she did! I'll admit to shedding a tear or two.  I was so proud of her for overcoming her fears, and watching her do something she loves was a delight.  Her little solo performance toward the end screamed, "I'm a dancer!"  I loved that.  Professional photos and video will be delivered soon, but for now these pictures capture evening just fine.  The one with Lexi applying lip gloss before the recital is the sweetest thing!

Tyler's Pinewood Derby was also last weekend.  He conceived the shark shape, and Garry helped with shaping on the saw. Father and son worked together on details.  It was fun to watch them share a project.  Overall, Ty's car was middle-of-the-road in terms of speed, but it was a happy day.  Next year at this time we won't have a cub scout, but the year after that, Gavin will be a Wolf and we'll run through a few more derbies after that.

Lexi has learned to cross the monkey bars.  She just figured it out while we were playing at the park the other day.  It's been a real growing-up time for Lexi: riding a bike, dancing on stage, saying "r's" correctly, crossing the bars, and learning to read.  Yep, she did it: she read her first book this week.  I had no idea she was ready!  We'll keep working on her new-found skill. This video shows her first attempt at this particular book, which was only the second one she had ever tried.  After a few days, she has already improved, and her enthusiasm continues to grow. Much like potty training, I have not pushed this skill. Lexi was ready, and so it happened.

Gavin is really hard to motivate in the mornings.  He's the only kid we have who will sleep in, and he's just so s.l.o.w. to get ready for school.  No matter how much I help the process along, Tyler is always stressed out about being late because of Gavin's dawdling.  On this particular day I was extremely agitated by the time I dropped the boys at school.  I had remained calm, but I was boiling inside.  

I can never keep up with the laundry.  I don't know why I don't fold a load at a time.  Actually, I do: I'm always switching the loads between running here and there, and I just throw the dry stuff on the treadmill.  Oh, laundry...  I happened to fold that particular six-load stack (or was it eight?) in 35 minutes.  Bam.

I got a new haircut this week (with bangs, which look goofy in this photo) and colored it myself using professional product (I have sweet hook-ups).  It was initially darker than expected, but I really like it now.  Good-bye highlights!  I'm so happy with the change.

Kate has had some really rough days since the time change on Sunday.  Stubbornness and tantrums have reigned supreme.  Sunday was not a happy day, particularly at church.  She cried herself to sleep in my arms while I was sitting on the sidewalk behind the building.  I wanted to do the same thing. (Note: I think the video below is hilarious, but I think laughter has to be my coping mechanism for Kate's constant crying.  Don't watch it if you don't like screaming.  Haha.)

Garry and I had a very rare date on Saturday.  We went to a little ballet recital for one of my former Beehives.  Our admission was free (thanks, Sarah!), so we splurged on a babysitter and a Texas Roadhouse onion blossom (dairy free=healthy, right?) that evening.

Tyler's bones are healing perfectly, so he got a new short-arm cast.  Washing his arm between casts felt sooo good.  This time Tyler chose a green cast.  The cute nurse gave the girls "fake casts" that they loved.

The weather has been mostly lovely this week, so the kids and I have spent a lot of time at the park.  Sometimes we go alone and sometimes with friends.  Between some morning walks and our park trips, the fresh air and sunshine have done good things for my mood.

Garry taught an Excel class to about 100 people at work on Thursday.  He spent long hours preparing, but got great feedback from the higher-ups who attended his class.  This week he got a bonus and a raise, so we are happy that he is being recognized for his hard work and achievements. Go Garry!

You'll notice I don't have any pictures of Zach. He is reluctant to appear in photos, and honestly he's not home very much.  He goes to school at 7:00 to practice in the band room, and then stays after school until 4:30 for basketball practice. He has been playing on a YMCA basketball team, too.  That season ended on a sour note, but Zach's skills are improving, as is his love of the sport. The last two weeks have been really rough in the attitude/behavior department, so we are glad for the happy and calm days when they come.

Overall, things are going well here...busy and crazy and messy as always.  That's just family life, right?

Apology Letters

Dear couple sitting next to us in church,

I'm sorry.  Just really, really sorry.  I avoided all eye contact with you and sent many a frustrated eye-roll at the ceiling as I tried to manage the small people who alternately ALL wanted to sit by me/you and then down on the other end of the bench, raising Cain as they walked to and fro.  Good grief.  It was like a clown car on a seesaw.  I promise to leave you alone next week, even if it means sitting in the back on the hard chairs.

The mom of those kids

...

Dear Gavin,

Sorry, bud.  Your hair is not turning brown, even when you plaster water on it.  I'm not sure why you are so disappointed.

Used-to-be-a-towhead

...

Dear new-to-me chair,

Sorry for taking you apart.  Even as I am painstakingly (no really, it actually hurts) removing all of your staples and brackets, I feel like I'm stripping your dignity, one layer at a time.  Now you're standing naked in my living room and I want to cover you with a sheet.  And sorry also for being really weird about this.

Novice reupholsterererer

...

Dear Applebees,

Sorry I asked you to reserve seating for 16 when only 9 people actually came for dessert.  That was awkward.

Heidi, party of...?

...

Dear pants,

I'm sorry you are struggling to stay aloft when so much fat is trying to push you down.  It's easier to buy a belt than to exercise, so I'm going to the store tomorrow.  Good luck.

Muffin top

...

Dear Allison,

Sorry I quit physical therapy "against medical advice."  I know you want me to keep doing my core exercises, but my hip and back have felt better in the last two weeks than they have in the last year, and I think I have determined the connection.  Love you anyway.

Former Friday patient

...

Dear Beehives,

Sorry for sitting awkwardly in my seat every week.  My blasted feet don't reach the ground and I can't sit in those hard metal chairs very gracefully.  It's annoying, especially when people are looking at me.  Can't we just sit on the floor?

Sister B

...

Dear black pencil skirt,

Sorry for wearing you every.single.week to church.  I really need more skirts.  I guess if I really felt sorry for you I'd go shopping, but that would make me feel sorry for myself (see my letter to my pants), so I believe we are in what the cliche-ists refer to as a "Catch 22," whatever that means.  "Between a rock and a hard place" is just a dumb thing to say.  Maybe I should make up a euphemism for really stupid.  I'll work on that.

The lady with the super boring Sunday wardrobe

...

Dear Saturday,

Sorry for cramming so much into your scant hours.  Who knew that so many lame/menial/annoying tasks could be smooshed into one day? That must have been exhausting for you.  Oh wait, that was me.

Weekend Warrior

...

Dear Gavin and Lexi,

Sorry that I'm taking all of your stuff away tomorrow.  It's alllllll over your floor AGAIN, even though we cleaned it alllllll up yesterday.  I'm not a huge fan of you making messes just for the sake of making messes, so I figure if we eliminate the source of the messes, then the messes will go away.  That might mean you'll be out of underwear after two days, but what the heck.  There are pull-ups in the drawer.

The management

...

Dear Not Me,

Sorry for discovering your secret today.  Don't pretend you didn't fill that tall laundry basket with all manner of household belongings and hide it in the utility closet a couple of months ago.  You must have been so disappointed that your family recovered long-lost items like pajamas, a beloved dress-up gown, brand-new-back-then school shoes, and my favorite sandal.  I know you thrive on getting other people in trouble, and making other people miserable, etc., so I'm sorry for ruining your fun.  But seriously, don't ever do that again.

Secret Finder

...

Dear Zach,

Sorry for not believing you that you "lost" your white Sunday shirt.  How is that even possible?  Sorry for not being willing to iron another too-small plaid shirt when you opted to wear that to church after rejecting the other shirt I ironed for you.  We all survived, but you had better find your shirt for next week.  Talk to Not Me and I'm sure it will show up.

Mom

Coins for the washer

You might remember that I don't wash/dry/fold/hang/put away Zach's laundry anymore.  He lost that privilege several months ago.  Last week I was feeling benevolent and washed his clothes when I did the family laundry.  After placing Zach's clean, folded clothing on his bed, this is the thanks I got:

I picked it all up and will charge him 50 cents an item to get it back.  Anything left in my basket in a week will go to Goodwill.  If that doesn't teach Zach to care for his clothing, at least he'll have less of it.

It has to get worse before it gets better

This afternoon, when I wanted to put away a bottle of craft paint, I had to dig through a messy closet for the 47th time.  As I am prone to do, I snapped for no reason and immediately pulled out the closet's contents and started to organize it.

This particular project has been stewing in the back of my brain for a few months now.  But who has time to organize a closet?  Not this girl.  I mean, with all the kids home for the summer, I should quit taking five-hour naps and spend time with them and nurture their tender spirits.  Right?  Wrong.  Summer is the perfect time to ignore my kids and clean out the closets.

In the process of working on the coat closet, I worked on the linen closet around the corner.  (Because one project begets another, which is why I never want to start.)  Here I learned a valuable lesson: Having messy closets leads to unnecessary purchases because the items I think I need are actually buried in piles of random crap.

Case in point: I have accumulated a year's supply (or two) of deodorant, contact solution, and body wash.  Also Scotch scrubbing pads and Windex.  And travel-size shampoo, conditioner, mouthwash, and lotion.  And enough toothbrushes to keep our teeth squeaky clean straight through the millennium.  I have 12 (count 'em: 12) white pillowcases.  This is good news, because surely when the apocalypse arrives and we are eating through our whole wheat and red bean food storage, our angry stomachs can barf into pillowcases.  Or something.

I am only part-way through my organizing frenzy.  When I finish with the linen closet and the bathroom cabinets and my bedroom closet, my overstimulated brain ought to be settled for a while.  And with all that work behind me, I might actually deserve a nap.

Things that make you go "hmmm...."

Zachary: "Can I have scissors to cut Lexi's hair?  It's stuck in the trampoline zipper."

...

A two-month-old shoe held together with purple duct tape.  Replacing said shoes with a men's size ten.

...

One baby girl fauxhawk (courtesy of her older brothers).

...

Cleaning out the fridge for the first time in...a while.

...

A ten-year-old with power tools.

...

Gavin: But I wanted to cut the [brick of] cheese outside!  That's why there's grass on it!

...

A girl who desperately misses her nap (but would never admit).

...

Buying a trunk full of groceries-in-bulk in 20 minutes flat.

...

A daughter who doesn't like me to feed her but is content to lie on the floor and feed herself.

...

A rug outlined in black marker.

...

One exhausting (and exhausted) four-year-old falling asleep in the middle of the room.

...

Hmmm....

Story problem

Question:  If my ironing back-log has 18 clothing items, and I iron at the rate of 14 items per hour, how much of my Saturday afternoon can I spend talking to Melanie?

Answer:  Not nearly long enough!

Eight loads

This is a hazy picture of my clean laundry pile, but I think it's an accurate representation of my perspective. Brain fog, anyone?

Garry has some 2011 PTO that he has to use before March 15, so he is spending a few random days at home.  Monday was one of those days, and I took advantage by spending the day in the office, editing my blog books for publication.  Monday was also the fifth day since my last round of laundry, so I kept the washer and dryer busy all day, too.  I had a big deadline for the blog books (a 20% off coupon that expired Tuesday), so I didn't take the time to fold the laundry.  Instead, I piled it on the couch, hoping magic fairies would attend to it while I worked.  They didn't.

So yesterday, which was particularly high-strung and frenetic, I tackled the massive, towering heap during the girls' nap time.  Aside from the socks, I managed to get through the whole pile in 45 minutes.  After dinner the family pitched in (under duress) and put away every bit of it.

And so ends another post about laundry.

Pack today, clean tomorrow

I've become that frazzled lady who is late to everything, has perpetual wardrobe malfunctions, and can't remember the substance of a conversation from five minutes ago.  I haven't looked at my mail for at least a week, the dried milk under the table is starting its own germ colony, and I'm pretty sure I have spit-up in my hair.  Seriously, I am ridiculous.  The pace of life around here is so frenetic that I often find myself standing somewhere and suddenly realize I have an urgent need to use the bathroom (because I haven't for five hours) but the next opportunity won't come for at least 30 minutes.  

Add to this chaotic scene the preparations for a major road trip.  Yesterday I started the laundry, and today I started to pack.  I had put off the laundry two days more than the usual interval, making the chore exponentially larger.  I started folding it all onto the coffee table, but the piles multiplied onto the couch, the love seat, and the floor.  Seven suitcases were open all around me, and systematically I began to fill them, mentally ticking off all the categories of clothing each person would need: play, church, family picture, sleep, swim, car.  I spent all morning in this fashion.

Then I fed the baby, put on some leaving-the-house clothes, and took the girls to pick up Gavin.  Then we had a crazy trip to Target and a lovely lunch with some of the other mommies in the ward who had babies this year.  Those three events took three hours.  The packing project was quietly waiting on hold.

On the way home I picked up a voice mail from my exterminator, who stops by once a quarter to rid our property of nasty pests.  I didn't realize we had an appointment, so he had come to an empty house.  We arranged to meet back at home in a few minutes.  I was glad we could take care of the visit today.  I didn't even think about the state of my house.

As soon as he arrived, I remembered.

Breakfast entrails were still on the dining room table: spilled cereal and milk, bowls and spoons, boxes and bags.  Chairs were in the middle of the room instead of around the table.  The kitchen was worse: bags of food from yesterday's grocery run on the counter, dirty dishes in the sink, a broom on the floor, ironing board in the middle of the room with a heap of wrinkled clothes on the end, books strewn everywhere, a burp cloth on every horizontal surface.  Oh yeah, and that week of mail in a giant pile.

Downstairs was the hurricane of clothing and suitcases and laundry baskets and hangers.  Legos were all over the carpet by one bedroom, and little rubber bugs were strewn down the hall.  Zach's bedroom had socks and underwear on the floor, three blankets and a giant stuffed bear in a heap on his bed, and tiny bits of paper from his Origami creations all over the place.  His room offers access to the crawl space, so of course Mr. Exterminator went in there.  The entrance to the crawl space was obscured by boxes we had shoved in there but were too lazy to put away properly.

I was thoroughly horrified at the display, but what could I do?  I wrote Mike a check and left it on the sticky table because Kate needed to nurse.  When he came back upstairs I was facing him, completely covered up, but it was still a little awkward.  Then he walked through the kitchen and around me to go into the back yard.  As he walked out the door, he said, "Should I throw these dirty diapers away?"  I groaned and said that of course that would be fine.

It wasn't until later that I realized my shirt was hiked up in the back, exposing my substantial muffin top to  my poor exterminator.  I'm laughing now, but I was pretty embarrassed then.  Mike's the nicest guy ever, and when he came in February and saw my PICC line and pole he was horrified.  I realize that he has seen me in some pretty crazy situations this year.  But I digress.

I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, except that I have a babysitter coming to my house in the morning and I am waaaaaay too tired to clean up.  Every Thursday, when I'm embarrassed about my messy house, I swear that the next Wednesday night I will make sure the house is spotless for my Thursday morning babysitter.  But it never is.  Maybe if I cleaned as much as I blogged....

But I will clean tomorrow, because I know I can't come home from a 10-day trip to a messy house.

Or maybe I can.

clothing & textiles

One of the words I'd use to sum up my week is

LAUNDRY.

Lots and lots of laundry.

In addition to the hum-drum, run-of-the-mill

washing and drying

(and there was oh-so-much of THAT),

I did lots of extra laundry

because of a semi-annual special project known as

The Great Fall Clothing Switch.

Actually, the process doesn't have a name,

but I went through boxes and boxes

(and boxes and boxes)

of clothes in the garage,

pulling some out and putting some in,

finding treasures

like a coat and shoes for Lexi

and putting away too-small things for three kids

and finding an entire fall/winter wardrobe for Gavin

and folding up maternity clothes

and searching for something for myself to wear

and trying to guess if Miss Kate

has seasonally appropriate clothing in the right size

etc.

etc.

etc.

So everything that had been in storage had to be washed.

And dried.

And folded.

And put away.

And some of it had to be ironed.

Then everything that had been piling up

on dressers and shelves and

in random corners of the house

found a home in a white cardboard box.

(Or a bag for Goodwill.)

Also under the laundry umbrella this week

was a remarkable achievement:

sewing badges to Zachary's scout shirt

that have been sitting on my desk since May.

(Note: the sewing machine is now

waiting in the dining room,

patiently but persistently reminding me

about the big pile of clothes that need mending.)

In the process of all of this

I happened to notice the shoes in my closet,

most of which I haven't worn in a year

(I basically went from winter slippers to summer flip-flops),

and loved what I saw so much that I took a picture.

I love that my favorite red shoes

(happily worn at Women's Conference)

are peeking out in a sea

of drab and boring and practical shoes.

Anyway.

On Saturday there was more laundry.

Camping laundry, specifically.

And I snuck Betsy in with the light load

because Lexi wasn't home

and somehow we forgot to send Betsy camping

so this was my chance!

Ah...she smells (and looks) a little better.

The crowning achievement

in the clothing and textiles category of my life

is always this:

(Catching up the ironing!)

This rack doesn't include the boys' church clothes,

which are neatly hanging in their closets.

I'm breathing a huge sigh of relief tonight.

But I'm really, really tired.

The next laundry items I'd like to touch

are pajamas and my down comforter.

But since the current time is 5:37 p.m.,

that wish probably won't come true.