I Give Up... The Laundry's Taking Over

Sunday, April 20, 2008 by Bethany

I'm confessing something huge here, so bear with me while I hide myself in shame and mumble a big, lumpy secret: I hate laundry. That isn't the secret though. It's the fact that in my walk in closet there is a mound of dirty laundry that is over-flowing the hampers and is now sitting squarely in the middle, just outside the swing of the door. Just enough room to get in and out, but not knock over the pile.

What? You haven't clicked away from this blog yet? What's wrong with you? Seriously. I live in filth and I spent my weekend twittering away at Target (to buy clean underwear and shirts of course!) and playing with my kids. Something I wasn't able to do last weekend since work took over. But don't pity me, really. The house? A pig stye. And here I am blogging instead of doing something about it. Friday, I finagled an entire hour to go grocery shopping. Stocking the pantry and refrigerator was enough responsibility as I could muster, beyond feeding, bathing, and nursing children (and husband. Well, except the nursing part. Bathing is also debatable).

I'm not asking for pity. Nope. It's the way I really live. And quite honestly, even with the stress level beyond normal around here (hell, my mom and I are in a bit of a tiff. And that hasn't happened since I moved out over 12 years ago), it isn't abnormal for a mountain of laundry to be hiding in the closet. Come visit, snoop. You'll find out the real truth. Or, of course, read my blog. It's not something I can keep hidden any longer. Especially when my son is begging me to do a load of laundry so he has pants to wear tomorrow.

Really, the washing and drying part is easy--it's just tossing it into machines right? It's the damn folding and putting away that gets my girt. I am sick of matching socks, tossing underwear in drawers, and (gasp!) hanging items that inevitably get tossed on the floor the next event I need to find something decent to wear for (which this moment, happens to be work tomorrow). And so, tonight, I'm tossing too-tight jeans aside, button-less shirts onto the floor, and trying to find ONE DAMN thing that is clean and fits appropriately so that I can at least look professional at work tomorrow.

I can't say I'll look anything like "put together" but at least I won't be naked. OR smelling something awful. Because, my husband, bless his heart, just started a load of laundry. Laundry, that for once, I won't be folding.

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8:51 PM | | 4 comments

When the Snot Clears

Thursday, March 13, 2008 by Bethany

The Peanut is feeling better (thanks for asking). Though I'm afraid to tell the world she is actually sleeping right now-ALONE--and for over her 40 minute sick allotment. One could even go so far as to say that her congestion has been alleviated enough to breath clearly through her nasal passages, making sleep a viable option. Which, all in all, makes a mother happy. At least one that isn't blowing her brains out of her own nose. I just can't win around here, I nurse (literally) a child back to health and then land nose first into the virus myself.

But, this cold isn't keeping me from using these precious free moments for good. I've written another chapter in my book. Corresponded via e-mail with a few close friends, and am writing this blog post. All kid free! Who would have guessed that those few accomplishments would bring a grown woman to her knees in tears. Alas--the truth is out. My first few moments of sanity today! Because if you didn't know, screaming kid and work don't mix well. Especially when said kid only wails louder when you put her down anywhere that isn't cuddled in your arms. Or facing the cat.

Anyway, back to the writing progress. Or work madness. Either way, I've had an hour of "free" time already and I feel like I've thrown a whole days worth of work (either day job or those of my hobbies) into it. And I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself right now. Well between the sniffles. Now, if only I could keep up this intensity for the next 48 hours, I'd be golden. And have my to-do list back down to a manageable level. And of course an entire closet worth of laundry to get done. But who's really counting the housework.

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8:21 PM | | 0 comments

My Little Space

Wednesday, January 23, 2008 by Bethany

In every home my husband and I have had together--he got the office. He had more stuff, more computers, more need for an office. This house is no different. But what is different, is that at least I now have a desk in our bedroom, that I can truly say feels like my space. My Little Space.

My "office" in the old house lived in the loft. The area right atop the stairs in the midst of the family room, children's toys, and two bedrooms. This one, even though it is in our bedroom, it has a door. One I can close when the sitter is here and I need to get some work done. A door I can kindly shut when I need to get writing done. A door I can shut to keep out the "other" noises of the house. Not to mention it's damn cute.

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7:10 PM | | 1 comments

We're in a Perpetual State of Dust and Hairballs

Tuesday, November 27, 2007 by Bethany

And it's only going to get worse next week when I return to work.

So let's just say, for today, that the family will be supportive and cooperative when I start back to the full time work, full time mom, and part time fiction writer thing (we're pretending now)--by the end of next week I'd have a few chapters done on my latest book. And in this same fantasy land I'd have a query together for a few agents high on my list, an almost completed book, and a few blog posts to spare for days when I'm not enlightened enough to write anything worth ready (like today) or am too busy attending to the day job to think in a straight coherent thought.

Too bad it isn't going to happen. The family, sure in theory is quite supportive. In fact, the husband will take the children on occasion for an few hours so I can get some writing done. Or maybe he will occupy my son so that I can write, but then the wee-one will want to nurse. And then of course there is the whole we-have-to-eat thing. Because I do most of the cooking in this household, that food duty lands on my lap--unless of course it is one of those "special" afternoons when I am kid free. Oh, and laundry. And then someone decides to drop by. Or holiday shopping madness.

Sure, you say, take a kid-free vacation, you deserve it! And I do. Really. I know. But with a barely 3-month-old nursling and the holidays fast approaching--well 2 hours isn't going to get me nothing. It does allow for a bit of catch up. But lately, that would mean sleep, not so much writing (even though, I am trying. In fact, I gave up 4 hours of sleep just last night for it! And today, it shows. Hope I don't see any acquaintances at Target). Of course it is partially the time of year--holidays, birthdays (my son's on Thursday), winter, the damn darkness that greats me in the mornings and before 5pm at night--and come January I'll be raring to go again. Right? Well of course, who isn't? I mean it's a new year.

Just let me get to the vacuuming. Oh and laundry before the new year. Otherwise my home might become nothing short of a pig stye. Or a dust cave. Or maybe a litter box.

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12:34 PM | | 0 comments

It is much to my relief

Monday, July 16, 2007 by Bethany

... to announce our house has sold. Officially. As in, the check is in the mail, paperwork, closing, negotiation, and transfer of all the bills and keys and garage door openers.

Part of me wants to cry in relief. The other is pure joy. And then of course sadness. I did love the house. Just wasn't for us anymore. As it is with a lot of life. You turn a corner and realize that maybe what you've been chasing for so long isn't exactly what is best for you. But all of that would be so melodramatic. And right now, the dramatics can all be left at the wayside.

I'm ready to party! If only I could. This baby is growing by the millisecond (seriously, my uterus just stretched another inch. I swear. Ask my waistband.). The two-home thing couldn't have ended at a better time (well unless it was last August when we actually listed the thing). And now I can spend the rest of my pre-two child days scampering around the new house getting the crib put together. Folding girl clothes. And sleeping. Glorious sleeping until I push this little watermelon into the world and I am again thrown into the sleep deprivation of newborn.

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11:36 AM | | 0 comments

Scraping Knuckles (literally)

Tuesday, May 08, 2007 by Bethany

My hand looks like I stuck it in the garbage disposal, turned it on, shook off the bloody mess, rinsed, and repeated. What, you ask, has caused it such messiness? It's called room re-arrangement and spring cleaning OUTSIDE.

It all started last week (or weekend to be exact). It's spring and that means the weeds have sprung. That also means if you are unfortunate souls like ourselves that currently own two homes (pray to the house selling Gods for me would ya? I need to sell the old house before the baby comes!), you must also upkeep two yards. And I thought this was bad in the wintery months when I was shovelling twice daily! Yard number 1 (officially now called The Old House)... is a glutton for weeds. Some of it is our landscaping of prairie grasses and fields of wildflowers and other prairie goodness that surround it, but others are just plain nature. What can I do if dandelions decided to take over the Earth?

So last weekend was Spring Makeover 2007 at The Old House in all its glory. I weeded. I turned beds. I mulched. I even pruned every bush that bordered the house. And all to my amazement with little nicks on the ole 'hands. That is, until I tackled the south side of the house. (Eyes are rolling here folks). Have you seen these picker weed things? The ones with wide long leaves covered in spines? Yes. Those ones. My hands were cut to no end from those just last weekend. All because I found a whole crop of them and was too pissed off to walk around to the garage for a decent pair of gardening gloves (that I have never before worn in my life).

That was only part one of the traumatic hand incident.

The plan was, really, to do all that spring landscape business LAST weekend, so that this current one (that just past) could be spent relaxing.

Ha!

Well in theory anyway. We tried. Really. But then a family all-or-nothing garage sale happened. And then the good ole' It's Sunday and I really feel like I am being a pregnant sloth, let's re-arrange the kiddo's room set in. And boy did it ever. We moved the bed against the wall in hope (of all hope) the kid will feel "safer" from falling off the bed (though he has never done it) and sleep in his room ALL night long. And then we moved the table to the far wall. And the night stand to near the bed. And--how could a mom forget--that prompted the entire toy re-arrangement. Which in and of itself could cause one a whole day or weariness.

I know you are asking. How did the right hand get chewed up and spit out yet again? Well, that would be the fault of our prickly walls. You know, that damn cheap spray paint crap that gives the walls some spines? Yeah. Try pushing a twin bed against the wall, changing the sheets, and rubbing one's knuckles along that shit. Not once. But say three times (and they say I never learn)! Yeah. Knuckle scraping 102.

So, yes. I wasn't meant to be a gardener. Or a home decorator. And let's even bring it a step further--not meant to keep a house in any fashion. Either that or the pregnancy is taking over every bit of common sense (and resting sense) that I have left. That "nesting" feeling I never got the first time around? Maybe it's taken over this entire pregnancy. Or I am just a klutz. You decide while I tend to mending my broken hand.

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8:14 AM | | 0 comments

All I Want for Christmas is a Gift Wrap Box

Wednesday, December 20, 2006 by Bethany

I'm a gift-wrapper-lover. The crinkle of the paper, the cutting, the shaping, the re-arranging are just intricacies--it is the different colored papers that have me numb in the fingertips. The sparkles (or not), the artsy drawings, cartoonish characters, the eighteen hundred Santa Claus themes, and the gazillion different types of Christmas trees, lights and snowmen have me all but drooling weeks before the Christmas season even begins. And that doesn't even include all the bows, ribbon, and nifty cardboard cut-outs that can adorn your lovely gifts.

Truth be told, you can have me at the gift wrap--no matter what the present is inside.

But the real truth is that I never had the time to do the gift-wrap hoopla appropriately. I am either running late in purchasing the gift (as in running to the store just before I show up on your doorstep) or late in getting the perfect gift wrapping assortments. Thus, my gift wrap obsession is only one-sided. I only think I can wrap correctly if given the chance--it has only been testing a small handful of times.

This year I swore it would be different. Shopping was done early. Gift wrapping items purchased even earlier (last year's 75% off sale the day after Christmas). I was pre-empting craziness. And trumping my general habit of being almost late to almost everything. When of course, we decided to move our asses to another home.

The gift wrap didn't even arrive in the new homestead until last night. I'd dragged my sorry but to the old home to check on everything and conveniently realized the boxes of wrapping paper were still on the rolls and shrink-wrapped for the last year just waiting for me to dive in and wrap appropriately this year.

But then, even more to my dismay, I am shipping most of my gifts this year. We are staying home for the holidays. Which, for the most part, is so much less stress the wrapping, packing, and driving, that I am almost in tears. But, that also means if I were to wrap-right, well, the bows and paper will be smooshed and crinkled in shipping boxes... and well, not the way it should be. And why would I bother? It is a whole five days away, and I am just shipping them tomorrow (see? the almost late factor again).

So that leave the kiddo's gifts (from mom and dad of course). And well, he just cares that they are wrapped and under the tree. And even then, if I handed them to him in a cardboard box he'd be happy enough. He only cares about what is IN the box after all.

I'm dismal. Crass. And even a bit bitchy. It has been a helluva work week (it always is pre-holiday). And here I drown amidst color bits of paper, ribbons, glitter, and all things called gift-wrap and want nothing more than a girly cry. The sobbing ugly-face cry that makes no one feel comfortable, especially someone that has to witness it. And I want to do it for no reason at all except, that yet again, I can't wrap presents worth a damn and I just can't admit it. And maybe (just maybe) I am a wee bit stressed out about all other things besides this holiday (but am afraid to admit that as well).

So.

I sit.

I whimper.

Sigh.

And then hoist myself to the wrapping hopper and pull out a roll of the some shiny red paper and roll it out in front of me. There is one gift I have yet to wrap. The one present I allowed myself to buy. The lone present for the hubby. The one we agreed not to purchase for the sake of our financial health (two house payments) and because well the actual new house is enough isn't it? But I did anyway. It's small. It's useless. And it really is the thought that counts. But, I'll be damned. I'm gonna wrap this baby right. Right? And at least then, I can feel I did the gift justice. If only in the thoughtful wrapping.

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11:38 PM | | 0 comments