1. (4 days before) Get notice of water shut off. Be grateful the complex at least told you this time instead of the 27 other times they've turned off the water with out notifying you.
2. (night before) Fill every pitcher in the house with water. Plan out something to do away from the apartment for the day.
3. (Day of). Fill up all the tubs in the house so you can at least flush the toilet while the water is off. Go for a run to relax a little.
4. Come back from run. Shower crazy fast before the water is off.
5. Realize the tub plugs leak, and now there's no water to flush toilets with.
6. Leave the house so you can use other bathrooms. Go to hospital to get your blood drawn (with your kids, no less). Get to take the stairs because elevators are broken.
7. Try to stay busy. Go to the library as a family. Get slightly frustrated when you're back in the car and it's only 11:15. Feel rather depressed that you can't just go play all day long due to lack of funds. Wish really hard (very important step) that you had enough money to go out to eat or something fun. Go home.
8. Make sandwiches for lunch (since it doesn't require any water). Be a little frustrated that all you have is PB&J.
9. Put kids down for naps. Try to check email and stuff. Have your daughter decide she would rather watch a movie. Grumble that your dvd player died last week, so all movies must be watched on the computer. Go crochet instead.
10. Have your hubby go get the mail.
11. Stare in shock at the refund check that came for the dvd player that broke almost a year ago and has now FINALLY come.
12.Feel your soul rejoice that you can actually go do something fun. Gather the family up in the car, deposit the check, and go find a electronics store.
13. Find a decent dvd/vcr combo that's still cheaper than the old one. Get very excited that you can actually watch your vhs again.
14. Realize that there's enough money to still go out to eat for dinner.
15. Go find somewhere nice, that you can actually sit down and eat. Marvel that your kids are actually old enough to enjoy dinner with. Completely relax in an enjoyable atmosphere.
16. Check the time. Decide to go to the park to help this joyful family togetherness linger longer.
17. Head home. Water should be on at this point. Count your blessings that you have one of the greatest families ever.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I am better than I think I am.
I have to admit, I do not have the highest self esteem in the world. When I've admitted that to people, they are very surprised because I come across as very outgoing. Apparently I hide my insecurities quite well.
But I don't think I'm that cool. I fail in so many areas of my life. Actually, I have a hard time believing people actually like me, that they just put up with me instead.
Last night I had a bit of a morale boost. A pseudo good friend (as in I want to be great friends with her, but I don't really know her, and she lives a couple thousand miles away) gave me a great complement. In an email about something I made, she said "So creative, Laree". I felt so flattered. This amazing woman (who is even sorta famous, at least among LDS bibliophiles) actually thought that something I did was creative!
Now, I have to admit, I've NEVER thought of myself as creative. I've been known to say I don't have a creative bone in my body, but I can copy other's works. However, I'm coming to realize that I'm much more creative than I give myself credit for. I frequently take recipes and change a lot in it - thus making it my own recipe, although I have never thought of it this way. I had always thought of it as "their" recipe, but when you change every aspect of the dish in some, even minor, way, it's no longer their recipe but yours.
And that's not all I do. Here's a list of things that I have done in the last 24 hours (some more creative than others, but all contribute to me)
I have:
Blogged
Scrapbooked
Crocheted
Read
Played games with my kids
Played the piano
Cleaned
Exercised
Bargain shopped
Connected with old friends
Made a new friend
Fell in love with my hubby (again!)
I focus way too much on the mountain of unfolded laundry, the crumbs under the table, the shear amount of things left to do.
But I am creative. I do creative things in my own way. There is not such thing as a cheater method - just different ways to achieve the look you want.
Currently I am scraping 1 page a day. I get frustrated because I have 5 years of stuff do to for my kids to be caught up. But at 1 page a day, that's 6 full books a year, which would have me caught up on my kids by December.
My piano skills leave much to be desired, but I have improved exponentially in the last 12 months, just by playing a hymn a day.
I have much left on my afghan projects, but I am almost done with 2 full blankets. At this rate, I just may make that July goal.
Almost no one reads my blog, but is that why I blog? No. I do get a thrill when an unknown semi-famous (hi Andrea!) person comments on my craziness. But really, I blog for me. I want to think I'm cool for myself. I want to be pleased with my talents. I want to focus on my greatness.
I am me.
And I am creative.
But I don't think I'm that cool. I fail in so many areas of my life. Actually, I have a hard time believing people actually like me, that they just put up with me instead.
Last night I had a bit of a morale boost. A pseudo good friend (as in I want to be great friends with her, but I don't really know her, and she lives a couple thousand miles away) gave me a great complement. In an email about something I made, she said "So creative, Laree". I felt so flattered. This amazing woman (who is even sorta famous, at least among LDS bibliophiles) actually thought that something I did was creative!
Now, I have to admit, I've NEVER thought of myself as creative. I've been known to say I don't have a creative bone in my body, but I can copy other's works. However, I'm coming to realize that I'm much more creative than I give myself credit for. I frequently take recipes and change a lot in it - thus making it my own recipe, although I have never thought of it this way. I had always thought of it as "their" recipe, but when you change every aspect of the dish in some, even minor, way, it's no longer their recipe but yours.
And that's not all I do. Here's a list of things that I have done in the last 24 hours (some more creative than others, but all contribute to me)
I have:
Blogged
Scrapbooked
Crocheted
Read
Played games with my kids
Played the piano
Cleaned
Exercised
Bargain shopped
Connected with old friends
Made a new friend
Fell in love with my hubby (again!)
I focus way too much on the mountain of unfolded laundry, the crumbs under the table, the shear amount of things left to do.
But I am creative. I do creative things in my own way. There is not such thing as a cheater method - just different ways to achieve the look you want.
Currently I am scraping 1 page a day. I get frustrated because I have 5 years of stuff do to for my kids to be caught up. But at 1 page a day, that's 6 full books a year, which would have me caught up on my kids by December.
My piano skills leave much to be desired, but I have improved exponentially in the last 12 months, just by playing a hymn a day.
I have much left on my afghan projects, but I am almost done with 2 full blankets. At this rate, I just may make that July goal.
Almost no one reads my blog, but is that why I blog? No. I do get a thrill when an unknown semi-famous (hi Andrea!) person comments on my craziness. But really, I blog for me. I want to think I'm cool for myself. I want to be pleased with my talents. I want to focus on my greatness.
I am me.
And I am creative.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We have entered THE. WORST. STAGE. OF. TODDLERHOOD. E.V.E.R.!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Toilet training.
Yes. That retched obstacle is still in front of our household. We have not overcome this hurdle. It just might kill us as we attempt it. It for has already claimed the sanity of this mother, and may leave even more damage in its wake.
I would rather take colicky triplets than train another child to use the toilet. I believe I'd rather face a mob, brave a famine, and I'd for sure prefer a 16 hour plane ride with those colicky triplets than go through another day of this . . . mess.
No one ever tells you just how miserable it is to get your child to do the duty. You can explain all you want. You can bribe. You can encourage. You can threaten. But you can not make them do it.
I think that's the hardest part of all.
You're so sure that he understands. He can talk you through every step. But will he do it? NO!
We've been training Buddy now for 2 months. This is not the first attempt at training. Oh no. This is the 4th. A full year ago, when he was only 18 months old, he was ready to train. He showed every single sign of wanting to do the deed. We even tried a teeny bit. The biggest problem? We were also moving. It's just too much to try to train and move at the same time. That's two too many changes in their little world. So I put it off. Then tried again, then put it off, then tried again, then put it off . . . .
After a wonderful trip to see my parents (for a whole month), I decided we were doing this. NOW. It was way past the point. He was ready, I was ready, and we were NOT moving anywhere yet.
It's been a long road. After 3 weeks, I'd say we had about 40% success with the #1 business. Not bad. Maybe this will be ok.
That's not the problem. The problem my friends is #2.
Oh the bane of my existence. #2. That yucky smelly substance that never goes away. And is everywhere. Yes, EVERYWHERE.
Because, you see, my brilliant son, Buddy, is too independent. He can tell you exactly what he is supposed to do if he needs to do his business. But when he fails, he takes care of it himself. He removes is own diaper (or unders, whichever the case may be), sits down on his bed, rolls around the carpet, plays on/through his toys, and makes sure that every single surface is coated before letting me know that there is a problem.
I'm not exaggerating. This just occurred 1 hour ago, just after I put him down for a nap. I had no idea something was wrong until I heard him playing. I went in to check on him. . . . Have you ever seen Daddy Daycare? Do you remember the scene when the little boy has to go to the bathroom, comes out and says "I missed"? Do you remember the look of horror on Eddie Murphy's face as he views the destruction? Now imagine that scene in a beige carpet covered bedroom.
My next house will have solid surface for every room. Brilliant green (thanks neon cupcakes!) gunk is very not fun to scrub out of beige carpet.
Very. Not. Fun.
So I'll take someone's colicky triplets if they'll train my son. Just don't expect me to train those triplets (ack! just kill me now!)
____________________________
Now, seriously, I can't be the only one who has gone through this. He almost never has accidents with #1 anymore, but this #2 business . . . . So this is my cry for help. I know I have a couple of readers (aka, sisters since no one else reads this) who have successfully trained sons. Even more than one son. Any ideas? Do I just suffer through this, hoping that since he's actually done the deed twice in the bathroom in the last 4 days we might be seeing some successes in the horizon? Or do I just let my self go insane, lock myself in a padded room for the next 4 months and let someone else teach him what to do? HELP!
Toilet training.
Yes. That retched obstacle is still in front of our household. We have not overcome this hurdle. It just might kill us as we attempt it. It for has already claimed the sanity of this mother, and may leave even more damage in its wake.
I would rather take colicky triplets than train another child to use the toilet. I believe I'd rather face a mob, brave a famine, and I'd for sure prefer a 16 hour plane ride with those colicky triplets than go through another day of this . . . mess.
No one ever tells you just how miserable it is to get your child to do the duty. You can explain all you want. You can bribe. You can encourage. You can threaten. But you can not make them do it.
I think that's the hardest part of all.
You're so sure that he understands. He can talk you through every step. But will he do it? NO!
We've been training Buddy now for 2 months. This is not the first attempt at training. Oh no. This is the 4th. A full year ago, when he was only 18 months old, he was ready to train. He showed every single sign of wanting to do the deed. We even tried a teeny bit. The biggest problem? We were also moving. It's just too much to try to train and move at the same time. That's two too many changes in their little world. So I put it off. Then tried again, then put it off, then tried again, then put it off . . . .
After a wonderful trip to see my parents (for a whole month
It's been a long road. After 3 weeks, I'd say we had about 40% success with the #1 business. Not bad. Maybe this will be ok.
That's not the problem. The problem my friends is #2.
Oh the bane of my existence. #2. That yucky smelly substance that never goes away. And is everywhere. Yes, EVERYWHERE.
Because, you see, my brilliant son, Buddy, is too independent. He can tell you exactly what he is supposed to do if he needs to do his business. But when he fails, he takes care of it himself. He removes is own diaper (or unders, whichever the case may be), sits down on his bed, rolls around the carpet, plays on/through his toys, and makes sure that every single surface is coated before letting me know that there is a problem.
I'm not exaggerating. This just occurred 1 hour ago, just after I put him down for a nap. I had no idea something was wrong until I heard him playing. I went in to check on him. . . . Have you ever seen Daddy Daycare? Do you remember the scene when the little boy has to go to the bathroom, comes out and says "I missed"? Do you remember the look of horror on Eddie Murphy's face as he views the destruction? Now imagine that scene in a beige carpet covered bedroom.
My next house will have solid surface for every room. Brilliant green (thanks neon cupcakes!) gunk is very not fun to scrub out of beige carpet.
Very. Not. Fun.
So I'll take someone's colicky triplets if they'll train my son. Just don't expect me to train those triplets (ack! just kill me now!)
____________________________
Now, seriously, I can't be the only one who has gone through this. He almost never has accidents with #1 anymore, but this #2 business . . . . So this is my cry for help. I know I have a couple of readers (aka, sisters since no one else reads this) who have successfully trained sons. Even more than one son. Any ideas? Do I just suffer through this, hoping that since he's actually done the deed twice in the bathroom in the last 4 days we might be seeing some successes in the horizon? Or do I just let my self go insane, lock myself in a padded room for the next 4 months and let someone else teach him what to do? HELP!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
slow down . . .
Our computer set up is a bit strange. For some odd reason, there is only one phone jack in the whole place - and it's in the kitchen. Since our massive computer desk would not work well in a galley style kitchen, obviously it doesn't work well for internet. So we invested in a wireless router.
But our router has an issue. For some reason it does not play nicely with the phone. If you are on the phone, no internet. Every time. This gets a bit annoying when you're in the middle of something and someone calls. But it's doable.
This morning I was checking out Momformation. Like usual, I had about 8 tabs open with different posts. My usual method is to open all the ones I want, then read and comment to my heart's content. In the middle of this, my hubby had a phone call. No biggie, I just typed up the comments, but didn't post them until he was done.
After his call, I had 3 comments ready to post. I re-connected to the internet, and started clicking. The second one came up with an error message. It said "You are posting too many comments too fast. Slow down."
Slow down. Really? It was kind of funny, but more than that, it really felt like a message to me. I try to do WAY too many things at the same time. And I don't do well with waiting. Patience is not my favorite virtue. I want things done my way, RIGHT NOW! But slowing down is a great idea. How often do I rush my kids through things, just to be done, when the process is their favorite part. Am I teaching my kids that results are all that matters? Or do I take the opportunity to help them find joy in the journey? How often to I take the time to "Be Still."
Wow. Who knew the tenor of my day would be set my an error message? But it is. Today is my day to. Just. Slow. Down.`
But our router has an issue. For some reason it does not play nicely with the phone. If you are on the phone, no internet. Every time. This gets a bit annoying when you're in the middle of something and someone calls. But it's doable.
This morning I was checking out Momformation. Like usual, I had about 8 tabs open with different posts. My usual method is to open all the ones I want, then read and comment to my heart's content. In the middle of this, my hubby had a phone call. No biggie, I just typed up the comments, but didn't post them until he was done.
After his call, I had 3 comments ready to post. I re-connected to the internet, and started clicking. The second one came up with an error message. It said "You are posting too many comments too fast. Slow down."
Slow down. Really? It was kind of funny, but more than that, it really felt like a message to me. I try to do WAY too many things at the same time. And I don't do well with waiting. Patience is not my favorite virtue. I want things done my way, RIGHT NOW! But slowing down is a great idea. How often do I rush my kids through things, just to be done, when the process is their favorite part. Am I teaching my kids that results are all that matters? Or do I take the opportunity to help them find joy in the journey? How often to I take the time to "Be Still."
Wow. Who knew the tenor of my day would be set my an error message? But it is. Today is my day to. Just. Slow. Down.`