I used to pride myself on my cleaning expertise. I come from a long line of "psycho" cleaners. As you know, I have no emotional attachment to anything, and freely throw away anything and anyone that doesn't meet my standards.
With five kids I run my house like a military boot camp. Beds are neatly made, clothes are put away, toys are not allowed to stay out, floors are swept and washed, bathrooms are clean, yadda, yadda, yadda. However, as I sat here this morning admiring my "everything has a place, everything in it's place" home, I about choked on my oatmeal.
Glorious sun, oh glorious sun, where have you been?? Hiding! and go back there please until I clean what I have apparently been missing for the last two weeks!!! Are you kidding me?! I know I wiped the walls and doors. I know I cleaned that mirror. I know I cleaned the TV screen. I know I dusted!!!! Imagine my horror when I started to look around and see EVERYTHING that I missed. Shocked and appalled is how I feel right now.
I try to be the Eco-friendly cleaner too. But I'm sorry, bleach is my best friend. Just because you need a gas mask when you walk in my door, doesn't mean you're going to drop over dead. I mean lets be honest. If sterilizing my house means I'm also sterilizing it's inhabitants, I won't be too upset. Frankly, there are some of my kids that just should not reproduce. Yes, mother of the year, I know. But, chaos breeds germs, germs breed sick children, sick children cost time and money at the doctor.
So off I go to with my Hazmat suit for more cleaning. Mind you, I realize it only stays clean while the kids are at school. It ALL completely falls apart the minute they come in the house. Vicious cycle and a total waste of time. But in my crazy psycho cleaning world, it's worth the five minutes it looks good.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wonders NEVER Cease
Do you ever have one of those days where you think, "really?! did that idiot just say that to me??" I don't care who you are or what you call it, when someone says something utterly preposterous or asks a completely ridiculous question, you should have every right to rudely respond or slap that person.
Yes I'm on my soap box again. And I can honestly say, people never cease to amaze me with their completely unwarranted comments. Take my girlfriend for example. She just had a baby a week ago. Poor thing. I tried to warn her of all the grief she was about to encounter when traveling in public. But having to deal with her mother in law, should be grounds for more than just a slap or two. Her mother in law, after learning the baby's name, had the gall to say, "what other names did you have picked out?" who says that??? Even being an outsider, I interpreted that to mean, "let's pick something else."
My ex husband was and still is famous for treating me like I'm a completely worthless idiot. Like I should bumble around all day with a helmet on in case I can't function in day to day activities. Just when I think I've heard every dumb, ridiculous question or comment come out of his mouth, he never fails me by asking or saying another. Part of me still gets irritated, other parts of me want to beat him senseless, and the rational side of me reminds me of why I unloaded him in the first place. Then I have a good yelling at him (from afar), and laugh at how remarkably dumb he really is. And how, after all these years, he STILL has absolutely no idea who I am or how intelligent I am.
The grocery store is another place for wandering idiots. I have five kids. They eat A LOT. I'm a size 00. Clearly I cannot eat all the food that is overflowing out of my cart. I firmly believe that if one more person rudely admires my load, they may actually have to take me out of the store in handcuffs or a straight jacket. "Wow, I'm glad I'm not paying your check!"; "Boy, you have A LOT in there!"; "Thank you so much for shopping here!"; "Hope you have a truck to get all that home!"; "You're going to need another cart."; "There's no way that will all fit back in there."; "How many ARE you feeding??"; "Are you going to eat all that? ha ha ha". The old people with their pint of milk, a loaf of bread, and some lunch meat are the worst. They just give me disgusted looks.
I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it this far in life if I was a bumbling idiot. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have possibly raised, fed, clothed, and managed day to day household activities of five kids if I was an idiot. I'm pretty sure I couldn't handle all the bill paying, garbage to the curb, yard work, plumbing, drywall, and painting repairs if I was an idiot. And I sure as hell couldn't have run four marathons, three ultra marathons, and countless other races, all while juggling a divorce, a hospitalized ex husband, attention to my five kids, boy friend, family, and friends, if I was an idiot.
The old saying is true, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all." If I had to reword that, "If you have nothing of worth to add to my life, mind your own business."
Yes I'm on my soap box again. And I can honestly say, people never cease to amaze me with their completely unwarranted comments. Take my girlfriend for example. She just had a baby a week ago. Poor thing. I tried to warn her of all the grief she was about to encounter when traveling in public. But having to deal with her mother in law, should be grounds for more than just a slap or two. Her mother in law, after learning the baby's name, had the gall to say, "what other names did you have picked out?" who says that??? Even being an outsider, I interpreted that to mean, "let's pick something else."
My ex husband was and still is famous for treating me like I'm a completely worthless idiot. Like I should bumble around all day with a helmet on in case I can't function in day to day activities. Just when I think I've heard every dumb, ridiculous question or comment come out of his mouth, he never fails me by asking or saying another. Part of me still gets irritated, other parts of me want to beat him senseless, and the rational side of me reminds me of why I unloaded him in the first place. Then I have a good yelling at him (from afar), and laugh at how remarkably dumb he really is. And how, after all these years, he STILL has absolutely no idea who I am or how intelligent I am.
The grocery store is another place for wandering idiots. I have five kids. They eat A LOT. I'm a size 00. Clearly I cannot eat all the food that is overflowing out of my cart. I firmly believe that if one more person rudely admires my load, they may actually have to take me out of the store in handcuffs or a straight jacket. "Wow, I'm glad I'm not paying your check!"; "Boy, you have A LOT in there!"; "Thank you so much for shopping here!"; "Hope you have a truck to get all that home!"; "You're going to need another cart."; "There's no way that will all fit back in there."; "How many ARE you feeding??"; "Are you going to eat all that? ha ha ha". The old people with their pint of milk, a loaf of bread, and some lunch meat are the worst. They just give me disgusted looks.
I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it this far in life if I was a bumbling idiot. I'm pretty sure I couldn't have possibly raised, fed, clothed, and managed day to day household activities of five kids if I was an idiot. I'm pretty sure I couldn't handle all the bill paying, garbage to the curb, yard work, plumbing, drywall, and painting repairs if I was an idiot. And I sure as hell couldn't have run four marathons, three ultra marathons, and countless other races, all while juggling a divorce, a hospitalized ex husband, attention to my five kids, boy friend, family, and friends, if I was an idiot.
The old saying is true, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all." If I had to reword that, "If you have nothing of worth to add to my life, mind your own business."
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Love Affair
I'm going to come clean. I'm having an affair. I'm not really sure what else you would call it at this point. I love chocolate. There is just no denying it anymore.
I can't say for sure how long it's been going on. Maybe my whole life. In fact, I'm pretty sure it has been a life long affair. However, it wasn't until recently that I would classify it as an affair. Here are some of the signs that indicated I MAY have a problem: I hide it in the hopes that I won't want another piece; I sneak it when I think no one is looking; I make special trips to mysterious places to get it; I dream about it; it's on my mind constantly; I make excuses as to why I should have more; I can't stop the temptation and give in regularly; I believe it loves me unconditionally; I believe it is there for me in my times of need; I believe it will never let me down; I put it on almost everything because I can't live without it; I am in love with chocolate.
There I said it. I hear the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem. Wait! I don't have a problem (yes, that's denial). I just don't care any more. I mean really?! Who doesn't love a chocolate martini, chocolate eclair, chocolate with caramel, chocolate beer, chocolate fondue, chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered pretzels, chocolate chips, hot chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate pudding, brownies, hot fudge, fudge, chocolate coffee, flowers that are chocolate, double chocolate cookies, chocolate cupcakes, do I need to continue?
I am NOT giving up my love affair with chocolate. I'm also NOT sharing. This is one affair I will take to the grave. And if I have my way, I'm going down with a chocolate martini in one hand and dark chocolate Reece's in the other. The Devil will just have to make room for me and my stash.
I can't say for sure how long it's been going on. Maybe my whole life. In fact, I'm pretty sure it has been a life long affair. However, it wasn't until recently that I would classify it as an affair. Here are some of the signs that indicated I MAY have a problem: I hide it in the hopes that I won't want another piece; I sneak it when I think no one is looking; I make special trips to mysterious places to get it; I dream about it; it's on my mind constantly; I make excuses as to why I should have more; I can't stop the temptation and give in regularly; I believe it loves me unconditionally; I believe it is there for me in my times of need; I believe it will never let me down; I put it on almost everything because I can't live without it; I am in love with chocolate.
There I said it. I hear the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem. Wait! I don't have a problem (yes, that's denial). I just don't care any more. I mean really?! Who doesn't love a chocolate martini, chocolate eclair, chocolate with caramel, chocolate beer, chocolate fondue, chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered pretzels, chocolate chips, hot chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate pudding, brownies, hot fudge, fudge, chocolate coffee, flowers that are chocolate, double chocolate cookies, chocolate cupcakes, do I need to continue?
I am NOT giving up my love affair with chocolate. I'm also NOT sharing. This is one affair I will take to the grave. And if I have my way, I'm going down with a chocolate martini in one hand and dark chocolate Reece's in the other. The Devil will just have to make room for me and my stash.
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