Today we are doing a thorough clean on the main floor of the house. The kind that involves moving furniture and scrubbing the floors. I doubt I'll get to the bathroom or shrink the laundry pile enough to be able to clean the floor underneath it, but that's okay. We are still making major progress.
I used to be amazed at how quickly the house could become a completely horrifying disaster. If we skip chores for ONE day the state of the house is beyond horrific. When we work hard daily on our chores our house is a mess. Which is something I am learning to accept and not be TOO embarrassed by. As long as it is a living mess as opposed to a stagnant mess, I'm okay with it.
We have a chore chart that is quite detailed, including daily chores for Josh and I. A chore chart is only as good as its enforcers though, so again, if I have a lazy day or two, or I get sick, or 4 out of 6 kids begin projectile vomiting on a 20 minute rotation, we dip back into the level of unspeakable horrors.
A couple of years ago I saw an episode of Oprah and she was talking to a woman who had her children taken away. She was showing pictures of the woman's house which was certainly a disaster. Oprah was asking the woman how she let her house get that bad and the woman said she hadn't cleaned in a couple of weeks. Oprah staunchly rejected her claim and stated that that was more than a couple of weeks worth of mess, that it had clearly been months. Now, this woman lost her children for many more reasons than having a messy house - she was abusive and negligent - but that part about the mess stuck with me, because my house can really and truly look that bad after a couple of days.
So of course, my imagination kicks into overdrive. I imagine myself standing before a judge pleading my case, "No really judge, two days ago it was spotless, for at least five minutes, I swear!" And I imagine having my defense staunchly rejected and having to be put on a list of registered housekeeping offenders.
So, on a day like today, when we are cleaning so thoroughly, I keep thinking I should take photographic evidence with a digital time stamp to prove, "at this date and time, the house was this clean" and begging the court to submit my photos to digital forensics people or whoever would be able to examine my digital camera card and declare that I had not altered the date and I had indeed had a very clean house on that date.
So, back to mopping for me, and maybe I'll actually get around to photographing it this time before all of the physical evidence of cleanliness is destroyed.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Family Bread Line
I don't know if this is true for other large families or if my family eats a disproportionate amount of bread, but we go through bread ridiculously fast. If I buy three loaves of bread, I am lucky if it lasts two days. Bread is the kids go-to snack. Even though I try to keep stocked up on cheese sticks and fruit and such, I often stumble upon the remains of some sort of pitiful, disgusting "sandwich". In addition to traditional sandwiches, like peanut butter and jelly, these are some of the things my kids put on bread and call it a sandwich:
1. Peanut butter and mustard
2. Mustard
3. Mayonaise
4. Ketchup
5. Barbecue Sauce
6. Pickles
7. Re-fried Beans
Sebastian is the worst offender. I will walk into the dining room and find him guiltily looking at me with ketchup smeared all over his face and oozing out the edges of two soggy, ketchup soaked slices of bread.
Me: What is that??
Sebastian: *nervously* It's a sandwich.
Me: That's not a sandwich, it only has ketchup on it. That's disgusting! This is why we never have bread in the house!
Sebastian: I was just hungry, Mom.
Me: Why didn't you eat a cheese stick, or a piece of fruit, or a granola bar, or the left over roast beef from last night?
Sebastian: *sullenly* I just really like sandwiches.
Additionally, it is not uncommon for me to walk into the kitchen to see the bread bag open, hanging partially off of the counter with two or three pieces spilled out onto the floor. I deliver a lecture about "respecting the bread", they blame the twins, I tell them that they need to put the bread up when they are done with it so that the twins can't get it, they insist that they did but those darn twins are wily little monkeys who can climb to get anything, I concede the point, and we still don't have enough bread.
So, we have come up with a new approach to attempt to slow down bread consumption. Before Josh left for work, we stocked the outside freezer, the one that locks, with about 20 loaves of bread. I told the kids that the new rule was that I was only bringing in a new loaf of bread every other day:
"If we run out before 'bread day', you can do without. There is plenty of other food to eat, and maybe you'll start thinking about how much bread you use and how to conserve it better."
So far they have gotten a little better. Miraculously, they have managed to find places to put the bread that are not so accessible to the twins. They have started making single pieces of toast instead of full sandwiches when they are snacking. We still haven't managed make it last for the full two days before "bread day" hits again. The other day Isaak came to me, raging:
Isaak: I went to make myself a sandwich, and I haven't had any bread today, and the bread is ALL GONE, AND WE AREN'T GETTING ANY MORE UNTIL TOMORROW!! *seething*
Me: That's frustrating, isn't it? I know how you feel. I have often gone to make myself a sandwich only to find that there is no bread left.
Isaak: *storms off and eats a cheese stick*
Now he is the self appointed bread-police: "How much bread have you had today?", "Is that your second sandwich?? Give me that, I'm cutting it into four pieces and distributing it to the other children."
What the kids don't know, is that I'm willing to up the family bread allowance if necessary. But not until they can consistently demonstrate self-control in the bread department. Only then will I be able to assess what is a *reasonable* amount of bread for 5 children (Jane doesn't eat much bread at this point) to go through.
I know I should probably start baking my own bread, but I'm not there yet.
1. Peanut butter and mustard
2. Mustard
3. Mayonaise
4. Ketchup
5. Barbecue Sauce
6. Pickles
7. Re-fried Beans
Sebastian is the worst offender. I will walk into the dining room and find him guiltily looking at me with ketchup smeared all over his face and oozing out the edges of two soggy, ketchup soaked slices of bread.
Me: What is that??
Sebastian: *nervously* It's a sandwich.
Me: That's not a sandwich, it only has ketchup on it. That's disgusting! This is why we never have bread in the house!
Sebastian: I was just hungry, Mom.
Me: Why didn't you eat a cheese stick, or a piece of fruit, or a granola bar, or the left over roast beef from last night?
Sebastian: *sullenly* I just really like sandwiches.
Additionally, it is not uncommon for me to walk into the kitchen to see the bread bag open, hanging partially off of the counter with two or three pieces spilled out onto the floor. I deliver a lecture about "respecting the bread", they blame the twins, I tell them that they need to put the bread up when they are done with it so that the twins can't get it, they insist that they did but those darn twins are wily little monkeys who can climb to get anything, I concede the point, and we still don't have enough bread.
So, we have come up with a new approach to attempt to slow down bread consumption. Before Josh left for work, we stocked the outside freezer, the one that locks, with about 20 loaves of bread. I told the kids that the new rule was that I was only bringing in a new loaf of bread every other day:
"If we run out before 'bread day', you can do without. There is plenty of other food to eat, and maybe you'll start thinking about how much bread you use and how to conserve it better."
So far they have gotten a little better. Miraculously, they have managed to find places to put the bread that are not so accessible to the twins. They have started making single pieces of toast instead of full sandwiches when they are snacking. We still haven't managed make it last for the full two days before "bread day" hits again. The other day Isaak came to me, raging:
Isaak: I went to make myself a sandwich, and I haven't had any bread today, and the bread is ALL GONE, AND WE AREN'T GETTING ANY MORE UNTIL TOMORROW!! *seething*
Me: That's frustrating, isn't it? I know how you feel. I have often gone to make myself a sandwich only to find that there is no bread left.
Isaak: *storms off and eats a cheese stick*
Now he is the self appointed bread-police: "How much bread have you had today?", "Is that your second sandwich?? Give me that, I'm cutting it into four pieces and distributing it to the other children."
What the kids don't know, is that I'm willing to up the family bread allowance if necessary. But not until they can consistently demonstrate self-control in the bread department. Only then will I be able to assess what is a *reasonable* amount of bread for 5 children (Jane doesn't eat much bread at this point) to go through.
I know I should probably start baking my own bread, but I'm not there yet.
Monday, April 26, 2010
How to Stop Sucking At Life in 10 Steps or Less - At Least For One Day
That's my objective for today. I've heard that, in addition to low standards, a key to success is making short term goals. So my goal is to not suck at life today. I may or may not suck at life tomorrow, I'll figure that out when the time comes. For now, not sucking today would be a great success,
Step 4: Make many grandiose plans for cleaning, cooking freezer meals, teaching Isaak to write an outline, and read up on fun simple science projects to do with the kids. DONE.
Update:
Step 7. Get dishes done. Done.
Step 8. Give children motivational speech when they start whining that they can't do their chores because they are so hungry even though they have eaten within the past 30 minutes:
"When I lived in Mexico, I saw 2 little boys who didn't have houses to live in or parents to give them food. They were very hungry and hadn't had anything to eat for 2 or 3 days. One evening they went into a McDonald's and were told that if they cleaned up the floor they could have a meal. The two little boys were very grateful and worked hard and fast to clean up the floor so they could eat. They didn't whine and complain that they were too hungry to work.
The End"
DONE.
Updated:
Step 8. Attend a eulogy for a worm and discuss weather or not worms go to heaven. Explain the temporal nature of earth and purgatory vs. heaven. Consider it a "school lesson". DONE.
Step 9. Make 3 freezer meals. (almost)DONE.
I have determined that it is late enough in the day to look back at my accomplishments and officially declare this a day where I did not suck at life. Therefore I succeeded. So there.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
What has he got in his pocketsssss?
Yesterday Dante and Dominic came to me excitedly to show me their new "pet". It was a dead fly. Dante had scooped it into a Tupperware lid. At first I didn't understand that they were attached to the thing and I insensitively responded by saying, "Ewwww, gross! Throw it away and make sure that lid gets put in the dishwasher!" This was not well received. I was met with two identical indignant pouty faces and rapid-fire objections:
Them: *in unison, discordance and repeatedly repeated LOUDLY* Pet fly not TRASH! Pet fly NICE!
Me: Oh, it's a pet?
Them: Yeeeeaaaah (this is always said as a long drawn out two syllable word, 'yaaaay-yaaah')
Me: But it's dead!
Them: *gleefully* Yes! Alexandra kill it for us!
*sigh* I decided it wasn't that big of the deal if they wanted to keep a dead fly as a pet. Having been a pet owner to living things for many years now, I figure why not, what's one more pet? Especially one that is so low-maintenance. They named it Cinderella.
Today they upgraded. The kids spent a lot of time playing out in the backyard today and at his been raining quite a bit lately. They came inside gleeful and muddy and giddy. Dante had his hand protectively covering his jacket pocket and Dominic was shouting excitedly, "New pet! New pet in Dante's pocket!" Meanwhile I could see Dante's hand clutching tighter and tighter around the outside of his pocket (I hoped that whatever was in his pocket was either already dead, or at least would be just as loved and cherished as Cinderella if he accidentally squeezed the life out of it) and defensively denying all such claims: "No! No pet in my pocket! Quiet Dominic!"
I've learned that when the kids are trying to be secretive or deceptive, the best way to get the truth out of them is to act like it's no big deal and there's nothing to worry about and basically convey a tone of "Punishing you or stopping you from what you are doing is the furthest thing from my mind!" Of course I don't actually say those words as the possibility exists that I might actually have to stop and/or punish them for whatever it is they are trying to hide, I just imply it with my facial expression and tone....that's not really dishonest is it? And besides, at least 51% of the time it ends up being true.
So I put on my happy excited face and said, "Ohhhh, you have a new pet in your pocket? What is it?!" My tone positively beamed the message "I'm so excited that you found a new pet, and I think it's wonderful that you decided to keep it in your pocket! Please share this joyous news with me!"
Hesitantly Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a big fat worm, that miraculously had not been smooshed to a wormy pulp. *whew* Well that was no big deal. Fortunately I am not squeamish about worms, and I could use this opportunity to demonstrate that 'fessing up to mom really doesn't always lead to being stopped and/or punished - which is vitally important so that they continue to let me in on what's going on in case I need to stop and/or punish them.
I got them a container and told them to fill it up with some wet dirt from outside, explaining that the worm would be much more comfortable and likely to live in this environment than stuffed into a jacket pocket. They spent the rest of the evening excitedly watching the worm squirming around in his new home. Three-year old excitement at little things is a wonderful thing to witness.
Them: *in unison, discordance and repeatedly repeated LOUDLY* Pet fly not TRASH! Pet fly NICE!
Me: Oh, it's a pet?
Them: Yeeeeaaaah (this is always said as a long drawn out two syllable word, 'yaaaay-yaaah')
Me: But it's dead!
Them: *gleefully* Yes! Alexandra kill it for us!
*sigh* I decided it wasn't that big of the deal if they wanted to keep a dead fly as a pet. Having been a pet owner to living things for many years now, I figure why not, what's one more pet? Especially one that is so low-maintenance. They named it Cinderella.
Today they upgraded. The kids spent a lot of time playing out in the backyard today and at his been raining quite a bit lately. They came inside gleeful and muddy and giddy. Dante had his hand protectively covering his jacket pocket and Dominic was shouting excitedly, "New pet! New pet in Dante's pocket!" Meanwhile I could see Dante's hand clutching tighter and tighter around the outside of his pocket (I hoped that whatever was in his pocket was either already dead, or at least would be just as loved and cherished as Cinderella if he accidentally squeezed the life out of it) and defensively denying all such claims: "No! No pet in my pocket! Quiet Dominic!"
I've learned that when the kids are trying to be secretive or deceptive, the best way to get the truth out of them is to act like it's no big deal and there's nothing to worry about and basically convey a tone of "Punishing you or stopping you from what you are doing is the furthest thing from my mind!" Of course I don't actually say those words as the possibility exists that I might actually have to stop and/or punish them for whatever it is they are trying to hide, I just imply it with my facial expression and tone....that's not really dishonest is it? And besides, at least 51% of the time it ends up being true.
So I put on my happy excited face and said, "Ohhhh, you have a new pet in your pocket? What is it?!" My tone positively beamed the message "I'm so excited that you found a new pet, and I think it's wonderful that you decided to keep it in your pocket! Please share this joyous news with me!"
Hesitantly Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a big fat worm, that miraculously had not been smooshed to a wormy pulp. *whew* Well that was no big deal. Fortunately I am not squeamish about worms, and I could use this opportunity to demonstrate that 'fessing up to mom really doesn't always lead to being stopped and/or punished - which is vitally important so that they continue to let me in on what's going on in case I need to stop and/or punish them.
I got them a container and told them to fill it up with some wet dirt from outside, explaining that the worm would be much more comfortable and likely to live in this environment than stuffed into a jacket pocket. They spent the rest of the evening excitedly watching the worm squirming around in his new home. Three-year old excitement at little things is a wonderful thing to witness.
Dominic - But it was for their own good!
Dominic has a way of explaining his assaults on his various siblings that leave me wanting to sympathize and reassure him that everything is okay, and of course it is perfectly understandable and reasonable that he took a pair of child's scissors to the flesh on his sister's back while she was sleeping, or bit his twin brother repeatedly in the face.
Meet Dominic:
Stats: Age 3, part of a matching set, wildly mischievous, hyper and downright silly. Also incredibly sweet when he puts his mind to it.
(You can stop staring at my overflowing laundry basket in the background now. Yes I'm aware of it, and yes I'm planning on doing something about it....at some point...)
Last night Alexandra (age 5) comes running down the stairs shrieking at what can only be described as banshee decibels, that Dominic was cutting her back. Actually it was more like:
Alexandra: AAAAAAAGHGHGHGGHGHGH D'mic cuh-uh-uh-uh my ba-ha-ha-ha-ha-aaaaaaack! *sob* *sob* *sob*
Me: Wait, wait, WHAT??
Alexandra: D-d-d-dominic cut my back. *sniffle*
Me: With what??
Alexandra: Remember we were making snowflakes before bed and you said we could use the kid scissors and I was teaching them how to make snowflakes and I can teach you how to make snowflakes, Oh! Let me show you the snowflakes we made! *begins to run off to retrieve snowflakes*
Me: Hold on, so you're saying he cut you with the kid scissors?
Alexandra: *remembering and resuming hysterical sobbing* Ye-he-he-he-essssss and it really hurts really ba-ha-ha-haaaaaad!
I look at her back and see the faintest evidence of of some red scrapes. So having assessed that she will live and no, despite her protestations, she does not require a band-aid (stop judging me for not giving her a "feel-better" band-aid, I can hardly keep them in the house for more than a day because the kids want them on everything) I call Dominic down and sternly demand to know why exactly he "cut" his sister while she slept.
He gets this sad tortured forlorn look on his face and tells me most sincerely, "Alexandra not wake up, I say 'wake up Alexandra, wake up', and she not wake up and it was scary."
Me: So you felt your only option was to cut her with scissors?
Dominic: Yeah....
Me: Well then....you must never never never cut another person with scissors (I felt momentarily conflicted here, because if he was being attacked by a bad guy and scissors were his only defense, of course he should use them, but I decided that this addendum would only confuse the lesson I was trying to impart in the moment which was basically, 'don't cut your sister in her sleep', and if necessary I could later go into possible scenarios where cutting someone with scissors might be appropriate) even if you are scared because they are sleeping...(which apparently can be terrifying enough to inspire such drastic measures).
After some debate about the validity of his approach, Dominic acknowledged that his action was wrong, apologized and I confiscated the offending scissors and sent everyone back to bed.
Lesson Learned: Taking scissors to someone's back is a highly effective method of getting a reaction out of a sleeping person. I must remember this approach for the next time I am trying to determine if my husband (who can sleep through pretty much everything), is: a) merely pretending to be asleep,b) actually sleeping or c) possibly dead. Although I guess it is actually only useful in ruling out option 'c'. I wonder how convincing I would be at the "you wouldn't wake up and it was scary" defense. I have a feeling that Dominic may have a slight advantage there.
P.S. - Similarly, tonight, Dominic bit his twin brother, Dante, repeatedly on the face because he *thought* Dante had a penny in his mouth and was concerned that he might choke. Dante *refused* to spit out the penny (that turned out not to have been in his mouth in the first place), and really what else can a concerned brother do in that situation but bite his brother's face until he submits to having his mouth checked for choking hazards?
Meet Dominic:
Stats: Age 3, part of a matching set, wildly mischievous, hyper and downright silly. Also incredibly sweet when he puts his mind to it.
(You can stop staring at my overflowing laundry basket in the background now. Yes I'm aware of it, and yes I'm planning on doing something about it....at some point...)
Last night Alexandra (age 5) comes running down the stairs shrieking at what can only be described as banshee decibels, that Dominic was cutting her back. Actually it was more like:
Alexandra: AAAAAAAGHGHGHGGHGHGH D'mic cuh-uh-uh-uh my ba-ha-ha-ha-ha-aaaaaaack! *sob* *sob* *sob*
Me: Wait, wait, WHAT??
Alexandra: D-d-d-dominic cut my back. *sniffle*
Me: With what??
Alexandra: Remember we were making snowflakes before bed and you said we could use the kid scissors and I was teaching them how to make snowflakes and I can teach you how to make snowflakes, Oh! Let me show you the snowflakes we made! *begins to run off to retrieve snowflakes*
Me: Hold on, so you're saying he cut you with the kid scissors?
Alexandra: *remembering and resuming hysterical sobbing* Ye-he-he-he-essssss and it really hurts really ba-ha-ha-haaaaaad!
I look at her back and see the faintest evidence of of some red scrapes. So having assessed that she will live and no, despite her protestations, she does not require a band-aid (stop judging me for not giving her a "feel-better" band-aid, I can hardly keep them in the house for more than a day because the kids want them on everything) I call Dominic down and sternly demand to know why exactly he "cut" his sister while she slept.
He gets this sad tortured forlorn look on his face and tells me most sincerely, "Alexandra not wake up, I say 'wake up Alexandra, wake up', and she not wake up and it was scary."
Me: So you felt your only option was to cut her with scissors?
Dominic: Yeah....
Me: Well then....you must never never never cut another person with scissors (I felt momentarily conflicted here, because if he was being attacked by a bad guy and scissors were his only defense, of course he should use them, but I decided that this addendum would only confuse the lesson I was trying to impart in the moment which was basically, 'don't cut your sister in her sleep', and if necessary I could later go into possible scenarios where cutting someone with scissors might be appropriate) even if you are scared because they are sleeping...(which apparently can be terrifying enough to inspire such drastic measures).
After some debate about the validity of his approach, Dominic acknowledged that his action was wrong, apologized and I confiscated the offending scissors and sent everyone back to bed.
Lesson Learned: Taking scissors to someone's back is a highly effective method of getting a reaction out of a sleeping person. I must remember this approach for the next time I am trying to determine if my husband (who can sleep through pretty much everything), is: a) merely pretending to be asleep,b) actually sleeping or c) possibly dead. Although I guess it is actually only useful in ruling out option 'c'. I wonder how convincing I would be at the "you wouldn't wake up and it was scary" defense. I have a feeling that Dominic may have a slight advantage there.
P.S. - Similarly, tonight, Dominic bit his twin brother, Dante, repeatedly on the face because he *thought* Dante had a penny in his mouth and was concerned that he might choke. Dante *refused* to spit out the penny (that turned out not to have been in his mouth in the first place), and really what else can a concerned brother do in that situation but bite his brother's face until he submits to having his mouth checked for choking hazards?
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