Seriously, why?

I would like to know a few things.

Firstly, why the green cleaning towel that I have put into the wash with white towels on numerous occasions and doused in pure, undiluted bleach continues to come out perfectly green while my dark-colored shirts can't seem to get through one wash without being splattered in bleach marks. Why? Why? WHY?

And how come, when it's time to go outside, Monkey can run up the stairs at the speed of light but for any other reason at all, he drags his feet and I have to drag him by an arm? Can anyone explain this?

I would also like to know why hot dogs are still being counted as nutrition? Why is it that dogs can step out into the rain near the door for a quick pee and come back smelling like they rolled in fresh fertilizer? And what makes Willie think it's ok to pee on the porch?

How did all the floors get this dirty at the same time when I wash them on different days? And why exactly is one load of laundry filling the cess pool trap today and how am I supposed to accomplish anything?

This is starting to sound whiny.

Let me change my tone.

What makes cilantro so unbelievably delicious and is there anything we should not add it to? Also, basil, cumin, oregano and tumeric. Man, I'm hungry.

What kind soul decided to revamp our pool this year with less chlorine and more all-natural goodness that doesn't make me itchy? Where can I find them? How can I ever thank them?

And happy was the day the garbage man hauled away my mold-ridden rug. Hallelujah. Clear sinuses. I'm so in love with my room I could slack off at work and just hang out down here all...oh.

The kids are painting nearby. Another question: When does the part of a person that makes them make up songs while they do things die? It's so sad. I know so few adults who have the happy spirit to just sing random thoughts and actions like some poorly-scripted Disney musical. And the ones who I know who still do it are mostly people I am related to. Lighten up, you serious adults. Sing a little. It's hilarious.

J came down the stairs this morning chanting "It's a good, good day! It's a great day!" with Monkey on his tail singing, "Socks stay on! Socks stay on!" (A little mantra I've tattooed on his brain to keep his little monkey feet clean)

And it is a good, great day and no one is wearing socks. How did that get by me?

And how can this baby continue to get cuter and cuter each day when I thought each time that he was the cutest little thing in the world? And what makes him think he can just talk and coo and smile all day while I am supposed to be washing his bottles. Doesn't he want to eat?

I want to eat. You shouldn't blog when you're hungry. Or shop. Unless it's for shoes. There's never a bad time for that.

Ooo shoes. Ok, my train of thought derailed a few sentences ago. Lunch time.

Priorities.

Today I found mildew under my rug.

That rug and I have always had a hate/hate relationship.

When I moved in, I took one look at that fluorescent seventies reject and decided to loathe it. And loathe it, I did. It was huge and heavy and on more than one occasion it sheltered spiders under its edges.

Still, I kept it in place because without it the bare floor would be so naked and even though it was hideous it made the room feel more like a room.

And then today I was giving my room its monthly once over with the vacuum and I decided to make it a good one. I pulled some of my stuff away from the edges and pretended not to see the black undertones that were seeping through the bright yellow awfulness.

I finished vacuuming and then lifted the edge a bit, mainly to clean up the bodies of dead bugs that I have been collecting there, but in doing so I saw how black the floor was, too. Still, I hesitated, trying to decide if I could just put Ugly Betty back on the floor and go on sleeping two feet away from her poison.

Then I heard my mother's voice yelling at me in my head.

So, I reluctantly started moving all of my stuff off the rug.

And then I gained momentum. And then I got determined.

And then, before I knew it, I had donned cleaning gloves and was rolling up the entire beastly rug all by myself even after talking with T about waiting for E to get home to help me.

I couldn't.

I rolled it up, bleached two three-foot long spots of mildew on the floor, wrapped plastic around the black spots on the rug, taped the whole thing up and dragged it to an empty corner of the basement. I left her for dead and went back to my room, which was now miles wider and freer.

I bleached the entire floor, hoping to kill off anything that might be left alive besides myself. And since I am allergic to bleach, my hopes were high because either the bugs die or I will. In fact, I might anyway.

On that train of thought, I breaked from my work to light several candles and spray some natural cleaners over the stench of bleach. Then, for real kicks, I mixed up some ammonia-containing floor cleaner and used that right over the bleached areas.

I used to work for a cleaning company. After college I moved back to my hometown for a summer and got a job with a friend. We half-heartedly wiped down offices and cafeterias and bathrooms. Our only joy came from eating food clearly marked for someone else out of the break room and from mixing bleach and ammonia in the urinals and running away as they started to smoke.

Those were hard times.

Nothing exciting happened on my floors today though, so I just waited for them to dry and then began putting my things back into the room. It's officially a bug free zone and my bed has clean sheets on it, which is a challenge for me.

The dryers are also lint free and there isn't a cobweb to be found.

It was quite an undertaking for a Friday afternoon.

Which is why this Friday evening I am watching TV while I stay home with the two smallest and hope the wild bout of storms doesn't knock my power out in the middle of an important episode.

The iPhone makes calls too?

So. Many. Phone calls.

And here I thought all this phone was good for was Facebook and Scrabble.

Remember back in February when I almost died?

Well, I did.

Ok, I had strep and I caved and went to the doctor for strong and wonderful medicine. I went to an Emergency Care clinic in the Poconos and since I don’t have insurance I paid for everything right there that night.

Well, now they’re billing me for things I didn’t even know where happening and it is not fun. Only, first they billed my mother and then they billed her again. Somehow our files have been crossed and all of this nonsense hurts my head.

So, I had to call the billing center today and get the bill straightened out. And then I had to call the actual clinic to find out what the bill was even for. And then I had to call the first lady back.

I spent a lot of time on this, all while pushing Monkey around in his stroller, around and around the block waiting for the playground to open the gate. They never did.

It was awful.

To cheer myself up, I finally opened the boxes of space saver bags that I had purchased awhile back.
It worked.

I was cheerful and sweaty and my room got so clean. I spent even more time on the phone after that, but for better reasons. My mom, my sister, my friend.

J had a play date this afternoon. I’m almost positive that his little friend is terrified of me because I boss him around the same way I boss my guys around, but he’s cute and he listens well so I don’t know what he’s so scared of.

At dinner time, the most wonderful thing happened.

T remembered that R had a dinner time birthday party. She decided to take all three kids and feed them there. I had the baby and a clean house to enjoy. I fed Tiny Tot and put him in his swing and talked on the phone with another sister. The whole time I was on the phone no one pulled on my clothes or tried to crawl into my lap or yelled that they had pooped and needed my assistance.

It was so nice.

I made myself a giant salad, which is all I haven’t eaten in three days because my gosh my clothes are getting tight again.

I ate without having to remind anyone to take bites.

And then I napped.

E got home and eventually so did everyone else.

I left E to bed time alone while T went out again for an orientation at R’s new school. I turned on the TV for a bit and that movie, Speed came on. For several weeks in third grade I thought Keanu Reeves was the most beautiful male specimen I had ever scene. Once, at a sleepover, me and two friends spent the night watching that movie repeatedly and fighting over who got to kiss the screen when his face appeared. Jessica G, if you’re reading this, you can have him.

Now when I see his face all I think of is Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventures and I just can’t stop laughing. Also, who wrote the script for that movie? It was awful.

Anyway, once the house was quiet I was nice and I fed the baby before sticking E with him so I could finish what I had started in my room.

With all my extra space I could finally put away some things that have been lying out since December and then I even put all my laundry away.

My rule is that if I can’t remember when the last time is I changed the sheets that it’s time to change the sheets but I got to that last and I was so tired at the end of it and another phone call with a friend, that I thought of something brilliant. Something I intend to do again and again.

I put clean sheets over the old ones.

Now I will have a full load of sheets come laundry time. And I get to maintain incredibly high levels of both laziness and cleverness.

Go me.

Itchy and a wee bit irritable.

I just realized a few hours ago that my knees have these little dimples underneath them. I’m always discovering things about myself, like that my hair sometimes looks nice when it’s down but only after eight hours of being up. Or that I don’t just not care for, but I severely dislike plain potato chips.

Severely.

It has also come to my attention over and over and over again that I am not a fish person. I don’t like them. Not in tanks, not in the ocean, not in lakes and not on my plate. You fish people are always shocked and like, aww why? Try fish. Try seafood.

And so I do.

And I just don’t like them.

I was starting to feel all self-conscious about it, like maybe I wasn’t maturing properly because I couldn’t develop taste buds for slimy, mushy “food” that is so unappetizing that the only way fish people can even eat it is if it doesn’t taste like fish. I mean, it’s not even supposed to taste like its name. I can’t wrap my head around this.

And my taste buds aren’t getting on board either.

Anyway, then I remembered that I am not maturing quite normally in any other aspect of my life either, so I got over that end of it.

And then I was watching Psych and Gus doesn’t like fish and so that put to rest any doubts I had about my maturity.

I’d actually like to not mature anymore ever if at all possible, and no matter how the rest of my life goes down, I am done tasting fish. Gus isn’t usually wrong.

I tend to be wrong on occasion, and today it was in thinking that I could leave the doors propped open for any amount of time.

Since E and T were out late last night, I accidentally stayed up very, very late watching TV.

Once they were home and I was in bed, I still didn’t sleep well. This morning everyone slept in, since R wasn’t here anyway and we were all pooped.

When we finally got going around ten o’clock, we got word that R was going to temple so we milked the peace and quiet that comes with her being away and we all watched UP. I’ve been talking it up to everyone and J loves it too so we convinced them to give it a shot.

When R got home, J went out, and then R fell asleep and slept until a birthday party she had to go to.
It was a wonderful day.

We were going to eat leftovers so I went ahead and took the two boys outside to play in the late afternoon. I left the doors all open so that I could hear tiny munchkin if he cried from his swing in the playroom. E was home, but men are useless so I didn’t trust him to tell me if Peanut needed anything.

Was that harsh?

Let me explain.

I have had similar experiences with brothers, male friends, previous male employers and every other male I have ever known.

We were playing outside and all was well with the world and then E came out to play. He got the boys all pumped to play t-ball and then went into the garage to find the tee. He rooted around for a good five minutes in ONE of the NINE drawers where we stash the kids’ sports equipment.

Then he whined, “Where’s the tee?”

Earlier, he napped on the couch between R’s homecoming and R’s leaving for her party. When she had gone (with T) and the baby needed a bottle and Monkey was just waking up from his nap, E was stumbling around the kitchen trying to decide whether he should scratch his wrist or wind his butt.

I say this all with a hint of friendly annoyance and jesting.

Like I said, it’s not just E. Here are some examples from my past of various males displaying their inability to comprehend the simple and obvious. The complex they can handle, some are quite logical and deep thinkers. But I am convinced the term “hiding in plain sight” is in direct reference to everything a man has ever searched for.

Old friend #1: Opens refrigerator. Looks directly at the big, gallon jug of milk. “Hey, do you guys have milk? I can never find it here.”

Old friend #2: Phone rings while I am elbow-deep in cat bath water. Me: “Can you just see who it is? If it’s my mom, pick up. It’ll be funny.” Stunned and scared male: “If it’s not your mom?” “Just leave it.” Me, again, seeing the deer-in-headlights terror on his face: “Nevermind, don’t answer it. Can you just hand it to me?” Stumped and frozen male: …

Brother who knows perfectly well where the popcorn is kept, opened the cabinet too quickly, didn’t see it and gave up all hope: “Can you make me some popcorn?”

So, again, nothing personal here.

But after T got home and we were getting ready to feed the kids we were talking about how unbelievably frustrated we get with E and now J, who has joined the male race in not seeing things or knowing what to do, ever, at an incredibly early age.

Thankfully, I do have T to girl talk with and that makes these things so much easier.

Especially when E came in an hour later and opened the fridge and couldn’t find the bag of spinach that was lying right in the front, middle of the frontest, middlest shelf. A clear bag so you can see the spinach without even trying.

Now back to my faux pas.

The doors.

They were open for a little while during playtime. T got home, E came outside, all that has been said already.
Then we came in for dinner and the baby was still asleep in his swing only now he had a giant mosquito on his tiny little baby head. I scared it off his head and then exacted revenge with a flip flop.

Not my own, as I was explaining to a friend on Wednesday night. I don’t kill bugs with my own belongings unless they are designated for that use only. Or, in emergencies, I will use whatever is handy and then throw it away, marking it dead to me for all time. This usually occurs when a silverfish is present.

Over dinner we discovered at least three more mosquitoes haunting us in the playroom. We killed most of them I think and then walked around telling each other about how the doors couldn’t be propped open anymore.

We’re all covered in fresh bites and now the window sill in the kitchen is crawling with some new breed of tiny black pests that fit through the screen holes.

So we talked for a while about how the kitchen windows have to be closed before dark.

And then E and T went to a movie and I sat down to think about how tomorrow I am spraying bug killer on every inch of the basement and all of the outside windows.

And I think there is still a mosquito in here.
　
　
　

My secret ingredient is resentment.

R's real birthday was Wednesday and since I was off I asked her what she wanted to for breakfast and told her I would make it the night before. She's a big fan of morning carbs like pancakes and waffles. She asked for muffins so I agreed.

However,

I haven't bakes in ages.

Ages.

Once our top oven crapped out for good I pretty much quit baking.

No, I did stop baking.

I haven't made bread, cake or muffins in a few months.

The bottom oven turns on, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it works. I don't know if it's too hot or not steady or both but everything comes out too dry or too flat or too mushy in the middle and black on the outside. It's just not worth the wasted ingredients.

But R asked for muffins.

So I made muffins.

I made a simple batter and pulled out two scoops for banana, two chocolate, two blueberry lemon and two plain bran muffins stuffed with Nutella.

I left on Wednesday and didn't get to sample until yesterday.

They sucked. The chocolate ones were gone and so were the Nutella delights, but the ones I tried were awful and I was ashamed of them. I tossed them before anyone else could eat anymore and vowed to never bake in this cursed oven again.

Today I was mostly off duty since I am working the night shift. T made dinner and E complained it was no good. He complained politely so she didn't seem to care, but I felt better about my catastrophic muffins because I have been cooking Shabbat dinners lately and he always says they're good. T does too, actually.

The parents are out for a Neil Diamond concert tonight and R is at a sleepover, so I put the boys to bed at 7 and hit the wine that I was ordered to polish off.

Our troubled refrigerator saw the repairman again today. He replaced five parts and wiped up with, I am assuming, vinegar, since that's what the entire kitchen smells like. An hour after he left, things started freezing again. When is GE going to admit that their appliance is garbage and stop trying to repair it?

Whatever.

The repairman who has come the last few times is pretty cute so I guess I can take one for the team, drink the wine and call GE again in the morning.

I better go, because the baby is asleep on his stomach across my lap and I am typing on top of him and I feel like that is probably wrong. I mean, my computer is tiny, but still...

I'm sure there's a law about this somewhere.

Perfectly busy.

The week has been another tiring one. Something about that fourth kid being around is just a lot more work than we expected. I worked two half-nights. After those, I usually sleep in a bit so that I can function, and so T will get breakfast started and E will finish it up.

On Monday, I was only supposed to work until 11 but T got a flat tire on the way home. 11 turned into 2am. E was home, sleeping, technically in charge of the other three, who were miraculously good at bedtime and didn’t make a peep for the rest of the night. Tiny, on the other hand, had to be fed every two hours…
He does sleep through from about 11:30 to three or four, so after T texted to say her tire was flat and she was waiting for roadside assistance, I fed the little punk, tucked him into his play pen and tried to sleep on the couch.

It’s a comfortable couch but I had wicked heartburn and lying down was making it worse. Also, we keep the TV on low to keep some noise going so that the shift change when T does get home doesn’t wake him.

My point; I could not sleep.

I dozed (junk sleep) until T got there.

And the next morning, after sleeping for 12 hours while the women folk were otherwise occupied, E had the nerve to complain that he was still tired. The women folk, however, did not care. T slept straight through breakfast, waking only to nurse the baby and put him back to bed. I didn’t yet know that E was complaining about needing more sleep or I would have slept til ten to spite him.

Instead, I went up around 8:30 and drank a pot of coffee.

Then, to avoid falling asleep while Monkey tore the house apart, I took him to the library. It was ten before we got there and I yawned the entire time. I was so grumpy and I knew it, so I just ignored him when he climbed on top of the computers in the children’s room, following the CUTEST little Chinese baby in the world.

We moseyed on home and I put him to bed and nodded off on the couch. T had taken the baby to a doctor’s appointment and taken her car for a real tire and a check up. I was reveling in the quiet of the house as I nodded off on the couch when the phone rang. And then it rang again. And then the stupid, curse word dog started barking at the mailman.

HE NEVER USED TO DO THAT. WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO HIM?

I snatched a good ten minutes of half-sleep, you know the kind where you have terrible nervous dreams and you don’t feel rested at all and then when you startle yourself awake, it’s all you can do to not have a panic attack?

That’s what I did.

I can’t remember the rest of that night because I chose to block it out.

Back on Sunday we had R’s birthday party. The nine confirmed guests somehow morphed into 25 and the house was wild and crazy. Fortunately, T had put the minimum amount of effort required into this party and we just threw together some bowls of chips and dip and let the kids have at it, so it didn’t matter how many were there.

That was that.

Tonight was Youth Group, but before that my sister came up for a visit. We ran around the city, mostly trying to think of ways to entertain my nephew. When it was over and I was about to head to church, I discovered that I had missed an announcement on Facebook about a little Youth Group excursion into the city.

I know, I know. ME? Miss something on FACEBOOK? I was shocked too.

Anyway, we have some foreign exchange Christians visiting from Amsterdam so we met them and went to the Trade Center Memorial.

So, to sum up: I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in four days and I spent my day off walking around or riding trains for 12 hours.

And as tired as I am, as sore as my feet are, it was all quite lovely.

I love laughing with my sister(s) and the youth group. I love my kids and doing things for them, and taking care of little Peanut.

And as long as I don’t have to work any full nights until Small Baby is sleeping for an eight hour block, I can handle the lack of sleep here and there.

It’s an excellent reminder as to why I am adopting kids and not babies.
　
　
　

Oh fine.

All day.

This is my attitude.

Time to get up this morning. Oh fine.

I wasn't even going to post tonight but I came across an interesting article and I told the poster of it that I would post a link so...oh fine.

Also, Mean Girls is on so I can't go to bed anyway...

We had a nice day here.

The weather was PERFECT. PERFECT. I can't stress that enough. It wasn't hot or humid so I opened all the windows I could reach and that helped me get through some cleaning this morning.

T sort of let it slip her mind until last week that in order for R to have a birthday party, some planning would just have to happen. It's just a small party here at the house but today we spent the morning cleaning up for it and intermittently talking about a menu of some sort.

When I brought it up she went, "Do we have to feed them?"

I cleaned the entire basement from top to bottom after yelling inside my head at myself to get up and go do it.

It looks beautiful.

And I bleached everything to deter the spiders from coming back so there is a really good chance I will have some problems with the lingering fumes tonight.

R spent the afternoon bouncing around the house singing about her upcoming party.

J spent it crying and Monkey spent it being as horribly bad as he could manage. He cried all through dinner and whenever he wasn't really crying he was fake crying and reminding us that's what he had done in the shower last night and that he cries in the shower.

I told him to go jump in the pool and he yelled "NO!" and went back to crying.

But we have all learned to ignore him when he's like that, so in spite of his noise, we had a nice evening.
I have officially been here for a year and I couldn't have asked for a better family/job/church. It really is amazing to see how different my life is now than it was a year ago.

I loved my last job(s) and church(es) but where I am currently seems to have been put together just for me. It's so perfectly matched I sometimes think I must be overlooking something awful. But that's ok. I don't mind a little delusion.

But since it is my nanny-versary, I guess it's fitting that I just came across this in an email. It's interesting and it makes me feel happy.

http://www.nannyjobs.org/blog/10-reasons-some-nannies-make-more-than-doctors/

I hear Nanny K say all the time that she has the best job in the world, but from her it sounds more like a mantra to cling to sanity. Please continue to pray for her, although she is sounding more upbeat as of late.
Anyway, we do have the best job in the world.

I have no commute, no bills, no schedule and I hang out with kids all day. Since I love kids, this is ideal. I'm not one for offices, I've never been one for large amounts of quiet or seriousness, and at the end of the day/week I share a bottle of wine with my boss and her mom buys me shoes.

Try and tell me your job is better (not bragging).

My biggest problem is getting to church regularly. It's a big problem and it is important that I deal with it. But, as usual in my life, it's my fault this arrangement happened and I will now have to make good on my word. T is flexible and supportive and so, over time, I am confident that we will get me back to church.

And if not, one year is up. I signed on for two or three.

I love this family, but I have loved a lot of families. That doesn't mean I can stay forever, no matter how scared they are of R's teen years. And believe me, we're all terrified.

My point is, let's just see how this plays out.

And remember that my job is awesome (still not bragging).

And now I have to go put away the food that I left cooling on the counter. This means getting up off the couch... Mean Girls is on commercial...

Oh fine.