I am a task starter...I am an excellent tidier....I am just a HORRIBLE start to finisher.  We all do that to some extent but I have reached a point of intervention. I have Domestic ADD...yes, it's new, I just coined the term., DADD 

 

My husband will come home on any given day (it's our joke now) and the dishwasher is almost ALWAYS  half filled or emptied, cabinets open, and three random projects (one usually involving food), going on the counter.

 

Come over...you'll witness half painted walls, half organized bedrooms, half cleaned closets, half started garden projects, half written books, half-assed art, craft & paint projects, half started scrapbook ideas, half finished photo books,  (almost) half-put-away laundry (well, it made it to the bed, didn't it?),  fifty "just started" books, a collection of "maybe I'll need this later "crap and a gazillion other highly serious symptoms of Domestic ADD (or DADD).

 

Symptoms are often caused by these triggers:

• phone ringing
• daydreaming
• emailing
• running to assist children
• panic and anxiety following child fearlessness
• yelling at the kiddos
• helping pour juice
• strategically forgetting domestic responsibilities
• writing word docs of random assortments
• calling hubby
• reading gossip mags
• wiping butts of babies
• crying (over spilled milk, I'll admit it)
• mopping up juice tidal waves
• cooking last minute meals
• cleaning immediate messes
• damage controlling just about anything that can go wrong
• band-aiding
• chatting with neighbors
• running errands
• picking up
• dropping off
• finding the dog
• breaking up fights on the couch
• stopping paint and marker disasters
• doing a puzzle or something random
• escaping for excercise
• searching for underwear, socks and bathing suits
• stressing about time management
• overestimating bank account amounts
• pretending to care about stuff
• overcommitting
• underacheiving
• being sarcastic and then remorseful
• remembering to make that spritzer you needed all afternoon

 

oh, and there is no cure, unless maybe it's the spritzer...

Now, you can't tell but that's bigger than a 10'x 10' box (both of those boards are 10' long).It's obviously not finished but it's going to rule.

 

It will be filled in with sand, which we are digging up from across the yard. PLUS the pool excavator guy is coming Tuesday & we'll have fill dirt to pile in there too. Then we'll have a party and the local mybaby peeps can come over & drink margs while the kids play in the dirt. 

 

 

bye bye pool!

b

when it is outside. i am so excited about this new project we decided to commit to...a mega sand box. we are building a huge sand box with an enormous maple tree right in the middle! the box will be odd shaped and the boys will essentially have a mini sand pit...pictures to follow...seriously thrilled.

do you know how to have birthday fun?

 

i am talking about old fashioned birthday excitement…with the fort of fun.

 

ok, this was a birthday hit and if you have kids in the 4-8 range, this is a cool way to celebrate. gather every blanket or sheet you can find. hunt down huge cardboard boxes, poster paper, or anything you can decorate…have your child invite 2 friends over, maybe three…i suggest no more than 5…anyway, make invitations together and hype up the party’s theme:

 

the fort of fun..yes, it was awesome, we did it. we covered every inch of our living room with custom fortitude….we had cake in the fort and they kids watched a movie. it was a good time…i still chuckle when i look at the pics. so, coming up short on birthday ideas??? try this…they will not forget it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

well, because i'm thankful (yes, dustbunny knows how to be thankful, it's hard but she's working on it) for a post mentioning how lucky  sahms are, i figured i should write about it.

 

so, as i sit here, un-showered after a near panic attack thinking that my son got into some old vitamins while i was painting my other son's room, i'll reflect that this is why i am here. 

• i am here so they can freak me out several times a day with their mischief.

 

when my son turned on the sink (10 min ago) and the sink nozzle fell off and a shooting streaming, hose like blast hit the ceiling and waterfalled down my cabinet onto the floor…which my middle son and his friend both wiped out in i’ll remember this is why i am here.

• i am here so they can make a mess that i can either yell at them to clean up or clean it up myself (depending on who made the mess)

 

when i abandon laundry altogether because i don’t need to get dressed, i must tell myself…it’s a good thing.

• i truly can wear pajamas on days i don’t feel like wearing clothes.

 

when i can’t hear myself think or make any money or grab a coffee with an adult, i can remember one thing about being a sahm.

•  i can have a beer with lunch because i don’t have to meet with customers or teach a class in the afternoon.

 

when i have to separate my two youngest from wrestling & whacking while someone is crying (sometimes me) i’ll remember that this is a full time job.

• i can put them in their rooms and turn on oprah or hgtv to check out…if i really want to.

 

when i have to grocery shop with three boys, i have to say…this is bonding time.

• i am here to apologize for my children’s cart driving and shopping skills.

 

when i am responsible for dinners because i am home, i have to say… this is my time to improve my skills.

• i can strategically forget ingredients or blame the absence of a good meal on the 5:00 meltdown mode….even if i just hate cooking and put it off every day until i absolutely have to deal with it...then i make my husband grill in the yard.  

 

when my career friends think i can’t properly understand anything about business because i am around kids all day, i can say…yes, i am around kids all day and you know what…

• wait, where’s n-man?...hold on…t-man! knock it off! yes, i can…wait…don’t even think about doing that, mr! what was the question?

 

when everyone i know who has a good salary gives me the eyeball like, what the hell do you do all day, i have to take time to reflect.

• i have no idea what the hell i actually do all day but i am always doing something.

 

i'll totally admit i am lucky but, just like everything, the grass is greener over here…probably because we are at home watering it all day, sipping lemonade and reading novels…oh wait it’s raining so we don’t have to water?  another day inside the house with three boys a dog, a cat and the internet? yippee!…j

 

 

btw, when i cut & paste from my docs, all my words turn lowercase...sorry!

this is just a joke...i do this stuff for fun, so please don't think i am seriously defending something or taking stabs...it's just fun to make fun of myself- and hope you share some of the same sentiment.s in your life :)

Good Morning:

I decided that this week I was going to set a few family-centered goals. I often feel

like the week slips away and I didn’t do anything I intended. So, I have a few ideas…

 

I am going to get ice cream with the kids

Make sandpaper alphabet letters for my 3 year old

Sit on the porch and watch them play in the mud

Read Shel Silverstein to them

Unplug

Take the boys on a morning walk

Do a puzzle

Play yahtzee

Maybe fold a load in there somewhere

Buy my in-laws their birthday gifts!

Work on my writing projects in designated times and back away from the screen otherwise…

Go to Bikram twice

Go to bed before midnight

Pack a bag for giveaway

Go on a date with my 8year old to buy jeans & drink starbucks…

 

 

What will you do?

ha ha ha...cheesy song now enter brain...take the long way home....

Ok, general lesson to live by: when traveling back from an adventure with six children in one car in the rain, it is important to get on the proper highway in the direction of home. If, after an hour goes by, you notice that you are almost in a completely different state that you never intended to enter (or Canada for that matter), you have officially spaced out.

 

We went to the Montshire from Burlington. Basically and hour and a half, there, direct shot on 89 south. When you get back on 89 north, you have to be careful not to get on 91 south. Well, in our museum adventures yesterday, we almost drove to Massachusetts instead of Burlington...after Springfield, we realized we were on the wrong highway! What a calamity.

 

 

this is dedicated to all the moms who can't wear their jeans anymore.

 

seven jeans split

 

after having my second baby, it was time to get on with life and out of maternity clothes. i needed jeans that didn’t scream “mom” but didn’t ride too low that my mom-gut was in full view from all angles. i wasn’t a jean connoisseur and i had regularly bought jeans at the gap because they were cheap and easy. however, at this point, i knew i needed something more, particularly a little lift in the rear…if you know what i mean. sag-free ass to put it bluntly. anyway, i didn’t know that citizen and seven jeans were cool until a hip, trendy (skinny single, no less) friend said, “oh, try seven jeans, they fit any body type.”

 

ok, i thought, fine. i’ll get some, why not? where did i get them, i had to ask.

 

after i found out (i’m remaining anonymous on this), i went to an upscale department store at an undisclosed location in an undisclosed state. i snooped around and found a rack that had variety of styles.

 

great, i thought, until i looked at the tags… $180, $200, $240, $140 people pay this much for jeans! what?  oh well, it’s an investment, right?

 

well, i went with that idea until i ran into a typical mom problem: what size do i actually wear? what do i think i wear vs. what i want to wear vs. what i actually wear. it’s a cruel riddle to solve when you are standing lost in a foreign department with armfuls of jeans. it’s really overwhelming, as some of you might know. topping it off, of course, the numbers were in euro sizes- not the standard 6-8-10 type thing (gap is so easy). anyway, it was just a little too much but i was ready to battle it out.

 

so, with one hand steering my stroller, a pile of jeans thrown over my shoulder, and a latte in the other hand, i headed for the dressing room. my son was probably just around 16 months so he couldn’t really talk but he could say things to entertain me. we babbled back and forth as we settled into the dressing room and i got ready for the big event: the trying on of jeans.

 

well, of course, i wasn’t the size i wanted. and worse, i wasn’t the size i secretly assumed i was. i was the next one up. the one you don’t want to let yourself get to and stay at. we all know what our “next size up” is and sometimes it’s a frightening number. well, that resulted in me needing the assistance of a dressing room girl. she fetched me all kinds of styles- which i hadn’t realized there were so many different butt-pocket swirls options…including crystals and bling and flowers. i actually liked the look of most of the jeans….on the hanger.

 

once on the body, though…not so much. i literally went through a dozen pairs and they were all a bit too snug. i was too bummed (good unintentional pun there) as i turned pair after pair, revealing that trunk of junk that would never stop following me. well, short story long, i was down to a last pair…not the priciest but a hefty sum of money for a pair of pants nonetheless. i squeezed into those b*sta%3s and they almost worked. hmm…let’s just see if i can move around….split! shock, awe, horror…and a well timed

 

“uh-oh mommy” from my son.

 

crap! i split the jeans. not oops, i ripped them a little but holy cow, i tore those things in half…all kinds of criminal paranoia started creeping in. great…do i call anyone in here? i can’t afford to pay for these…everyone will laugh at me…they’ll bust me if i leave…on & on. i was in full panic. so, like an upright, honest citizen, i took my time and hung each pair back on the hangers. yes, i put them back…

 

all except one pair. i couldn’t quite incriminate myself in such an obvious way. no.  so, i strategically checked the neighboring stall to see if i had company. nope. i took the hanger slowly and carefully and slid it under my stall and up onto the seat in the other dressing stall. i knew i had to go under because the dressing room cameras would easily bust my offense of flying hanger and shredded denim. i repeated the sly transfer with the pricey pants i had fully destroyed. phew. my dressing room was evidence free. i was safe. except, no i had to leave the store quickly and quietly. i composed myself and walked casually out of there as if i were a good person.

 

hmm, hmm, hhmmm, ddooo-deee-dee, whistle whistle…i scanned hard for the nearest exit. ah-ha, just off to the right. i went for it. just strolling along like nothing happened, wondering if i would go to jail for running away – or at least have to pay an embarrassing fine….um, you honor, i was trying on jeans and i blew out the back…i was too embarrassed to fess up so i ran out of there in a hot-faced panic….guilty! $500 fine, you idiot!

 

anyway, i made it to the parking lot but…oh no. wrong parking lot. i went in on the  lower level but exited on the upper level. i had two choices: go back through the store or run down the embankment with my baby in one hand, my diaper bag over my shoulder and the stroller in my other hand. i couldn’t go back. i just couldn’t.

 

i felt like i used to- shoplifting in highschool. adrenaline pumping, heart pounding...it was like running away in a rebellious act. not cool but i wasn’t getting busted...no way. 

 

so, luckily, across the lot, there were some steep concrete steps that went down to the lot where i was parked.  i had my eyes on my ride…i hauled the stroller, kid and whatever else i had straight down the stairs and ran, literally, across the lot. i threw everything in the truck in record time and split.

Whenever my children have a birthday, I do this.  They love it and so do I. I highly suggest it if you are looking for a magical memory maker.

 

Magical Birthday Balloon Forest

you need:

• 1 or 2 bags of balloons, any kind
• 1 roll of ribbon, any color
• masking tape or easily removable tape

I stay up late the night before the birthday and blow up a small bag of cheap balloons from the grocery store (you know, the little ones that could double as water balloons). After blowing up the balloons (a pump sure would be handy lol...what's up with the pump theme today?) I tie a ribbon to the closed end of the balloon. Then, I  cut the ribbon anywhere from 1-3 feet long.

 

I repeat this over & over until each balloon has a ribbon tied to one end. Then, I sneak into the birthday kiddo's room with a stool. My husband hands me a balloon and I tape it (with a small piece) to the ceiling. One by one, we cover the whole ceiling if we have a lot of balloons. If we don't have many, we hang them over the bed.  When the boys wake up, they have a colorful balloon jungle all around them reminding them that it's their birthday! They love it.

 

Now, they look forward to it. I don't bring it up before hand so sometimes they forget and it is a pleasant surprise...but... sometimes they remember and anticipate it.  It's fun, cheap and they'll remember it forever.  Use caution with littler ones by hanging fewer balloons higher up. They can still appreciate the color and surprise of it all. Good luck and don't pop any while hanging them:). It's fun for parents too because it's a top secret surprise mission.

 

 

Want online yoga? You can sign up & take a ton of classes. I used to go here in Colorado before it was a franchise so some of my old teachers are on the videos...it's awesome and if we're lucky, we'll have a corepower in Burlington sometime. Oh well!

http://www.corepoweryoga.com/