Follow Me

This is currently my favorite song, “Follow Me” by Matt Epp.  (Seriously, he’s awesome.  You can check him out here or here)

It’s hard, I know, to go on with the show
You’ve lived enough to know by now that I won’t ever let you go
Don’t lose your way, listen to what I have to say
Your life is gonna change, I know you’re gonna come through
There’s always someone here for you

Foxes have their holes and birds they have their nests,
But I, the Son of God, have nowhere to lay my head
Follow me

Be poor, it’s okay. Sell everything or give it away
Our Father in heaven will give you what you need.
Love your friends and those who hurt you
Because you know I’d do the same for you.
Your life is gonna change, I know you’re gonna come through
There’s always someone here for you.

Foxes have their holes and birds they have their nests,
But I, the Son of God have nowhere to lay my head,
Follow me

Too much information? Yes?

Everyone knows that being a mom means that you have to perfect the art of multitasking.  I just paged through a book at the library called The One-Armed Cook, which gives recipes, menus, and cooking advice to new moms.  And it’s true- a lot of what you do when you’re a mom involves the melding of activities.  You eat breakfast while packing lunches and emptying the dishwasher.  You are an expert at simultaneously doing the laundry, frosting birthday cakes, and playing Candyland.

I’m always looking for ways that I can get more done while I’m doing something else.  I’ve recently discovered that I can clean almost all of the bathroom while (forgive my impropriety) using the toilet.  My arms have an approximate 5 and a half foot radius, and with that I can clean off the heater, the windowsill, the back of the toilet, empty the garbage (this requires a little advance preparation–you have to take a garbage bag with you), organize all the stuff that gets left on the sink, and wipe down approximately 2/3 of the counter.  I can also straighten the bath mat and wipe down the edge of the tub.  Laugh all you want, some days that’s the only cleaning my bathroom gets.  How about you?  Do you have any other multi-tasking tips?

It’s a beautiful, sunny afternoon.  Probably the first one in a while that hasn’t been ridiculously hot and sticky.  I figured, being the loving and benevolent mother that I am, that I’d take the boys to do something fun outside today. Play soccer, go for a walk, throw water balloons at each other.  That sort of thing.

There’s one small catch, though.  They have to clean their room first.  In fact, I took it one step further and said they’re not allowed to leave their room until it’s clean.  I know, I know, what a task master.  What a slave driver!  The INJUSTICE OF IT ALL!  (You’d think I’d asked them to cut off their own arms and use them to paddle down the Amazon).  But I’m nice.  I’m kind.  I took a few minutes and cleaned up all the clothes (they’re not so great with the hanging of things) and the blankets (neither with the folding).  I thought I’d help them along.

They’ve been in there for about 5 minutes now.  Here is an extensive list of what they have accomplished:

*Micah has discovered the “voice-in-fan” phenomenon, much to his and Isaac’s delight.

*Isaac has found a ninja turtle (has he put it away?  Nope).

*Micah sat on Isaac’s face.

*They’re now transforming (ala Transformers, not butterflies).  It must have been a painful transformation (Isaac is crying).

*That is all.

Do I intervene with much yelling and some frustration on both our parts?  Or do I just let the afternoon run its course, and know that at the end of the day their room won’t be clean AT ALL, but I’ll have had a quiet, lovely afternoon wherein I have accomplished much due to the fact that my children have been busy sitting on each others faces.

I think I’m going to go with the latter.

On trying not to be creepy:

I almost hugged an old man in the parking lot at Superstore today.  He was driving a little sporty blue Honda, and he was all decked out in a baseball hat, striped suit coat and red sweater vest with a plaid shirt underneath.  He practially jumped out of his car, and then proceeded to parade around it 50s style..(you know…hunched down low over it inspecting its smooth lines and pristine finish, right before he whips a comb out of his suit pocket and slicks hair back with some Brill cream.)  He was just so cute and spunky looking I was seized with the irrational impulse to run over and hug him, but I thought that might make me seem a little creepy.  Which is weird, when you think about it.  Usually the phrase is “creepy old man.”  I guess today I was the antithesis of “creepy old man.”  

“Ethel, I was out at the Superstore today and I’m pretty sure there was a creepy young lady staring at me!”  

Somehow, it just doesn’t have the same ring.

Computers and Woody Woodpecker.

I got a new computer on Friday.  It’s beautiful, and wonderful, and smart, and fast, and it doesn’t randomly shut off or freeze up or keep typing the “r” key 5,102 times after I stopped pushing the “r” key, it doesn’t spit fire or eat princesses either.  It does have wireless internet (so I no longer have to sit hunched over the dresser in our bedroom typing–a long story).  It plays my music, runs my transcription programs, and would probably cook dinner and do the laundry if I asked it to.  It’s purdy.

On a completely unrelated note, I’ve been pillaging my local library for DVDs for the kids.  They (specifically Micah) are growing out of Treehouse.  So, in an effort to avoid the cartoons and shows on the other cartoon networks that are really, in my opinion, geared more for teenagers or “tweens” (what a silly term), I’ve been picking up some old stuff for them.  They’ve watched some Gummi Bears, TaleSpin, Transformers, a little GI Joe…you get the idea.  Last week, I picked up Woody Woodpecker.  An old cartoon from the 30’s, it’s gotta be wholesome.  Most likely harmless, I thought.  HA!  I sat down and watched it with the boys today.  Apparently after Prohibition, people really went hog-wild.  Some of the episodes were all right, but others had scantily-clad, busty women; smoking; and characters getting hammered and then doing idiotic things.  I always watched Woody Woodpecker when I was a kid, and my mom loved it.  My mom, the woman who inked out the words “rats” and “phooey” in my Sesame Street books and wouldn’t let me watch The Little Mermaid and the Smurfs because of the witches, but the boobs, booze, and cigars were ok.  I think we’ll stick to Gummi Bears from now on.

You should sit down first.

I’ve just spent the last hour producing something so remarkable that I have no choice but to share it with the world.  I had no idea I was capable of producing such a marvel, such an indescribable wonder of glorious natural and synthetic substance.  It was so amazing, so awe-inspiring, that my son even took the time to tape two popsicle sticks together and label them “GooooooooooooD” (with 12 “o’s” for added emphasis) to honor my spectacular accomplishment.

What is this, you ask?  I will tell you.  You might want to sit down.  I have produced:  

A lint ball.  

Not just any lint ball, mind you.  This is a lint ball of gargantuan proportions that will change the way we view the world as we know it.  

Ok, so maybe I exaggerate a little.  But it is one heck of a lint ball.  Apparently, cleaning out the lint trap after every load of laundry is not enough.  Apparently, the designers of lint traps around the world need to be given a lesson in design or common sense or something like that.  I spent the last hour with a MacGyver-like lint removal contraption made up of a piece of moulding, a needle-nosed pliers, a paintbrush, a wooden spoon, and my vacuum cleaner.  (If MacGyver would have been there it would have only taken half the time to clean, and afterwards he would have built me a new dryer with the leftovers.  A dryer that could FLY.) 

My stupendous lint removal adventures not only yielded an 11-inch-around ball of lint, but also a toothpick, a MATCH (IN MY DRYER.) lots of crumbs, and most of a cat.

And now I’m going to throw it away.

Glad We’ve Got That Covered.

While driving home from the grocery store today, the boys and I had a looooong and detailed conversation covering when it is appropriate to dial 9-1-1 and when it is not appropriate.  We covered several different scenarios:  If mommy falls down and doesn’t answer your questions, if there is a fire (although much clarification was needed here…what kind of fire?  Should I put it out myself?  Is a candle a fire to call 9-1-1 about?  If Mommy is home should I call Mommy first or 9-1-1 first?)  

Micah and Isaac then decided to offer a detailed list of when a call to 9-1-1 would be warranted.  Just in case you need something for quick reference in an emergency, you can print the following list off.

According to Micah, dial 9-1-1 if:

1.  There is a fire.

2.  You are on fire.

3.  There is an emergency.

4.  Mommy gets hurt.

5.  You accidentally hurt your brother or yourself after Mommy gets hurt.

According to Isaac, it is appropriate to dial 9-1-1 if:

1.  ’Da whole houthe isth on FIIIIRE

2.  A sthpider pokesth you in ‘da eye.

This comment launched another equally long conversation about why spiders don’t usually go around poking people in the eye (My answer:  ”Umm…that’s just how they roll. They were oddly satisfied with that).  This was followed by another discussion about how it is not appropriate to dial 9-1-1 if you get poked in the eye or otherwise assaulted by a spider, unless you live in Australia.  Spiders in Australia are scary.  So, I can rest easy tonight knowing that if we’re ever in Australia and one of us gets poked in the eye by a vindictive poisonous spider, my children will know exactly how to handle the situation.

Pennsylvania on my mind…

I live here.  I used to live there.   I absolutely love living here, but there are some culinary delights that I miss about living there.

I miss pork and sauerkraut, not because I can’t get sauerkraut here (it can be easily found in the international foods aisle, right in between the fish sauce and the Thai rice noodles) but because AJ thinks it’s icky.  If I did make it, I’d be stuck eating an entire crockpot full of it by myself, and twice a day for two weeks afterwards (or, every time I warmed up a plate of sauerkraut) I’d get to hear about how gross it is to eat rotten cabbage.  And I quote:  ”Let’s take something gross.  Liiike, cabbage. We’ll let it rot for a good long while, and then eat it! YUM!”  I need to find some Pennsylvania Dutch people here to help me eat sauerkraut.  

I also miss Apple Jacks.  And Tastykakes.  And Applebutter.  And soft pretzels.  And Tastykakes.  And Uniques. And funnel cake.  Although, come to think of it, I don’t really know that you can’t get funnel cake here, but I have yet to find any.  And Tastykakes.

I just found the Tastykakes website.  I’m just going to go there and drool for a while.

???

Do you remember your teachers in elementary school explaining your homework/test/project?  They’d always give you the instructions and then say something along the lines of “Does anyone have any questions?”  Nobody ever asked any questions, of course, and after a few minutes of silence most of my teachers would always tag on “Remember, there is no such thing as a stupid question!”  I beg to differ. 

Micah seems to have perfected the art of the stupid question.  Don’t get me wrong. He’s a really smart kid.  Sometimes he asks the most insightful questions about God, life, salvation, and the way the world works.  Other times, however, his thought processes must get disconnected somewhere, and he manages to ask the most ridiculous questions I have ever heard.

M- Mom, what if the table were made out of jelly?

K-  Ummmmm….Uhhh….I don’t know?

M- Mom, what if the refrigerator was a car and we drove around in it?

K-  Ummm….Well….Uhhh…Then we would be driving in a refrigerator car?

M- Mom, would a boy still be a boy if he had long hair and you cut his weiner off?

K-  Umm…I don’t…I can’t….I…Uhh…(twitch)….

And so, elementary school teachers of the world, I bring you Micah.  King of the ridiculous and unanswerable question.  So there.

Hello Blogging, My Old Friend…

So (to state the obvious) I haven’t blogged for a while.  I’ve come up with countless theories as to why I haven’t blogged.  I’m too busy, I’m not busy enough (HA!), I’ve got writer’s block, I have had some people compliment me on my writing and therefore stopped all together for fear of writing something that sucked…and the list goes on.  I think, however, it comes down to this:  my life just isn’t as interesting now as it was a year ago.  Let us compare.

A year ago, I was chasing 5 kids under the age of 5 around my basement, trying to entertain them/keep them from injury.  A year ago, the only adult outlet I had for my creativity was blogging.  Somehow, making jokes about how frazzled I was with my current circumstances made me feel a little better. Writing something entertaining that people enjoyed made me feel more like a grown-up and less like a Dora the Explorer clone.  ”C’MON EVERYONE, VAMANOS!!!  LET’S GO UPSTAIRS AND HAVE LUNCH!”  (Has anyone else ever noticed that Dora YELLS A LOT?!?!)  A year ago life was a bit of a nuthouse, and blogging was my escape.

Look with me now, if you will, at my life these days.  I get up in the morning, take Micah to school and AJ to work, and then sit in my office with my (most-of-the-time-able-to-quitely-entertain-himself-and-is-usually-happy-just-to-be-in-the-same-room-as-mommy) 3-year-old and spend 5 hours most mornings typing words like “gastroesophagoduodenoscopy” (my personal favorite) and “left retrograde ureteropyelogram,” or doing research to figure out whether Dr. McMumbles actually said “chaflamaheine,” like I heard, or “trough lamotrigine,” and what the heck is lamotrigine anyway?  After a while either I need a break or Isaac does, and so we’ll play, read a story, or just go get Micah from school.  Then I clean my house, make supper, clean up from supper/put the kids to bed, and either go and try to cram 3 more hours of trough lamotrigine in before bed, or watch LOST with AJ.  Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love what I’m doing, it just doesn’t make for very intriguing blog fodder.  ”Dear Internet, today I spent 3 hours researching MRI terminology.  It was fascinating.” The end.

All that being said, I’ve been itching to start writing again.  I’ve been nervously approaching my blog, but until now haven’t really gotten up the guts to post anything again.  At first, I just didn’t have anything to say, but lately I’ve been treating my blog more like an old friend that I haven’t seen for a while.  I’m a little nervous about how our first encounter will go, since we haven’t seen each other or talked for so long.  As a result, I end up avoiding the encounter all together.

So here I am, I’ve been reaquainted with my old friend Blog.  He’s willing to look past my shortfalls, and to forgive me for my long absence, for never calling, and never writing.  He is, all in all, a decent chap.  Very understanding and all that.