Banes, Pains and Praying for Rain

On my mission in Costa Rica, I noticed rather quickly the interesting "style" women, the Ticas, had when it came to dress.  I soon understood that the reason women would pair, say, a checkered top, wherein the checkers were cheetah print, and a floral print skirt with a striped ruffle -cough, urp...oh, I threw up into my mouth a little there- was that they weren't choosing an "outfit", they were choosing their favorite clothing items; best skirt, most loved top, and just happening to wear them all on the same day.  They actually had nothing to do with each other, and only had in common that they were special to the wearer.

Keep that in mind as you embark with me on the following ramblefest.

#1. I love baby clothes.

#2.  I also hate baby clothes.

#3.  Organization is my motivation.

#4. Organization is my downfall.

Okay, let us begin with #'s 1 and 2.  Baby clothes are the adorable bane of my existence.  There are so many, the sizes are ambiguous at best (yeah, right, those two items are both 3-6 month sizes, only one is twice as big as the other).  The things that look like they won't fit for two more months are what she should be wearing now, but it doesn't occur to me to try them on her until the last possible day they might fit her.  I have too many things that fit her this week, and next week there is almost nothing and we are putting her in the same thing over and over.  I can't part with any of them; baby clothes are like an extension of my actual baby.  It utterly breaks my heart to give them away.

Hence, #'s 1 and 2.

Okay, on to #'s 3 and 4...

I must get organized, yet I struggle.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  

Oh, there's a #5:

My big girls are like two fashion-challenged, color blind drunkards when it comes to clothing choices.

They put together the nastiest and most NOT matching outfits this side of Central America.

So here is my little solution for the moment.  

We'll see how much I like the "new system" a month or two from now.

Here's the BEFORE:

This is what Natalie's drawers look like most of the time.  I always wanted little girls to dress in cute clothes,

 but I am seldom the person who actually does the dressing.  The big girls fight over who dresses Natalie each morning, rummaging through the clothes, leaving a drawer of destruction in their wake.

And the AFTER:

I made little bundles, each a complete matching outfit, all rubber banded together.

The girls are not allowed to mix-n'-not-match.

So for a whole week the baby has NOT looked like a tiny Tica.

Now to attack the big girls closet.  How big do rubber bands come?

*****

Please pray for rain for California.  The nearby lake/local water source is down to 18% full, or empty, rather, and looking more like a muddy flatland.   We have only had 3-5 inches of rain since June (the usual total for December or January is about 3-4 inches).  It is the worst drought in recorded history here.  We are being rationed on water and Sacramento residents are being asked to cut our usage by 20% and not water out of doors.  We need divine intervention here.

Thanks.

Happy New List!

 New Years goals:

More writingg,, less editing (duh, I did that on purpose)

More authentic, less lying to myself, and therefore to others (um, not that I lie to you)

More listening, less blah-blah blah-blah BLAAAAAH

More cooking, less crap on their plates

More space, less stuff (um, yeah, that would also be crap)

More moments, less days-blurring-into-an-endless-stream-of-obligations

More seeing their faces, less seeing their messes

More flavor, less fat and sugar (insert whimpering sound here)

Less whimpering

More order, less searching

More smootchin', dang it!

More patience, ooohhhhmmmmmmm

More planning, less rushing

More sleep

More counting to ten, twenty, ... four million, whatever.

More present

More smiles

More prayer

More faith

More hope 

More charity

More love

More the woman I want to be.

*

Lucky for me there is a whole year to do it.

****

Photo:  Jonah playing with his Christmas gift, "The Toothbrush Chain".  No, no it has not made him stop stealing our toothbrushes and brushing the dog with them.  Thank you for asking.

How Super Heros Spend the Weekend

 

Everybody sing with me!:

"Spiderman!  Spiderman!

Sleeps where ever a spider can!

Naps on socks,

all the time

with princess gems

it's a crime

Look out!  Don't step on Spiderman!"

 *

Have you ever sent your child to clean up their 

(if you don't clean up this) room (I'm going to throw it all away!) ???  

Do your angel children try your (I'm loosing my) patience

by, instead of cleaning (I swear, I am setting the timer) their room

(is such a mess I'm gonna come in there with a bag, I'm NOT KIDDING!) 

they begin playing?

That NEVER happens

around here... (...I come!  Time's up!  

What ever is left on the floor is going to GOODWILL!)

Title Below

Jonah boy - crashed 

The title of this post has been changed due to a very persistent spammer.  The original title was:

Technical Difficulties

I tried to post last night, but the website crashed about four times.  Finally it sent me a note; it was having technical difficulties. 

It's not the only one.

I wanted to tell you all about my trip to the library, but my own technical difficulties were getting in the way.  Without the library, though, my story makes no sense.  So here it is...

The library is amazing.  It's like someone giving you a big ol' gift card to Barnes and Noble, and grabbing any book you are even remotely interested in, taking them home, reading them, and returning them no questions asked.  I go bonkers at the library.  I go to my favorite shelves and just grab any book that calls out to me.  When the pile in my left arm gets so heavy that I can't manage another book (which, by the way, is a lot of books now because of my new buffness), I stagger to the children's section, and ease my ridiculous pile onto one of those shorty tables.  Then I sit in an itty-bitty chair with my butt cheeks hanging off the sides and go through my pile, flipping through the pages and sorting the good ones from the duds like a fishmonger sorts halibut.  This time around I got books on building fountains, watercolor painting, one on raising daughters in an appearance obsessed culture, a couple about the science of water energy, a book on beading, and an amazing little book called The Creative Family... Oh, it will be a string of late nights and long visits to the little girl's room. 

It had been a strange, beautiful rainy day.  A summer storm had rolled in, humid and heavy, and it felt like a day that had been plucked out of early October.  I walked through the library feeling grateful for all of the brave people who took a chance at putting their thoughts down on a page, and then had the faith that someone would publish them, all so that I could be inspired.  And I was.  Am.

Thus inspired, when I got up yesterday I determined to do something amazing with my day.  I exercised, did a little house work, and was just finishing up our family 3-minute patrol when I heard a voice calling.  "Mom...could you come here?".

Enter technical difficulty #1.

Ethan was in the garage.  He was orange.  "I'm sorry..." he started.  Somehow he had managed to knock a small plastic container of oil painting pigment powder off of a shelf.  It broke.  He picked it up.  It dumped out all over him and the ground.  Then he had nervously paced back and forth trying to figure out what to do.

For five minutes.

In the orange powder.

Most unfortunately, the powder also happens to be very toxic.  It needed to be cleaned up carefully.  I called my PHD brother to get clean-up instructions.  I had Ethan strip down right in the garage before hitting the shower.  I had to trust him to clean the nooks and crannies, but the mama in me wanted to get in there with a luffa.  I created a sort of haz-mat suit for myself, and armed with gloves, a mask, plastic booties (Ok, Safeway bags and rubber bands, but they did the job), and some special clean-up supplies from the hardware store, I spent the next four hours in the garage, working until not a trace of orange remained.  After the mess was cleaned up, I remembered that the washer repair guy is coming today (more technical problems), so of course I had to tidy up around the machine.  Once I got going out there it was hard to stop, and it just made sense to drag out all the baby clothes to locate the toddler-sized summer duds (yes, he's that big). At 11:30, I finally stopped (not finished...stopped).

It wasn't the day I planned, but I had a lot of time to think as I schlepped around in my plastic suit.  I thought about how much I wanted to protect my children from anything that would hurt them.    I thought about chocolate (I always think about chocolate).  And I thought about the paintings I would never paint in my life because I chose to have five children.  They will be my only chances at making masterpieces, so I gotta get it right.

The orange pigment was a total loss.  I probably wasn't going to need it anyway.

Family Nite

Yesterday was a conference at church.  There were a lot of really wonderful speakers, and I got to listen to the entire thing because I was in the choir and NOT sitting with my five wiggly children.  I was not cocking one eyebrow or doing The Angry Whisper.  No one nearby required a nose wipe, a referee, or a cheerio.  And not once did I use the sign-language "No!" signal.  If you don't know what it looks like, just pucker your face, stick out your jaw and pretend you are snatching a fly out of the air.  It's pure magic, baby.  

I even took conference notes.  And if those notes were in front of me right now I might be able to remember what they talked about yesterday in greater detail.  At the moment, all I remember is one moment of counsel, and sadly I don't even know who said it.  But I remember what he said:

"I hope that tomorrow for Family Night you will work on your 72 hour kits".

I swear there were some other really touching, moving, motivating, inspiring, and amazing things said.  I even cried once.  Yet, even without "the five distractions", 72 hour kits are all I remember.

So, tonight we tried.  The functional word being tried. 

We broke out the old kit.

We discovered that:

Adam no longer wears 2T Dalmatian undies

Military MRE's from 1997 taste nasty (Hey, now, they expired in 02.  That's THIS century!)

Vaseline, diaper cream, lotion and pretty much anything in a container will leak

We now know where the mess kit is, one week late

Small pull-top cans of fruit can explode in the heat

If you leave the burst cans long enough, the contents biodegrade into black liquid

Tampons look like a stick of dynamite to a 14 year old

By the end of the night, we had accomplished very little,

but it was all good for a few laughs. 

My favorite quote of the night came from Tessa:

Ellie:  "Tessa, don't color in that coloring book. 

That's for an emergency some day for if we get bored."

Tessa:  "Well, good, cause I'm bored right now."

May we never need to use our 72 hour kit. 

Or at least not until we have replaced the canned fruit.

Spider Boy