A thing of beauty

Like most people, I procrastinate from time to time (or maybe every day). One project that's been put off for a while now is the Cleaning and Re-organization of the Pantry project. However, I couldn't handle the clutter any longer, so last week I tackled it.

Very quickly, I was reminded of why I actually love projects like these. I really should do them more often. After I wiped down all of the shelves, I began putting things back. My OCD-self kicked in with great delight as I lined things up. A row of cereal boxes. Baking goods organized together. Baby food, all in one place! And the best part of all? Throwing crap away. De-junking has got to be one of the greatest household tasks. Yeah, it can be annoying when you let stuff pile up, but oh, the bliss when you get to throw things away and carve out a clean space.

Ahh. I love it.

Behold... the clean pantry. To quote Mary Poppins—or maybe it's actually John Keats—"a thing of beauty is a joy forever." Or, until the beautiful pantry gets messed up by the little people that I live with.

Chicken salad and friends

Today, whilst eating some yummy chicken salad, I thought of a dear friend—specifically the dear friend who made the chicken salad for an after-bike-race BBQ and then brought me the leftovers because she knows how much I love it.

I'm thankful for friends (that includes sisters and other female family members, of course) who listen to my troubles and give me advice... but mostly just listen.
I'm thankful for friends who understand what it's like to want to run away from your children.
I'm thankful for friends who know when I need help and (nicely) make me accept it.
I'm thankful for friends who laugh at my jokes.
I'm thankful for friends who always seem to call at just the right times.

And, I'm thankful for friends who bring me leftover chicken salad.

Sorry, no tantalizing pictures of the chicken salad. I only thought to do this post after I'd finished it.

Like mother, like daughter

Growing up, we used to tease my mom that she couldn't just sit and do nothing. When she watched a movie, she sorted coupons at the same time. I rarely saw my mom lying on the couch with a book unless she didn't feel well. We also used to laugh when she'd say, "Time to get your Saturday chores done. It's always better to work now and then play later. Let's listen to the radio while we work!" Yeah, right, Mom!

It appears that in more ways than one, I'm turning into my mother. :) Last Saturday, A gave me my Mother's Day present. I told him a few months ago that all I wanted was a morning in bed without feeding babies, feeding older kids, and breaking up fights. I decided that a Saturday would work better than a Sunday, because of church. I wrote out a schedule for him on Friday night, readied my books to read and movies to watch, and got way too excited.

I tried to sleep in, but that didn't work out so well, what with the loud children downstairs and all. So, I read a book. After a while, I realized I was bored. Not in a bad way, mind you, but bored nonetheless. "Why are the boys yelling down there? Maybe I should go help." "I can't just sit here in bed all morning. Maybe I should get up and take a shower."

I resisted, though, and barely moved out of bed until A put the babies down for their morning nap and took the older kids off to Grandma's house to ride bikes. After that, I got ready for the day, ate breakfast, and started watching Persuasion. Puttering around the house a bit helped alleviate some of the earlier boredom but I was struck by my inability to just sit and do nothing. I used to be able to lie in bed until noon when I was a teenager with no problem. Now, I get antsy if I'm not getting things done by 8 am. I can relax, but only if everything in the house is clean and babies are sleeping. I don't think this busyness is necessarily a bad thing—just another "mom" trait, I guess!

It also appears that my daughter is starting to exhibit similar traits. Sunday morning, she asked me how to spell "schedule." This is what she wrote up:
I told her that we don't usually clean the house on Sunday, but she was really excited about it... and who I am to discourage cleanliness in a child? She dusted, moved crumbs around the kitchen with the broom, cleaned her toy dishes, wiped the counters in her bathroom, and played her accordion for the babies (meant to be a lullaby, apparently, but you can imagine it was a bit more rousing than that).


P.S. Note to my husband: Rather than think to yourself, "Ha! Tennille really does love getting up with the kids and rushing around all morning to get life going," I think what's needed here is more practice at doing nothing. I propose that we have Mother's Day one Saturday every month.

Honesty

One of the things I love about blogging is the way it helps me document the events of my life. I haven't been a good journal keeper since college, so this has been a great way to keep track of big and small things that happen.

But it comes with a downside—the very public nature of that journal. I often write something positive, in place of something honest. To a certain extent, I think this is a good thing. Most people probably don't want to read about the seemingly small complaints that I have. And when I take a step back and try to find the positive slant to a particular challenge, I'm usually the better for it.

But, I also believe that every now and then, it's more important to be honest. Too often, I don't want to share the frustrations I have or insecurities I deal with because I don't want people to think I'm a complainer, especially when my problems are so small compared to others. But I also know how much I gain when I read an honest post about someone else's struggles.

I think there's real power in honesty.

So... here goes.

I've been in and out of a funk for a while now. I kept chalking it up to this event or that stress—"work is so busy with convention; A2 isn't sleeping well; I just can't get the kids to obey;"—but convention's over, just had an awesome vacation, and funk is still firmly in place. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm dealing with depression, mostly because funk sounds better in my head than depression.

I'm either crying over everything, or weirdly unemotional. Little rule infractions by the kids send me over the edge. I don't have much interest in much of anything. More often than not, I want to run away rather than deal with stuff. In short, I haven't been dealing all that well with the details of my life.

To-do list to get out of aforementioned funk
1. Exercise more regularly. Exercise=happy-making endorphins.
2. Have better scripture study and more meaningful prayers for more balance and peace.
3. Read good books instead of watching TV. (Incidentally, I would love some book suggestions.)
4. Get better at accepting help from friends and family.
5. Remember that challenges help us have empathy for others. Look for ways to serve others so you don't focus on your own problems.

I've been feeling somewhat good the past few days, so hopefully, this means more up days than down days in the future. Here's to hoping this funk goes away soon, and that your own semi-dark periods are infrequent visitors in your house.

Disney pics, Part II

Aunt T and the kids at Magic Kingdom

Mickey and the three older kids

Grandma and S at the convention

Two Boba Fetts

T fighting Darth Vader

H's turn

H's school journal entry after the trip. Note the correct light saber colors, plus his black hat that he wore that day.

The one-and-only T

T is four today—hooray!

Sometimes, I feel bad for other families because they don't have a T. He really is a spectacular child—spectacular in his awesomeness, and often spectacular in his tantrums.

1. He is a natural comedian. He loves acting out TV shows and movies, and making people laugh. He's hilarious and he knows it.

2. He is very affectionate and loving. He tells me he loves me about 20 times a day, and I hope he never stops doing it.

3. He lives life on his own terms. He likes things to be his idea, which becomes tricky when he needs to pick up toys or put away clothes. Sometimes, I just have to leave him alone to let him make the decision himself. (When I told A's mom about this, she said A was exactly the same way as a child. Nice to know the trait comes from somewhere.)

4. He adores his older brother. They play together all day long, which often leads to fights and shouts of "He hit me!" But it most often leads to awesome rockets made out of blocks, Jedi battles with light sabers, and impromptu baseball games in the backyard. I love how much these boys love each other, and I hope it never ends.

We're off to an indoor pool (complete with slides and waterfalls) with family and friends today to celebrate. Happy birthday, T. We love you!

Disney pics, Part I

Hot, pathetic babies sleeping at Discovery Cove.

After being so hot all day at Discovery Cove, I couldn't bear to put clothes on the poor babies. So, they ended the day in diapers.

The sweet relief of a water ride at Animal Kingdom.

The fam at Hollywood Studios.

Magic Kingdom

Pirate kids

We came... we saw... we conquered Disney World!

We're back! Rather than bore everyone but my mother with a travel log of our adventures, I thought I'd do a list of the high points and low points.

High points
A truly great flight out to Florida. Everyone did awesome (thanks, in part to the Benadryl I gave the babies. And yes, the doctor recommended I do it.)
Staying at this hotel. It was amazing!
Both H and T getting picked for the Jedi training at Disney Hollywood studios, and both defeating Darth Vader.
Standing in line for 10 minutes total to see Mickey, Minnie, and Goofy (sure, they were in their safari clothes at Animal Kingdom, but who cares?)
Swimming with assorted fish and stingrays at Discovery Cove.
Frozen lemonade, slushies, cold water, and the awesome water bottle/fan that we bought ($16 and it was worth every penny).
Watching my kids' faces light up during the Main Street parade—especially S, who was so thrilled to see all the princesses.
Having help from A's family—they were the best!
Seeing my kids go on the "big" rollercoasters and get less afraid than I would.
Having my sister join us for the last few days. She got some awful blisters on her feet from walking so much, but we had a blast with her!
Minimal whining from all three of the big kids.
Even less whining from the babies. They were such troopers!
Watching S be the star of the opening number at the big recognition event for my company's convention. She was amazing!

Low points
Record-setting heat (and don't forget the humidity).
A2 getting a fever and ear infection.
The $280 bill for having the doctor come to our hotel room to diagnose the ear infection and dispense the antibiotic.
Realizing that hotel housekeeping had thrown away N's reflux medicine. Yeah, she pretty much wasn't eating by the end of the trip.
Me getting three canker sores in my mouth, making any eating or drinking fantastically painful.
A2 waking up in the middle of the night on Saturday night, screaming his head off. I took him out to the hotel atrium and sat there for 45 minutes in my pjs and glasses, while he sleepily looked around at hundreds of people partying the night away. He finally fell asleep in the room an hour after that.

The highest high point of all... spending time in the "Happiest Place on Earth" with my six favorite people on earth.

(Pictures to follow later. I dropped the camera on the ground by Splash Mountain. It still works, but it's trickier to pull pictures off, so A will have to do it for me.)

Wicked, sharks, 1-2-3, and credit reporting

On Friday night, S and I went to see Wicked with A's sister. It was delightful. I didn't know the whole story (I know, can you believe it?), so it was great to experience it all with S. The next morning, she put on her new t-shirt and old witch's hat and made her brothers act out the play. H was Fiyero and T was a flying monkey.

This week, H had a program at kindergarten. All of the kids had completed diorama projects on animals (well, some of the kids did their projects; other projects were obviously completed by the parents). H picked sharks. Luckily for him, his aunt loves sharks so we got a cool shark and some other sea life to put in his project. Each of the kids had to present their projects (just reading a few sentences about the animal) and H did a great job.
For the past month or so, I've been using a different discipline tactic with the kids. The decision to try it came out of a pleading prayer for something, anything that would help. I immediately thought of a book I had gotten for free that I had never read. It's called 1-2-3 Magic and it's a fairly well-known program. It involves saying, "That's 1" the first time they whine, act out, etc, and "that's 2" the second time. On 3, they go to time out. (And yes, you can give an automatic 3 for things like hitting and such.) It's not rocket science and we've tried different forms of it before, but I think the part I like most about it is that you're supposed to take the emotion out of discipline. No arguing, no lectures, no begging your kids to behave. It's working really well, especially with T—and I think it's because I'm more calm.

Lastly, a T funny. The other day, he was coloring at the kitchen table with H. I was changing the babies' diapers and I heard T singing and tapping the table with two pencils like they were drumsticks. This is what I hear: "I married a dream girl, I married a dream girl, but she didn't tell me..." He kept singing the same part over and over again. Fairly quickly, I realized what he was singing. Then H pipes in, "She didn't tell me her credit was bad."

If you don't recognize it, here's a refresher:



I'm going to chalk this up to my boys having inherited their dad's uncanny ability to recite TV/movies after only one viewing, and not a result of any over-watching of TV.

Hot Dogs

Yep, you read that right. We're entering into the season of summer, and therefore, the season of hot dogs.

I have always loved hot dogs. Of course, as a woman, I've had to keep this love quiet—because they're not cool, right? Well, I don't care anymore. I am proudly proclaiming my love for hot dogs.

Every BBQ during the summer, I have to have one, because it's the only socially acceptable time for me to do so. "It's summer. I might as well have one!" I have to be careful because if I first eat something "good" like a chicken breast, I'm still unable to pass up the hot dog, and my meat total for the evening can quickly get a little ridiculous.

Other times of the year, I sometimes get weird looks if I say I like hot dogs. "They're sickening, you know. How could you eat those things? Do you know what they're made of?"

"I was just joking, seriously. I hate them, too."

But I don't. I love them.

I remember eating them as a kid for lunch... with milk. (Yes, it's kind of a gross combination, but at the time, it was great.)

I am a purist, though, when it comes to toppings. I'm strictly a ketchup fan, although I wouldn't say no to a chili cheese dog if you offered. Mmm, chili cheese dog.

As much as women try to deny it, there are a lot more of us than you might think. A's cousin and I used to work together. She, too, loves hot dogs. When another girl started working there, we thought she was great, but after seeing her buying sub sandwiches and other healthy fare for lunch, we thought there was no way that she would be a fellow HD lover. One day, we asked her. Imagine our surprise to find out we were wrong.

Do you love them, too? (And if you don't, please keep it to yourself, mmm, kay?)