The Art of Starting (and stopping) and Starting Again, or, never give up on those dishes

Hey guys, it's been a while! Well, the camping trip was really fun. I say "really fun", but I mean "really scary there at the end." See, just like I predicted, good times were had by all until the sun went down. My friend and I were left all alone (with a .357 magnum, so not really "all" alone) by our wonderful men, who went to go "look at Michael's new laser". They're cool. Did I mention it was dark and scary? So, my friend and I are playing cards in the tent, because it was way too scary to be by the fire. We started hearing sounds really close to the tent, and even heard something bump against one of our cars RIGHT OUTSIDE THE TENT. We were beyond scared. I was holding onto that gun like I was scared it would try to fly away. We tried calling Michael about 12 times, but it's no surprise that he didn't answer. I wouldn't expect him to. After all, they were busy looking at the green beam of light emitted by his supercool new laser for his gun. So, long story short, we did NOT die, and we were very glad to see the boys when they got back. So glad, in fact, that we forgot about our promises to kill them for not answering their phones and leaving us all alone. That reminds me...

So, on to the reason for this post. I have realized that I am a starter/stopper. Maybe we could call it a starper? No, too weird. Anyway, I have this habit of getting into a really "productive" mood, where I will begin cleaning everything in the house from top to bottom. I'll wash clothes, do dishes, sweep floors, organize closets, box up items we no longer use, and generally act like a housewife.

The only problem is, I don't finish any of these tasks. I'm serious. None-of-it. I wash a load of clothes and forget to put them in the dryer (=mildew). I wash 1/2 the dishes, or until the dish drainer is full, and never do the rest. This means my sink is perpetually 1/2 full (or 1/2 empty, for all you pessimists out there). I sweep the floor in it's entirety, but I only do the living room and kitchen. I pull everything out of Molly's closet to organize it, end up getting involved with looking at an old photo album or tiny baby outfit that "I can't believe she was ever small enough to fit into" (insert sobbing), and end up sitting there for 2 hours and getting nothing done. I will start putting clothes I don't wear any more into a box, then decide that maybe that shirt isn't as hideous as I'd previously imagined, get it out, try it on, and forget what I was ever doing in the first place. Sigh.

I guess I do the start/stop thing because I get these little bursts of energy that make cleaning sound not only doable, but FUN. But it never takes long until that bubble of energy pops. That couldn't have anything to do with being tired from chasing an energetic 2 year old around all day, could it? No, didn't think so.

Does anyone else deal with this? Tell me about it! Comment below or email me. Don't forget to click "Follow this blog" on the NetworkedBlogs widget on the right side bar!

Have a great week.

Debra

They could be giant and very frightening: The dangers of camping

Today, I wrote my article for the Watertown Gazette and submitted it. I am so excited to see it on August 2nd! I've already submitted my article for the Roane Reader too, and that will be out at the beginning of August. I am also waiting to hear back from The Tennessean to find out when I can submit an article! I feel so purposeful. Important, even. Actually, I feel like a freaking celebrity. A very small, not-well-known, F-list celebrity, but a celebrity nonetheless.

 This Friday is Michael's birthday, so we are going camping with some friends to celebrate. We always camp at the same spot, and I love it. There is a rock fireplace, a grill grate, logs to sit on (but when I noticed that the world's largest grand-daddy long leg population resides on those logs, we started bringing chairs), awesome hiking trails, a waterfall, and the fire tower. It just isn't possible to have a bad time when all these amenities are available to you. Except...

Okay, this may sound ridiculous, but sometimes I get really scared while I'm camping. It always happens the same way: First, I'm fine. Everything is going great, it's still kind of light outside, and the good times are a rollin'. Then, it gets dark. Like, really dark. And everyone decides it's time to go to bed. I try to goad everyone into staying up for a little while longer to avoid the fear that I know will hit me when I lay down and it gets quiet, but you can't restart the party once everyone is ready for bed.

So, off to bed. In a tent, where you can see shadows on the walls (and the shadows usually look like a hand with a hook, or a chainsaw). And friends, it NEVER fails--every time I go camping, I start hearing what Molly calls "sceery-sounds", or scary sounds. Last time we camped, we thought there were wild hooligans in the forest with us, making some  weird high-pitched sound with clicking. I was imagining a tribe of cannibalistic African bushmen with spears and face paint. I wasn't the only one who was scared. And then we found out the sound was being made by a bird. A night bird. Which was still sort of scary, because who knows what night birds look like, anyway? They could be giant and very frightening. I'll assume they are.

Another time we were camping, just Michael and I, and there were some other people camping on the mountain below us. When we got into our tent that night, around 3 am, we started hearing footsteps and laughter. Michael was asleep, so I was on super-alert and sat up to listen. The footsteps were so close, and when I saw the beam of light from flashlights, I freaked out and lay back down with Michael. I pinched him hard to wake him up, only to find he was already awake (I swear I didn't know this beforehand). The people walked off the hiking trail in front of our campsite and right in front of our tent. They stopped for a second, and then walked on. I was certain that these people wanted to kill us. Evidently, they did not. Michael thinks they were just drunk and stumbled through our site by accident. Apparently I'm "not reasonable" and "overly paranoid". I was fearing for my life! Come on.

Anyway.

Oh, my dad's birthday and Michael's mom's birthday are on Saturday the 28th, so happy birthday to them! When Michael and I first got together and realized our parents shared a birthday, we took this as a sign that we were meant to be together. We were right.

That's all she wrote!
Love,
Debra

Psychosis-inducing, medication-requiring, awe-inspiring, crazy life

Okay, it's happened. The world (however weird and small) of mom bloggers has sucked me in. There are so many types of mom bloggers--the funny, the thoughtful, the patient, the crafty, the chefs, the mothers of multiples. I have noticed one underlying element in most mom blogs, though, and these moms really need to be a little more creative: 90% of the blogs I read by mothers had a subtitle that promised how "crazy" their life is. Examples (these are actually from blogs that I read today, emphasis added by me):
"Adventures of me and my crazy family in Colorado"
"Writing about taking care of 3 crazy kids"
"The craziness of life with a husband, an ex-husband, and a kid under one roof"
"My crazy  life, as told by me"
"Things often get a little crazy in my household...beware!"

Seriously, it is tiring, because what are the odds of ALL of these moms living "crazy" lives? Sure, I understand that life with a little one can be described as crazy at times. Particularly when you are trying to just take one peaceful shower and your 2 year old is standing in the doorway, yelling "Why you take a baff (bath)?!? I WANT BAFF" and your husband is simultaneously dressed in full camo gear, holding his new Mossberg rifle, ready to go out in the yard and "control the European Starling population", so can't you just forget your own happiness and sanity for one minute and give Molly a bath?

Whew, sorry, I got a little caught up in that one.

Maybe my original point wasn't that good, after all. I guess life with a child is pretty crazy. But I still think they could be a little more creative and use a different word, like "psychosis-inducing" (yes, I know, 2 words), or "medication-requiring" (dang it, 2 words again). In fact, speaking of medication-requiring, as I sit here and attempt to write this post, my daughter is sitting on my computer desk, literally screaming "No, no, no" over and over.
Why?
I couldn't tell you, friend, because I do not know why. I do not know why she feels it necessary to eat only half of each baby carrot, or rub the watermelon on the suede sofa. I am clueless as to why she is compelled to hold my cheek with both hands as she falls asleep (okay, that one is pretty cute) or why she thinks the phrase "Wanna go swimmin'?" will get her out of trouble (okay, sometimes it works).

I figure kids are little bit like God, in that we aren't meant to understand them. Also, they have a habit of being omniscient (all-knowing). Or at least thinking they are.

You know, a lot of people ask me when Mikey and I are going to have another baby (Remember the pervert from The Big, Fat Pervert and the Teeny Weeny Bikini?), and always seem shocked when I tell them we are done with our child-bearing.
 "You're only 21! You will change your mind."
 ...wow, even though I just met you at the grocery store, you seem to know me really well! ...Not.

"Oh, you don't want Molly to be an only child, do you?"
...Yes, I want her to be the only one I have to give my love to and spoil. I don't think she will mind.

"I was an only child, and it ruined my life. Molly needs a sibling."
...Sorry to hear about your life. Also, thanks for telling me what my child needs. I was totally unaware of her needs, as I am only her mother. I was an only child for 12 years, and I turned out alright. In fact, I'm keeping the 1-child tradition alive! Go me!

"You'll want another one later, and by then, it'll be too late. You need to go ahead and have another now."
...This doesn't even deserve a response. *Walk away*

"Once you have another baby, Molly will be old enough to help you take care of it!"
...Oh, YEAH! Molly, you hear that? No fun childhood games for you, darling! You're going to help Mommy take care of a brand-new baby that she didn't really even want! Oh, what's that? That's called spit-up, Molly. Now be a sweetie, forget about your homework, and go get me a wash cloth.

Just to clarify, I've got nothing against moms of multiples. In fact, I've got nothing but respect for them. I'm just being honest and letting everyone know that I do not see myself as being one of them in the near future. Although Molly would be really cute in one of those Big Sister shirts...


By the way, I've joined a new blog networking site. This could help me get tons of new readers and followers. I know there a lot of you that read every new post, so why not subscribe to my posts and get a notification every time a new one comes out? Just click the "Follow Me" button on the right side of the screen in the Networked Blogs box to subscribe! I love seeing new followers, and you want to subscribe, so you can kill 2 birds with one ...erm, click!

Have a great day, weirdos! Oh, sorry, I am the weirdo. Anyway.
Debra