Archive for April, 2011
I am completely over zealous when it comes to cleaning surfaces around the house.
SuperHub knows this. He doesn’t understand it, but he is happy to point and laugh as I scrub off little bits of nothing off the front of the fridge.
Add in my new appliances that the sales guy warned us were “prone to fingerprints” and you can imagine how much time I spend wiping. Wiping. Wiping.
So tonight while heating up dinner, I pulled out my microfiber cloth, special cleaner and got to work wiping away fingerprints while chatting SuperHub’s ear off about the day’s events.
When it was all spiffed up, I turned my attention (and my eyes) to the next appliance. When I turned around, SuperHub was beginning to turn purple from laughter suppression.
And he was casually pulling back up his britches.
Behind him, adorning the front of my new fridge, were two perfectly round butt cheeks.
They’re still there.
Life without a laptop is rather enjoyable. In the mornings, I sit and bask in the morning sunshine, enjoying the extra cup of coffee there never used to be time for.
It’s been quiet. Productive. A recharge for the soul. Except I have all these words, stories and things trapped in my head that need a place to escape to. Pen and paper can’t keep up plus hello hand cramps! I can hardly write a check without whining let alone paragraphs of regurgitated nonsensical thoughts.
For the record: I needed spell check to type that last sentence. Spelled most the words incorrectly on the first try. Another reason to stick to electronic forms of communication.
My laptop, like any good machine, had to be shipped off for a tune up. When it returns, my shakes will subside. That might have something to do with the second cuppa coffay and less to do with technology withdrawal but I digress.
The past spot of time has also been a great time for me to work on Me. Since losing my dad, my anxiety is off the charts.
Read: This bitch is crazy. Medication and counseling have helped me gain a greater understanding of how out of sync my inner dynamics currently are and inspired me to continue to put my healthy coping mechanisms to work. That’s a fancy way of saying “I am working on my issues before they become bigger issues.”
It would be so much easier to just go crazy.
The different parts of Me, who make Me the quirky little lady that I am, are majorly out of whack. Imagine trying to juggle 6 balls that are suddenly knocked out of pattern.
Here I am standing, trying to keep them all in the air, figuring out how in the hell I was juggling them in the first place.
But I know I was. Life was so happy.
It is happy. Just with spots of sadness, grief, anxiety and nutty sprinkled on top.
So I have thought a lot. And cleaned. Cleaning (and organizing my living space) is incredibly cathartic for me. And chatted with my good friends. Mwah, mwah, mwah.
I am figuring out how to juggle all these balls again. It helps to break it down and start over. No laptop for a couple weeks means less external obligations. Once again, less is more.
Less is better.
Except when it comes to coffee. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
If you say, “That’s my hose pot” while knee deep in shrubbery, in the corner of your yard, be warned.
This sounds like it means something entirely different when it’s overheard, beyond a privacy fence.
It’s sounds more like “That’s my ho’s pot!”
And if you’re new to the neighborhood, it is a good way to make a wrong first impression.
You say the word balls, I giggle. Seriously, I have told you before. I am a 12 year old boy on the inside.
This morning, Boots the monkey was singing about his ball on Dora the Explorer, SuperHub was purple with laughter hunched over his peanut butter toast and I nearly wet myself. At least I found someone to share life with who shares in my joy of sophomoric humor.
Related: I am primary laundry do-er at our house.
Also related: I am married to an earth loving man who constantly motivates me to make smarter choices when it comes to my carbon footprint.
One day, while stalking a friend of mine on Facebook, I ran across a company that exists solely to make the world a better place. Bonus, it is owned by a young family who has local roots. Sold!
Natural Family Supplies is run by Mountaintop Tribe, a.k.a. The Beal Family. They live, well on a mountain top, in Park County, Colorado and are GREAT people.
While perusing their online store, I happened across a set of 6 Rainbow Wool Dryer Balls. Dooood. This girl loves her some balls in her dryer.
For years I have used tennis balls to keep my bed linens for twisting but have never been a fan of the perpetual rubber aroma.
When Nicole, Mama Beal, offered me a set of lavender scented balls, I jumped at the chance to give them a shot.
The Scoop: On a personal level, I have loved working with this homegrown company. To me, customer service is everything. They get an A +.
My balls arrived in a box. I instantly grabbed them and sniffed my balls. They smelled as fresh as a lavender field in June.
Because I have three kiddos who perpetually shed clothing, almost instantly I was off to change laundry.
At the time, we were at our old house with a more antique (although far from being considered old) dryer. I kid you not, the clothes were dry in half the time. Normally I set the max time, then add a few minutes if need be. This was certainly not the case.
I was giddy. I was saving the earth AND my clothes smelled yummy. Balls!
Then we moved.
My balls were thrown into a laundry basket and transported a couple miles to their new home. Now they reside in an energy efficient dryer that goes ding ding da ding ding da ding. It’s all kinds of fun to watch them bounce around happily while doing their job.
My sheets have never looked more beautiful. And dried so quickly.
These fresh little balls are on the top of my current Favorite Things list.
Plus, I get to say things to SuperHub like “Your pj pants ate two blue balls again.” Or, have you seen my balls? I know they are here somewhere!”
My energy use has been reduced, my clothes are less wrinkled, I use 1/4 the dryer sheets that I used to and I get to regularly discuss balls.
My panties are no longer in a bunch.
I often think, will my kids ever know…
That collectively, I have spent years of their lives staring at them (asleep and awake) in awe of what extraordinary little creatures they are.
That there was a hand above them in the shower, quietly redirecting water to warm their chilled goose-bump filled skin. Or eyes watching them as they blissfully run around the yard chatting with their imaginary friends.
That there is pumpkin puree in their taco meat and carrot juice in their apple juice.
That I silently forgo dessert to make sure there is enough for everyone else first.
That we think about what is best for them, in every moment, of every day.
That we treasure each little pencil drawing of theirs more than any Picasso that money can buy.
That when we have to punish them or take away privileges, it’s harder on us then it is on them.
That I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world to be their mom.
I love doing little house projects with SuperHub. Especially those that involve drilling or nailing metal objects into the drywall.
While I generally prefer to hammer anything I can find (including drywall screws, never will make that mistake three times) into the wall to get things hung as soon as possible, he prefers to find studs to hang things the proper way.
Enter the Stud Sensor. SuperHub uses it to find the correct place to drill. I think it’s another tool to make men feel more manly.
Every time it’s within reach, I grab it and giggle. I manually make it beep and “find” the biggest stud in the room, each time saying “Oh look, I found a stud!” while holding it up to SuperHub.
It never gets old people.
Anyone who has ever moved, knows that it is quite a to-do.
Add three kiddos, a dog and moving into a house in major need of a remodel to the equation and you have the outline of “Things to be discussed” at my next therapy appointment.
For me, leaving our old house was bittersweet. I walked from room to room, plucking art and photos off walls leaving nothing but bare space and vertical dust bunnies.
I reminisced about the good times we shared there. The rooms that my kids will always remember as much larger than they actually are. Talking about why each space was special to us.
After all, telling stories is just remembering out-loud.
As I walked past our bathroom, still lighting up the night with AWESOME fluorescent light circa 1971, I reminded SuperHub: “Remember that time you came home from a business trip and asked me if I had given the dog a bath in the tub? I hadn’t. I had just shaved my legs. Yeah, that was funny.”
He giggled and refrained from commentary.
Clearly, he is learning.
As we unpack, I am still remembering and looking forward to all the good times that lay ahead of us in our new space.
And the hairy ones.