Summertime and the livin's easy

You guys, you know what today is? Wednesday, right. But not just any Wednesday. Last lunch bunch of the school year Wednesday.

Sob...sob...sob.

The school year is ending. It's happening regardless of what I say or do. I thought I was powerful, turns out I'm not. I do not have the power to stop school from ending. See, here's the thing. I love Alice to pieces, and I love the boys. But, if I'm being completely honest, I'm a tiny bit scared of the summer. Day in day out, Alice and Owen best of friends, worst enemies. I'm not sure who's gonna kill who first, me or them.

Don't misunderstand, I love summer. The long days spent primarily outside soaking in the sun, the freedom to spend the day at the zoo or a museum with no looming school pick up time hindering our fun, and the pool. I do so love spending hours at the pool playing. But I can see it now, to spend the day at the pool I need a certain amount of time to pack all the shit required for a days worth of enjoyment. I can hear the unsupervised screams of, "She hit me," "He kicked me first," "Crosby's wrecking my train," "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty!" Never ending whining and yelling all so I can get us the hell out of the house. Maybe it's not worth it, oh but it is...to stay home is worse. Constantly having to find entertainment to keep everyone happy, otherwise an impromptu game of "beat each other with plastic arrows" might break out.

Yesterday, I spent nap time googling summer schedule, stay at home mom schedule, homeschooling schedule, etc. I'm craving order and it's not even summer, school hasn't even ended. I've downloaded and printed fifty or so schedule cards with pictures of the days activity. Somehow I feel if I glue them to pretty card stock and involve the kids in following our daily schedule I will prevent war from breaking out. Maybe if they have less down time, there will be less opportunities for creative mutiny. Time will tell. I want to have a good summer, an enjoyable summer filled with fantastic memories of adventure and nature, of daily outings and happy togetherness...peace love blah blah blah.

What's your summer secret? Share, I need all the advice I can get!

Rubbermaid Containers

Can I share with you my most hated aspect of parenting? The clothes. The endless buying and washing and outgrowing and changing seasons, over and over again and again. I despise the entire process.

For starters, I am the only one in charge of the clothes. I guess the day Alice was conceived, Hatta and I signed an invisible contract stating that I would oversee all things clothing. I would be in charge of ensuring our baby had warm clothing in the winter and bathing suits in the summer...every single year for the rest of her childhood. Easter dresses and Christmas tights, all on me, and do be sure you buy during a sale. I suppose I should just shut up and be thankful that we can afford to buy Alice clothing, first world problem I know. Still, it's exhausting.

Please, someone, explain to me why I'm the only one to notice when her pants become capris? Which presents another aspect of this problem, what to do with the outgrown clothing. Not only is it my responsibility to purchase new size 5 leggings in the middle of the season (hmm, does Hatta even know what size Alice wears?) I have to sort and box up the size 4 leggings that are no longer an acceptable length. Every season it's a juggling act to comb through boxes of hand-me-downs, pull out the appropriate clothing for the season and box up everything else. This all translates to piles of outgrown clothing stacked up in various places as the season starts winding down. And please repeat this process every single freakin season for years and years and years.

Four times a year, it's the same, survey the clothing, force Alice to try on clothing, sort through hand-me-downs, force Alice to try on more clothing, wash everything, buy new clothing to fill the gaps in the wardrobe, wash more clothing, remove old clothing from drawers, stack around the room, wonder where in the hell you are going to stack yet another large Rubbermaid container in the basement, cry tears into your tequila, repeat over and over again.

I do apologize for this rant, I suppose I'm just a touch bitter after four and a half years of the same and with another season change barreling down upon me I'm feeling the blood boiling inside at the upcoming task. My mind is already in spring clothing mode, with preparations for summer being made when sales arise. The only comfort is knowing I'm not alone. All of my girlfriends with children are also solely responsible for the children's clothing too. Maybe I should coordinate a strike, instead.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Today's the day. January 2nd. The day I have been waiting for with equal parts of fear and loathing mixed in.

2012 was not a horrible year. Sure, I have written a handful of posts that would like to convince you otherwise. But, truly, in the grand scheme of life it wasn't horrible. I have a nice warm house to play in, I never go to bed starving, and Alice was fortunate enough to have a very good Christmas. I will not complain.

With the start of a brand new year, it's natural to reflect on the previous one. As far as personal achievements, I did good. I made reading a priority. I committed myself to exercising on a regular schedule, and in doing so rediscovered the old Nelly. I made having adult fun a crucial part of my life. I no longer believe I am just a mom. I did all this for the better part of 2012...then I started slacking. A little slacking here and there turned into a shit ton of slacking with a large heaping of laziness on the side, and before I knew it I was no longer going to the gym at all. I wasn't reading or writing. I was enjoying the holidays with reckless abandon. I had a very good and somewhat legitimate excuse to eat and drink all I cared to and then some. By Decemeber my "damn your ass looks good in those" jeans no longer fit. I had resigned myself to leggings, yoga pants, and two pairs of fat jeans.

Life was good. Until today.

Today I begin 2013 with determination to fix what I broke. Here goes, hold me accountable blogosphere.

• I will not bite my nails. I will not use the excuse "I'm just biting the skin." I will take the time necessary to have pretty fingers.
• I will blog. I will stop making excuses. If I have time to search YouTube for Y&R episodes, I have time to write.
• I will exercise. Regulary. All year long.
• I will organize my finances. This does not mean straighten the money in my wallet. I probably don't even have any money in my wallet.
• I will organize my house. Again, no more excuses...see above, regarding Y&R episodes.
• I will read books. Not only glorified porn. There has to be more than smut on my iPad.
• I will do what's necessary to take care of myself in as many ways as necessary. Seems vague, but I do it for Alice. If her skin is dry, I take the time to lotion. If her socks are getting too small, I make it a priority to buy new socks. I will wax because smooth makes me feel better. I will paint my toes because a pop of color can brighten a dreary day. I will take care of my skin because its the only skin I will ever have. I will spend money on new bras because they make me feel pretty. I will buy makeup when needed, doing so does not make me a lifetime member of the Sephora Club kind of girl.

I'm not normally into New Year's resolutions. And really, these aren't so much resolutions as a swift kick in the ass. I had a good thing going over the holidays, but gluttony doesn't fit me well.

Have You Seen My (fill in the blank)

There's a person in my life that loses everything. I won't mention any names. I've already had to join the blogger protection program once before, not looking to do it again.

I don't even know how it's possible to lose some of the shit that disappears. Take for example a winter coat. How in world does a grown person lose a winter coat in your own home? It's only been a handful of months since it was last needed. Yet, it happened. How about a cell phone charger for the brand new iPhone 5? Mine hasn't even been delivered yet and somehow, in a matter of days, this person lost theirs. I could go on and on and on and on...sunglasses, debit cards, keys, concert tickets, shoes, et cetera, et cetera.

I tell you fine readers this saga because it amuses me. It didn't always. It used to drive me batty. Worse than batty. Wars have been fought over this shit. But somewhere in the last few years, I let it go. I realized it wasn't my belongings that were being lost (most of the time,) so I got over it and started laughing more.

I'm not a vindictive bitch, I've tried helping this person rectify the problem. I've put into place systems, a place for everything, everything in its place. Except no matter how I suggest, prompt, or bitch nag things don't end up in their place. And then they disappear. Maybe I'm blaming the wrong person. Possibly, and I'm going out on a limb here, these items all get up and walk away. It's some kind of sick trick they're playing. I dunno. All I know is the misfortune of one is entertainment to another. I am allowed that privilege as compensation for putting up with it for so many years. Retribution, if you will.

I had a good laugh this morning. Remember that iPhone charger? Well, apparently the replacement that was purchased just yesterday, turned up missing. It was only MIA for a few moments, but for those moments I was peeing my pants laughing, in my head of course.

Getting My Shit Together

Today marks the first day of "Get Your Shit Together."

I need to get my shit together.

When some folks say that, they may be referring to their physical condition, maybe they need to exercise more, finally get in shape, eat healthier. Others may say it in reference to their career. Maybe they are stuck in a dead end job, making far less than they deserve. While an entirely different set of individuals may use that phrase to describe the stage of life they are in, finally stop being a kid and grow up stage. Not me. I mean it in the most literal sense. Well, maybe not quite literal, I'm not trying to organize feces or anything, just the four years of shit I've accumulated since Alice was born. Memorabilia, if you will.

I am not a neat freak. I have no qualms with a minimal amount of clutter. Given the choice between playing games with Alice or cleaning, I'll always choose the game. The dirt will still be here day in day out for the rest of my life, four year old Alice will not. I am, however, organized. I always know where everything is. Hatta loses countless things every week. Not only does this not happen to me, I can usually locate the lost item for him. Now, I'll be the first to admit it doesn't appear that I have a grand organizational system, but clearly I must. I don't lose things. I don't misplace items. On the rare occasion that it happens, sadly, I am merely human, I berate myself to no end. I do not enjoy "pulling a Hatta."

When it was just my shit I was keeping track of, it was easy breezy. Enter Alice and the gawd alfuwl responsibility of preserving her childhood so one day thirty years from now she doesn't criticize me for not saving every freakin memento of her past. I speak from experience. I chastised my mother countless times about my baby book, or lack there of. I know what it felt like to see my older sisters' baby books and know that mine ended well before kindergarten.

So, I've been saving it all. Every birthday card. Every potty sticker chart. Every height/weight card from the pediatrician. Every letter from the Easter Bunny. If it could be saved, I did. Then there's the artwork. I've saved a lot. More than a lot. Samples of her drawing at each stage of her life. Collages, paintings, handprints...saved them all. I tried to remember to date the back, but to be honest I wasn't always successful. Not knowing what to do with all of this shit, I've been creating stacks of it here, paper bags of it there. Four years of Alice's life is starting to take a toll on my sanity. It's always been my crux. In the back of my mind I've tortured myself with the stacks of cards and drawings, the incomplete baby book, all signs of my failure as a mother. Now, I'm smart enough to know a baby book does not measure a mother, nevertheless, it still haunts my thoughts.

Today I started. I began separating and categorizing, organizing and purging. I've simplified my original grand plans to a much more managing filing system. The end outcome will be the same. Alice with have tokens of her childhood to look back on when she's older. She will know I cared.

And to you dear Alice, when you look back on the memorabilia and you come across the photos of you sitting in Santa's lap and you feel a picture is missing and your initial reaction is to blame your mother for losing your two year old Santa picture, think again missy may. I did no such thing. I took you to see Santa. I placed you in his lap. You screamed bloodly murder. Three years in a row. They actually used your one year old crying picture in their advertising. I refused to buy another photo of you crying. We tried on two separate occasions to convince you he wasn't the second coming of Satan. You had your own opinions and now you have a blip in your Santa photo saga.

List Mode

I'm in list mode. This happens several times a year, I feel the strong urge to prioritize and organize with the help of my handy dandy lists. Usually..."I would say I'm a kinda fly by the seat of your pants gal, you know moment to moment. Yeah that's me, that's...yeah." Oh, wait. No. That's Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. That's definitely not me. I'm a planner. For sure. At any given time, in my head, is a list of things needing my attention. I lie in bed at night reviewing and reorganizing my mental do to's. Most months of the year my brain file folder is sufficient, except Christmas, Alice's birthday, and the last month of the summer. On these occasions I do not trust my memory alone to keep it all straight. I bring out the heavy artillery.

"Why the last month of the summer?" you ask.

Very good question, indeed. The last month of the summer is what I refer to as Oh-shit-summers-ending-hurry-and-do-everything. It's when all my hopes and dreams for the summer either come to fruition or crash and burn. It's the month that separates the men from the boys. All that hype takes a bit of planning. Add to that the most awesomely, awesome deadline ever...PRESCHOOL! Let's just take a moment to celebrate. In a month, Alice will be in preschool five days a week. Five. If that doesn't put a smile on your face surely nothing will. Anyway. As excited as I am about preschool starting (did I tell you how excited I am?) it does create added planning on my part. Forms, medical records, teacher meetings, new parent's picnic. Preschool prep has forced me to step up my end of the summer planning a bit. In my head are numbered lists and bullet points galore. All freakin day long. It's like I can't escape the mental organization of my thoughts. So bear with me. I imagine this will not be the only list post you read this week.

In this last month of summer, I will be the proud owner of a new car. I'm getting a new car! I'm getting a new car! My current ride, a Honda Element has been outgrown. As wonderful a vehicle as it is, it only seats four. That's right. Many a times, I have driven around illegally with a fifth seated on the backseat floor or riding in the way back. Add to that, needing new brakes, a new driver side key lock thingamajig, new tires (just guessing,) oh, and the matience required light has been on for...hanging head in shame...years. We've decided now is the time for an upgrade and I've issued the deadline of "by the end of the summer." Without deadlines we do nothing.

Reasons I am stoked about the upcoming new car.

1. Keyless entry. I've owned 3 cars and have never had the luxury of a magic keychain. Oh, how I've dreamed of keyless entry.
2. Front passenger seat arm rest. I am usually the driver. My seat has an arm rest. Hatta's seat does not. He is constantly stealing my arm rest.
3. Funk. My car, being old, has funk embedded deep in all crevices. It screams a child with sticky, crumby fingers lives here. It will be nice to start with a clean slate, you know, to dirty up.
4. Roof racks. Not needed often, but so helpful.
5. Keyless entry. At present, I can't even use a key to unlock the drivers side door.
6. Heated seats. This is not a requirement, but heated seats are such a beautiful invention. What a luxury! I used to nanny and drive a nice Volvo with heated seats. It made leaving the house on a cold morning for an early storytime bearable.
7. Color. I've never cared about the color of my vehicle. This time, paying very good money, I want to love the color. I'm not settling.
8. Keyless entry. I hear that some people have the ability to start their car with a push of a button. I just want to unlock my doors. That's all.
9. Cup holders. Nah, I don't care about cup holders, as long as I have one to fit my coffee, I'm good. I'm not impressed by cup holder count.
10. Luxury-ish. My Element is the opposite of luxurious. There is no carpet. No cushy leather. I believe I can hose the whole thing down. It's been great for camping and music festivals. It's served it's purpose. I'm ready for a taste of luxury.
11. Keyless entry. Did I mention that yet?