There was a time when I thought my purpose in this life was to have children so I could nurture them as they grown into lovely, kind and generous adults, basking in the glow of their beautiful lives knowing I had a small part in their happiness. #1 I watch too many Hallmark movies and #2 I've booked too many flights to La La Land because nothing could be further from the truth.
I have been given a permanent position in an evil scheme called Opposite Day. Maybe you have heard of this exhaustive (for me) little game; the newest version of waterboarding and all the rage with my kids. No? My little ratfinks think that it is a hoot and my only defense is to ask of them what I would like not to be done, all the while praying in return the complete opposite "what I do want/need/like" will be greeted with full-fledged eagerness to hopefully irritate Mommy. A request for them to stay inside is happily ignored and out they go to play while I relish some much needed silence. "You don't have to eat dinner now" results in a scampering to the dinner table, "Yes you can stay up all night" equals a delicious murmur of "Mommy I'm ready for bed" and announcing I don't mind if a wet towel remains on a bedroom floor quickly becomes a mad dash for the bathroom towel rod. Dr. Spock forgot to add a chapter on this delightful little game that could have really come in handy while I was choosing college courses and I might not have skipped over that Creative Thinking seminar. Child Expert my big toe. Hmpf
The cherry on top of this daily dose of fun fun fun is the I know you are talking to me because we live in a birdhouse where you can hear every little peep and also because you are looking directly at me and called me by name but I am going to pretend that I am deaf game. Disney World has jack on this treasure trove of never ending good times, enjoyed by all ages. Just ask my husband. I know for a fact my children do not have the slightest hearing problem. Should you utter the word "candy" within a 100 mile radius of where they are standing they will seek you out like a heat missile. Once found they will pester you for some until you are scrounging for last year's Halloween treats hidden behind the All-Purpose Flour that was purchased for some long forgotten recipe. Truth. I will ask the kids 1,000 times to help with a simple chore or to even just brush their teeth and they will continue on with whatever they are doing at that time as if I never uttered a word. An hour long conversation will have passed between my husband and myself (or so I thought) when I will realize he hasn't paid attention to not one syllable. I could make plans to sell all our belongings and sail to Narnia in my 1975 Sunfish with him sitting right beside me and when I mention it again not a day later he looks at me as if I am crazy. He's lucky I didn't mistake his silence for agreeing with me and sold all our crap in the meantime. I bet if I peppered my sentences with the word sex I may just get a whole lot more accomplished around here. "Hey Babe, you know the outside building sex really needs to be sex organized. Would you sex please help me sex fold that basket of clothes that have been sex that you keep sex walking around?" It's worth a try.
Good times at the Stidham house. Good Good Times.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Out with the old box of old stuff, and in to a new box filled with more old stuff that I put in a new box filled with more old stuff.
I am an unbalanced person. Not "unbalanced" like I'm going to freak out on someone for cutting in line at Walmart by walloping them in the noggin with my bag of frozen peas, more like bananas-weird-slightly not normal "unbalanced". On a side note: thank freaking
Merriam Webster dictionary Gwen Stefani sang that stupid bananas song or I'd never spell that word correctly. Ahem, as I was saying ...
Hello my name is Sarah Alice aka Sally and I am a judger. I judge others. Yeah, I said it. I judge, judge, judgey - judge - judge. Not proud of it but I'll admit to it, I totally do. Yes I know perfectly well that Noah or Peter, maybe Paul, Owen or Jessie Mae in the Bible said not to judge others but I cannot help myself. One of my worst offences involves me sitting on my couch and letting out a guffaw or smirk at those bat-shit crazy people on Reality TV. Please excuse my language but some of those cats are mental, and I can't get enough of it. Some nights I find myself 1/2 box of Wheat Thins deep into Mob Wives, This Ain't Yo Mama's Street Corner, Kitchen Nightmares Part 1,000, My Maid of Honor Married Her Dog or some other trashy show that is playing at 3 am. There I perch in all my judging glory shaking my head at the poor nutcases that 20 years ago were just known as that wacky dressed lady or redneck moonshiner that lived in the trailer down the street you would never think twice about. Now you will find me completely engrossed for the duration while they take front row seats in my living room and I just stare in wonder. And Judgement.
Hoarders is without a doubt the most unbelievably mesmerizing television show I have ever seen. There I sit dumbfounded by this terrible mental disease these poor people suffer from, thinking out loud how in the free world does someone allow themselves to accumulate so much STUFF! This is being shouted towards my husband who stares back at me in total bewilderment while we are surrounded by all of my stuff. The only difference between me and poor Pennsylvania Linda from last night is that my crap is nicely tucked away ... in boxes, baskets and cabinets. While I am wild-eyed and snurking at Linda last night, there sits a basket beside me full of blankets! There's the one my Grandmother made, Oma made, 2 fuzzy Christmas ones, the blue fleece, a fluffy plaid number, First Methodist from Lake Waccamaw throw, Dora, Elmo .... you get the picture. We are a family of 4. Just 4. Not to mention each time I decide to weed out old books, Tupperware, laundry room junk - you name it, I just replace the old crumpled box they sit in with a new box and keep it all. Nevermind the fact that I'll just add more old to the new box and nothing ever really gets thrown away. The box is new, the junk is contained and it's up on a shelf, under a table, in the storage room, back of closet, in a basket, cabinet, car trunk or under the kid's bed just as pretty as you please.
Don't even get me started on the Nanny shows, boy do I have a spoon full of advice for those parents who let their kids run the world. I'm an expert on having perfectly disciplined children, even have the crown to prove it.
Merriam Webster dictionary Gwen Stefani sang that stupid bananas song or I'd never spell that word correctly. Ahem, as I was saying ...
Hello my name is Sarah Alice aka Sally and I am a judger. I judge others. Yeah, I said it. I judge, judge, judgey - judge - judge. Not proud of it but I'll admit to it, I totally do. Yes I know perfectly well that Noah or Peter, maybe Paul, Owen or Jessie Mae in the Bible said not to judge others but I cannot help myself. One of my worst offences involves me sitting on my couch and letting out a guffaw or smirk at those bat-shit crazy people on Reality TV. Please excuse my language but some of those cats are mental, and I can't get enough of it. Some nights I find myself 1/2 box of Wheat Thins deep into Mob Wives, This Ain't Yo Mama's Street Corner, Kitchen Nightmares Part 1,000, My Maid of Honor Married Her Dog or some other trashy show that is playing at 3 am. There I perch in all my judging glory shaking my head at the poor nutcases that 20 years ago were just known as that wacky dressed lady or redneck moonshiner that lived in the trailer down the street you would never think twice about. Now you will find me completely engrossed for the duration while they take front row seats in my living room and I just stare in wonder. And Judgement.
Hoarders is without a doubt the most unbelievably mesmerizing television show I have ever seen. There I sit dumbfounded by this terrible mental disease these poor people suffer from, thinking out loud how in the free world does someone allow themselves to accumulate so much STUFF! This is being shouted towards my husband who stares back at me in total bewilderment while we are surrounded by all of my stuff. The only difference between me and poor Pennsylvania Linda from last night is that my crap is nicely tucked away ... in boxes, baskets and cabinets. While I am wild-eyed and snurking at Linda last night, there sits a basket beside me full of blankets! There's the one my Grandmother made, Oma made, 2 fuzzy Christmas ones, the blue fleece, a fluffy plaid number, First Methodist from Lake Waccamaw throw, Dora, Elmo .... you get the picture. We are a family of 4. Just 4. Not to mention each time I decide to weed out old books, Tupperware, laundry room junk - you name it, I just replace the old crumpled box they sit in with a new box and keep it all. Nevermind the fact that I'll just add more old to the new box and nothing ever really gets thrown away. The box is new, the junk is contained and it's up on a shelf, under a table, in the storage room, back of closet, in a basket, cabinet, car trunk or under the kid's bed just as pretty as you please.
Don't even get me started on the Nanny shows, boy do I have a spoon full of advice for those parents who let their kids run the world. I'm an expert on having perfectly disciplined children, even have the crown to prove it.
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