Tag Archives: housework

Forecast: Mid-50’s, Windy, Chance of Poop

Forecast: Mid-50’s, Windy, Chance of Poop

Like almost everyone, I have days when I wake up with exceptional energy and attitude.  I think today WOULD have been one of those, if Aban (the 4 year old grandson) hadn’t come upstairs at 0:dark:30 and woke me with the exciting news that Pickle just pooped on the carpet. A lot.  And it was diarrhea.  He used all his 4 year old knowledge to speculate that she might be sick.  He was right.

So before dawn, I was already running a carpet cleaner.  If anyone had stumbled into my living room at that moment, they might have surmised that I was hugely motivated today, but then the smell would have hit them like a wave and totally distracted them from pondering my motivation any further.

After finishing the carpet cleaning, I made Aban & Ethan (the 8 year old grandson) pancakes.  Emptied the dishwasher, then cleaned up from breakfast.  Took the dogs outside, emptied garbage, and checked Pickle over to see if I could identify what caused her to….how shall I put this delicately?…… sneeze from her butt.  I think it was an overdose of Milk Bone biscuits, which sometimes happens when the kids are over.  They love giving her treats.


I glanced at the clock after that, and it was not yet 7:00 a.m.  On a Saturday.

That’s the point when you decide if you’re going to get grumpy, or make the most of the jump start on the day.  I debated the grumpy option, but then realized it would annoy Steve oh-so-much-more if I went in the other direction.  See, if you’re the spouse that has to get up super early and clean up dog poop, the other spouse has to go along with whatever you want to do the rest of the day.  It’s an unwritten rule.

I jumped up and told the boys to get ready for the park.  I got Aban dressed, and ran upstairs to alert Steve to the amazing fun we were going to have.  His bleary-eyed, coffee deprived, confused face was worth the carpet cleaning effort.  I grabbed socks and headed back downstairs, where I found a naked Aban.  “What are you doing?  Where are your clothes?”  He looked at me with complete seriousness and said:  (are you ready for this????)

“Sorry, Grandma.  Robots don’t wear pants.” 

How do you argue with that?

Hot damn, it’s going to be a good day!

We spent the next several hours flying kites, feeding ducks & geese at the lake, and even crammed in a trip to McDonald’s for some Play Place action and hot fudge sundaes.  Steve took pictures, we tangled up kite string, and both boys realized that geese can be MEAN when you run out of bread.  We even found some crested ducks, or “ducks with Afros” as Ethan called them.  I don’t know if I was more intrigued by the crested ducks, or by an 8 year old knowing what “afros” are.  It’s not exactly 1974.

Sportin' the 'fro!

Sportin’ the ‘fro!



Sometimes the best days can have a rocky start…You can make lemonade out of lemons… Attitude is everything…Happiness is a choice…. all that motivational, positive thought process stuff…..once in awhile it’s spot on.  I’m still hiding the Milk Bones, though.  I don’t want to push my luck on positivity two days in a row.

Ethan :-)

Ethan 🙂

The Goose Whisperer (with pants on, thankfully)

The Goose Whisperer (with pants on, thankfully)


Change the Channel

Change the Channel
Change the Channel

If you’ve never pulled your sectional sofa out from the wall on a Sunday afternoon because you’ve lost the remote control for the television, I don’t recommend doing it.  It pretty much ruined my day.

I found myself staring at 47 crayon pieces, 3 magazines, 8 dog bones, 11 pens, 1 pencil, 3 Hot Wheels, and enough dog hair to make a new dog.  An ugly dog, for sure, but definitely a full size dog.

As I stood there wondering which vacuum cleaner I wanted to clog up with this mess (and fighting the urge to just push the couches back into place and pretend I didn’t see any of it), I realized that I was staring at a perfect analogy of why I need to make some changes in my life.  A hairy, Crayola filled analogy.

I was trying to think back to the last time I’d pulled out that couch to clean behind it.  I couldn’t remember, and honestly didn’t think too hard after realizing that “Move-In Day, 2007″ would be the odds-on favorite.

So I switched to being annoyed, which is one of my strengths.  Who is in charge of cleaning behind that couch?  It’s got to be someone, right?   I suspect it’s the same person who has been slacking in some other areas as well…… ironing, folding laundry, cleaning ceiling fans, power washing the decks, and getting the dozens of bags of cans to the Recycling Center.  It’s the slacker with 14 unfinished household projects, including a crocheted afghan project that’s closing in on 5 years, but is still only 60″ by 4”. I suppose it could also be the mystery person who hasn’t made my eye doctor appointment for 4 years, devised our monthly menus for the past 3 years, or managed the household budget.

Don’t think I sit around all day watching soap operas and eating bon bons.  I take on a lot of responsibility in this family.  I have a day job that I love and put lots of myself into.  I have totally raised the bar on the Grandma gig.  I cook shameful amounts of bacon.  I am an accomplished insomniac.  I completely over think and therefore complicate all holiday/birthday events.  I spoil the pets.  I make sure there are plenty of photos of happy family moments posted to Facebook.  I get in the middle of my grown children’s personal affairs.  I am the Matriarch, dammit!

Secretly, I’d like my husband to say “Honey, don’t worry about (insert any various act of drudgery here), I’ll do it.”  However, he doesn’t read minds and doesn’t respond to passive aggressive behavior.  I’m kind of screwed.

I’m not sure what happened to the woman who had a routine, a schedule, a groove.  The one who actually had a monthly calendar with every meal planned out.  The one who ironed clothes, and actually cleaned the top of the refrigerator on a regular basis.

I honestly don’t know where she went.  I get tired just thinking about that woman.

Is this an age thing?  Did I just wear myself out prematurely?  At times, when I’m digging through the 10 lb. box of Milk Bone biscuits which I recycled into the Box O’ Socks, trying to find a matching pair, words like “lazy”, “irresponsible”, “dysfunctional”, and “disorganized” run through my head.  Fortunately, I have a short attention span, so I don’t dwell on negative words for long.

I need staff!  Or elves, which are like staff but you don’t have to pay them.  Or maybe just a cheering section.  Or I need to reorganize my life.  Ugh.

Right now, I’d settle for finding the remote control.