Waiting

I hate delays. Particularly when I am sitting in front of the computer. If a screen doesn't pop up in the time it takes me to breathe twice, I am eye-poppingly frustrated.

That can sometimes make working remotely a little tricky. None of my software responds as quickly remotely as it does when we are face-to-icon, so to speak. One program (stop) in particular is painfully slow. I am doing nothing more complicated than garden variety data entry when I am in this program, but each time I save an entry and try to move on to the next one, the program spends a great deal of time thinking about whether it should let me move on or not. Right now it's driving me so insane that I decided to write this blog in between entries. This will give you an idea of either A) how brilliantly fast I think and type, or B) how stupendously slow the program is. (stop)

Other things I hate waiting for:
A commercial break so I can get hubby's attention. This can be a long wait if you're married to a channel-surfer!

Dinner to be done when I waited to start it until I was already starving.

Test results from (stop) a doctor.

Pimples to fade.

Of course, when the delay is my choice, the waiting is a little less difficult. For example, my cluttered closet has needed my attention for lo these many years, but I'm content to wait a little longer to tackle it, on account of not knowing what to do with all hubby's stuff that's in there too. That seems reas (stop) onable to me.

And, due to the piles of bad karma I've stored up over the years, I have a high school reunion scheduled for a day when I will be approximately 38 weeks pregnant. I think I might hold off on that, too! Nonstop "so, what have you been up to?" conversations can definitely wait.

Thanks for making my data entry go by a little (stop) faster for me. Now that I'm done posting I plan to fill the gaps between entries by eating gummy bears.

Oh, Man, It's Over

It's over! I'm 18 weeks and FINALLY feeling better. I still have a little nausea, but just like a little car sickness, nothing like what I've been dealing with.

The kids just got out of school for the summer, so my return to health came just in time. I love having my kiddies around during the summer, and it always goes by too fast. This summer we are playing it cheap and easy. Here's how the summer works at Casa Currant Pie:

Gotta have a chore chart of course! It's a self-directed reward system, so I don't have to spend all summer nagging. If your chores are done by noon you get 3 points. If they are done correctly you get 2 more points. Add 2 extra points if your room is clean and your bed is made. They are working together to reach 900 points (which should happen towards the end of July) and then we all get to go to Big Surf water park for the day! This worked like a charm for us last year, and the payoff was loads of fun.

Every week there is a designated Laundry Captain, Chef, and Pool Boy/Girl. The kids learn how to cook and do laundry, etc., which is good for them, although the results are sometimes a little iffy!

Monday is library day, with a stop off a Sonic for half price slushies on the way home.

Tuesday is Peter Piper Pizza day. Dad works at the corporate office and we get comps, so hooray for free pizza and video games.

Wednesday is $1 movie day at Cinemark.

The rest of the week is for chillin' and swimmin' at home, assuming we can keep our pool blue and a good supply of popsicles on hand. 

In between I visit the office a couple times a week and do the rest of my work from home. Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am for my job? I worked outside the home for about 15 years, and I feel so blessed now that my current company allows me to work most of my hours at home. It has truly changed my life and brought me so much joy.

Have a happy summer!

Finally...Someone Noticed!

During the past few weeks while I've been sick, my family has been trying to pick up the slack for me. Emphasis on trying ;), but their efforts have been sincere and appreciated.

For Mother's Day, Hubby lined the kids up and had them say nice things about me and what I do for them. My oldest made my day when he said, "Well, she must do a lot, because there are 5 of us, and we haven't been able to keep up with what she used to do by herself before she got sick!"

Easier Than I Thought

It turns out losing weight is easy if you stick to only about 500 calories a day, like me. Here is the daily menu for this particular program:

Breakfast: 5 small slices of apple with 1/2 cup apple juice

Lunch: 1 cup chicken boullion with 3 Saltine crackers

Dinner: 1 oz frozen blueberries sprinkled with a little granola, if feeling adventurous

Snacks: popsicles and ice chips

For exercise, about 3-4 times a day you should jump up from the couch and run at a high rate of speed to the bathroom, where you will commence knee bends and abdominal contractions. Sometimes, on your run, it may be necessary to jump over toys or small children, but don't worry, this will only increase your stamina over time.

Of course, I can't really say I recommend this program, as I've heard that over time you actually ending up gaining much more than you lose. Time will tell.

Yeah, Right

Well, that handy little "schedule" that I keep to that I wrote about in my previous post has gone out the window. Now I spend every day bowing down to the porcelain god, and have little motivation to do anything else.

Morning sickness, schmorning sickness.

Feeling Better or Worse?

I have a very simple schedule that I keep. On Monday I do laundry, set my topsy-turvy "weekend" house back in order, and work from home. On Tuesday and Thursday I work at the office. Wednesday is grocery day, plus more working from home, and on Friday I catch up on anything that I let slide during the previous days, plus try to fit in some writing. Don't forget to include daily time to exercise, pray, eat, give my kids lots of attention, and make dinner.

It all seems busy enough to me, but a chance comment made me wonder...I heard or read somewhere this statement, "Oh, life was simpler then. When mother finished the breakfast dishes, it was time to start making lunch." Ouch! That sounds like pure misery to me, but I guess that's just the way it was. Interested to find out more about the way it was, I looked a few things up. Here are some comparisons that will either make you feel better (at least we don't have to scrub clothes by hand), or worse (how come, if I'm not scrubbing clothes by hand, I'm not getting more done with my time?).

COOKING THEN: "Prior to the second quarter of the nineteenth
century when mass-produced cast iron and steel stoves were more available
nationwide, cooking was a labor-intensive chore done on an open fire in a
fireplace. Wood or coal had to be hauled into the house, and ashes removed
daily. Worse was the limited variety of food that could be cooked by this
method. Kettles of stews or soups were easy enough, but the art of banking
fires over Dutch ovens or piles of bricks or stones for baking took considerable experience. Likewise, choosing the types of wood that burned hotter or longer and then arranging the fuels for consistent fires required great skill."

COOKING NOW: If it has more than 5 ingredients or takes longer than 20 minutes, I don't do it.

LAUNDRY THEN: "The most arduous household chore for women was laundry. For many, this was a two-day project every week, usually commencing with the washing on Monday, followed by ironing, folding, and mending on Tuesday. The housewife of the nineteenth century had to haul gallons of water from wells or pumps and maintain kettles of boiling water for the wash. Scrubbing, wringing, and carrying heavy, wet garments and linens to the clotheslines—and then retrieving the dried laundry—wearied and abused almost every muscle in her body. Her hands and arms were exposed to caustic lye-based detergents and scalding water for hours at a time."

LAUNDRY NOW: I happen to be in the middle of laundry right this very minute. While my clothes wash and dry themselves, I am up to my elbows in writing a new blog post.

HOUSECLEANING THEN: "Cleaning floors, and especially rugs, also was backbreaking work for the Victorian housewife. Between the endless clouds of dust entering the house from unpaved streets and the residues of soot and ash deposited daily from fire grates and oil or gas lamps, staying ahead of dirt was a constant challenge."

HOUSECLEANING NOW: I don't vacuum. That is what I have children for.

LINENS THEN: "For most women of the nineteenth century sewing was necessary to produce clothing, bedding, table linens, curtains, and most anything else made of textiles."

LINENS NOW: Hellooo, Target.

A NOT-SO-DISTANT THEN: "Studies from the 1950s showed that “women actually spent more time on household chores than had their mothers . . . logging a 99.6-hour workweek."

NOW: I prefer to have my husband think that home maintenance is still a full-time job. Thus, I should be pampered and adored for keeping it going along with my "other" job (the one that pays actual money). So, I will keep the number of hours I spend on it private, for now.

All the quotes in this post came from a chapter from a textbook called Advertising To The Amercian Woman 1 9 0 0 – 1 9 9 9. Find it online here.

I Was Wrong

I thought my house was cramped until I walked into your apartment, where you house a family of five in two tiny bedrooms. I have never been anywhere that felt so peaceful. Thank you for teaching me that it's not about square feet.

I thought I was broke until I saw your cupboards, empty except for a box of Saltine crackers and a jar of peanut butter. You opened your cupboards to me in faith, believing I would be able to lead you to the resources that could help. I hope I didn't fail you. Thank you for reminding me of how much I have, and for trusting me to help.

I thought I had faith until I read about you in the newspaper, just a child, buried under piles of rubble after an earthquake, singing songs you'd learned at church, patiently waiting for someone to find you. Obviously, Someone found you and took up residence in your heart a long time ago. Thank you for helping me conquer fear.

I thought it was hard to be a mother, until I heard from a friend that you send your child to school each day praying he won't be hit by a stray bullet before he gets back. When I think what I do as a mother doesn't matter, I think of you, standing in your front doorway, being a safe place for your son to come home to. Thank you for reminding me what a mother really is.

I thought teenage girls could be difficult, until I met you. I saw you sit by someone who was struggling and quietly help. I saw you turn your back on others who wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, shielding her from their laughter. You looked as beautiful as anyone has ever looked right then. Thank you for showing me what it means to be strong and of good courage.

I thought I knew a lot, but it turns out I was wrong.

Rock On

I love to rock. Not rock out, although I do play a pretty mean Guitar Hero. What I love is rocking in a rocking chair. By myself is okay, but I particularly like it if a little tyke is in my arms, snuggled up to me while I sing little songs my mom taught me when she rocked me, so long ago.

Okay, that's the wonderland version. Here's how it really goes:

"C'mere sleepyhead, let's rock for a few minutes before you go to bed." Child climbs up on lap. Child wants to play "Ride a Pony" on Mom's knees. Mom bounces for a couple seconds, then gently tries to press Child's head down onto her shoulder for a rest.

Child strains neck to see what dad's watching on TV. Mom sings lullabye at unnaturally loud volume. Child covers Mom's mouth with her hand. Child's hand tastes like peanut butter and sweat, and Mom spits. Dad glances over just then and asks Mom to mind her manners.

Child has to go potty. Mom continues rocking and is almost asleep by the time Child returns, but is abruptly awakened by Child's knee hitting her diaphragm. Immediate response upon being awakened is more singing.

Child can't get comfortable. Due to constant fidgeting, neither can Mom. Mom sighs, and tells Child to close her eyes right away. Child closes them, just not both of them at the same time. Child finds this hilariously funny, Mom less so.

Mom falls asleep. Child turns around and watches TV until Dad tells her to go to bed, around 11 p.m.

Mom and Child are both a little cranky in the morning, and one of them also has a stiff neck.

The End.

Despite all this, I still love rocking. Here's my terrible confession: a little teeny part of me likes it when my kids are sick, because then they let me rock them.

I think I might need to get a cat.

Unintended Offenses

While watching the Olympics on TV last night, my son said I was a big luger, but I misunderstood him and started to cry.

My daughter said I was her biggest Valentine. It is probably a coincidence that I was weighing myself at the time.

I felt a little depressed when I went to the bathroom and nobody hollered "Mom!" the minute I closed the door.

My friend gave me a sweater that she thought would bring out my best features. It's an extra high turtleneck. I wore it once, but it was hard to breathe through all that material. I guess she likes my eyes.

I missed a major meeting at work. The minutes state that I was present but unusually quiet.

My son thought that Signal Butte was another name for me in my yellow spandex exercise pants.

The opinion piece I wrote for the newspaper was mistakenly printed with the comics.

I got buried in paperwork while doing my taxes, and someone left flowers on top of me.

I locked myself into my car. Yes, into. That's all I care to say about that.

My So-Called Ad Agency, aka, do I really have to blog about the Super Bowl?

If I owned an ad agency,  I would hire people who are actually creative. I would hire people who could think of a more interesting way to sell something than the totally over-done "girls showing off their bodies" gimmick.

Got that, GoDaddy.com?

If I owned a beer company, I would be rich, but sad. How can you not be sad when your livelihood is based on giving people one more thing to be enslaved to, and giving drivers one more way to kill each other?

Got that, Budweiser?

If I made a delicious nacho cheese flavored corn chip, my life would be complete.

I love you, Doritos.