Dirty Laundry Confessions

I HATE Laundry. I hate that I have to throw it in the wash and then wait for it (and forget all about it and have to re-wash it) and then throw it in the dryer and wait some more, and then worst of all -- fold it and put it away.

I.KNOW. Our ancestors scrubbed their clothes on a rock alongside the riverbank and beat them with a washing stick or cleaned them with ash or lye. As time went on (and if they were lucky) they sent the clothes through a wringer before hanging on the line to dry. I GET it, blah, blah, blah, we have it easy. Still. I HATE laundry.

Laundry is something that, unless you go commando for extensive periods of time, is never-ending. It's never truly completely caught up. And then there is the dreaded sock basket which houses all of those abandoned socks whose mates somehow disappeared in the washing and drying process.

For years, I tried to stick to a laundry schedule. As time went on and more kidlets joined the ranks, the busier our lives got, and the laundry multiplied. To be honest, the sock basket housed so many singles, I eventually started a 2nd sock basket. I'm pretty sure there were pairs in there somewhere, but it was so crowded, the chances of a sweet reunion was slim to none. 

Things in the laundry department got really bad when I went through a period of severe depression. It was all I could do to get out of bed, let alone accomplish anything productive. Washing laundry became an "as-needed" task. The pile in the laundry room quickly grew into a mound, and then a sea, resembling something close to this picture I found on google images:

Once, we were invited to go to Disneyland with some friends. I was so far behind on the laundry and I was working 40+ hours a week and I was in school, there was no way I could get it all done and packed before we left. What did I do? I made a Wal-Mart run for essential socks and underwear and bought each kid a few new shirts and shorts off the $5 rack. Yes, there was an element of shame.

I needed to get a handle on the laundry. Upon returning from our trip, I handed each kid a garbage bag and told them we were going to start digging. "If anything is ripped, badly stained, or no longer fits (yes, they had been sitting that long), throw it out. I'm not washing it," I told them. We worked on and off for the next several days and probably tossed 5 garbage bags full of dirty laundry to the curb. 

Next, I informed each child they were to start doing their own laundry. (They had all already been taught, but I hadn't enforced it up to that point.)  Even with the new plan in place, we still had a ton of laundry. Kids would complain that so-and-so left their clothes in the dryer, etc. and eventually, clean clothes would end up in unfolded piles on the folding table until eventually the table became overloaded and the laundry began slipping and co-mingled with the dirty duds on the floor.

I always used the excuse that I didn't have a "good" laundry room. One day, when I get a laundry room like this (see below), keeping up with the laundry will be easy. Eventually, even I grew tired of that excuse.

I got each child their own basket. I tried to stay on top of it. Towels and throw blankets would end up down the laundry chute, and for some reason it was just expected *I* would wash it all. Ugh.

Then, while packing up to move to this house a few years ago, I gave fair warning before bagging up clothes and taking them to the dump. I decided right then and there, my kids had TOO MANY clothes. It was hard to stay on top of the laundry because everyone would wait until they ran out of clean clothes until they'd wash some. And they each had so many clothes they by the time they ran out, they'd each have 4 or 5 loads! But, of course on any given school night, they'd only have time to wash 1 or 2 loads. Essentially, we were all behind, all of the time.

New Rules at our New House. In addition to everyone being responsible for their own laundry (the youngest was 6), I also assigned each child a laundry day. This has worked well. 4 kids get M, T, TH, and FR. The hubs and I get the weekend and Wednesdays is a "free" day, in case someone isn't home on their day, or there's something important they need to wash. If they want to switch days, they can work that out themselves, but every week they are to do all of their wash on their day. 

Other things that have helped: If someone leaves their laundry in the dryer and they are not home to retrieve it, the person needing the dryer gets to deliver the clean laundry to said owner's bedroom. They are not to just dump it on top of the dryer or the counter in the laundry room. 

As far as towels, each kid has their own hook in the bathroom for their own towel. They are supposed to wash their own bath towel with their laundry. On occasion I ask for all the towels and I will wash the lot of them, as I also have dish towels to wash. But so far, it hasn't been too bad.

We no longer have a sock basket. Matchless socks get to hang out in the individual's sock drawer. If a match ever shows up, great. If not, they eventually toss the sock in the trash. 

We had a back-up a while ago when some blankets needed to be washed. The hubs solved that with a quick trip to the laundromat so all of the blankets could be washed at once.

As far as my own personal battle with the laundry... I've resorted to my husband's way of doing things and now I hang almost everything up. It is so much faster for me to pull things out of the dryer and stick them on a hanger (we've got a closet rod in the laundry room), then it is for me to lug a basket and sit and fold. I even hang tee shirts and jeans now! I know, crazy. This leaves very little for me to fold (underwear, socks, sweaters and pjs) and I quite like it!

Folding towels has never bothered me and I still don't mind doing that. They're fast and easy. As far as folding the other stuff -- sigh. I've even tried to fold while watching a dvd or something. It just takes twice as long. I have found the key for me is the less I have to fold, the more apt I am to stay on top of the laundry, because folding takes 5 minutes, literally. Of course, it also helps that my husband does a great deal of our laundry too. We work together on this and it's great. 

We've had our current house listed for about 3 weeks and I have to say our laundry room has remained spotless! Even though it only took TWENTY YEARS to finally figure out which laundry habits work best for me (us), the word laundry no longer gives me hives or makes me hyperventilate. I've also learned just because I hate it, doesn't mean I can ignore it. Kind of like paying bills. It has to get done. 

I love that the kids have been extra diligent in staying on top of their laundry, since the house has to be constantly clean for showings. But I am also hopeful we will all stick to our new laundry routine once we move, again. 

Are you a master or a slave to your laundry? I'd love to hear your comments!

The Zone

Growing up, there were 7 children in my family and we all had chores (back in "the day" when parents actually gave kids chores).  When my mother would say, "Everyone needs to get their chores done today", one of us would ask, "who's coming over?" or another might inquire, "'Regular Clean' or 'Company Clean'?"  We knew that if company was coming it needed to be spotless, but that wasn't the only difference.

'Regular Clean' meant Mom would pull out her vinyl collection of 45s and we'd move & groove as we cleaned the house.  If one wanted to take time sorting everything out of desk drawers or the toy box, per se, one would be allowed; it seemed as long as it was done at the end of the day, all was well.  I don't think any of us kids ever looked forward to cleaning, but I do remember the feeling of accomplishment once all was said and done.  Dare I suggest it was even somewhat "therapeutic"?

'Company Clean', on the other hand, meant no messing around.  You do your job and do it now, and time is of the essence.  This mode of cleaning did not allow for ample sorting time.  Don't get me wrong; it wasn't a time for sweeping everything under the rug either.  Everything was to be in its place, polished & shined and ready for "show" (albeit we never lived in a house "fancy" enough to show).  Although this mode of cleaning was much more demanding, the reward of having company over was well worth it.  (You'd think we'd never been exposed to other humans by how excitable we became when company arrived.)

In my early adult years, we lived in small apartments or homes and I never felt like I had the proper space to entertain.  Up until that point, my motivation for cleaning had always been a) to avoid punishment from Mom or b) the imminent arrival of company.   Needless to say, I didn't feel motivated to clean anymore.

As a 20 year-old new wife and mom, I learned little "tricks" to play on myself in order to get motivated. "No crafting until I finish cleaning", or "no Oprah until all of the dishes are done". (Oprah got me through my afternoon infant feedings back then).  Sometimes, if I wanted to "play" first, I'd set a timer and begin cleaning as soon as the timer went off.  Two things I learned about myself and my cleaning persona as an adult?

1. I still prefer cleaning with the music on   - and -  
2. Once I start to clean, I become a whirlwind; it's amazing how fast I clean once I get in The Zone.

That's what I call it now - The Zone.  Once in a while I might take a day to leisurely clean out a closet, or organize drawers, but most often, when it's time to clean, I'm in The Zone.

Symptoms of The Zone

• You have a one-track mind: Must Clean.  (And everything or everyone that is not contributing to this is against you, obviously.)
• All "nice-ities" go out the window.  There is no, "Honey, will you please _________?"  It's more like, "You-- pick up this, grab that, go put this away, run that upstairs, .........  hurry. Hurry. HURRY!"
• A brisk walk.  This is a key indication that you are probably in The Zone. You basically turn into this vortex, grabbing things along the way as you pass from one room to the next while cleaning.  Note: You may also find yourself becoming extremely irritated at others (kids) who have not adopted this aspect of speed-walking for themselves; even more so, if they appear to be merely strolling about.
• You do not stop to answer texts, emails, or check FaceBook notifications.  You may even send your mother's call straight to voice-mail. (Just saying.)
• It's quite possible that, while you're in The Zone, your children or spouse may accuse you of "yelling", when in fact, you feel you are just speaking in a firm tone, in an attempt to emphasize the seriousness in which they are to accept your demands requests.
• Interruptions, of any kind, feel like huge inconveniences.

Today, while I was at the gas station, the clerk had to ask me to repeat myself a few times.  He followed up with, "I'm sorry.  I just returned from some time off, and I'm not yet back in The Zone."

I laughed and said, "My husband doesn't like it when I get in The Zone."

He chuckled and then said, as he was handing me my change, "Well, just remind your husband that when you are in The Zone, you are invincible."  He's right, I do feel invincible in The Zone. It must have something to do with Newton's law of an object in motion.

It is also true that my new husband doesn't like The Zone.  I admit, this came up shortly after we were married a few months ago. Everyone was working together to clean the house, and apparently, he wanted to take a brief moment to kiss his new bride (so sweet).  However, when he stepped into my path in an attempt to embrace me, it completely threw me off, resulting in a look of surprise on my part. (I think he referred to it as a look of disgust or annoyance.)  Luckily, for us, we communicate with each other rather well and were able to use it as a "learning" moment in our relationship.

Now, I give fair warning to any living being in the house when I am preparing to enter The Zone.  Also, if the Hubs wants a brief intermission, he now prefaces with, "Can you step out of The Zone for a minute?"
This of course usually gets me to smile and the transition is made easier.

Even though I've made a few modifications to The Zone, I'm still a vortex-- speed-walking from room-to-room, picking things up along the way, and I still send Mom to voice mail if she calls.  The Zone does make me feel somewhat invincible, and the quicker I delve right in, the more energy I seem to have, and I'm able to accomplish a lot more in less time.  To this extent, it works.

I just hope for your sake, you don't ever stop by while I'm in The Zone.

30 Days of Gratitude: Day Twelve

Today I am grateful for cleanliness.

Truth be told, I hate cleaning.  I have so little energy by the time I get home from work, school and the gym, that cleaning is the last thing I want to do.  Funny thing is, it doesn't go away.  The mess just waits for me.

The kids have their chores and the things they know they are to do, but lets' be honest...  I didn't always do my chores voluntarily when my mom wasn't home....  did you?  So, it usually all waits until Saturday.  But then once it's done, it feels great and I feel so accomplished.  I believe in the proverb that Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

I am grateful for a clean house.

Only a Test

I grew up in SmallTown, USA, in the MidWest. In our small town the whistle at the fire station would blow every day at noon. (Actually, it would sound @ 12:03pm, but who's keeping track?)

Fast forward to present day. The town hall in the small town next to my small town now is less than two miles away from my small town's town hall. [Did you get that?] And every day the other small town's whistle blows at noon as well. These are also, incidentally, the same whistles that sound when there is an emergency.

Anyway, I came home for lunch the other day, since I have the privilege of only working 1.91 miles away, and as I was fixing my food I heard a noise.

Was it the noon whistle? It sounded like the noon whistle, sort of. The problem was, it wasn't noon. It was like 2 o'clock in the afternoon. (Late lunch. I know... tell me about it!) As soon as I heard it, my heart sank just a smidge before the palpitations kicked in. I stopped what I was doing so I could listen a little closer. Why would the whistle be blowing? Is there an emergency of some sort? The whistle seemed to be non-stop. I started to feel a little anxiety coming on... I admonished myself to Get.A.Grip.

Then I realized something.

That noise wasn't the next town's whistle signaling an emergency. That sound wasn't the next town's whistle signaling we were under attack. Nope. That noise that I heard was the vacuum; my vacuum. And it was coming from down stairs.

I forgot I had told my son if he cleaned and did his chores he could have friends over. He was busy cleaning the basement.

As soon as I realized the noise was my vacuum, I started to laugh. Geesh, you'd think it's been a while since I've heard my own vacuum!

*For the record... I can neither confirm nor deny that last statement.

Who Knew Laundry Could Be So Entertaining?

The Scene just before Labor Day Weekend:

Me - trying to wash a mountain of laundry, getting ready for road trip.

Teenage boy - calling me from study group wanting to stay and hang with friends.

Middle son - complaining and NOT wanting to go on road trip.

Daughter - keeping Granddad entertained :)

Granddad - laughing and marveling at the "chaos".

I told FunnyMan he had to pack before he went to hang out with friends. He rushed home to "hurry and pack" and he brought a GIRL with him! Well, not just ANY girl. He brought THE girl. The Girl he had asked to Homecoming. The Girl that he is sort of having a little fling with. The Girl that has been occupying much of his time away from home lately. Yeah, THAT girl.

I was a bit mortified at first. He did not WARN me he was bringing anyone home with him. Here I was, feeling a bit like a sweaty pig from the loads of laundry I had been washing and folding all day, just dying for a shower, the front room looking like we're moving or getting ready for a garage sale or something and he brings someone over? My hair was a complete mess and I am pretty sure I wasn't even wearing a BRA!

But how could I be upset? She is so danged cute with her giggles and smiles. So, she sat while I continued to fold and pack and FunnyMan proceeded to run around gathering his things for the trip. I give him orders to take his clean laundry piles down to his room and put them away and the next thing I know he is pulling the underpants from his BROTHER'S piles.

"Those aren't yours," I say.

"I like these ones better," he argues.

"Let me see those," I reply, snatching them to get a better look at the waistband. "These aren't yours," I say again. "Yours are medium. These are large. These are LittleDucklings."

Now, at this point The Girl starts to giggle and FunnyMan does a little nervous laugh. "But I like these ones," he retorts. "They're... roomier." To which The Girl laughs again.

"Exactly," I reply. "That's why they are your brother's. You're smaller than him."

Now -- when I said that, it's because his younger brother is built differently. They probably weigh about the same, although I think LittleDuckling might weigh a little more. He is just a little heftier, while FunnyMan is a scrawny thing. I said it meaning WAIST size.

Nevertheless, that isn't the connotation it held once I said it. And of course we all had a good laugh at that. I think he may have even turned a little red.

Serves him right, though. He's the one who brought The Girl over without Warning. :)

Who knew folding laundry could be so entertaining?

Something's Gotta Give

Let me just start off by saying I do NOT like having a messy house. I HATE having dirty dishes in the sink and I DESPISE the laundry that continues to pile up. Adjusting to life as a single mom the past few years has not been easy. It isn't ideal that I work a full time job out of the home... nevertheless, it must be done. It was at that point I realized that "Something's Gotta Give" and I would just have to learn to "live" with a mess from time to time.

Fast forward to present day and add school to the mix. I have three classes for credit and one class that is required but no credit. I have calculated that I spend about 10-12 hours a week doing homework for my Computer class (this instructor gives a ton of busy work), about 4-6 hours for my Communication class and about 4-6 hours for my Criminal Justice class. That is like 24 hours a week, which is approximately 3-3 1/2 hours a night, if I did homework every night; which I do not. Suffice it to say, I can get stressed!

Some would criticize and say that if I am busy with school, I should forsake EVERYTHING else. However, if you KNEW me, you would know that I NEED other sorts of distractions too, or else I would get so sick of school, I would give up. Seriously... I hate monotony. So, I am enjoying directing the play. I am enjoying blogging, tho I can't always catch up on everyone's when I want to. I enjoy Facebook, but don't let it take up too much time (I don't play the games, etc). I love writing, although, that has been placed on the back burner until Christmas Break. I love music, and that is something I will never forsake.

I was engaging in textual relations with Eric recently and asked, "Do you ever feel like you have a soundtrack for your life? I mean do certain things in your life remind you of certain songs or vice versa?" He replied, "Absolutely! I think I try to find the music that completes that movie on a daily basis!" I texted back, "Me too! Probably why I am running out of room on my iPod." To which he responded, "That's a BIG soundtrack!" To which I said, "Roflmbo! Yes, well... a LOT has happened. I find myself adding new tunes when I am ready for something new in my life, I guess."

But it's true; that is how I feel. When I am going through another stage of my life, I actually search, and "try to find the music that completes" me during that time. Anyway, how did this post turn into something about music when it was supposed to be about my stress? I guess my point is, that I have a lot going on, hence the "big soundtrack".

Ok, back to the topic at hand... I am in school, and everything else in my life is still full and crazy, and I CHOOSE to create adventures so I do not go crazy! But, something's still gotta give. Unfortunately, that "something" is still my house. It is in worse shape now than before. And I have come to the conclusion that until I am done with school, I am just gonna live in a messy house. Thankfully, I have great kids who help clean (well, 2 out of 3 do anyway. the third one gets mysterious "stomach aches"...). FunnyMan pretty much takes care of the downstairs. Yeah, he's awesome like that. PrettyPrettyPrincess cleans the front room, the bathroom and keeps my kitchen counters wiped down. Yeah, that's how she rolls. I am grateful for the neighbor that periodically mows my lawn because I just can't seem to get a handle on it. If only the weeds and the bushes wouldn't get out of hand. :(

I have made some minor adjustments to help out... such as we are "Going White" here (as opposed to "going green"). My Pantry is stocked with disposable cups, plates, bowls, and utensils. Seriously, I love not having to fuss with dishes. I feel a little guilty, but I remind myself of all of the water I am conserving!

Now... if they could just make disposable clothes so my laundry pile would disappear...

What about you? Did something ever have to "give" in your life?

The Process

8-15-09

I open my eyes, and rub them for a second. I squint and rub some more until my contacts, which I am not supposed to wear to bed but do on *occasion* come into focus. I look at the clock on the wall. 11:30am. I smile. Nice, I think to myself. I was able to sleep in. The kids are at their dad's this weekend and I do not have to be anywhere by any certain time today. I should be able to get a lot of stuff around the house accomplished. But first... Blogging!

I read a few blogs. I check Facebook for updates. I go back and read a few more blogs. A friend starts a Facebook Chat session with me. We chat. I laugh. I feel...calm...

But, I know I have to get things done, and now it's 1:30pm. I say good bye to my friend. I get up and do the whole wash-my-face, brush-my-teeth, pull-my-hair-into-a-pony-tail routine. I think I shall start with the Living Room. Not in too bad a'shape. I straighten pillows and fold blankets, and put books back on shelf. I notice a book I haven't read yet. I sit down and flip to the first chapter. I just wanna read the first few lines...y'know... to see if it will be worth reading.

I get all the way through chapter three. I realize it's 2pm. I put the book down and think that perhaps I shall tackle the kitchen. I start unpacking the picnic basket from our trip a few days before. As I put things away in the pantry, I notice that *someone* has left an EMPTY BOX in the pantry! UGH! This is a pet peeve of mine! I shake and rattle each and every cereal box, fruit snack package and chip bag. I take the empties out to the trash. I return to organize a little more and notice a cake mix with a recipe on the side. I sit down, and read through the recipe. Sounds easy. Reminds me of another recipe...what's it called??? I put the cake mix back and walk over to the cupboard with the cook books. I know it's here somewhere. I rifle through and finally find the recipe. Hmmm, I think. I am WAAAY off. This is nothing like that recipe on the side of the cake mix box. Oh well. Back to "cleaning" the kitchen.

I straighten bar stools and take trash out. I sort through the mail on the side counter. One envelope catches my attention. I pick it up, along with a few ponytail holders that were left out and start to open the envelope while walking towards the bathroom to put the hair bands away. I secretly congratulate myself for totally multi-tasking, cuz y'know, placing pony-tail holders in their correct location while opening an interesting-looking envelope is far harder than walking and chewing gum at the same time.

Hair accessories are back in their place. I notice an empty grocery bag on the bathroom counter. I pick it up and tuck it under my arm as I pull the card out of the envelope. It is from a neighbor.
I enter my bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed to read the card. I smile more. She's thanking me for singing in a double quartet at church and is saying how great we sounded. How nice. I crumple it up and toss it in the empty grocery sack that I am still carrying around (again with the multi-tasking) and suddenly notice the stack of un-opened mail on my bedroom desk. Well, as long as I am here and have this grocery-now-turned-garbage-bag with me, I think, I shall go through the mail and get rid of the garbage items.

At the bottom of the stack is a catalog. I sit on the edge of the bed, efficiently thumbing through the catalog determining if it's worth keeping. It isn't. I throw it away. It's now 3pm. I feel tired all of a sudden. And not just a little sleepy, but exhausted! I lay back and close my eyes for only a second.

I feel cold. I open my eyes and realize I have fallen asleep. I wonder what time it is. I check the clock and it is 4:30pm. I am surprised at how tired I am after already sleeping in until 11:30am. Nevertheless, I am still EXHAUSTED, and now cold too! I crawl to the head of my bed and get under the covers. I snuggle with my pillow. I nap for Two.More.Hours.

I get up and feel refreshed. I get a funny text from a friend. He tells me about something he has posted on Facebook. I sit up and get my laptop and look. Sure enough, it is hilarious. We end up chatting for two more hours.

It is 8:30pm. I am starving. I haven't eaten all day. I debate whether to cook or go through the drive-thru for a dollar taco that is sure to give me a food baby and make me sick. The thought of sour cream lures me and the taco wins.

9pm. I am home and taco is finished. I feel rested. I feel...calm. I feel like I do not care whether or not the rest of the house got clean. Besides, I can't help it, I think to myself. I was obviously tired and obviously needed to sleep.

This is my life. I don't pretend to make it look easy... it's a process.

The Pooch and Other T.P. Tales

Okay, okay already. Many of you wanted to know if the pooch survived "The Ultimatum" or not. Go HERE (Friday Is Dooms Day) to catch up if needed.

Basically, the chores weren't getting done. And when I ventured down to the basement one day it looked like a bomb went off and 4LeggedCreature had left a surprise that no one had bother to mention or clean up. I completely and utterly lost it. Not just a little. Not just a few marbles. I lost it all. I lost "IT"! That's right. I had a full-blown come-apart.

All three names of all three of the offspring were heard rolling off my tongue. I handed out orders. I barked out threats. This was the last straw. They had one week to prove to me that they COULD manage all of their responsibilities, including the pooch. Tears were shed. Eyes were rolling and feet were stomping. Nevertheless, I stood firm in my ultimatum that the rooms get clean or the pooch goes Au Revoir.

Some of you readers out there in the blogosphere were outraged that I would do such a thing. Some petitioned that it wasn't the pooch's fault. Let me explain.

After my divorce, and having to enter into an 8-5 working world, things at home started to get hectic. I have three different kids in three different schools, with three different schedules (1 is in year-round school). It has been an adjustment for us all. We have made several attempts at getting organized. But it just seems as if we live "flying by the seat of our pants" most nights.

I wouldn't get rid of the dog as a punishment to the dog. Instead I believe that if we can't take care of her properly, then we are already punishing her. It was more of a question to test whether or not we can really take care of her like we should. Additionally, I knew the stakes had to be high this time. The no-video games and no-friends and no-phone calls just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Well, the off-spring pulled it together. Rooms got cleaned. Carpets got shampooed. And the Pooch got to stay. My kids also thought as a reward they should get to have a party. I have told them on so many occasions, if they can keep the house clean, they can have a party every weekend for all I care. And I am serious about that. At least I'd know where they are, right?

Well, they had their party, and I ended up with a houseful of about 10 teenagers, 2 tweens, and 2 pre-teens. It was fun. And those who stayed late wanted to go t.p.-ing. Well, er, um, I guess I sort of brought it up by saying something about what we used to do as teenagers. T.P.-ing and Soaping. They hadn't even heard of soaping. Guess cuz nowadays everyone uses Body Wash.

Anyway - they thought pranks sounded like fun. They wanted to doorbell ditch. I told them No, because it was rude to wake people out of bed this late. I did tell them that I enjoy a good prank as long as A) no one gets hurt B) nothing gets destroyed C) no one gets their feeling hurt or humiliated. They decided the only prank left in that category was T.P.-ing. I said, "No. What would your parents think if I let you do that?"

They begged. I said "no". They begged some more. I said, "Maybe". Thrice they begged. I laid down the ground rules.
1) No damaging of any property of any kind, including flower beds, etc.
2) no hitting houses belonging to that of Old Persons, Persons with disabilities, or Single people.
3) If they got caught, I was hanging them out to dry and would deny any knowledge of it whatsoever. (In other words, I would drive away and leave them to walk back. Cruel, I know.)
4) No Talking. No giggling. And go Pee before we leave so as not to pee in my car.

I made each of them bring their right arm to the square. I placed each of them under oath and covenant to follow said rules, plus a few others I am not at liberty to mention here. We drove. We scouted. I parked. I told them they had 30 seconds and I was leaving without them. (I figured they couldn't make too much of a mess in 30 seconds.) We picked the house. The house with no outside lights on a dark street and belonging to the friend who didn't come to the party. I guess they figured it was punishment; the one who doesn't show up - gets pranked.

Does this make me a bad mom? I wondered. Probably. But we did it anyway.

I turned off my lights as they quickly and quietly escaped. They ran across and just as luck would have it, the Frontrunner train came barreling down the tracks. See, the train runs right behind said friend's house. This couldn't have been more perfect as I'm sure it muffled any giggles that may have escaped. Sure enough, after 30 seconds, they ran back to the van, slid into their seats, and away we drove. I have to admit, that being the get-away driver was just as much fun.

Hey - I'm 35. I gotta get my kicks somehow. Besides, didn't we already establish that I wouldn't be up for Mother of the Year anytime soon? 'Nuff said.

Sick & Tired

Some days I feel sick. Some days I feel tired. Mostly, I am just sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. I can't remember the last time I went an entire day without having a headache. It seems like a daily thing. For a while I thought perhaps it was due to my back/neck (supporting the weight of the "girls") that was causing the headaches. However, I see my chiropractor religiously. I do have trouble sleeping, and thought perhaps lack of sleep was causing the headaches.

Then the bouts of dizziness started to occur. By the way, try explaining to a Doctor what "dizziness" feels like without using the word "dizzy". For me, it's like the start or end of an elevator ride. Just a brief wash of dizziness across my forehead and behind my eyes, if that makes any sense.

Rewind about a month ago, I am at Big-D's house watching the game. By the 3rd quarter my head was pounding, and I was feeling dizzy and our beloved Blue was getting crushed by the Red anyway. Big-D suggests I take a nap. I didn't argue. I am not sure how much time passed, but soon I can tell someone is standing over me; creepy. I practically jump out of my skin. It was Big-D checking my pulse in my wrist. I asked him what he was doing. He told me that while I was sleeping he could hear my body working hard to breathe. So he checked my resting heart rate and declared it too fast. He really wanted to take me to the ER. I didn't think that was necessary. I instead decide to call my parents and get a professional opinion (from another state, mind you). My dad was an EMT for years and my mom is a Nurse (hence the nickname, NurseMom). I ask my mom "when is your resting heart rate too fast?" She asked what mine was, I told her. She did her "hmmm" that didn't comfort me at all. She asked me what other symptoms, if any I was having. I told her heart palpitations, chest pains, dizziness, shoulder pain, and a migraine. She gave me her advice. I hung up the phone.

"Well," asked Big-D, "What did she say?" "She told me to have someone drive me to the ER," I replied. That settled it. I was going in.

Thankfully, they quickly ruled out Heart Attack and Stroke. The Dr. said the first thing to do when treating for pain is to get the patient to sleep. So, he gave me a shot of Toradol for the migraine and a prescription for Xanax to help me sleep. He also gave me a referral for the Hearing and Balance center, which I called the next day.

They wanted to do a series of tests for something called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (BPPV). Since I had an inner ear infection last year, it would make sense that this could be the culprit of my pain & dizziness. In [very] Lay Man's terms, BPPV is when certain debris, sometimes called ear crystals or rocks, fail to migrate in the ear canal because of damage to what's called the utricle (possibly caused by injury or infection). I was able to get in that same week. They did all sorts of tests purposely making me dizzy so they could determine if BPPV was the source. At the end, that Dr. informed me that she was able to rule out everything except Central Nervous System. So, no BPPV, but I was to contact a neurologist.

I called my primary care to get a referral. After about 4 days of talking to nurses, who would in turn talk to my doctor, who would then get info from the doctor and call me back to ask questions, get my answers, tell the doctor, call me back, and round-and-round-she-goes, where-she-stops-nobody-knows type of phone tag (talk about dizzy!), The Dr. wanted to have me checked out for 2 possibilities. 1) Neurological Syndrome (a fancy word for "migraines" and 2) Acoustic Neuroma, which is basically a benign tumor that leads from the brain to the inner ear (again affecting the balance nerve). Tests she wants the neurologist to consider are an MRI, CT scan, and perhaps PET scan. Apparently these tests can determine or rule out the aforementioned conditions.

But, first, like everything else...blood work! ugh. So they did a Chemistry Blood Panel and Urineanalysis and checked hormone levels as well, since hormones is the #1 cause of migraines in women. After being in the lab for most of the day, I felt sick and had a migraine for a good two days. Finally, around 3pm the next day I felt better. That is when I had to put everything into high-gear and motivate (bribe/threaten) my kids to help clean the house since my parents would be getting in that night.

I wasn't able to get everything on my list crossed off, however, thanks to my slave-children and Anna's idea to shove things in closets (hee hee) I felt at least it was good enough for my family to come for a visit. Luckily, for the weekend, I was able to put my thoughts regarding my health on the back burner and enjoy my family. Though I did end each day with a full-on head-ache.

So, we still don't know the cause/source of my pain or the dizziness. But I guess as long as it isn't life-threatening, I just have to play the waiting game and work on the Dr's time table.

My wish for this holiday season and the new year to come? Good health for me and my family definitely tops the list. I'll be sure to keep you all posted!

The To-Do List

I LOVE having parties. The thing I HATE about them is getting ready for them. Why can't I just have a staff of about 10 people to come and clean and decorate and get the house ready for occasions like this? Oh yeah --- that little thing called "Money".

Bummer. Looks like it's up to me and my kids (yeah, right) to get the job done before our family Christmas party this Saturday. Here is my "wish-list" version of a to-do list. I doubt I will get it all done, but at least it is a goal, right?

• Clean all bedrooms
• Vacuum entire house
• shampoo carpets
• deep clean bathroom
• finish/clean up/put away Christmas project that is consuming my dining table at the moment
• paint main bathroom (may not happen)
• wash down (magic eraser) all door jams and light switches
• dust
• get caught up on laundry (this is the one that'll kill me)
• Clean out storage room
• put up Christmas Tree (it is a Christmas party, after all)
• wrap gifts for guests, place under tree
• shop for food
• make/prepare food
• rake the forest of leaves that have overtaken my backyard
• take a deep breath - a xanax every night before beddy-bye

In the meantime I've got Dr. appointments, ortho appts, hair appts and there's sure to be something unexpected too! :) Looks like I'll be pulling a few all-nighters. :)