Midwestern Housewife

My Pransome Hince was teasing me yesterday about finally getting to be a Midwestern housewife. This was never a goal of mine.  Housewife, yes.  Midwestern, no.

As I sit here, my fingers numb from 60* interior temperature exposure (too cheap to turn up the thermostat), I contemplate the geographical direction my life has taken.  An Army Brat for the first 17 years of my life, I pride myself on being able to live anywhere for at least two years, even in some truly tough social/geographical/familial situations.

It occurs to me now, that other than a brief stint in Washington when snow was really fun, I've never lived this far north.  In fact, the last time I lived somewhere that had truly terrible winter weather, I vowed to go to college in Arizona.

I kept that vow. 
I wonder how many more vows I will take in the coming winter.

"Good! You look like a goat!"

I recently celebrated a bigger-than-before number birthday.

You know how some birthdays get noticed more than others.  It doesn't seem to be based on the significance of the number of additional years you have. 

Some birthdays warrant a casual, "Oh, it's your birthday?  Happy Birthday!"  Those birthdays are okay.  Your extra year gets noted, but it's no biggie.  Just one more day, right? 

Other birthdays somehow seem to get marked more.  Maybe you've been in others thoughts more, or the right person remembers and reminds others, or you move away and send address cards and people think about you more.  Suddenly, even though you're only 29, you've gotten scads of presents, you have difficulty fielding birthday calls on the actual day, you get birthday greetings in the form of cards (more work) or e-mails (a little less work) or Facebook Wall posts (the least amount of work).  Your family and friends come up with some really thoughtful and useful gifts that don't even have to be returned.  All of a sudden, you are uplifted above where you were the day before, the past year has been celebrated and the coming year is looked forward to now that you know others are looking forward to spending it with you.

This birthday was in the latter category.  Thanks to all who made me feel so special!

With friends like these...

A funny poem came my way from a beloved friend.  Wanna read it?


my coffee mug sits in my hand
so warm and aromatic
it gives me feelings of delight
it clears my head of static
the emblem slowly comes into focus
a green and yellow thing
it's a john deere mug, a present
it makes me want to sing -
a light, or a melencholy air?
i can't really decide.
it reminds me of our friends
and so makes me glow inside
it took away our friends
and so i want that deere to die!

(not really, it just rhymed...sort of)

 
:D

Repurposing Mt. Washmore

I was a bad flybaby and let my laundry get away from me and ended up with Mt. Washmore. 

Seriously, it filled the whole laundry area of the basement.  In my defense, we have a laundry chute, so I don't actually see the mess if I don't go to the basement.

I looked at my piles and thought: pile of leaves. 

"Chicken Lu!!!"

Sunshine in the Morning makes me ecstatic!

Christmas came early to the slap dashery this morning in the form of tree pruners!  The kids and I stood outside and watched the cherry picker, chainsaws and limb saws set to work freeing our house of perpetual gloom.

Hopefully Mike Mulligan and Mary Ann were right and an audience does make you work faster and better, because we couldn't stay away (though always at an appropriate distance)!

Watch out, Chicken Lu, the sky's falling today!

Now we're swingin'

My Pransome Hince redeemed his weekend by making us a lovely toy.

Aren't tree swings romantical?

Failed Gardener Tutorial

1. Go to Sams.  Get lured into the spring bulbs.  Forget all about black thumb's score (BT: Everything  Plants: none).
2.  Collect info on dividing plants. 

3.  Wait till naptime, get out huge shovel.  Spend 45 minutes digging holes and scattering bulbs.  Yell at the squirrel scout.  Pat back prematurely.
4.  Divide daylilies.  Decapitate a few.  Shrug and plant in holes anyway.
5.  Ignore audible crying from second story.
6.  Plant bulbs in second bed.  Yell at the squirrel scouts.  Start digging holes deeper.  Tersely answer myriad questions from escaped oldest child.  Continue to ignore noisy second story.
7.  Clutch back.  Belatedly remember past 4 years, 3 pregnancies and 3 labors.  Leave gardening mess for husband to pick up.
8.  Clean up poopy mess on second story.  Glance out window.  Yell at snooping squirrels.
9.  Limp downstairs.  Make dinner, set table, greet husband.  Glance out window.  Yell at poaching squirrels.
10.  Google daylily dividing.  Discover in dismay that you did it at the wrong time in the wrong way.
11.  Go to Teske's.  Buy more gardening things with hope in your heart.

The Slap Dashery

We love getting things done in the right way don't we?

There's nothing better than making a plan, getting everything out, accomplishing our tasks according to plan and in an orderly way with no interruptions, attaining a perfect product, and then putting all our things back from whence they came.

This is not the way of the stay at home mom.

Planners or not, cleanly or not, organized or not, creative or not, what we start out doing never ends up completed in a consistent process. The stay-at-home mom's life is of constant interruptions.  It's not a full time job, it's an all-time job.

Case in point: My three lovelies are currently gathered around my kitchen desk. Button is screeching for more cherrios, Chicken Lu is pleasing to have a book read and Boy wants to brush my teeth with a spitty toothbrush.

Why am I starting a blog?

"Screech! Screech!"
"Please Mommy, read this book to me!"
"Brush, Brush"

It's anyone's guess.