We like to move it!

Did you hear we were moving?  After nine years together in this house, Danny and I made the decision to go bigger and better... and in less than two weeks, we become new home owners (again)!  It's crazy how much this house has shrunk in the last nine years.  When we first bought this home, four bedrooms seemed impossible to fill.  And yet, here we are, having completely outgrown our first house!  Knowing that we're here in Greenwood for at least another four years made the decision to move on so much easier.  I really wanted to be in a subdivision, where we could walk, bike, and play without fear of being run down by a car going 90+ km/hour.  We bought a 5-bedroom house in Ravenwood, which means we'll have room for my parents to visit, and a designated playroom.  Although it was not our first-choice house, it quickly became our top choice after losing out on our first love.  And we now love it.  We cannot wait to move.  In fact, have you seen that Scotiabank commercial about the couple who bought a house?  No?  Here it is...

Yeah, that's us... we drive by the house probably every day.  We often go out for drives, and we find ourselves passing by our house, picturing the kids out front, seeing what it looks like in the rain, in the 10 a.m. sun, in the 4 p.m. sun, at midnight with the lights off (kidding!).  We are totally stalking our house.  And since it's in a cul-de-sac, I'm sure that our car has been reported to the police.  So if you live in Ravenwood, and you see these weird people and their three kids driving around day after day, it's just us!  And we're falling in love with our subdivision, thank you very much!

So of course in order to buy a new house, we had to sell this one.  I thought that living with three kids in a house you're trying to sell was torture... everybody told me that once we sold it, we could relax.  We could stop living in complete cleanliness (not an easy task with kids!) and just live our lives.  Yeah... nope.  I have to say that living in a house that has been sold has been a thousand times worse!!  Because after you sell, you have to move.  When you're hoping to sell, everything is in it's place all the time!  Now that we're smack dab in the middle of packing, there is shit everywhere!  And I have three kids.  Not regular, grown up, helpful kids.  But toddlers. Three of them.  Three f'ing toddlers.  One of whom has a vocabulary that consists of "wa-duh?" (what's that), "dat!" (that) and six different versions of a grunt; one of whom has to be asked (told) to do things at least a million times before she'll even consider listening to you; and one of whom is 4 going on 14, and has been opposed to change since the moment she was born.  So packing has not been fun!

Today I packed a box of kids' toys.  When the girls came up from their nap and saw that I had packed their toys, they very suddenly became attached to every. single. thing. that was in that box.  Things they haven't looked at in months, they decided needed to be play with immediately.  And the fact that I refused to unpack the packed box... holy shitballs, ma!!  Gracie flung herself onto the floor and screeched, "It's not faiiiiiir!  I really, really, really wanted to play with that random playdough toy that I couldn't care less about but absolutely need to have right now."  Okay, so she didn't say that exactly, but seriously.  A playdough toy.

I packed up the kitchen last week, and since then we have single-handedly been causing the destruction of the planet. Every meal is served on a paper plate or plastic bowl, with a plastic cup, and plastic cutlery.  Breakfast, snack time, elevensies, lunch, afternoon snack, supper, after-supper snack, and late night snack... all with throw-away dishes.  It's horrible!  And not to mention incredibly annoying!  The plastic garbage bag fills up every day or so, and our paper plates stack the counter waiting to be taken out to the big compost bin.  There is crap everywhere, all the time!  Not to mention that I have decided it's easier to live off of chicken nuggets and chicken noodle soup for the forseeable future.  Cooking?  Ain't nobody got time for that!

I have yet to attempt packing the girls' room.  I'm hoping to get rid of them somehow for a day and pack everything up while they're gone.  They've made packing incredibly difficult, and every time I mention packing up the six-million stuffies on their beds, there is a meltdown of epic proportions.  I told them to pick their three favourites to keep with us, and Ella brought me 13.  Gracie brought me four, but one was a life-size Elsa doll (thanks, Nanny!) so apparently that didn't count.

Time doesn't mean a whole lot to my kids right now, and so when I try to explain that it's only a couple of more weeks and then we'll be back to normal, it might as well be months from now.  It's a rough time for them, seeing their whole lives packed up in a box, and thinking it's vanishing forever.  It's a tough time for me, packing all this shit we've collected over the last nine years, whilst attempting to entertain three toddlers. Ha ha ha.  Entertain?  Keep alive!  That's my goal for the next two weeks.  Don't kill the kids!  Get the house packed, and remember to feed the children.  Oh, have I told you Jax's new favourite obsession?  The toilet.  He now sneaks into the bathroom, closes the door, and plays in the toilet.  Have I told you Ella's new disgusting habit?  Forgetting to flush the toilet.  This is where my "attempt to keep the kids alive" comes into play.  Their two disgusting habits have yet to meet... and I'd kind of like to keep it that way.  But, no promises!

So if you see me out in public over the next couple of weeks, and my eyes look a little hazy (or crazy), the kids are a mess and smell a little funny, and I'm slightly incoherent, at least now you know why.  Moving is crazy!  Moving with three kids is crazier!  But I know that 3 weeks from now, when the new house is all unpacked, and we're settling into our new home, it'll be totally worth it... as long as I can manage to get us all there alive!! :)

Expectations...

You know, it still surprises me sometimes how parenting is somehow an open debate amongst people.  Mommies seem to be the worst to each other, but I see nasty comments on every parenting article I've ever read, on parenting help forums, and in my daily Facebook feed.  Danny and I have a somewhat old-school view on parenting... our kids play outside alone (I can hear them from the open door or window - and check up on them frequently from a distance), they are not allowed in or on our bed unless invited in, they stay in bed until "the sun comes up" (on their alarm clock) even if they are awake before that, and we don't watch TV unless it's the weekend.  I can tell you that the choices we make as parents are some of the ones getting slammed most frequently.  There have been many times I've read comments telling me how I'm destroying my children's chances at a normal, healthy life.  How my children will die a horrible, unsupervised death, because I don't love them enough.  I even hear the "jokes" from my friends telling me how I'm a nazi parent, super strict, selfish, and how uneducated we must be for our choices.

But here's the thing... I have 3 healthy, happy (for the most part), well-adjusted children.  I have been told from numerous people how well-behaved my children are.  I have people ask me all the time, how I can take three children to church (alone) and sit in the front row, where everyone can see us.  I have people stop me in the grocery store to tell me how polite and friendly my kids are.  And every day, and every night, my kids hug me, kiss me, and tell me they love me.  And, ultimately, isn't that the goal of raising children?

I had a woman stop me in church last week and ask me how I get my children to behave in church.  After all, we are stuck to a tiny pew, for over an hour.  Not to mention that, since I run the Sunday School program before church, my kids have been out of the house and on the go since roughly 8:30 every Sunday morning.  By the time church starts, they have already been "behaving" for 3 hours.  She said, how do you do it?  And I told her... "My kids are expected to behave."  And she laughed.  Said, "Oh yeah, like that really works."  But it does, for us at least.  My kids are expected to have good behaviour.  And anything less than that just isn't tolerated.  They are not allowed to yell or scream in church.  They're not allowed to run up and down the aisles.  They're not allowed to fight with each other.  They're not allowed to be rude or disrespectful to me, each other, or anybody else. The same rules apply for everywhere we go, and at home too.  And perhaps that's the difference for my kids... they are expected to act the same way at home as they do in public.  Being in public does not mean special behaviour from my children. They need to be just as kind, polite, and respectful at home as they are when we are out where people can see us.  So behaving is a not a new concept for them, something we bring out only for special occasions.

I understand that my children are still considered "toddlers." After all, Ella is not yet 3 and Gracie is barely over 4.  But from the time they could understand language (which is a lot younger than most people think), our expectations have been very clear.  Be kind, be polite, and be respectful.  Any behaviour contrary to those expectations is corrected.  Whether it's at 9:00 in the morning and we're playing in our living room, or it's 4:30 in the afternoon and we're shopping at the grocery store.  The expectations remain the same, and our corrections remain consistent.  If the girls are downstairs playing and they treat each other unkindly, rudely, or disrespectfully, then that behaviour is addressed, and proper consequences will follow.  Sometimes that's a quick chat about how to talk more kindly to a sister.  Sometimes it's a time-out for being rude.  But always, it is addressed.

I'm not saying that my kids don't misbehave.  That they don't act like 2 and 4-year olds.  They do, they definitely do.  Ella has an issue with listening, and thinking that she runs this house and can do whatever she wants.  And Gracie is 4, going on 16, and her attitude can be out of this world!  But we are consistent, and we are insistent. "We don't do rude" is a saying my kids hear often.  If rude words are spoken, then they need to be re-spoken, politely.  If Ella is unkind, she gets a "No, m'am.  That is not a nice way to ask for that toy.  Please try again."

The thing is, being consistent can be exhausting.  It can be so easy to pretend I don't hear the nasty talk going on downstairs.  It can be easier to shuffle my kids through the grocery store without addressing bad behaviour and possibly having to dole out a time-out in the cracker aisle.  But easier is not consistent, and being inconsistent doesn't enforce our rules... be kind, be polite, be respectful.

I can take my kids to a birthday party and know that they will be polite, and kind, and respectful of other children.  In fact, when we are at a birthday party recently, Gracie got plowed over by a child who was not being respectful and ended up with a nasty gash on her elbow.  I took her outside to calm down, and she said to me, "I know that boy didn't mean to knock me over, but even when we hurt someone not on purpose, we should still say we are sorry.  I think that boy needs to tell me he's sorry."  And she was absolutely right about that.  But she didn't get an apology, or any acknowledgement at all, and her feelings were hurt because "that's not kind, mommy."  They are very much aware, even at this young age, how their behaviour affects others and how feelings can be hurt when they choose to act unkindly, rudely, or disrespectfully.

They are not too young to be taught.  They are not too young to understand.  So when people ask me how I get my kids to behave in public, and I say "it's because it's expected of them," I am not being a horrible, strict, awful parent.  I am being consistent with our rules, inside and outside of our home.  Kids are never too young to be taught kindness, or politeness, or respectfulness and they are never too young to be reminded and encouraged that those are lessons we need to follow no matter where we are, or who we are with.  We have tons of fun with our kids inside and outside of the house.  We play, we make huge messes, we laugh, and yell, and screech.  And we make mistakes, of course.  But correcting mistakes does not make me a "nazi parent." It makes me responsible for the behaviour of children who are still learning and need guidance.  And it makes me damn proud when someone compliments my girls on their attitudes and behaviour.  It makes me confident that my children will have the skills needed to be kind, to be polite, and to be respectful, not only at this young impressionable age, but also as they grow up and go to school, high school, parties, events, work, and everywhere else where kindness seems to be a little bit lacking these days.  I'm hoping that by being consistent with our rules now, maybe my children will be able to teach and carry on those important lessons that seem to be forgotten by children and adults alike.

I'm not an awful parent.  At least, not for this.  

3,650 Days Later...

This is it... today is the day!  Today marks the 10th anniversary of the first time Danny and I went out together!  A decade... a 10th of a century...120 months... 3,650 days.  It's been a long time, baby!

We met when I was 19, and he was 21.  We were young, and pretty, and much hairier back then.  We met first at a bar.  Where we spoke 10 words to each other, and then Danny stared at my behind when I left.  We met next at a friend's house, where we had shots of "holy water" to toast the newly-passed Pope John Paul II.  Then came the date.  It was April 6, 2005.  Danny pulled into my driveway (my parent's driveway, really.  Cause I still lived at home).  He had his white Ford Taurus, with the red velvet interior.   My niece, Jessica, was 2 at the time.  She was watching out the window with me.  I kissed her goodbye, started out the door, and then the car pulled away! "Wait, boy!!!" Jessica yelled. "Your forgot my Aunt Sammy!"  Apparently, Danny thought he had the wrong house.  He came back though, and we proceeded on our first date.  Ah, the first date.  We went to Caps in Kentville, and played some pool.  I almost beat him.  Except that, I found out later, Danny was quite the pool shark in his day, and actually just let me sink a few balls.  Then we went to the movies.  To see "Guess Who." After the movie, we drove around for a while, and then he took me home.  Such a gentleman.

  

And the rest, as they say, is history. 

We dated, and fell in love.  Aww.  I moved away, and we did the long-distance thing for a while.  I moved home.  We moved in.  We bought a house.  We got engaged after 3 years, married after 4.  We went on a honeymoon cruise in the Caribbean.  We decided we wanted kids... and took care of that over the next 4 years together.  3 kids, aged 3 and under.  Some people said we were crazy.  They were probably right.

But here we are, 10 years later.  About to sell our first home in order to move into something that will fit our family for the next 5-10 years.  We never could have predicted when we moved into this house 9 years ago that we would outgrow it... but since then our little family has grown by 3 people, a cat, and a dog.

We've been through a lot, these last 10 years.  Dating, marriage, and now three beautiful kids.

Looking back, 10 years doesn't seem like a lot of time... and yet we've accomplished so much together!  So tonight we drink, not because the kids are driving are us crazy, but in celebration of a decade of togetherness, and in hopes of another decade to come! xox

Love is the answer,

at least for most of the questions in my heart, like
Why are we here? and Where do we go?
and How come it's so hard?
It's not always easy,
and sometimes life can be deceiving.
But I'll tell you one thing,
It's always better when we're together!

I'm from here...

Random person at get-together: "So, we just got posted here from Comox, and I have to say, this is the shittiest shit hole we've ever been.  This place is, like, horrible.  And the people?  OMG.  Total hicks.  You should hear them speak.  They speak so weird!   And have you heard about the South Mountain?? Like, wow!!  So, where are you from?"

Okay, so maybe the dialogue isn't exactly like that... and maybe they're not always from Comox (but, in case you didn't know, Comox is the most amazing place on earth, just ask someone from there!) but the conversations I find myself involved in as a military wife often go a lot like that.  I usually try to keep quiet, and refrain from hick-popping them in the head (let's make that a real thing!), until they ask that inevitable question... and then my answer is usually enough to shock them into silence.

Me: "I'm from here.  And by the way, it's scallllop."

Can I just say that I personally think that Valley peeps are some of the friendliest around?!  I mean, I'm fucking friendly!!!  And the Valley is awesome!  Sure, a lot of us try to escape it, but I think we all desperately miss it, and truly love it deep down.  I moved away once... for a whole 10 months.  And then I came back, and have been here ever since!

I grew up in a military family, but I was lucky enough to spend my entire life here in Nova Scotia.  I was born at the (old) Kentville hospital, lived in Upper Clements until I was 6, and then spent the rest of my life in Kingston.  I met Danny when I was 19, at the time when we still went to the Top Hat on Friday  nights, and the atmosphere there between military and "local" folks was pretty disturbing.  I'm sure Danny has had to defend his dating - and then marrying - a local girl more than once.

I understand that getting posted here from somewhere more exotic may be a culture shock.  But it also seems like people these days are so judgy.  They have their minds made up before they get a chance to really know a place.  Or a person, for that matter.  Any place is only as good as you make it.  Danny and I could be posted to the North Pole, and have to live in an igloo, but I know that as long as we support each other in a positive way, we'd get along just fine... I mean, we'd probably fight because I'd always be turning up the heat, and he'd be leaving the igloo window open, but we'd still make the best of it!

The Valley (and Greenwood) has so much to offer!  Beautiful views, spectacular drives, and hey! we even have a Walmart now!!   Anyway, the moral of this story is... I'm from here.  And here is awesome!

Back to the Blog... Oh, how I've missed you!

I'm baa-aaack!  It's been a long, lonely two months without you, Mr. Blog!  So many stories lost and forgotten, so many teachable moments, never to be shared.  You see, I broke my computer a while ago... the screen lost the thing-a-ma-jiggy that keeps it open on its own.  So I had to rest the screen against something to keep it open.  The wires were exposed, and it was a precarious situation... and of course, one night I knocked the screen off the box of wine it was resting on, and apparently severed some sort of wire inside the thing that made it possible to connect to the internet.  The only time I had internet access was when I was sitting directly in front of our wireless router.  And thus, the death of my laptop.  It was now a floppy, useless tool.  I was forced to used my tablet thing-a-ma-jiggy to blog, and that was not working for me, since I type 100+ words per minute, and it was a touch screen. Even after my parents got my the connectable keyboard thingy (can you tell how much I love technology) for Christmas, it was much better, but still unable to keep up with my fingers.  Not to mention, the screen was only 8 inches, and, let's admit it ladies, 8 inches just isn't enough!

But now I have a very pretty, shiny, new, blue laptop.  And when I type, letters appear.  Like, all of them!  It's fantastic.  So I can write again!

But where to start... where. to. start.  You've already missed so much!  Gracie's ongoing conversations with God.  Her 4th birthday.  The 238 times Ella has told us about her last birthday party, and about her coming birthday party.  That's right, 238 times.  Cause she talks about it every freaking day.  And it's been 238 days since her birthday!  There has been so much excitement!  So much asshole-ness from the kids!  So many new things learned by the little mister. And I can hardly remember any of them.  Apparently mommy-brain is in full swing, because I can barely remember to feed the kids these days!

It seems like it's been such a long, cold winter!  I know the snow didn't officially start until the end of January, but it seriously feels like we've been house-bound for months!  I cannot wait to start seeing some green grass.  Or even some brown dirt.  I'd even settle for the piles of dog poop buried under the snow!  I love winter, but I'm done with this shit.  Except, of course, for the 25+ centimetres they're calling for on Tuesday.  Then, seriously, I'm done!

One thing I've noticed this winter, with the girls not being in daycare, is the lack of plague-like illnesses around our house.  Except that one time that Nanny visited and brought all the sick germs with her, we've managed to avoid so many of the winter-time illnesses that we've gotten used to over the past four years.  After Nanny left that time, Ella got sick, and poor Jax got sick, but Gracie managed to avoid it.  Ella has yet to yarf, ever, and I think we've avoided the flu again this year (yay!).  Jax had a nasty, congested cold, and of course being too young to know how to blow his nose, it was a solid two weeks of nastiness running down his face.  Then, two weeks ago, Jax and Gracie both spiked fevers out of nowhere, Jax's man-cold came back, and poor Gracie had one nasty barfing episode and then felt fine (except for the 3 days of unexplained fever).  Jax stayed miserable for about 5 solid days... and I hid at my sister's house during the days to have back-up for the nasty attitude.  Babies are so much easier to tolerate in their miserableness when you have witnesses around.  Plus, my kids think Aunt Tricia is so simple and entertaining, and she can make even the crankiest of kids laugh!

After 5 solid days of crying and whining, I considered taking Jax to the doctor to have him checked out.  Except that on day 6, he woke up and was feeling much better... or so I thought!  The day his whining stopped was also the day I noticed his appetite slowed.  On Tuesday, he only drank about half his usual amount of formula.  On Wednesday, he barely finished any of his bottles, and only picked at his food.  On Thursday, he refused to drink his afternoon and evening bottles, and hardly ate any real food.  On Friday, he wouldn't drink any bottles, and would only eat strawberries and bananas..  When he woke up Saturday morning with a mostly-dry diaper, I knew I had to get the little man to the hospital.  I'm a fantastic potty-trainer, but not even I would take credit for a 9-month old not wetting through the night.  I tried to give him his usual morning bottle, and he screamed and screamed and screamed.  I woke up Danny, told him we were headed to the hospital, and off we went.

To make a long story short, our littlest man had a very nasty double ear infection, and his throat was raw and sore.  The doctor said every time he tried to swallow, pressure would build up in his ears, and cause excruciating pain.  Hence, the refusal of any sort of bottle, fluid, or food.  The good news was that when Jax cried, he cried tears, which meant he wasn't dehydrated.  Yet.  The doctor was very concerned about the lack of wet diapers, and his refusal of any food or drink.  She dosed him up with some pain medication, and offered freezies.  Apparently, even the sickest and crankiest of babies love frozen sugar!  He ate three freezies, and the doctor told me she would let me take him home.  She gave strict instructions on diet (liquid only for the next three days - freezies, soup, gatorade, watermelon, and jello), and gave 10 days of antibiotics, and motrin for pain every 8 hours, day and night, for three days.

We are now at the end of day three, and I would say Jax is just about back to his normal self.  Saturday evening, he had his first wet diaper, which made me dance and sing a pee-song.  Today, he started pooping again.  I did not dance about this... it's been 6 poops... enough already!  He took his first bottle yesterday evening, and has had all of them so far today.  Believe it or not, this is our first experience with an ear infection, the other two have not had the pleasure.  The worst thing about being a baby, is it's hard to tell if he's getting teeth, just being a pain in the ass, or is in genuine pain.  He can't tell us, and by the time we realized that it was not just regular fussiness, he was on the verge of dehydration, and nearly admitted to the hospital.   Thank heavens he recovered quickly and is back to his usual self!

Oh!  In all of the chaos that has been this winter, this little boy also turned 9 months old! Crazy how time flies!  He is scooching all over the place (we've never actually seen him scooch, but every time we look up, he's in a different location), pulls himself up to the furniture, waves, claps, and stands by himself (until he realizes, of course, that he's standing by himself - then he falls).  He'll be on the move soon enough, and I can't wait!  He is adorable, super chatty, and is the chillest of all my babies.  Speaking of my other babies... they are a little less adorable these days!  I have one smack dab in the middle of the terrible-twos, and one who is four.  I don't think there's a title for the terrible-fours, but I'ma create one.  Next time.  For now, we can focus on the adoreableness of the little mister!  :)

At the hospital, waiting for his freezie!

After some pain medication and a few freezies, he was feeling much, much better!

Some fresh paint...

Well, I did it.  Kind of.  I got up off my butt and started my renovations.  I completely overhauled my bedroom, got it all cleaned out, and freshly painted, and rearranged everything to make it look more spacious.  Easy, peasy.  Except it wasn't.  It sucked.  And I learned a few things along the way.

 

An old photo, but shows the position and kind-of colour of the room.

 

First of all, never attempt to paint a room that is full of your belongings.  It's just a bad idea.  Of course, my room was full of my belongings, so I didn't take my own advice.  For 4 days, we lived in a pile of crap, covered with towels, and had to climb over and around paintbrushes, stir sticks, cans of paint, and those tray things that the paint goes in.  Every morning I would pile all the crap on the bed in an effort to make walking around the furniture easier.  And every night I would pile all of the crap onto the floor in an effort to make sleeping easier.  So, yeah.  Paint a room when it's empty.  Much. Easier.

 

Second of all, don't paint your walls a dark chocolate brown.  I mean, totally do it if you never ever ever plan to paint over it.  Cause dark chocolate brown has been incredibly relaxing and comforting for the last 9 years.  But it's a bitch to paint over.  Thank goodness the lady at Home Hardware tinted my primer blue (to match the paint that was going over the chocolate) because it was a lot less coats.

 

So cozy, and warm... and so freaking dark!!

 

 

Third... don't paint your ceiling a lighter colour brown in an effort to make your room more cozy.  I mean, totally do it if you never ever ever plan to paint over it.  Cause it really does make your room more cozy.  But painting ceilings is a bitch.  And it makes you cry in pain for 2 days after you've finished painting because standing with your hands above your head while staring at a ceiling for a full day is apparently not a position your muscles will thank you for.  In fat, they will scream at you.  Usually at 4 in the morning.

 

See that smile?  It's cause my arms have only been over my head for 15 minutes!

 

Fourth... always enlist help when painting.  It makes the crazies stay away.  Because locking yourself in a paint fume-filled room by yourself for 4 days will make you crazy.  Having someone helps you means that when you cuss, they'll cuss too, and you can gossip the time away and then painting doesn't seem to suck nearly as much.  It helps too if they're not very good at panting, because then you can blame all the little mistakes on them (sorry, Tricia!).

 

My helper (by the way, she actually turned out to be a pretty decent painter!)

Having a helper means I can take more breaks.  Spinach smoothie, anyone??

 

And finally, never ever ever paint, unless you absolutely have to.  Because after you paint, you will have to paint baseboards.  Which will put white paint on your freshly painted walls.  Which you will then have to paint over with blue.  Which will then put blue on your freshly painted baseboards.  Which you will have to paint over with white.  Which will then put white on your freshly repainted blue walls.  And the crazy cycle will continue until you finally scream, "For the love of God, Danny, I can't do this anymore, I'm finished.  I'm finished!  Holy crap, get this paint brush out of my hand before I throw it at my freshly painted walls!!" Not that I yelled that.  Cause I'm not a crazy paint lady.  I swear.

 

Painting over the mini-mistakes, with the mini-paintbrush.  That's my "F-you" face!

 

 

So that's it.  The bedroom is finished.  All painted.  All done.  Thank God and praise Jesus!  Wait.... what? There are still 6 rooms to scrub, and three areas to paint?  Excuse me now, while I go cry in my paint tray...

 

All done, and officially lightened up.  As per the agent's request! :)

And totally de-cluttered!!



"Ta-da!! Now get me a drink!!"

 

It's a New Year... and I'm tired already!

Hey, it's a new year!  Okay, we're already two weeks into the new year... but does it count that I started this blog on the 1st of January?  I was going to write about all my hopes and dreams for the coming year.  All the resolutions I've made.  And how I'm going to actually keep them.  Except, it's two weeks into the new year, and I already know how some of those things turned out.

 

My main resolution for the new year?  Be a happier, "better" person.  Being a stay-at-home mom has given me a case of the grumps.  My little people are awesome, but I crave some intellectual stimulation.  The problem is that by the time the little people are all in bed, the mess is tidied, and I have a moment to stimulate my intellecualness (yes, that's a word...), I'm tired.  So I plop my bum down on the couch and Netflix it for the night.  My goal was to stop that.  I was going to stimulate my brain so I could be more energetic, and smiley, and get shit accomplished.  Yeah, that is not going well.  I keep telling myself, "Tomorrow you can.  Tonight you can rest."

 

That seems to be my main barrier in this "better" person goal.  I'm tired.  Crap.  Three kids is tiring.  Being home with three kids all freaking day is tiring.  Cleaning up after three kids is tiring.  Being in charge of three kids' intellectual stimulation is tiring.  Ugh, I'm tired just writing about how tiring it is.  I don't have enough energy to pretend to be a better person.  I think that was my real goal anyway, to pretend to be a better person.  Cause, let's be honest.  At my age... there's no changing who I am.  But I can change how people can perceive me.  I can pretend to be a happier bitch, instead of just a regular bitch. But I don't have the energy for that.  Instead, I still snap at my kids the same number of times in a day.  I still roll my eyes at my husband the same number of times.  I still plop my bum down on the couch and Netflix it, instead of washing the baseboards, or folding the laundry, or any other number of things a "good" person would do.  Ain't nobody got the time, or energy, for that crap.

 

Okay, lots of people have time for that crap.  And I hate those people. Damn it, that wasn't very "good" of my to say was it?  And now, on top of all my self-loathing and laziness, I have a house to get ready to sell.  It's supposed to be ready for the market by the end of January.  The last time I checked, I had 10 weeks.  That's now down to 2.  Crap.  I did get the kitchen floor replaced.  Well, I begged my father and grandfather to come down, and they got the kitchen floor replaced.  But I did empty the entire house of crap and shove it in a storage locker!  And, I spray painted the house numbers by our front door.  So I've gotten a few things accomplished.  And I still have two weeks, right?  So in the next two weeks, I have to paint my bedroom, paint the living room, paint the entry-way, paint the downstairs hallway, paint the mudroom, replace the kitchen faucet (which has decided now is a good time to leak), replace the bathroom faucet (which hasn't stopped leaking since the day we bought the damn thing but, again, we're too lazy to uninstall and return), frame the bathroom mirror (because Pinterest has convinced me that is a much better idea than replacing the mirror), and clean the entire house from top to bottom, including all the nooks and crannies I've been neglecting for the last 8 years.  No big deal.  Have I mentioned I'm also responsible for the health and well-being of three children while all of this is going on?  Still.  No big deal.  I work well under pressure.  I think...

 

I'm a perfectionist and a procrastinator, so some day this house will look amazing and ready to sell!  Not today though.  I'm tired.  Kids are tiring. Three kids are exhausting.  Plus it's Sunday, the day of rest.  Unless you run a Sunday School program.  In which case, it's the day you get up at the ass-crack of dawn, make sure you and your spawn are out the door by 8:30, and don't return home until after 1:00, after spending the previous hours, you know, running a program.  But I'm off topic here.  The point is...  well, I don't remember.  Cause I'm tired. 

 

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow is the day I will start being a "better" person.  I'll start by not yelling at my kids all day.  Then I will accomplish one, no, two! things on my to-do list.  We will eat healthy meals all day, because that is another resolution of ours.  And I will exercise.  Not the usual exercise of chasing three kids, but real exercise... with a sports bra and everything.  Probably in front of the TV, and possibly from a seated position on the couch.  We'll see.  Tomorrow will be the start of my new year.  Maybe. We'll see how tired I am in the morning.