I May Be Addicted

I may be addicted.

md2

I had a mini-“help”er.

I’ve spent eight+ hours over the past two days, basically this whole weekend, painting a bedroom. At 6:30 tonight I changed my paint-laden pants into a semi-clean skirt and took my daughter out to buy a bathing suit for tomorrow because the one she bought after church today, during the “entire family buys bathing suits after church extravaganza”, didn’t look right (to her). Of course, as soon as I reached the shopping center I realized it was Sunday and the shops would be closed by 6PM. It was 7:08PM. I promised the girl we would stop at the store on the way to the pool tomorrow and get her a suit, I sent her into the local ice cream parlor for a vanilla milkshake for dinner, swore her to secrecy since the sisters weren’t getting ice cream and came home.

Dishes need to be done, my house is trashed and all I really want to do is lay down and sleep. Or watch Signed, Sealed and Delivered, whichever comes first.

I think not.

I think not.

Before any of that could happen I was hugging my tearful seven year old whose heart was breaking because she didn’t get ice cream (somebody spilled the beans) and I smelled smoke on her hair. When I asked why she smelled like smoke she told me it was because there was smoke upstairs. Uh oh.

“Why does it smell like smoke upstairs?” I yelled up the steps.

My thirteen year old said it was the potatoes on the stove.

 

The boiling potatoes for the potato salad for tomorrow that I put on the stove. And forgot about.

This confirms that I really shouldn’t be allowed near kitchens or basically attempt to work at all for the rest of the night.

Yet here I am. 7:39PM on a Sunday night and I feel compelled to blog.

I wonder what disasters I’ll find when I read this post tomorrow…

Happy Memorial Day!

Happy Memorial Day!

 

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Close Encounters

closeClose. When I saw this I immediately read it as in “close the door.” It seems natural that my brain would go there since I say the word, oh, 6 or 7 hundred times a day during the summer. My little window AC is chugging along to cool down my third floor attic bedroom and every. single. time. a child bursts in (which is often) I say, CLOSE THE DOOR! It would be nice if I had a recording that shouted it out every time the door creaked open – sort of like a Harry Potter-esque spell.

1284Once my brain got passed that definition, I realized the word could also be Close – as in, “she is standing close to me.” Which perfectly describes my seven year old daughter whose “love tank” is always empty. She actually once paid her thirteen year old sister $2 to let her snuggle with her. 

In the end she got her snuggle but there was no money exchanged. Accepting money for hugs is not cool, so said Mom.

This post was is part of 5 minute fridays where you are given a word of the day and you write for 5 minutes and 5 minutes only. Find the link here. 

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Have a Plan Man, Er… Mom

Advice-for-Single-Moms-Have-a-Plan

“…it can still feel like I’ve been punched in the gut when I know an event is occurring that my children cannot participate in because they do not have a father who lives locally.” – Me

There are some things that only single moms know. I’ve found having a plan helps A LOT.

I’ve written about it here for my bi-weekly post for Moms of Faith.

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I Eat Crazy for Breakfast

I stopped by the drugstore this afternoon to pick up a card for my mother whose birthday was yesterday. Eighteen dollars ($18) later while attempting to hand over my credit card to the checkout guy he asked me if I wanted some headache medicine. Was the insanity swirling around me that noticeable? He gestured to the swippy machine in front of me (as usual – my brain refuses to believe that I actually have to swipe the card myself) and before I left, with my two cards, four bags of chips, two packs of Strawberry TicTacs and four wonderfully rambunctious (and hungry) children  I replied,

No thanks. I eat crazy for breakfast.

mom-kid-identity-meme

 

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Moms Will Understand

Mom-a-Three-Letter-Word

“I hear the word, “Mom!” a lot, and sometimes it causes me to cringe as if the sound of it were fingernails on a chalkboard. Yeah, it’s that bad.” -Me

I love my children, but let’s face it, it often seems like I am needed an awful lot. For single mothers especially, it can get overwhelming.

MOM: A Three Letter Word can be found over at Moms of Faith where I write every Wednesday and Saturday.

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It’s Like a Jungle Up Here

If you visit Clothed with Joy regularly you may know that I am from New Jersey. I realize that NJ is not “up” to a large portion of the world and for that I’m very sorry. It’s just how we talk, plus most jungles tend to be located geographically south of the North East, USA. FYI.

Eastern_Grey_Squirrel

Fact: Squirrels like the sound of my screams.

This morning I startled a squirrel. Squirrels in New Jersey are aggressive. I still have memories of being chased around the block by a squirrel as a child. I am not kidding. Around the whole block. It happened.

squirrel hole

Squirrel hole.

If you visit just about any outside trashcan lid in South Jersey you will find that a hole has been chewed into it. A squirrel hole. I once came home to find a squirrel on my lawn holding a piece of pizza by the crust and chowing down. Not kidding. It happened.

This morning I startled a squirrel. Apparently, I startled the squirrel enough that he leaped out of the adjoining trashcan and onto my thigh. This is the honest to goodness truth. This stuff happens to me. Neighbors four blocks over heard the screams.

A few months ago I was at the Philadelphia Zoo with my girls. It was winter and a little snowy so we ate our lunch at one of the many picnic tables near the carousel.

Picnic tables + zoo = Squirrel Hunting Grounds.

As we were eating lunch a squirrel came over and sniffed around our table. G, who is terrified of animals (zoo animals don’t affect her) started to get a little panicked. The squirrel continued to get more and more aggressive and moved from under the table by our feet up on to the table with us. G was in a full scale freak out by this point. I shooed the squirrel and spoke calmly to the children, who were now all sitting on the same side of the table opposite to me and somewhat freaked out as well (I don’t blame them).

The squirrel had moved on, so I instructed the children in my most momly voice to ignore the squirrel and it would go away.

KERCHUNK

“AAAAAAARRRRHHHHHHHGGGGG! IT’S ON MY BACK!” I screamed.

The squirrel leaped off the table behind me and clung onto my back spread eagle for a good half second. If only someone had been videotaping, we would be millionaires.

It’s like a jungle up here, and the squirrels like the sound of my screams.

 

I once had a squirrel in my dining room, remember this post with the squirrel trap? That’s nothing compared to the monkey in my kitchen, but that’s another story.

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KIDS MAKE ME SICK.

In a pool of mediocrity occasionally you come across a written piece of work, so true and so stinkin’ funny that you cry. I’m going to be laughing all day over this one. If you have taught children, parent children, occasionally spent time in the presence of children – you’re gonna get this… Enjoy, it’s worth the four minutes of your life. -Rebecca

Storytime with John

Kids make me sick. And, no, not just uncomfortable, or a little bit queasy – but down right, pit of the stomach, SICK. It’s just something that they do that can turn that “thank God it’s Friday!” feeling, into “thank God I didn’t eat a large greasy breakfast”…let me run you through Friday’s events real quick ~

So I’m sitting in my kindergarten class, going through one of the books – most of the kids say that it is “easy peas” (they’re Korean so cut them some slack on the misuse of the phrase!), however one of the boys struggles with learning difficulties, so I’m giving him a little bit of extra help. That’s when I hear the long whine that I hear about 3000 times a day (approximately): “Teeeeeeeaaaacccccherrr? Oh, Teaaaaaachhherrrr? Teeaaaaachherrr! TEAAAA-”

“Oh my GOH…WHAT?”

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Answer Honestly

Answer honestly. Captain-America-Poster

It’s Friday night and you walk into a 6:45PM movie, for example, Captain America, The Winter Soldier, and see a woman seated along with 1,2,3,- four children. What comes to mind?

“Oh crap.” ?

“They’re gonna be loud.”

“How cute.”  Hahahahahahaha, (wipes tear) that was a good one.

Oh, you didn’t even notice?

Just curious because, I might have possibly been at the movies at 6:45 last night with four children watching CA, TWS. Now, granted, my seven year old was ticked and whiny when it was after 7PM and the actual movie hadn’t started yet. “You said FOUR minutes!”

Sheesh.

Never-fear, it’s not nearly as bad as you imagine. Ten minutes into the film, both the five AND seven year old were sound asleep. On me. I’ve just now regained feeling to my left arm.

Why do I even buy tickets for these people?

We made it through the next 2 hours and 3 minutes of movie without a peep. Well, almost. The little one whined for something to drink the entire last fifteen minutes, but it was intermittent and somewhat quiet whining. I did finally pay attention to her and realized that my eleven year old was harboring nearly two gallons of Sprite just two seats down.

Alls well that ends well. And, let’s face it, we could have been watching The Amazing Spider-Man 2. Everybody should be counting their blessings.

the-amazing-spider-man-2-movie-posters-1

 

So, be honest, what DO you think when you see a child/row of children in an older audience movie? Inquiring minds want to know.

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I’m a Mess

Earlier today I confessed to the blogosphere that I’m a thief, so I may as well come all the way clean. I’m a mess.

I came downstairs into the office area this morning to have my brother (who works here) help me carry a table outside that I am selling at my yard sale tomorrow. He noticed my wrist was wrapped. Yes, my hands, my most valuable assets for yard sale-ing (and typing) are a mess. I have Ganglion Cysts in both wrists and the left side was flaring up. ganglion

Later, as we were maneuvering the large table out the small door my brother commented on my “bad back.” Yeah, that’s a mess too. Thankfully, I rarely have back and wrist flareups simultaneously.

My eleven year old daughter stayed home from school today because she was sick with d-reah all night. Probably because she had a headache yesterday and I didn’t have children’s pain medicine so I gave her Excedrin. Twice. I probably killed her stomach. Worst mom ever. I’m a mess. She’s definitely a mess.

My shower is a mess. I bathed today with a Lalaloopsi doll looking up toward my privateness and the scooper from an Easy Bake Oven.

1284Speaking of showers, my seven year old hasn’t bathed since at least Monday (possibly longer.) I did, however, make her wash her face on Wednesday.

What a runny, stinky, painful, cluttered, happy mess.

 

This post was written for 5 minute fridays, the word was , you guessed it, MESS. Find link here.

5minutefriday

 

 

 

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