Ugh...laundry

I am sitting in the hallway outside my laundry room surrounded by what can only be described as a sea of dirty clothes. I am sorting. And sorting. And sorting. I admit, it has been a few days since I have done laundry. Not many, just a few. A minute ago I started a load in the washer and I can hear it going through its different phases in the room behind me. As I continue to sort, and the washing machine continues through its cycle, I think to myself that the washer might beat me to the punch here and finish washing that load before I finish all the sorting. I call over to Jason, exasperated, "You know, there is something wrong in the world when the washing machine washes a whole load faster than I can sort all the rest of this laundry!" Without missing one single beat and totally nonchalantly he replies, "Is there something wrong with the washer or is there something wrong with you?" "Ha! You just earned yourself a date with my blog for that one!" And I go back to sorting.

Sentences you never thought you'd say

Ryan came in from the back yard and told me that he peed on the dog. Do I even want to ask why? "Honey, don't pee on the dog. He doesn't pee on you," I explain. This is all the motherly wisdom I can summon this early in the morning.

Spitting

Recently Ryan has discovered how to do zerbert things on various parts of my body. My arms, my legs, my face. This leaves me covered in zerbert slime. Lovely. Shortly after the "zerbert on body parts" realization, came the "zerbert in the air" realization. This leaves the air, the couch, the floor, and anything else in its path, sprayed in zerbert slime. Again, lovely. Let's just say the spraying is not one of my favorite things. There is a lot of "Ryan! Do not spit! It's gross!" going on in my house. The difficult part is not laughing with him, because when he gives you a zerbert his laugh is absolutely awesome! I must hear more of that laugh. I love it. Apparently, I love it enough to be constantly wiping slime off my arms! When the spit sprays, however, the love ends. I just can't deal with it. It's so grody. Enter this morning. I am sitting in the rocking chair drinking my coffee. Ryan walks over, climbs up, and snuggles in. Just as I am thinking how sweet a moment it is, he suddenly sneezes a huge sneeze and sprays sneeze spit all over my lap. Before I can say anything, he looks up at me all innocent. "It's okay, Mommy. That was just a bless you spit." He is so pleased with himself for explaining this to me. He snuggles back in and I think the moment is still sweet, even if I am covered in spit.

Sleeping in the tent

Last night we decided to put up the tent that Ryan's Grandpa Apple and Grandma Mo got him for his birthday. We were watching two extra kids for the evening and so we had quite the full house. We played outside in the back yard. We played in the tent. We watched movies. We had dinner. We had snacks. We screamed, we yelled, we giggled. When it was all said and done, Jason and I were exhausted. But in a good way.
Ryan was totally into the idea of "camping out" in the tent. So, we hauled it down the hall and into his bedroom. Jason lined up blankets on the floor and got his pillows in there, just so. Ryan crawled in and I got him under the covers. I crawled in next to him and we did our regular night time snuggles and kisses. We said prayers. After prayers Ryan said, as he sometimes does, "Can Daddy lay down me?" I said, "Sure Honey, Daddy can lay down with you." So Jason and I made the switch and I went off to get ready for bed. A little while later after the house was shut down, the lights were off, the dog was in bed, and I was ready to head that way myself I heard the boys talking quietly as I walked by Ryan's bedroom door. I decided to give them a bit more time and so I headed into the office to get on the computer. As often happens, I lost track of time on the computer. Email, Facebook, random news stories I don't actually care about. Suddenly a strange sound interrupted my sleepy, internet induced haze. At first I couldn't quite place it. Then it hit me. Snoring. I hadn't even heard Jason go to bed. I turned off the computer and headed to the bedroom. Jason wasn't there. He wasn't in the bathroom either. I crept down the hallway and peeked into Ryan's room. There they were, fast asleep. In the tent. Jason snoring away and Ryan snuggled up to him, both of them out like a light. I couldn't bear to wake Jason, so I crept back into my room, crawled in bed, and fell asleep to the sound of my sleeping campers down the hall.

Day two with no "b" (pacifier)

Yesterday morning we made a bold move. While Jason held them, Ryan used the big scissors to cut the rubber part off of his b's. We had him do it (don't freak out, he is not allowed to touch the big scissors normally) because we wanted him to take ownership of it. Not to mention, we didn't want to invite the "You cut my b!!!" cries we feared would come if we did the deed. We told him that only babies use b's and since he is such a big boy, he doesn't need one anymore. He likes being a big boy and this logic worked well. Right up until we got in the car. A familiar "where's my b?" situation. The following conversation ensued.
Ryan "Mommy, where's my b?"
Me "Remember honey? You cut your b's off. We don't have anymore b's."
Ryan "Maybe we can go to Walmart?"
Me "Why do you want to go to Walmart, honey?"
Ryan "Maybe we can go to Walmart and get a new b? Would that be great Mommy?"
He is so cute I don't know what to say. I tell him again how b's are for little babies, and how he is a big boy and doesn't need a b, and as my heart melts, I think about how hard it is for mommies to give up the b's too.

My Mother's Day present

Last Mother's Day Jason got me an outdoor fire pit. I hadn't asked for one so it was a total surprise. Due to the chaotic nature of late spring and early summer, the fire pit remained packed away in its box all these months. We moved and never once used it in Lacey. So this last weekend while our parents were visiting, there it was in the garage, beckoning me to set it free! Marshmallows were calling to me. Jason and his dad got some wood and marshmallows from the store. They unpacked the fire pit and within minutes we had a campfire in the back yard. I spread out a blanket and we put chairs in a circle. Some us played musical chairs as the "smoke follows beauty" rule was in full effect. We roasted marshmallows on old wire hangers. Revell make a smore with a piece of dark chocolate I found in the pantry and some of Ryans graham crackers. We, and by "we" I mean "I", ate marshmallows until we couldn't eat marshmallows anymore. We marinated ourselves in campfire smoke. Finally, we trickled one by one into the house as the night got darker and the stars got brighter. We put Ryan to bed. When it was all said and done, I went out one last time. I laid down on the blanket and looked up at the stars. With Sam lying next to me keeping me warm, I finally reconciled my twenty-something camping self with my thirty-something, non-camping self. Who needs to camp when you can have a campfire in your backyard? Not me. And I'm totally okay with that.
We did the whole thing again the next night, except with actual marshmallow roasting forks we got at the store. It is an awesome Mother's Day present. Thanks honey!

I'm a princess...apparently

The other day it was so hot, I didn't know what to wear. If you know me, you know that I am not generally a dress up kind of girl. Not that I have anything against it, I am just more of a wear what's most comfortable type. As such, I mostly wear jeans, capris, yoga pants, khaki type pants etc. My wardrobe contains just a few skirts and dresses. Enter the day it was 109 degrees. That kind of heat is like walking into a heating blanket the minute you step out of your house. I had an errand that I had to run, despite the sweltering thick of the early evening. I was hot and I was irritated that I couldn't find anything comfortable. I finally settled on a totally out of the ordinary choice. I came out into the living room wearing a tank top (gold standard for me in the summer) and a long, airy, flowing skirt. I was feeling uneasy since this particular type of skirt I know is not the best choice for my body type. Circle skirt plus my hips equals giant every day of the week. Nevertheless, I was so hot, I didn't care. Neither did Ryan, apparently. He came running up to me, smiling, and started twirling around flinging my skirt up at the edges. "Mommy!" he exclaimed. "You're a princess!" My heart melted. I should wear more skirts.

Guilt is a funny thing

So I am sitting at my computer surfing around, checking my email, looking at Facebook. It's 4 in the afternoon. I haven't showered or brushed my teeth. I am still in my pajamas. So is Ryan. I have been doing laundry, but my goal of cleaning both bathrooms is still that, just a goal. And I am feeling guilty. Guilty that the house is a mess. Guilty that I am a mess. I see a friend of mine from Olympia has responded to a post of mine on Facebook. In her post she suggests to me that I "friend her sister" and that I should check out the blog that the two of them do together, http://domesticatesophisticate.blogspot.com. So I mosey on over and start reading their blog. It's all about how you can still be cute and stylish and be a stay at home mom. There's even a little FAQ on the left about how not to be frumpy. Remember, I am reading this IN MY PAJAMAS! At 4 in the AFTERNOON!!! I feel like a schmuck. The author talks about how getting dressed and putting on make up and doing her hair is a priority for her. She does it for herself, for her husband, for her son. She cares for them and she cares for herself for them. I AM IN MY PAJAMAS. Immediately I sprint to the shower. I brush my teeth. I put on non pajama-y clothes. I want to go shopping. I want to wear lipstick and earrings. My son comes in and does a zerbert/fart thing on my arm. Okay, well, I may not be cute and stylish, and I may have zerbert slime all over my arm, but at least I am clean.

Warning...this is a gross one

We came home last night from a great family outing. We went into downtown Portland to OMSI. We saw an IMAX movie called "Bugs" which was on that gigantic screen and pretty cool. We went upstairs to the kids play area and played in the sand pit. We got all wet playing in the water exhibit. We looked at frogs, spiders, rats, stick bugs, and turtles. We stopped on the way home at Flying Pie Pizzeria and had dinner together. It was a great day.
Then we got home. To our disgust we discovered that Sam, who had been in his kennel for the few hours we were gone, had an "accident." There is no way to describe the smell in the house. Poor Sam, covered in poop, was laying in his kennel looking pathetic. There was poop all over the kennel. There was poop all over the carpet. It was disgusting.
Immediately we put Ryan in his room with a Curious George show to watch on the little dvd player, put Sam outside, took the kennel outside, and turned on the hose. While Jason hosed down the kennel and scrubbed it out, I went to work on the carpet with the steam cleaner. We opened all the windows and turned on the fans. Jason gave Sam a bath. By ten o'clock it was all cleaned up and the smell was fading. We emptied a bottle of Febreze in the house and left the windows open all night.
Thankfully, this morning, other than the kennel being in a different spot, you'd never know what we were doing late last night.

Mixed Metaphors

In an attempt to record for posterity my families funny tendency for mixing metaphors, I will blog them. Here goes.
Explaining to my friend Kelly that a circumstance is not new to me I say, "This is not the first time I've been around this wagon..."
Here are a couple from my Dad, "We were really taking it in the bath." Decipher: We were taking it in the shorts.... or We were taking a bath...

"There's a few ways to play that wrinkle." Decipher: I have no idea..... but somehow he made sense.
In a discussion with Jason I say, "Well, let's not hatch the chickens before they lay..." Once again, not sure what exactly I meant to say here, but it made sense at the time.
And of course there's the classic "You're barking up a dead horse." But, I think my Dad made that one up on purpose just to be silly. Stay tuned. The more tired we are the funnier they get.