SAHAM, part II
July 28th, 2010

Two months later. Husband has pretty much been home since my last post. Now I am getting re-adjusted to married life again. And capable, opinionated Me is having a harder time adjusting. Marriage is not the same as roommates, and it’s not actually a right-or-wrong situation. It’s a give-and-take while still being a part of one another’s lives kind of thing. Ugh. It’s so much more difficult than roommates. But that’s not why I’m writing. Let’s hear about the cost of being at home alone, with kids.

First, there is the obvious: being alone . . . with kids. I have yet to meet a mother who does not occasionally have the desire to leave a child crying in a crib, or maybe propped in front of a tv while she escapes for some fresh, quiet air. And usually this desire multiplies until she perhaps needs not just 10 seconds alone, but perhaps an entire hour alone. And being the good mother that she is, she does not leave a crying child alone while she takes a joy ride down Main Street. But she will hand off the little demon to Daddy the second his feet cross the threshold, and disappear before he can come up with a legitimate reason why he should not be holding the child.

When Daddy is gone, this cannot happen. And listening to the crying, the whining, maybe even just the innocent (but still very annoying), constant chatter can start to fray any sane person’s nerves. Added on top of that is the knowledge that there is no escape, and let’s just say there are times where Zombie Mommy takes over (until even this alter-ego gets worn down by the incessant repetition of “Mommy, why won’t you talk to me?”). This is bad all-around, because the kids only get mothering attention, which is typically the manners-enforcing, life-learning, book-reading, quiet time; versus fathering attention, which is typically tickle-festing, body-wrestling, mess-making, and your basic ruckus-raising time. So the kids are going a little stir-crazy, and Mommy checks out, and now they’re really going stir-crazy, which really doesn’t help Mommy, so it’s quite a vicious circle until Mommy eats some chocolate or something and musters the enthusiasm to play with the kids and get them to bed so that she can finally get a break . . . which, in my case, turns into quite a few hours of doing whatever I can think of that involves not going to bed because it is oh-so-quiet while they are asleep and if I go to bed then I will just wake up again and have to listen to all the noise for another whole day alone. Oy. Next thing I know, it’s 5 a.m. and now on top of my little patience, I will also have little sleep, which saps even more of said little patience.

Whew!

Don’t worry; this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Maybe like every other day. ;) But what I’m trying to say is, it can be exhausting taking care of two small children without any adult interaction, or assistance. There were certainly some times when I became Zombie Mommy, so I can certainly appreciate Daddy’s presence now, despite all those little beard hairs in the sink. Being alone is great as long as things are going along smoothly; it’s when the troops are restless and there is no immediate reinforcement that it gets a little sticky. I am sure this was an obvious outcome for all of you, though. And it was mostly remedied by going to see a friend, or just getting out of the house. There are other costs that I didn’t quite realize at first.

Touch. Apparently, touch is ridiculously important. I was at a children’s museum today and one piece of information was that the hand has like 15,000 receptors in it (don’t quote me on this; I’m feeling too tired to look it up). The sense of touch is amazing. Babies–animals and humans–all thrive when touched lovingly, but do not do so well in isolation. Having my children around me, I never imagined I would be lacking in touch; after all, III was still nursing and pretty much clinging to me any waking moment. But it’s not the same.

The summer after I graduated high school I went to stay with a past foreign exchange student for a month. The third week I was there I had fallen asleep on the beach and had completely burned my back. Obviously it hurt, and I couldn’t reach to spread any lotion on it, so my host mother spread it on for me. And I realized as she touched me, that I had not touched another human being beyond the cordial handshake/kiss of first meeting someone since I had arrived. My mother wasn’t forcing a hug out of me every night, I wasn’t slouching against anyone on the couch, or even giving a friendly back rub. So when my host mother touched me, I almost began to cry. The touch was so much more comforting than the lotion itself. It is a basic human need.

So I may have had the entire bed to spread out on while Lloyd was gone, but I had no one to hug  me good-night. I may have been able to watch all chick flicks, but I had no one to lean on, or even share the jokes with. Lack of touch disconnects you (and I feel for anyone in a long-distance relationship!), and it’s not the big intimate acts of touch, but the small ones that make you feel alone. After all, don’t we get excited when watching a movie and the guy reaches over to push a stray bit of hair out of the girl’s face? Or reaches to slip the strap of her dress back on her shoulder? I missed the simple things.

I had my own schedule, but no one who wanted me to be anywhere (well, not entirely true; I did stay somewhat busy, but at the end of every day my friends all had their own homes to go back to). There were times when everyone I knew had plans with family or close friends, and I the best I could get was a phone call. At meal time I had to help both kids get fed before I got a chance to eat . . . alone. Instead of having someone help clean up the kitchen with me (not that this is a frequent occurrence), I got asked a hundred times when I would be done and could come play.

I guess what I’m saying is that there are two sides to every story. It is difficult being a parent alone. But that doesn’t mean I have to be miserable. And if I’m not miserable it doesn’t mean I would rather be alone. I think it’s ok to recognize a situation for what it is, but not to wallow in what it isn’t. And when I figure out how to do that, I’ll let you know!

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The Stay-at-Home-Alone-Mom
May 26th, 2010

For the past five months I have been in Nebraska with the kids and without the husband, mostly. He manages to swing through for a few days here and there, and we even had him for over a week once, but for the majority of the time he’s been either in California or traveling. It isn’t exactly what I anticipated, and we’re working on plans to move again so that maybe he can be around a little more, but I have learned a lot.

Most importantly, I have learned how capable I am. I left home at 17, ready to face the big college life, thinking I really knew what I was doing. I even thought once I was in college that I was a grown-up, but while I went to an excellent school that is filled with professors that truly care about and get involved in the students’ lives, to some degree they only serve as a crutch for poor little sheltered preachers’ kids like me. There were still plenty of rules, just like living at home, and no monthly electrical bills to budget for.

So I began dating Lloyd about one month after school started (I was so proud for holding out that long!), two years later we were married, and about 1 year and 9 months later we had our daughter and then graduated college a couple months after that. Being married, going to school, working a job, and having a baby certainly helped me learn responsibility (but honestly, I was always a 4.0 perfectionist; responsibility really wasn’t something I was lacking), but I have never been on my own.

It has been freeing and frustrating. I’m not exactly in the position of a single mother—I don’t have to work, as my husband still makes the money. But I’m not quite in the position of a military wife either—I have little fear for my husband’s safety (but let me just say that I am so much more empathetic to the situation of military wives now). I’m this weird stay-at-home-mother who is alone. So let me share with you a little of what I’ve learned.

I’ve learned how nice it is to not have to work around anyone else’s schedule. I plan our days according to what we want to do, and we don’t have to plan mealtime for anyone else, or wait on anyone else if we want to go somewhere. I don’t need to ask anyone else’s opinion or go through the same, old conversation of “I don’t know; what do you want to do?” I can sleep across the entire bed. I don’t have to clean up tiny hairs around the sink. I can watch all chick flicks. I can dance in my underwear . . . oh wait, I could do that before.

Well, anyway, I’ve learned how to make decisions for myself. I’ve realized how dependent I’d become on my husband’s opinion, which is not to say that I’m now ready to disregard everything he thinks, but too often I find myself changing what I want to do in favor of what he wants to do. And it’s not like he’s bullied me into anything. It’s the subtle nuances of how he responds to my suggestions. When I learned (after 5 years of marriage) that he doesn’t like rice, I pretty much stopped cooking it. But you know what? I love rice. So why should I stop making it? If he asked me to bake a ham (which I really wouldn’t want to eat), I would do it (and, oh, I did do that for Christmas last year). I’ve been in a position of feeling subordinate to him even though he’s done nothing to force his ways over me (well, other than his personality being so very, very convincing). And being without him has let me see myself.

I have opinions too. I have preferences. And I have a voice to share those with. Another very simple, and silly, example showed itself when I was frosting Emma’s birthday cake. I think I was using a plastic knife or something, and was perfectly content using that knife, with no ill effects, when Lloyd suggested I use his beloved “spatula spreader” (there’s a whole other story in that alone!). I responded I didn’t know where it was and was fine using my knife. Wait about 5 seconds, and he’s asking me if I’m sure I don’t know where it is; it really would work better. Long story short, I stop what I’m doing to search for the tool, find it, and use it, with no great improvement on frosting spreading. This is a classic example. He never said I had to do anything; he really was making a suggestion based on what he thought would be in my best interest. But you know what? I wanted to use the darn knife. I didn’t not want to use the spatula spreader, but what I was using was perfectly acceptable. Give me that same scenario today and I’ll just keep using the knife. I’m allowed to have a preference and do things my way.

Freedom. Freedom in being alone. But freedom does come at a cost. And I’ll save that for another day. ;)

By the way, I know I’ve been terribly absent, but along with this freedom I’ve realized how powerful my own motivation can be. And honestly, there are things I’d rather be doing. You want to know who encouraged me (repeatedly) to start blogging in the first place? Take a wild guess . . . It wasn’t a bad suggestion, and his encouragement was sincere in that he thought this is what I need to be happy. And I’m not saying it hasn’t been fulfilling at times, but I’ve been more motivated to make an effort at keeping up with housework (that part’s not really doing so swell though), and following through with my promises to Emma of giving her my undivided attention for art projects or just playing, and making time to focus on my physical well-being by exercising every day. And something’s gotta give, you know. Obviously, I’m no Super Mom, and I don’t yet know how to get it all in—although I’m guessing watching less Grey’s Anatomy would help—but I’m still working on it at least!

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Sweet Spot
April 20th, 2010

I have a serious problem with sweets. Sugar is absolutely my drug (and yes, I know it is also probably my biggest hurdle in losing weight, but I’m not quite ready to admit that and give it up). Anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been short on time lately, so this Twitter Tuesday, while not under 140 characters, is a short, simple suggestion for sweet snacking.

Picture this: it’s late, you’re hungry—perhaps out of boredom, or perhaps your stomach is actually growling—and your logical brain repeats to you all those articles you’ve read telling you to reach for fruit or veggies, while your sweet tooth begs for a bowl of ice cream and sprinkles. What to do? (You could just brush your teeth and go to bed; after all, that would be the really smart thing to do.) Now I hope all this lead-up hasn’t made you too excited, or you’re about to be really disappointed by my very lame suggestion, but it has been a bit of a triumph for me when I hear the siren call of Breyer’s.

My new late-night go-to snack is a nice, cold, juicy orange, paired with a nice fluffy dollop of whipped cream. Think of it as the raw food form of a dreamsicle. It satisfies both my craving to eat something healthy and my sweet craving. And for that little part of me that wants to be a calorie-counter, it’s really not too damaging to that number either. Two tablespoons of whipped cream is only 15 calories. And 2 tablespoons is plenty for one orange. Of course, I recommend the kind made with real cream and sugar. Plus, the fake stuff (ingredients reading: water, corn syrup, hydrogenated vegetable oil, high fructose corn syrup…) actually packs on more calories, and really doesn’t taste as good.

So there you have it. I know it may not be epiphany-enducing for you, but you can at least feel pleased with yourself that you’re not such a lame-o as I am. Sweet snacking!

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Shape Up
April 16th, 2010

Every April, Vogue puts the focus of their magazine on the “celebration of size and silhouette,” and makes the emphasis of their articles on the female body in a more healthful, rather than just fashion-full, way. I was actually pleasantly surprised; perhaps because I was reading this at a time when my shape seems to be deteriorating despite increased efforts at improving it. While I don’t want to rehash the entire issue, there were 3 articles that stood out to me in a very positive light.

The first attracted my attention because in my desire to find a new solution to my weight-loss issues, I was becoming slightly dazzled by the miraculous promises of a number of fasts/detox diets/miracle pills. Now, being ordinarily a very sensible, logical person who doesn’t like to do “weird” things to my body, I was even surprising myself at the desperateness I was feeling. So this first article grounded me, and I haven’t been back to the flashy “Order now! Lose 30 pounds in 30 days or your money back!” sites. It is titled Coming Clean, and addresses the foolish claims of many of these miracle programs. (I have not checked the research on this article, so yes, I realize this may not be entirely accurate either, but it was still an encouraging thing to read!)

It focuses mostly on the detox/juice diets, and recognizes the truths in many of the claims, but also provides the whole story. For example, pointing out that our bodies were already designed to flush out toxins—through the liver—and any the body can’t rid itself of are not sitting around in the colon, waiting to be cleansed, but are stored in fatty tissues like the brain. Also, these diets tend to make you lose weight because you lose muscle, which will also slow your metabolism for when you do go back to eating. My favorite claim they combated, though, was the euphoria many say they experience. In some study, they discovered that the endorphin system in starving animals kicks in a feeling of euphoria to ease the trauma of imminent death. Nice, huh?

The next article that followed was one on how to (perhaps) lose those last five pounds (I’d like to know how to lose the ten I gained while trying to lose the last five!). Anyway, I really felt in touch with the author, who aptly summed up my food experience when she said, “My self-control around food is right up there with my ability to speak Mandarin.” So, apparently, the next “in” thing for portion control is not in the measurements, but in the mind. She interviewed a social psychologist by the name of Ronna Kabatznick, Ph.D., who is a leading advocate of mindful eating. She makes the focus of eating on how you feel about it. How hungry are you really? And why are you eating? Beyond being aware before beginning, you’re also supposed to be aware while you’re eating—aware of the sensations your food brings about. Eat slowly, and with purpose and acknowledgement of each bite.

Another interesting tidbit in the article is that a study found that yoga practicers have a lower BMI than regular walkers and gymgoers. Admittedly, there are still plenty of gymgoers that I’m sure do just fine (and don’t even get me started on the apparent ease in which men seem to shed pounds just by deciding to!), but in the crazy life of a (somewhat single) stay-at-home mother to young children, the gym is nowhere in my foreseeable future. Of course, I also read this article a month ago, and remember being aware of my first pb&j sandwich afterwards, but nothing else beyond that. I loved reading the author’s journey though: “I’m aware that I’m eating a whole Toblerone bar at 10:00 A.M., but down it goes. I’m aware that I’m looking for something other than sustenance in the refrigerator, but I eat some filet mignon anyway. The only difference: I feel guiltier now.” I think it’s even more difficult to be mindful around grunting, begging, needy children, too. I already only eat when I can squeeze it in between child duties, but the encouraging message in the article is to just keep trying. Each meal is a chance to start over, and the authors journey did eventually have a pleasing reward, so maybe it can work for others too!

The last article was also inspiring to me, because it was written by the blogging-spectacular Julie Powell. Vogue approached her with a proposition to get fit and write about it (which also begs the question—if someone were going to pay me to really, really work on getting fit, could I get there? We all have our motivators…). So she did! She, of course, interviewed and got to choose a personal trainer, and had no kids to get in the way of her schedule, but had her own issues with traveling for her book tour (oh, the travesty!). But the article was still really inspiring, because she did learn how to get into a routine, and found that the more she made it a priority, the more she wanted it as a priority. And her work paid off as well, and she was able to continue her routine after her time with the trainer had ended. I guess I feel more like her success can be my success just because despite her great fortune, I feel like she’s a normal person. I know we’re all normal people, but I’m not sure I feel like I could ever be Jennifer Aniston, but Julie Powell—she’s attainable. (And while you can’t read her article online, you can read this.)

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Birthday Tea Party: The Plan
April 2nd, 2010

Ok. I promised I would get some info up on throwing a tea party birthday, and I’ve been awfully slow on my follow-though. So here is part two, designed to give ideas for what to do at the party. I like to think of parties in four parts: craft project, games, cake, and presents. But first, I’d like to talk invitations.

Invitations set the mood of the party, so a tea-themed invitation is a good start. Ideas include a simple tea bag-shaped invitation, cut out of white paper, or perhaps creating a large tea bag with translucent vellum paper and including the party information inside as the actual “tea.” I chose to use a teapot shape as the invitation and wrote the party information on the pot with a string attached to the top to look like the string of tea bag hanging outside. The label for the tea bag had the child’s name on it.

The front of the teapots

The information side

In order to get your teapot shape you could either print out a teapot image and trace one, or draw one yourself. I found a picture of a shape I liked and copied it as best I could. I think it turned out just great! Because the marker bled through a little, I decided to add the dual-color on the back of the teapot. Also note, we encouraged dressing up, because what little kid (especially girls) doesn’t love to dress up? So . . . on to the party itself.

Crafts are a good way to get a party started because it’s an individual project that kids can work on as they’re arriving, since inevitably there will be parents (like me) who show up late. Our party had an age range of 3-5, and had boys and girls so I just let Emma pick whatever she wanted to do, but I came up with quite a few options for her to choose from. Here are some ideas:

♦Make paper fans out of construction paper and doilies, for an extra fancy look. Let the kids glue on a doily and decorate however they wish, then fold the paper accordian-style and secure the bottom with a rubberband or tape.
♦For a simple project, trace teapot shapes for each child to color (or print out an outline; I have no printer so I used the teapot I had drawn for the invitation template and used it again for the coloring sheets).
♦Paint ceramic teapots or tea sets.
♦Decorate a small pot and plant a flower/plant. You could also use a teapot as a planter. (This would be especially fun if you had a tea party in a garden outside; sadly, February in Nebraska is not great for an outdoor party.)
♦Decorate fancy nametags out of cardstock for a place setting at the tea table.
♦Check a local craft store for inexpensive kids’ crafts. We only have a Wal-Mart here, but they had a nice selection, including packages of suncatchers, bead kits, or even foam puppets (which is what Emma wanted!).

Craft time!

So after everyone arrived and either finished their crafts or got bored, we moved on to games. We started with Emma’s favorite: Pin the _____ on the ______. Last year we had a princess party and we pinned the lips on the frog prince. This year it was a tea cup on a saucer. And being a little older, the kids weren’t scared of the blindfold!

Pin the teacup on the saucer

Pin the teacup on the saucer

We also used the previously colored teapot pictures for a game of musical teapots. We set the pictures on the floor and walked on them while playing music, and when the music stopped, they had to find a teapot to sit on. I don’t think they quite understood the game at this age, so we had to all hold hands and walk in the circle, and there was no mad rush to sit when the music stopped, but eventually we did get a winner!

The next game was a sugar cube relay. We split them into two teams and gave each team one spoon. Starting on one side of the room, they were given a sugar cube to carry on the spoon to the other side of the room where there were empty teacups waiting to be filled. The first team to fill their teacup wins. I had tested the coordination portion of this game before the party with Emma, and indeed, they were all quite capable of carrying a sugar cube on a spoon and walking to the other side of the room. What they didn’t understand was the concept of a race, and competition. One little boy kept waiting for the other team to catch up so they he wasn’t getting ahead of anyone. It was very sweet. Fortunately, they had fun, and they didn’t care about the concept of winning or losing anyway!

Dropping the sugar cube was a sad event

After that, we moved the party back to the table and distracted them by having them build towers out of the sugar cubes (this also served as a counting exercise, as we had to count whose was tallest!). I’m sure there could be many variations on sugar cube building—or even crafts with the sugar cubes. Just watch out for sneaky kids who pop them in their mouths when you’re not looking!

Those were all the activities we did, but I also considered making a tea party themed Bingo game, which would be fairly simple. You could also include personalized spaces for the birthday child, and you’d also have a game that you could play after the party that any kid would enjoy. Another idea would be some form of a tea bag tossing game. It could be simple, using different sized bowls and literally throwing tea bags into them for different point values. Or you could make little bean bags to look like tea bags, and use those. You could also throw them into actual teapots or get some cardboard and draw on teapots and cut out holes for different point values. This would definitely be for older, more coordinated children!

After games, we busted out the cake. At one point, I considered having snacks as well, but decided it really wasn’t necessary. I was just really tempted to make a lot of cute little sandwiches. But the cake was plenty, and we served pink lemonade in real teacups on saucers, which all the kids loved. We also had ice cubes shaped like flowers from trays at IKEA (I just had to bring IKEA up, I love it so!).

After that was the spoiling of my child, and then the inevitable opening and sharing of her plunder until parents were ready to take their kids home. Another successful birthday, that I can only hope she’ll remember a glimmer of later (hey, I still remember my bunny cake for my 4th birthday!). Stay tuned for one more post on the budget for such a shindig!

And as a separate note, I wanted to mention that I am going to be moving slightly away from blogging. As much as I enjoy it, it has been a catalyst to my cooking experimentation, and I’m finding that I really love the cooking. And once I’ve cooked, cleaned the dishes from my experiment, taken care of the kids, kept up with the house, and started fitting in a regular exercise routine, I’m finding that the something that’s gotta give has been my blogging. I don’t intend to completely quit; I’m just going to be a bit unpredictable!

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How To Not Get Old
March 30th, 2010

I’m not sure Emma quite understands the concept of getting old, but here’s what she has to say on how not to get old, or die.

“When you get old, you die. But you have to take medicine so you’re not old. That’s the only way. You’ll have to take medicine when you’re old so you don’t die. And then you won’t be old either.”

Tell me about the medicine.

“You have to have a fruit kind. And you have to drink it. You can get it at Wal-Mart. When you drink it, then you have  to stop drinking it when you don’t feel old then. You have to try to drink medicine really fast before you die when you’re old.”

How much does it cost? How does it work?

“Probably like three dollars. You have to get just a teeny bit and pour the medicine in and then you drink it.”

So how come people still die?

“They die because they have other things that the medicine doesn’t work on. Like some people are already died when they try to get up. And they’re somewhere else so they can’t get up and get their medicine. When they try to get up, their bodies pump back down.”

Is there anything else we should be doing?

“You should go to the doctor. And lay down on the bed. Go like 3 or 4 times. Try to not be so sick and try and not get sick when you’re old.”

And finally, what do you think about the new healthcare bill?

“That’s pretty funny!”

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Numbers In My Face
March 15th, 2010

Around town there is currently a health challenge underway. Spurred by the popularity of The Biggest Loser, teams from businesses all around town were created and are competing to lose the most and earn $1000 (although I did the math and there are like 70+ teams who all put in $40 I think . . . so where does the rest of the money go??). Of course, it’s  not all about money, it’s about living a healthier lifestyle, and this is just a motivator to get started.

I know a number of people involved in the challenge, and they all have their methods (some working better than others), but one conversation I just keep hearing is about counting calories. On top of that, I was actually playing The Biggest Loser Wii game, and it has a spot to input your daily calorie intake. It also suggests how much you should be consuming.

In my desire to get more fit I thought I’d give the calorie counting a try; after all, it has been working for those using that method. How hard could it be? Breakfast was fairly easy; I pretty much always eat a bowl of cereal with milk, and I could easily measure how much to eat according to the serving size. And for the rest of my day I found a website that has a list of common foods and their calories, so I would just look up whatever I ate and input it.

I lasted for about 2 1/2 days. Then I cracked. I found myself hating myself for every little thing I ate; and being the perfectionist that I am, I was also pretty sure that some of the foods I entered were inaccurate due to my not really knowing how many ounces I ate, or not being able to find exactly what I ate. And what about things like homemade bread? I had some Amish Friendship bread that I had mixed with whole wheat flour and pumpkin, and—no surprise—it wasn’t on the list.

And the more I saw how many calories I was eating, the more I wanted to eat. I know, that doesn’t really make sense. But it sort of angered/depressed me at how much I was consuming, and as I am a stress eater, I just binged on more. And when I tried exercising control and limiting what I was eating, I was simply ravenous! My stomach would be grumbling and eating was ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT.

This made me cranky. Feeling hungry and angry at what I felt I couldn’t  eat left me very snappy. And I don’t want to be like that. I think for my perfectionist personality counting calories is not the way to go. I get too obsessive and eating is no longer a good experience; eating should be a good experience. I like food. I love cooking new things. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

Calories aside, moderation is still a wise decision. But I know how much I eat. And I know when I’m eating something unhealthy. And once I gave up the counting, I found I could cut back without knowing exactly the value of what I was cutting back. But I know throwing away the rest of that birthday cake that I was still working on was a good idea. I wasn’t angry anymore at the idea of not eating something. I will continue to make some wise eating decisions, and some foolish ones, but without thinking about all those numbers. And when I eat those Girl Scout cookies in my pantry I’ll be ok with it; might just add a few more jumping jacks to my day.

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Encourage-me Sunday!
March 14th, 2010

This week I’ll be short and sweet (and late—oops!). I’m proud that I managed to exercise every day this last week. I got to the point where I decided I either have to choose to do it or not, and I’ve been choosing to do it and actually following through. And I’m finding it both enjoyable and addicting. So . . . yea, me!

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Anger Works!
March 12th, 2010

I’ve written before on my compulsive-perfectionist tendencies, and with those, comes a lot of anger when things don’t go as I planned, or as I think they should. It’s a bit ridiculous, but when I have a set order-of-operations that gets destroyed, I kind of snap. Even though I don’t like to admit it, it’s clear to me who Emma gets her attitude from when she goes into a tailspin instantly upon learning of a tiny change in the way she was expecting her day to go.

I’ve gotten a little better with some things. I usually have an idea in my head for how my day will go, and let’s say I have it in my mind that we will have dinner, watch a movie, put the kids to bed, and then read before going to bed around 11. Then a friend calls and says, “Hey, you wanna come grill out and play games?” My mind implodes a little. I desperately want to stick to the plan. It’s all perfect in my mind. But I like my friends, too. Used to be I would either stick to my plan and decline the socializing, or I would go but be incredibly stressed about the whole ordeal.

I know it’s ridiculous. And I’m improving. Once we moved to Texas and the opportunities to socialize lessened considerably, I found it easier to change plans on the fly for the sake of seeing other people. And I learned that just because I thawed hamburger to make tacos tonight doesn’t mean I can’t just make them tomorrow instead. I actually can. A bit freeing, actually.

But my temper is still present. And instead of being spread about in lots of changes to plans, it seems to bottle up and come to the surface for one particular change: unexpected shortened sleep period. By this I mean I get incredibly angry when my son wakes up earlier than he typically does, or naps for a shorter time than I know he needs (and I need!). I have plans for that nap time. I have certain things that I want to do that can only be best done without a whiny little thing crawling around my feet.

Earlier this week we had such an incident. It was partially caused by a fit-throwing 4-year-old who, for some reason, was staunchly opposed to going to the bathroom on her own, so I was already upset that she was being unreasonable, and then compounded on that was that her noise woke her brother after a very short nap. Mama was MAD. Instantly. Now, logically, I am well aware that my behavior is uncalled for and pretty immature. So this time I actually let logic lead the way a little. I still felt angry, but I chose to sweetly pick up my son and hug him, and then I plopped him on the floor in Emma’s room and told her to play with him. I then shut the door and left.

No yelling. No screaming. But I was still angry.

Knowing I needed to do something, and that taking it out on my kids was uncalled for, I took it out on my toilet. And sink. And bathtub. It needed a cleaning anyway, and I got it done in record time. By the time I finished cleaning the bathroom, I had expended all my anger energy, and was even in a better mood, as my bathroom was all nice and sparkly clean. And the kids were still happily playing together.

So, anger works! It works a whole lot harder than obligation or guilt, too. Now, I’m not saying you should just relish in constant anger so you can clean more efficiently, but everyone gets angry sometimes. And I found that cleaning is an awesome way to use that. So next time you’re angry—especially over something you can’t control—instead of yelling, or seething, consider cleaning.

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Everyone’s Friend
March 11th, 2010

Bar Keepers Friend Powder 21 oz.

Bar Keepers Friend is my friend, and should be yours, too. This stuff is absolutely amazing, and I am extremely thankful for it. Last year I finally had the money to splurge on new pots and pans and I got a nice tri-ply aluminum and stainless steel set that has been so nice to cook with.

Until the day I burned the rice.

I completely forgot about it. All the water cooked right out, and I was finally made aware by the awful smell coming from my kitchen. It was bad. But almost artistic, too. I took a picture, which of course I can no longer find. Imagine a shiny silver pot covered in jet black rice-shaped marks. At first I really wasn’t concerned. I set the pot in the sink and put hot water in it to soak.

It soaked, and then I scrubbed. And then I soaked again, and scrubbed again. Pretty sure that pot sat in my sink for at least a month, and every time I washed dishes I scrubbed it some more, but nothing I did made even a tiny dent. I had about given up on my beautiful pot until I remembered Bar Keepers Friend. I bought some. I used some, and I agree with their motto: “Once tried, Always Used.” The pot is beautiful again.

I had a similar problem just tonight, but to a lesser extent. My skillet had just gotten a bit grimy from burned-on oil and I had been scrubbing for a while when I thought to pull out my friend. In less than 3 minutes, my skillet looked like new:

Blinded by the shine!

So I am thankful for everyone’s favorite cleaner. It makes me happy. And in reading its history, I was surprised to learn that it originated in 1882 when a chemist discovered how shiny his pot was after cooking rhubarb—and he went on to formulate the cleanser from the plant! Kinda crazy; really cool.

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