So you know how you have to clean your house cuz the cleaning lady's coming?
Well, I just experienced a whole new variation of this. I had to clean up AFTER the cleaning lady. This one was not too bright and unfortuantely wreaked havoc in my kids room. I found dirty socks in the toy chest, used tissues in the car bucket, my daughter's shoes in the lego box (we searched for them for half an hour this morning, the cleaning lady owes me $5) and just when I was hyperventilating and thinking I was gonna pass out, I found a bag of candy in the puzzle drawer. So I ate some and then I felt better. I was actually surprised to find it there. I mean, candyland (the game, not the actual land) was just inches away. If I was a cleaning lady and I was tidying, I'd say "hmmm candy, ahhh candy land." But that's because I'd be a smart cleaning lady.
Every time we lose something we ask each other, "If you were Gloria, where would you put it?" or "Where is the most normal place it could be?" And then go look in the complete opposite location. Which is why, this morning, I went to find my brush in the dollhouse and what do you know?! There it was!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Everybody Lies
My friend, Dr. Gregory House, (ok, everyone is entitled to an imaginary friend), says that everybody lies.
And who is better at making stuff up than mothers? Recently, I was at a PTA meeting, and we were talking about yelling in the house. Wisely I said, "The key is know when you yell and be organized and ready in order to avoid the situation. Like for example, I know that Friday afternoon is a stressful time so I'm usually ready for Shabbos at one."
They were impressed. "Wow," they said, "We wish we could do that."
In my defense, I'd like to be ready at one. I think I even was once ready at one- the week I had a cleaning lady and was invited out for both meals. But anyway, it got me thinking that if I, the most honest person I know, lied, then think of all the untruths all my friends and non friends are saying. All those things I've been jealous of. All those little statements people say to make themselves sounds like super moms.
"Yeah my kids are all sleeping by 6:30, I just need to have my evening to myself."
"We just don't have candy in the house. My kids don't even know what candy is!"
"My husband cleans the house every night. Including mopping the floor and doing the laundry. He just knows how hard I work."
"I don't need a cleaning lady because my house is always clean."
"My six year old daughter can cook dinner by herself."
"My six year old daughter babysits for hours Sunday morning."
"My six year old daughter can read Hebrew and English and Russian and Portugese fluently."
This is why I choose friends that are honest and blunt. They say things like "I stuck a candy on the wall next to my daughter's bed for her to eat in the morning when she woke up so she wouldn't bother me." Or "I pulled my daughter's hair because she really hurt me!" Aaaaahhh I love my friends. Maybe one day I will even admit to them that at one oclock on a Friday afternoon, my house is upside down and I am yelling at the top of my lungs.
And who is better at making stuff up than mothers? Recently, I was at a PTA meeting, and we were talking about yelling in the house. Wisely I said, "The key is know when you yell and be organized and ready in order to avoid the situation. Like for example, I know that Friday afternoon is a stressful time so I'm usually ready for Shabbos at one."
They were impressed. "Wow," they said, "We wish we could do that."
In my defense, I'd like to be ready at one. I think I even was once ready at one- the week I had a cleaning lady and was invited out for both meals. But anyway, it got me thinking that if I, the most honest person I know, lied, then think of all the untruths all my friends and non friends are saying. All those things I've been jealous of. All those little statements people say to make themselves sounds like super moms.
"Yeah my kids are all sleeping by 6:30, I just need to have my evening to myself."
"We just don't have candy in the house. My kids don't even know what candy is!"
"My husband cleans the house every night. Including mopping the floor and doing the laundry. He just knows how hard I work."
"I don't need a cleaning lady because my house is always clean."
"My six year old daughter can cook dinner by herself."
"My six year old daughter babysits for hours Sunday morning."
"My six year old daughter can read Hebrew and English and Russian and Portugese fluently."
This is why I choose friends that are honest and blunt. They say things like "I stuck a candy on the wall next to my daughter's bed for her to eat in the morning when she woke up so she wouldn't bother me." Or "I pulled my daughter's hair because she really hurt me!" Aaaaahhh I love my friends. Maybe one day I will even admit to them that at one oclock on a Friday afternoon, my house is upside down and I am yelling at the top of my lungs.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
What a great morning to start my blog!
Welcome to my blog.
What a great day to start blogging! I had the most remarkable morning and I tell you, though it was not in the least bit entertaining to me, it must have been a good show to those observing. I had to take my son to the doctor at 9:00. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually I do know what I was thinking, or wishing. That by some miracle, we'd have my daughter in school on time and have him at the doctor by nine and then I'd still have time to drop him at day care and run some errands. Ha Ha. At 9:00 I called the doctor. "We're running a little late," I say. "Can we possibly come at 9:30?"
To which the doctor replied "NO." So we ran down the stairs and out the door and arrived at the doctor promptly at 9:30. He took us anyway, Thank The Good Holy Lord, though I think it was out of a sheer pity for the mad mother toting two babies, more than anything else
Now the clincher. When we left his office, as I was putting the baby in the car, my son started to run down the block. Laughing hysterically, he looked back over his shoulder, saw how angry I was getting and ran faster. Obviously. I kept thinking that he’d turn around and come back. After all, I wasn’t going to run after him! So I waited and then I shouted and then I yelled and then I screamed “Get back here NOW.” And then “I’M COUNTING TO THREE.” And then “YOU ARE GOING TO GET SUCH A PATCH!” But still he fled further and further away. So then I flew….leaving my baby behind in the car, I ran down a very long block, screaming at the top of my lungs. I passed some guys who I swear were laughing at me. I glared at them so hard they went quiet, and then marched my son back to the car where I patched him (I couldn’t do it on the street for fear of someone calling social services). Then we had hugs. Then he went to day care. Thank The Good Holy Lord. And that is the story of my mad morning with all its details.
What a great day to start blogging! I had the most remarkable morning and I tell you, though it was not in the least bit entertaining to me, it must have been a good show to those observing. I had to take my son to the doctor at 9:00. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually I do know what I was thinking, or wishing. That by some miracle, we'd have my daughter in school on time and have him at the doctor by nine and then I'd still have time to drop him at day care and run some errands. Ha Ha. At 9:00 I called the doctor. "We're running a little late," I say. "Can we possibly come at 9:30?"
To which the doctor replied "NO." So we ran down the stairs and out the door and arrived at the doctor promptly at 9:30. He took us anyway, Thank The Good Holy Lord, though I think it was out of a sheer pity for the mad mother toting two babies, more than anything else
Now the clincher. When we left his office, as I was putting the baby in the car, my son started to run down the block. Laughing hysterically, he looked back over his shoulder, saw how angry I was getting and ran faster. Obviously. I kept thinking that he’d turn around and come back. After all, I wasn’t going to run after him! So I waited and then I shouted and then I yelled and then I screamed “Get back here NOW.” And then “I’M COUNTING TO THREE.” And then “YOU ARE GOING TO GET SUCH A PATCH!” But still he fled further and further away. So then I flew….leaving my baby behind in the car, I ran down a very long block, screaming at the top of my lungs. I passed some guys who I swear were laughing at me. I glared at them so hard they went quiet, and then marched my son back to the car where I patched him (I couldn’t do it on the street for fear of someone calling social services). Then we had hugs. Then he went to day care. Thank The Good Holy Lord. And that is the story of my mad morning with all its details.
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