Idiotic Conversations Mr. C and I Had Before We Had a Ton of Kids

If I had a time machine at my disposal, I would go back in time to 2003.  2003 is when this house was being built.  2003 is also when Mr. C and I had the following idiotic conversation:

Me:  Ooooooh!  We have money for a little upgrade!  What should we do?
Mr. C:  How about we tile the entire great room area?
Me:  Fabulous!  What color should we get?
Mr. C:  White!  That won't be hard to keep clean at all!  And that empty field of dust that is behind our property?  I'm sure it'll never blow dirt into our home!  Plus, our future children will be born with a special gene that will prevent them from carelessly dropping food or questionable matter all over the floor! You won't ever have to sweep 3 times a day!
Me:  I love it!  And you know what?  I bet our future pets will probably never shed all over it!  Also, if we have a particularly hateful feline in the future, tile is an exceptionally wonderful choice for us because when she pukes up hairballs, I'm sure she'll be polite enough to do it on the tile where it's easier to clean!
Mr. C:  I just thought of something else!  If by chance our future dogs happen to be drooly animals, we'll never slip or slide in puddles of it all over our tile floor!
Me:  Oh my gosh!  You're right!  We are so smart for choosing to cover over half of our home in ceramic white tile!  I was thinking about maybe using the upgrade money towards classy granite countertops in the kitchen and bathroom, but this is a much smarter choice!

Okay, obviously that's not how the real conversation went, but you get my point.  We weren't just stupid.  We were like, Snookie stupid.

However, I believe that I may have discovered a way to gain back my sanity and keep the floors clean:

Have you seen one of these before?  Aren't they cute?  It's a robot- (like Jetson's style) officially known as a Roomba.  I'm sure you've seen them.  They've been around a while.  And ever since my friend informed me that she loves hers so much that she'd name her next kid after it, I want one.  I want one bad.  I want one so bad that I even did some math to figure out exactly how much my life would improve if I had one of these.

So the tile floor space in my home is approximately 900 square feet.  Each tile itself is 1 square foot, so that means I'm sweeping/mopping over 900 tiles a day.  Then you have to add in the approximately 400 square feet of tile that is in the kitchen area that is getting cleaned an additional 2 more times a day, which means that I am cleaning about 1700 tiles a day. Now, say that every time I sweep, I feel 50% annoyed, 20% bored, 30% frustrated.  (Which could be how you're feeling right now reading this).  It would follow that each individual tile is responsible for .058% of my negative energy.   From that I came up with the following formula:

Let x= the number of tiles and y=hours spent cleaning the floors

y(.058x)= grumpy annoyed mother

However, with a Roomba, y=0 because I personally would not be spending any hours cleaning my floors.  Therefore, 

y(.058x)= delirioiusly happy mother who now has time to spend on Pinterest.com 

You can see that mathematically, my happiness factor increases when I have a Roomba.  

(Now would be a good time for you to forget that I am a tutor.  No one check my math please.  Also, for you nerds out there, I am aware that if y really did equal 0, the answer to the equation would be "no solution".  But that didn't work with what I'm doing here, so go stick it in your pocket protector.)

Also, Mr.C read over this and suggested that I square the second half of the inequality to represent his happiness factor because you know what they say.... when mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.  

And a Roomba would make this mama happy.   

Have a good day!

P.S- I think internet laws require that I mention that no one from the Roomba company is paying me to write this.  I do not own a Roomba, nor am I endorsing them.  I am merely stating that if I don't come into possession of a Roomba sometime soon, I will be in danger of fallen into a deeply depressed state.)

*disclaimer #2- I realized that me hating the floors in my well-insulated, electrically-outfitted home that comes with plumbing is a first world issue.  I assure you that, despite my rant, I am grateful for what I have- although to be honest, a home with a dirt floor doesn't sound half bad.  

  

Oh, calm down!  I'm kidding!  

Kind of .  

Seriously, though.  At least I wouldn't have to keep it clean!

KIDDING!  I'm going now.  

Bye.

   

On Her 8th Birthday

Dear Gracie Kay,

     Tomorrow when you wake up, you will be 8 years old.  It follows then, that when I wake up in the morning, I will have been a mother for 8 years.  How we got here together is by one of the many puzzling dichotomies that is parenting: How can it be that I feel like I've been your mama since forever and still feel like these last 8 years have lasted as long as the flash on my camera?  
By the way, I'm using my college words today.  I guess I should tell you what "dichotomy"means, in case you read this before you go off to college.  A dichotomy is when something is twofold- it's one whole part, but it can be divided into two seperate and often conflicting truths.(And if you're reading this after you've gone to college and you still didn't know what a dichotomy is, then I'm sorry.  That would mean that you're probably got stuck at a state school because your daddy and I couldn't afford to send you anywhere else. Sorry 'bout that.)  

     Anyway.  Dichotomies.  Parenting is full of them- that and cliches.  It's the best job I've ever had, it's the hardest job I've ever had.  It fills my heart with joy, it fills my heart with fear.  The days are long, the years are short, and man how we've loved watching you these last 8 years!  Your world is getting bigger and it's coming at you fast, baby girl.  You've been handling it beautifully.  But this last year, I've seen a bit of a change in you- a hesitation.  A little bit of your confidence seems to have gone and I wonder what part of the big bad world did that to you?  Was it a friend?  A teacher?  Was it me?  You see Gracie, this is the kind of thing that will keep me, your mama, awake at night.  Because of everything, everything, that I want for you to have intact when you go out and give life on this crazy blue marble a whirl, your confidence is absolutely the biggest, most important thing.
 

     I know this is a cliche (I told you, parenting is filled with them), but if I could have anything for you, I would wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.  You are such a unique individual.  I love your sense of style.  You are vintage classic all the way, from your love for black and white movies to your obsession with obtaining a crystal chandelier for your room.  How many other little girls are that cool that young?  When you were around 2, your daddy and I started calling you our voodoo princess because you found a bracelet made of skull beads that belonged to your brother.  You put it on and wore it for a month straight. And girl, you owned that look!   You wore it with skirts and ruffle socks one day, and then with denim and a t-shirt the next.  How'd you know how to do that- to put a feminine spin on non-girly stuff? We were in awe, and still are.

     Here's another thing we love: how creative you are in creating little minature worlds- remember last year when you drew plans for you dream house?  You worked on it for months- taking the same worn piece of paper out and sketching on another room or garden whenever an idea struck you.  That's perseverance!  Don't lose that.  And another thing, when you were little you took the cutlery and cups from your play kitchen, lined the cups up outside your door, stuck silverware in the cups, and hung colorful teacups upside down on them.  That was your garden, you informed us.  We weren't to move it because you wanted to keep it pretty outside your bedroom door.  So we didn't.  We let your "garden" stay there for weeks, shaking our heads and marveling at your imagination.

     But of all your gifts: beauty, intelligence, creativity, I think perhaps the greatest is your gift for empathy to others.  You are incredibly thoughtful towards other's feelings- human and animals alike.  I think this gift is what is going to help you make your mark on the world- but I'll leave that to the future to decide.  For now, I just want to tell you that I'm proud of this kindness you possess.  No one else in our family but you can actually make me feel bad for my negative attitude towards the cat.  That's the bar you set- and truth be told, when I soften my attitude towards the evil kitty, it's not for the kitty's sake, it's for yours.  I'm just trying to rise to your expectations and abilities.  (Er, most days I try. Some days I don't get there, but we can blame the cat for that.  She's just so mean sometimes.)

Now.  The future You may read this and try to deny it- deny how wonderful and amazing you are.  Don't do that.  Every word I say is true and I can say this because I know you.  I know you because it's been you and me, from the moment I learned of your existence and began going about my days with you in my constant thoughts.  I held my breath in traffic so I wouldn't inhale car fumes, for goodness sake. And I'm only confessing to that kind of crazy behavior to make my point, which is from the moment I knew you were with me, I've put you in my heart and tried to make the best decisions for both of us.  Tomorrow I'll light the 8th candle on your birthday cake and when you close your eyes to make your wish, I'll close mine and make one too.  This is what it'll be:  May you always know how beautiful you are, inside and out.  Don't ever forget it.  Own it.  If the world tells you otherwise, then the world is wrong.  Know yourself,  know how wonderful you are, and cloak yourself in that wonderfulness.

Listen to your mother.

You are my heart.

Mom.

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream For The Procrastination Queen

Hi.

Not really sure what I'm doing here right now.  I'm bored, and though my options include paying bills or cleaning house, I have decided that none of that will get done as long as I have these stupid little mini-post like thoughts bumping around in my head.  Can I just share them with you so that I can clear them out and move on?  Yes?

Thank you so much.  I always appreciate friends who enable my need to procrastinate.  (Honestly, I do.  I wasn't even being sarcastic.  Any person who feels the need to point out my priorities or resonsibilities is no friend of mine.)

So, here's the first thing.  Yesterday I took the kids to the park and was half watching them, half reading a book.  I relish this age they're at- where they can play on their own at the park without my having to hover over their every move.  For too many years, I would be the parent gazing longingly at the group of mommies with older kids who were able to sit on the perimeter of the park and socialize with each other while I had to follow my tots around to make sure that they didn't fall off the play structure/run into the parking lot/eat woodchips.  So now that I'm able to keep half an eye on my kids and engage the other half of my brain on something less mind numbing than pushing them on the swing for an eternity, I love it.  Except for yesterday.  I didn't love it yesterday.

Yesterday, my peace and happiness was ruined by 3 teenagers who walked past me and one in particular who felt the need to loudly proclaim "WHO WOULD GO TO THE PARK JUST TO SIT AND READ A BOOK?" to which I could have said so many things, but didn't.  And that's when I realized that the rest of my day was going to suck.  It was going to suck because, while their comment didn't really bother me so much, the knowledge that I would spend the rest of my waking hours trying to think of the perfect witty comeback, just pissed me off.

That ever happen to you?

(By the way, I still haven't thought of anything good.  I had one comeback, but it included the word 'doy!' and you don't really hear people say that word anymore.  We should, though.  We should bring 'doy' back.  There is a certain level of satisfaction one feels after saying it in the appropriate context.)

Anyway, the second thing I wanted to tell you was a joke my kid told me.  I don't know if it's really that funny, or if I just think it's funny cuz I'm his mom.  In any case, here's the joke:

J: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
J: Hoo.
Me: Who hoo?
J: A lion!
Me: That doesn't make any sense, J.
J (thinks for a minute and then says):  Okay then.  A lion who ate an owl!

I just like that he figured out how to make the joke work.  It's one of those little signs that mean he's getting bigger and smarter.  I hang on to those signs, because on days when I catch him trying to bury a piece of my jewelry in the cat's litter box because he's pretending it's treasure, it's good for me to remember that on the inside where I can't see it, his brain is in fact, developing.

The last thing is that I got PG's birthday coming up in a few weeks.  This year I told her she can have a party.  We don't do parties every year for our kids, not because I'm afraid of spoiling them, but because I am a psychotic freak when it comes to planning parties.  I've written about this before.  The last time PG had a party, she was turning 5.  What started off as a small party at the park next door turned into a huge carnival themed extravaganza in which I hired volunteers to come and run 6 different booths.  There was also a jumpy house, a popcorn machine, cotton candy, face paining, and 50 of those ice cream cone cupcake deals with marshmallow frosting.  It was insane.  I was insane.  That was when I realized that I kind of had a problem.

So this year, we are keeping it simple.  She's having a sleepover with 7 of her friends.  I'm ordering pizza and we'll do an ice cream sundae bar.

Except.

When I was researching, I found this on the internet:

And now I can feel myself sliding back into my party planning psychosis.

So, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go find a downloadable "old fashioned ice cream parlour" font.  And I also need to hit up the dollar store for some cute sundae dishes.  While I'm at it, I need to also hunt down some empty ice cream containers to send home party favors in.  And.....

Hey, look at that!  Looks like housecleaning and bills will have to wait for another day.  I've got too much party planning to do!  You all have a good weekend!

Sincerely,

Tacy, expert connoisseur in the art of procrastination