please don't come over to my house

I'm pretty certain I lack the clean gene. At any given moment, there are dirty dishes in the kitchen, coats and boots piled by the front door, and schoolbooks and legos strewn about the living room. I'm not sure the last time the kitchen floor was scrubbed and I only know the toilet is clean because I just had to wipe it after some nameless boy broke the "no standing while peeing" rule.

To be fair though, I don't think my house was this messy before I had kids. It's got to be their fault somehow.

I have farmed out nearly all the chores with the exception of laundry, and they still don't get done, even if I threaten no snacks until they're done. The trouble is that the cleanliness only lasts about 45 seconds.

Add a construction zone to the mix and I have just about given up. Last week I started taking down 2009 Christmas pictures. (Now, before you go and think that I'm really slow, let me just say that I leave my cards up year-round. I was actually ahead of the game - taking down old cards before I even got any new ones.)

The trouble is, that I realized quite quickly that all the cards were dusty. And the cabinet they were taped to was full of cobwebs. So, I did a most natural thing I could think of - I started wiping them off the ceiling.

A minute later, my eldest son asked, "Is someone coming over?"

I replied, "Do you think I only clean if someone's coming?"

The sheepish look on his face revealed the awful truth - that is exactly what he thought. Oh dear. I'm officially teaching my kids how to live in a messy house. I don't believe this is a good thing.

Do I get crabby and start throwing things into piles and take toys away and generally go berserk, or do I just succumb to the blatant fact that I should just never, ever have company over again? Well, at least for another 13 years, when the last of the messers is hopefully out of the house.

Consider this your invitation to drop by uninvited - in about September of 2023.

talk of the camp

Caveat: I claim no responsibility in this next post. I do not know if you will think it funny or bawdy, but either way - I did not teach my son this phrase.

First day at Bible Camp, my four-year-old wants to go swimming. We sent him in the lake with his older brother as a buddy. Hubby and I were sitting a little ways away from the swim area, barely within earshot. I looked over to see him standing just over knee-deep in water that apparently was very cold, because he was hugging himself and shivering. Then, I noticed the lifeguard doubled over in laughter.

Pointing this out to hubby, I had a feeling of dread - mainly because this child is well known for entertaining people (and mortifying me) with what comes out of his mouth. As soon as hubby looked over, the lifeguard attempted to walk down the dock to his co-lifeguard. I say attempted because he was having a difficult time walking while belly-laughing so hard. He managed to make the 20 feet and then both guys were looking over at my son, laughing hysterically. By this time, we were a bit uncomfortable and curious as to what was going on. The first lifeguard walked back over the source of his merriment and asked him, "Are you all right?" (Hubby figured this was in hopes that he would say something even more entertaining.)

Later that afternoon, when swimming was over and suits were off, we learned that the lifeguard had asked our precocious four-year-old if something was wrong because he wasn't swimming. He apparently replied to the guy, "My nuts are freezing."

It didn't take long for the story to spread across camp to the nearly 200 people in attendance - much to their amusement. People were coming up to me and telling me things like: "The first thing I heard when I got to camp was..." and "I just love your son."

Later that evening, the lifeguard came up to Number Four and told him, "You're my FAVORITE camper!"

Apparently the rest of camp felt the same way - even the pastors. Well, everyone but me. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

passing of the genes

Apparently sarcasm is genetic. One of my boys attended a birthday party and when the dad pulled blinds down, the entire unit fell. My darling son looks at him and says, "Well, if you wouldn't buy cheap blinds, they wouldn't break."

Thankfully these are friends of ours who cherish laughter more than possessions.

casualty two

I'm starting to wonder if I'm accident-prone.

This is what happened when I went garage-saling yesterday. I usually take only one child out at a time (the rest are confined with snacks, 25-cent toys and a three-year-old singing to entertain them). After 10 minutes of arguing, it was finally determined whose turn it was to escape. I was a bit frustrated by that point and ended up slamming the van door on my shin.

Limping across the road, I noticed #3 was lolly-gagging and I turned to see if he was going to make it or not, not wanting to miss out on any "bargains."

Unfortunately, my knee-eye coordination must also be defective, because just as I told him to hurry up I managed to walk right into the hitch on the back of a minivan.

This is the end result.
























But the skirt I got was kind of cute.

humble pie

There are some secrets I would rather not share. I keep them fantastically hidden from most everyone but my husband and children. They are things that would mortify me if people knew. They are things that would humiliate me so badly I'd have to leave the state.

And today, they were discovered.

So, in the spirit of learning humility - I'm going to take a real leap and share my deepest darkest skeletons with everyone else - no more secrets for me.

A dear friend came over today to clean my house. As if that wasn't mortifying enough, she warned me that she would be upset with me if I cleaned before she got here. (Boy, does she knows me.) Luckily, I avoided ticking her off because I simply didn't have the energy to do anything beyond making my bed and shutting my bedroom door. (But as you'll see later, even that didn't help.)

I was laying on the couch sick to my gut when she arrived, breezy and beautiful. What I wouldn't give to wear make-up again - can't even remember when I last put on some lipstick.

She asked what I wanted done. (I almost confessed that I'd really just like a fairy godmother to say bibbedy-bobbedy-boo. But that would have been rude.) So I swallowed the first piece of humble pie and pointed to the kitchen floor, in dire need of a scrubbing. She got right to work, while I cringed inside, wondering at how much food really was stuck underneath the bench where two piglets slobber their meals.

She finished the floor and started working on the dishes in the sink. (I think one pot had been soaking for four days - but it sometimes takes that long to get clean, doesn't it?) In the meantime, the kids started a brave plan to destroy any progress she made in the kitchen by getting all the lunch stuff out. After that mess was cleaned up she got back down under the table to sweep up the bread crumbs and whatever else got dropped.

I would have been content with all that, but she was determined to really make me learn a lesson today. "Laundry?" she asked. (I swore there was a gleam in her eye.) Um, no that's okay. She didn't buy it. (Who would in a house of four boys?)

I swallowed hard, led her upstairs to my bedroom, and opened the door to show her the eight loads of clean laundry piled on the floor, needing sorting and folding. Then I made a huge mistake. I entered the laundry room to check on the wash I had started this morning. The load in the dryer wasn't dry, so I put it going longer, shut the door and cringed at all the clothes I had to walk over just to get into the room and the smell of all the dirty dish towels (you know the smell, I know you do.)

She folded all the clothes upstairs, then called the boys in to help her identify what belonged to whom. And somehow she convinced the older two to put their things away - and I didn't hear any whining!

She then came down the stairs with a puzzled look on her face. "Where's your dryer?" (I tried to fake sleep - it didn't work.) "I'm not going to tell you," I insisted. But, she figured out how to get the boys to divulge family secrets.

By the time she was ready to leave, I was ready for a nap. I humbly thanked this angel who didn't seem to mind what the condition of my house was and went upstairs to nap with boy #4, only to find that she had scrubbed the bathroom floor, cleaned all the toothpaste off the mirror and the sink and neatly placed three baskets of folded laundry by my closet. And, she put a load of wash in the dryer and another one going in the washer. I hope she had her eyes closed when she was in that disaster area.

I fell asleep to the hum, squeak, hum of the dryer, the rumbling of the washing machine and the whooshes of the dishwasher going downstairs. Who says housework isn't tiring? As I was drifting to sleep, I suddenly remembered her parting words: "I'll be back!"

Aaah! So much for sleep...

most embarrassing moment #38

Set the scene:

It is 8:10 a.m. on the last day of summer school. Mom is rushing around frantically trying to get all four boys out the door to make it to the middle school by 8:30 a.m. She hasn't had a chance to brush her teeth or even eat breakfast.

One boy walks out with his shoes untied and promptly gets a scolding. One boy forgets his guitar and Mom rolls her eyes.

Five minutes later they are on the road - whew. They actually make it to the school on time and Mom decides she will make a quick trip to the Wal-Mart across the street to pick up of all things: blue metallic spray paint for the go cart Dad bought "for the boys."

She unloads the younger two out of the van, wrinkling her nose at the smell coming from the youngest one - something a bit off - like a dirty dish rag. She scans him up and down, realizing that she wasn't quite thinking when she dressed him in faded navy shorts and a black and red t-shirt with a very stretched-out collar and a tag that insists on sticking out. He has smudges on his nose and won't let her wipe them off.

His older brother jumps out of the van and she nearly calls the whole trip off. It is nearing 80 degrees already and he has jogging pants on with dirt-caked sandals, bed head and a t-shirt older brother made on a camping trip four years ago. She questions his choice of clothing, but he shrugs it off - being warm doesn't bother a five-year-old.

As they near the automatic doors at the store's entrance, she catches her reflection in the glass - she has made an appearance in public with her t-shirt on inside-out.

What to do? Turn around? Naw, we've already come this far. Walk around like an idiot? Too late for that. A flash of inspiration hits her - she walks into the women's bathroom (unoccupied this early in the morning), strips off her shirt, turns it right side out, back on it goes and the shopping trip proceeds as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary has happened.

Only you know the truth.

laughing out loud

There's at least one person with a sense of humor out there.

Yesterday I got a little gift bag from a friend. She wouldn't say what it was, but when I opened it later in the van, I almost peed my pants.

The tag said:
"Kara - a gift for you to help avoid a repeat of "embarrassing moment #37." (See earlier blog by that title.)

Inside were two pillowcases with these instructions: Simply place your freshly laundered unmentionables within the "sack" and hang on clothesline without fear of anyone finding out what color stripes are on your underwear.

Hubby didn't quite get my hysterical laughter, but that's okay. I enjoyed the moment tremendously.

She later explained that she had just finished reading a book called "Little Heathens." (The title intrigues me greatly.) In the book, the author says that pillowcases were a solution used by Iowa housewives in the 30's.

Apparently someone else must have had a most embarrassing moment.

most embarrassing moment #14

In a house we previously lived in, the bedrooms were all upstairs, but the only working shower was on the main floor. One day I took a shower and walked back upstairs to get dressed, leaving the wet towel in the laundry next to the bathroom. (In other words, I was walking to my room in the buff.)

The only trouble was, in order to get upstairs, I had to walk right by the front door. At the exact time I got to the door, a man with a clipboard was standing on the other side of the glass just about to knock. I yelped, jumped back and ran to grab my towel. By the time I got back, he had disappeared.

Great way to get rid of door-to-door salesman. I never saw him again.

most embarrassing moment #37

A guy from church comes by to drop something off just as I'm about to take clothes off the line. I thought perhaps I could subtly take my bra down before he got out of the car, kind of swiping it off with some socks. That went okay and so I kept taking everything down while he was talking to me. I thought I was in the clear until I realized after taking down half of the rest of the clothes that there was also a pair of pink and white striped bikini underwear right near my fingertips.

Do I leave it there? Do I take it down? Do I act like everything is totally fine, even though my face is flaming red?

I chose option number two and left my back turned to him, removing clothes until the flushing passed.

At least the underwear were cute ones.