I speak truth to power.
Me: (listening to children squabble across the hall while tidying my bedroom) If you two don't stop arguing Mommy's head is going to explode.
Lizzy: Okay!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Dirty Little Secrets #58 & #59
58) I am a poor housekeeper.
Years of rigorous dusting, vacuuming, and bathroom scrubbing under my mother's watchful eyes did little to train me to maintain my own household. Don't get me wrong - I don't like to be dirty. I don't like living in filth and squalor. But the whole endless routine of cook, clean up, start-it-all-over-again just gets the best of me.
I can stand one morning a week of vacuuming, dusting, and toilet cleaning. But that's it. Doing the dishes every night? I once revealed to Tuesday Fight Club that the previous night's dinner dishes were still sitting in my sink - albeit rinsed and neatly stacked - and the group visibly recoiled. One woman came back the next week and told me she'd been thinking about what I said all week.
But I would rather go outside to play after dinner.
Or go read blogs.
59) In January 2006 we purchased a $1200 vacuum cleaner from a traveling salesman.
Now that's a seriously hardcore dirty secret. I actually hid the thing when my mom and sister came to visit and put my old model back in the hall closet.
But meet Kirby:
This shiny, upright creature sucks so much dirt and dog hair out of my carpets that the members of my household actually weep for joy when he appears.
Who knows what possessed us to let the young man in door when he appeared that cold evening. It was Minnesota after all: traveling salesmen are alive and well in Garrison Keillor's home state. He attached a funny little filter with a viewing window to his wondrous machine and it began pulling years of dirt, sand, and filth right out of our carpet. The carpet that had been vacuumed earlier that day.
We were horrified.
We were ashamed.
We were too damn embarrassed at our own filthiness that we bought the damn thing, on credit. I paid it off just last week.
We still look at Kirby from time to time and shake our heads. "I feel so dirty when I think about buying that thing," one of us will say. It is however, the last vacuum we will ever buy.
Years of rigorous dusting, vacuuming, and bathroom scrubbing under my mother's watchful eyes did little to train me to maintain my own household. Don't get me wrong - I don't like to be dirty. I don't like living in filth and squalor. But the whole endless routine of cook, clean up, start-it-all-over-again just gets the best of me.
I can stand one morning a week of vacuuming, dusting, and toilet cleaning. But that's it. Doing the dishes every night? I once revealed to Tuesday Fight Club that the previous night's dinner dishes were still sitting in my sink - albeit rinsed and neatly stacked - and the group visibly recoiled. One woman came back the next week and told me she'd been thinking about what I said all week.
But I would rather go outside to play after dinner.
Or go read blogs.
59) In January 2006 we purchased a $1200 vacuum cleaner from a traveling salesman.
Now that's a seriously hardcore dirty secret. I actually hid the thing when my mom and sister came to visit and put my old model back in the hall closet.
But meet Kirby:
This shiny, upright creature sucks so much dirt and dog hair out of my carpets that the members of my household actually weep for joy when he appears.
Who knows what possessed us to let the young man in door when he appeared that cold evening. It was Minnesota after all: traveling salesmen are alive and well in Garrison Keillor's home state. He attached a funny little filter with a viewing window to his wondrous machine and it began pulling years of dirt, sand, and filth right out of our carpet. The carpet that had been vacuumed earlier that day.
We were horrified.
We were ashamed.
We were too damn embarrassed at our own filthiness that we bought the damn thing, on credit. I paid it off just last week.
We still look at Kirby from time to time and shake our heads. "I feel so dirty when I think about buying that thing," one of us will say. It is however, the last vacuum we will ever buy.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Dirty Little Secrets #52 - #57
52) I read blogs. I don't comment - even on the blogs of my friends. I don't write blog entries, either. That's Mrs. Chicken's department: she's the writer. But I think about my secrets. I think a lot about writing them down. But I don't.
53)
I enjoyed our recent trip to Disney World. Now, don't get me wrong, I firmly believe that Mickey is a tool of the patriarchy and a capitalist pig. But once I got over the materialism, commercialism, over-consumption and obesity surrounding me, I noticed that my husband and children were having a good time. I threw my hands up in the air and decided to join them. Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin? To die for, really.
And while I have deeply rooted philosphical issues with the idea of trained killer whales forced to perform three times a day, after our vist to Sea World Lizzy has decided on a career in marine biology. Now I can breathe a sigh of relief that her urge to dance for a living has been squelched by the great Shamu.
54) We are raising geeks. Not geeks like competimommies or sanctimommies raise. Not like "Well, I started listening to Mozart at five weeks gestational age, how about you?" But more like hard-core, space-cadet kind of geeks. This was our collective favorite day of the above-mentioned trip to Florida:
And now Teddy wakes up every morning asking if we can go to the Kennedy Space Center. They have a vast knowledge of Star Wars triva under their belts, and we've started watching From Earth to the Moon. I just can't wait until they start playing D&D. Real geeks rule the world, don't you know?
55) I am anxious for the release of the new Harry Potter book. My copy was pre-ordered from our local Barnes & Noble in February. I intend to read it in its entirety the first night I get it home. Maybe I'll pick it up at midnight.
56) I'm a lazy potty-trainer. Teddy will be three in two weeks, and I have not made any concentrated effort to get the kid out of diapers. Part of me just doesn't care: he's my baby and I treat him that way. When Lizzy was this age I was jumping out of my skin to get her tiny behind planted on the potty. This time around though, I'm just not that into it. I mean, we have a potty. He has peed in said potty. He ocasionally asks to use the potty. And that's it. No routine. No method. Just no potty-training. I've decided that when he turns three, we'll stay at home for week and go for it. Or maybe I won't.
57) Tomorrow, I intend to stay in my pajamas until at least noon. Because we can. I may even be persuaded to stay in bed with my children and watch Roving Mars all day long. School, playing outside until the sun goes down, evenings out with babysitters in, field trips, etc. have worn us to the bone. We're tired and out of secrets.
53)
I enjoyed our recent trip to Disney World. Now, don't get me wrong, I firmly believe that Mickey is a tool of the patriarchy and a capitalist pig. But once I got over the materialism, commercialism, over-consumption and obesity surrounding me, I noticed that my husband and children were having a good time. I threw my hands up in the air and decided to join them. Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin? To die for, really. 
And while I have deeply rooted philosphical issues with the idea of trained killer whales forced to perform three times a day, after our vist to Sea World Lizzy has decided on a career in marine biology. Now I can breathe a sigh of relief that her urge to dance for a living has been squelched by the great Shamu.54) We are raising geeks. Not geeks like competimommies or sanctimommies raise. Not like "Well, I started listening to Mozart at five weeks gestational age, how about you?" But more like hard-core, space-cadet kind of geeks. This was our collective favorite day of the above-mentioned trip to Florida:
And now Teddy wakes up every morning asking if we can go to the Kennedy Space Center. They have a vast knowledge of Star Wars triva under their belts, and we've started watching From Earth to the Moon. I just can't wait until they start playing D&D. Real geeks rule the world, don't you know?
55) I am anxious for the release of the new Harry Potter book. My copy was pre-ordered from our local Barnes & Noble in February. I intend to read it in its entirety the first night I get it home. Maybe I'll pick it up at midnight.
56) I'm a lazy potty-trainer. Teddy will be three in two weeks, and I have not made any concentrated effort to get the kid out of diapers. Part of me just doesn't care: he's my baby and I treat him that way. When Lizzy was this age I was jumping out of my skin to get her tiny behind planted on the potty. This time around though, I'm just not that into it. I mean, we have a potty. He has peed in said potty. He ocasionally asks to use the potty. And that's it. No routine. No method. Just no potty-training. I've decided that when he turns three, we'll stay at home for week and go for it. Or maybe I won't.
57) Tomorrow, I intend to stay in my pajamas until at least noon. Because we can. I may even be persuaded to stay in bed with my children and watch Roving Mars all day long. School, playing outside until the sun goes down, evenings out with babysitters in, field trips, etc. have worn us to the bone. We're tired and out of secrets.
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