Balancing act...
Every mother has a flaw. We are overzealous in our attempts to take on and master every single thing in our lives. The problem we have is compounded by the fact that we don't know how to ask for help. Do we do that so we can make everyone around us feel guilty because the can't read our minds? (guilty) Or do we do it because we don't trust anyone else to do it like we do? (also guilty)
This week I'm on a mission to clean up after an 'experiment' in my house. I left the laundry undone. My husband made a gallant effort to wash and dry and fold but it never got put away. I have to give him some credit. But he left the suckiest part of laundry to ME. I've also begun to leave dishes in the sink, shoes on the floor and stopped cooking (which is probably a relief to the rest of the family). I didn't go on strike per se, I just got LAZY. Look, I work fulltime, I'm a mother, a wife, I'm involved in charities, my daughter's school board, I'm in school studying law....I got too much on my plate. I'm not saying it isn't my fault I bit off more than I can chew. But I can't help feeling the slightest bit of resentment toward the rest of the humans in this house for not stepping up. So I just got lazy. Surprisingly they all stepped up. Imagine that. It may have had something to do with no clean towels or underwear but they still stepped up so props to my people.
Have you ever gone on strike in your house? Have you ever thrown a temper tantrum at your kids because they don't put the Tupperware into the Tupperware holder? Have you ever gotten angry because people drop their crap in the entry way and never put it where it belongs (which is out of my sight)? I would like to hear from you. Perhaps we can all supply each other with the strength and fortitude to be better moms and wives/partners and to get through life without wanting to take a Xanax.
I look forward to your responses...
Crazy like the rest of you,
Lia
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I count turds...
I don't do this because I like it, I do it because I have to. We have three dogs and 5 humans who live in this house. The 5 humans pretty much all have a handle on going to the bathroom (though I'm the only one who is fluent in toilet paper roll removal and replacement). The dogs, on the other hand, different story. The oldest is Tater. He's a 10 year old pug who, by and large (and I mean large) knows that when nature calls he is to actually GO to nature and answer the call. Then there is my husband's dog, Maggie. Maggie is a Yorkie and she is a product of my husband's inability (read laziness) when it comes to housebreaking. It's hit or miss depending on whether or not he can actually move from his spot in front of his computer and let her out. Finally there is Dexter...Dexter is the reason I count turds.
Dexter is a year old pug and he is certifiably insane. I'm not kidding. He's either insane or missing part of his brain that controls his impulses. He is by far the hardest dog to potty train I've ever encountered (and I've had some dogs in my day). Dexter (named after the serial killer on TV) is a serial killer in a dog's body. I swear our house would be covered in tarps and duct tape and we'd all be strapped to a table if he had thumbs (he needs the thumbs to hold the knife as it turns out). Dexter will chew up anything and everything if you aren't watching his every move. It's like inviting a clepto into your home. You missing a shoe? Dexter put it somewhere. You sit a book down and go get a drink? Dexter will eat the book and wash it down with the drink you bring back. He's nuts. But man, is he cute. He also has a GIANT zit on his face which has been there for about 6 weeks. (Vet said "ZIT" and we paid him $100). So Dexter actually look like he's got issues. He's still cute, zit and all. Oh Dexter also has alopecia so he has no hair under his armpits or on his stomach. He looks like a small, balding, zit faced serial killer. But we keep him cause he's a conversation piece.
Back to the turd counting. I started counting turds when we brought Dexter home. I did it to monitor his housetraining. The fewer turds I counted INSIDE meant there would be more OUTSIDE. This theory doesn't hold water. Dexter poops like people chat. He does it when an idea pops in his head. I've seen him poop outside, then come inside and poop again...in a clothes basket. I've seen him pee on every tree, bush, table leg, other dog in the yard and then come inside and pee on the wall. I've seen him lift both back legs off the ground and pee while standing only on his front legs. Amazing. I saw him lift his leg to pee and the poop. See? He's touched.
The turd counting has continued for a year now. I keep hoping that I'll find fewer turds inside and then eventually there will only be turds outside. Some nights I get home and there are ZERO turds in the house. I am pleased. Then my husband says "No I picked up a turd on the ottoman." Not pleased. You think you're making progress and progress eludes you. He is a crafty pooper.
Now for anyone who fancies themselves a dog trainer I'll submit to you this: We've been to a few. The last one simply said (after spending two weeks trying to "understand his needs") that he's just one of those hard to train dogs...no sh*t. (well...) Also you might be thinking, "Well Lia walk the dog more." If you are saying this then you clearly missed the part where I said he poops outside then comes back in and poops again. He does this after a walk too.
I don't do this because I like it, I do it because I have to. We have three dogs and 5 humans who live in this house. The 5 humans pretty much all have a handle on going to the bathroom (though I'm the only one who is fluent in toilet paper roll removal and replacement). The dogs, on the other hand, different story. The oldest is Tater. He's a 10 year old pug who, by and large (and I mean large) knows that when nature calls he is to actually GO to nature and answer the call. Then there is my husband's dog, Maggie. Maggie is a Yorkie and she is a product of my husband's inability (read laziness) when it comes to housebreaking. It's hit or miss depending on whether or not he can actually move from his spot in front of his computer and let her out. Finally there is Dexter...Dexter is the reason I count turds.
Dexter is a year old pug and he is certifiably insane. I'm not kidding. He's either insane or missing part of his brain that controls his impulses. He is by far the hardest dog to potty train I've ever encountered (and I've had some dogs in my day). Dexter (named after the serial killer on TV) is a serial killer in a dog's body. I swear our house would be covered in tarps and duct tape and we'd all be strapped to a table if he had thumbs (he needs the thumbs to hold the knife as it turns out). Dexter will chew up anything and everything if you aren't watching his every move. It's like inviting a clepto into your home. You missing a shoe? Dexter put it somewhere. You sit a book down and go get a drink? Dexter will eat the book and wash it down with the drink you bring back. He's nuts. But man, is he cute. He also has a GIANT zit on his face which has been there for about 6 weeks. (Vet said "ZIT" and we paid him $100). So Dexter actually look like he's got issues. He's still cute, zit and all. Oh Dexter also has alopecia so he has no hair under his armpits or on his stomach. He looks like a small, balding, zit faced serial killer. But we keep him cause he's a conversation piece.
Back to the turd counting. I started counting turds when we brought Dexter home. I did it to monitor his housetraining. The fewer turds I counted INSIDE meant there would be more OUTSIDE. This theory doesn't hold water. Dexter poops like people chat. He does it when an idea pops in his head. I've seen him poop outside, then come inside and poop again...in a clothes basket. I've seen him pee on every tree, bush, table leg, other dog in the yard and then come inside and pee on the wall. I've seen him lift both back legs off the ground and pee while standing only on his front legs. Amazing. I saw him lift his leg to pee and the poop. See? He's touched.
The turd counting has continued for a year now. I keep hoping that I'll find fewer turds inside and then eventually there will only be turds outside. Some nights I get home and there are ZERO turds in the house. I am pleased. Then my husband says "No I picked up a turd on the ottoman." Not pleased. You think you're making progress and progress eludes you. He is a crafty pooper.
Now for anyone who fancies themselves a dog trainer I'll submit to you this: We've been to a few. The last one simply said (after spending two weeks trying to "understand his needs") that he's just one of those hard to train dogs...no sh*t. (well...) Also you might be thinking, "Well Lia walk the dog more." If you are saying this then you clearly missed the part where I said he poops outside then comes back in and poops again. He does this after a walk too.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012
The signs are all here. They are popping up like Spring flowers. I see the signs. I recognize them from years of study. These aren't metaphysical signs...no these are physical signs. Yard Sale Signs. They draw me to them like a fly to a steaming pile. Why? I watch Hoarders, I know what could happen if it got out of control. I have a 7 year old daughter who has the genetic propensity to read these same signs. On the way to school every morning now we see a new one and she says "oohyardsalethisweekendmomcanwego?" I've taught her the fine art of the 'drive by'. Drive by the yard sale slowly, stalk it, gather as much info with your eyes and gut in the 10 or 15 seconds it takes to move past the house. Within that same window of time you should know whether or not it's worth it to stop.
I cleaned her room last week. Dammit. I wish I would've taken a picture before I cleaned it because then you would see the dark side of yard sales. The "Not only could I end up on Hoarders but I'm grooming a 'keeper' too" dark side. The difference between Olivia (my mini me) and I is I don't have a problem throwing stuff away. There is some catharsis in that. She, however, has a big problem chucking the junk in the bin. She keeps everything. I like shoes...she takes the shoe boxes and fills them with crap. I like make up. She takes the empty old nasty make up containers and sticks them in the boxes. She actually went into her big sister's room and took some dead flowers out of a vase and put them in a box.
At Christmas time Olivia likes to give as well as receive. The problem is she gives away her own junk. She lovingly wraps up half eaten candy bars, old socks and other detritus she finds in her room, puts a bow on it and gives each family member 'something special.' We all play along, smiling and saying "Oh wow a chewed up dog toy! Just what I wanted!" Last year she gave her dad a tiny doll brush.
Anyway back to yard sales...you have to admit there is something voyeuristic about going to yard sales. It's like peaking into the window of someone's garage or digging through their donation bags. Not quite trash but damn close. Plus I like to haggle and you cannot haggle with a Nordstrom sales girl over the price of a Burberry Scarf.
"How much for the old rice cooker that may be missing its cord?"
"Ten dollars?"
"How about a dollar?"
"Ok"
"Oh and if you throw in the macrame plant hanger I'll give you another 50 cents..."
"Sure."
I love that whole dialogue. It's always roughly the same, just the items change. People want to get rid of their crap and there are other people in this world who think there's some value to said crap. I keep thinking one day I'll be digging through random, ugly pictures in someone's front yard and come across a Jackson Pollack that these poor suckers assumed was something their kid did in 1st grade art class. It's like buying a lottery ticket only there's a greater possibility you'll get fleas by bringing it into your house.
I doubt if this blog is going to be all about yard sales because, you know...there's more to me than that. I might taken random pictures of piles of laundry or do a turd count. (You'll have to come back and read the next blog to find out exactly what a turd count is...) I'll talk some about music and stuff that happens behind the scenes on The Lia Show. You'd be amazed (or at least amused) by some of the strange things that happen in that studio. I invite you to comment or share the link. Hey what I like is when you send me pictures of your yard sale finds. I love to be simultaneously impressed and jealous by your coups. Here's mine:
This fine piece of...history is a WW2 bullet used to shoot down Japanese war planes in the South Pacific. Freaking awesome. Cost me $40. I'm not sure what it's worth but my husband likes it and uses it daily...you figure out how.
The signs are all here. They are popping up like Spring flowers. I see the signs. I recognize them from years of study. These aren't metaphysical signs...no these are physical signs. Yard Sale Signs. They draw me to them like a fly to a steaming pile. Why? I watch Hoarders, I know what could happen if it got out of control. I have a 7 year old daughter who has the genetic propensity to read these same signs. On the way to school every morning now we see a new one and she says "oohyardsalethisweekendmomcanwego?" I've taught her the fine art of the 'drive by'. Drive by the yard sale slowly, stalk it, gather as much info with your eyes and gut in the 10 or 15 seconds it takes to move past the house. Within that same window of time you should know whether or not it's worth it to stop.
I cleaned her room last week. Dammit. I wish I would've taken a picture before I cleaned it because then you would see the dark side of yard sales. The "Not only could I end up on Hoarders but I'm grooming a 'keeper' too" dark side. The difference between Olivia (my mini me) and I is I don't have a problem throwing stuff away. There is some catharsis in that. She, however, has a big problem chucking the junk in the bin. She keeps everything. I like shoes...she takes the shoe boxes and fills them with crap. I like make up. She takes the empty old nasty make up containers and sticks them in the boxes. She actually went into her big sister's room and took some dead flowers out of a vase and put them in a box.
At Christmas time Olivia likes to give as well as receive. The problem is she gives away her own junk. She lovingly wraps up half eaten candy bars, old socks and other detritus she finds in her room, puts a bow on it and gives each family member 'something special.' We all play along, smiling and saying "Oh wow a chewed up dog toy! Just what I wanted!" Last year she gave her dad a tiny doll brush.
Anyway back to yard sales...you have to admit there is something voyeuristic about going to yard sales. It's like peaking into the window of someone's garage or digging through their donation bags. Not quite trash but damn close. Plus I like to haggle and you cannot haggle with a Nordstrom sales girl over the price of a Burberry Scarf.
"How much for the old rice cooker that may be missing its cord?"
"Ten dollars?"
"How about a dollar?"
"Ok"
"Oh and if you throw in the macrame plant hanger I'll give you another 50 cents..."
"Sure."
I love that whole dialogue. It's always roughly the same, just the items change. People want to get rid of their crap and there are other people in this world who think there's some value to said crap. I keep thinking one day I'll be digging through random, ugly pictures in someone's front yard and come across a Jackson Pollack that these poor suckers assumed was something their kid did in 1st grade art class. It's like buying a lottery ticket only there's a greater possibility you'll get fleas by bringing it into your house.
I doubt if this blog is going to be all about yard sales because, you know...there's more to me than that. I might taken random pictures of piles of laundry or do a turd count. (You'll have to come back and read the next blog to find out exactly what a turd count is...) I'll talk some about music and stuff that happens behind the scenes on The Lia Show. You'd be amazed (or at least amused) by some of the strange things that happen in that studio. I invite you to comment or share the link. Hey what I like is when you send me pictures of your yard sale finds. I love to be simultaneously impressed and jealous by your coups. Here's mine:
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