They are. My thoughts are all over. That`s a lot why I post so little. I can never pick just one topic.
So, I`ll write about a few.
#1. How your kids make your day in the tiniest ways.
Like this morning, when Elle was up early with G and I- and she sat with us while we drank our coffee and prayed. Then, when her daddy was ready to leave, she wanted us to kiss, so we did. A peck.
“No, a longer one”, she said. So we did a longer kiss just for her, and she just smiiiiiled, like she had never been more pleased.
And that pleased us, to see her so pleased.
Or, like right now when her and Laila wanted another sausage, and I stuck it in the microwave and promptly forgot about it, and about 5 minutes later I hear her little voice, with a gentle reminder:
“Mom, I can hear a beep coming from the ‘marker-wave’ “.
Just the way she says ‘microwave’ makes me happy and filled with mirth.
Or like last night I was reading her a story and Elle said,
“That flower is the most beautiful.” (She never looks at anything, without pointing out her best thing on the page or whatever it may be.)
“It is a lilac”, I said.
And she said,
“What ‘zactly is a lilac?”
And I knew she threw ‘exactly’ in there, just to hear me go off about “HOW do you know how to use that word correctly!?”
And she said in her usual fashion:
“I just do.”
If I say,
“WHY are you so smart?” (Because apparently all kids enjoy hearing that.)
“I just am.”
I love her so much.
I love my other one just as much- I just didn`t chose to post on her today.
#2. Why do I meet all the strange people when I shop?
Yesterday I walk into Dollar General to grab 2 items: Tide and Mentos. (I had good coupons.)
I walk up to the cash to stand in line with other shoppers. As usual, my mind is thinking thoughts outside of the Dollar General.
A very usual-looking man walks up to stand in line behind me and another woman.
“Hey Guys! Wait I guess I should say LADIES!” He says and laughs riotously.
The woman in front of me and I both turn around. I look around to see who he was talking to. See no one. Forget in the next second he said anything. Continue blankly staring at the tabloids. Spend thoughts thinking about how silly it is that Camilla Parker-Bowells wouldn`t want to be queen. Waste more thoughts thinking Demi and Ashton may never repair their marriage.
(Demi. If you had asked me whether it`s a good idea to marry a man your daughter could be dating…… Well.)
Spend one last thought thinking how dull and desperate I must look, even looking at the tabloids. I look at the gum again. So many brands- yet they all taste the same. I glance at the store gift cards lustfully.
The line is not moving.
When it is my turn to pay, the Lurking Man behind me says to the female cashier:
“What is with all the bashful women? That first one just ran out the door with out saying a word to me. She was a bashful one all right! And that`s a bashful one right there.” (He jerks his head sideways to me.)
(Oops, I guess he was greeting me earlier.)
Another woman walks in the door, Lurking Man greets her and then comments,
“Now THERE was a friendly one! She was friendly.”
After I handed cashier my dollars, and was about to walk away, Lurker turns to me and says,
“Hey, hi there, doncha need to be scared, it`s not like I`m gonna kill ya or anything, lady!”
I stared at him and not a word came out of me. Not because I was so scared- OR BASHFUL- I just couldn`t say in all honesty:
I have stories like that various times.
#3. Why do I hate getting dressed up these days?
It`s an older thing.
The older I get, the more I want to cuss feel irate whenever I have to get dressed up.
When I was young in my late teens or early 20s, give me a banquet/date/fancy night to anywhere- oh give me a crowd to work! I will work it. A little make-up. Yes! Itchy, tight clothes. Sure! A lot of chatting? Yes! Meeting people I don`t know- making small talk? Bring me those and a few more.
I torture myself with the fact that I am rusty at people skills, and I like comfy clothes the best. If it`s knit, velour, or breezy cotton I will like it. I like to stay at home. “Home is what I like best”- as Elle would say.
Going out is stressful. And I don`t mean going to a friends house to chew the flab. That can be done in a sweatshirt and a face rubbed with bar soap- that can be done with ease.
I mean anywhere where make-up would be in order.
I blame it on my children.
(Don`t let this family photo fool ya.)
Take Sunday morning for example:
I wake up in good time.
My first thought as I see a morning mirror always is: Is that me? I really, really don`t look like me first thing in the morning. I try to fathom that by 9:15 this morning, I will look like me again. I shake my head. I have a long ways to go.
I Shower. Now it`s time to wake up the girls- and like most Sunday mornings they wake up crying. I bath them, or Galen does, and then I go to wash my hair. When I am done with that- I see the girls are playing with water in the sink, they have a few little dolls and are bathing them. The bathroom floor is wet. This is super irritating to me, especially since the bathroom didn`t get cleaned the day before, and I am mentally adding all the water on the floor to the germs and disgusting crusties I know are lurking everywhere. A tiny bathroom HAS to be clean, or it`s just a riot in there.
I kick a towel around try to soak up the water. It`s kinda works.
There are now 3 wet towels, a half a bag of bath toys, and a whole collection of other clothes we have shed that morning on the floor. I am not fine with it.
I walk over to our room (with the unmade bed) and step on a tiny doll and 2 hangers. I kick the hangers down the steps (they need to go to the laundry room) and the tiny doll gets flung into the girl`s room. The girl`s room looks cluttery which leads me to make the mental note: We need to take another load to Goodwill.
The girls are now dressed, and G gives them breakfast downstairs. They come back up with milk down the front of their dresses. I mentally kick myself for not giving them breakfast in their underwear. We change dresses, but now the hair is all tufty from pulling the dress down over.
The shoes are all wrong with the new dress. We re-comb the tuft, and switch shoes. Now the bow is all wrong too.
I try a side-ponytail on Elle, and she feels it up with her tiny hand. It`s not right. It`s on the side. Horrors.
[The look I was going for.]
“One ponytail!” she requests. Her usual.
I promise her a treat, if she will for one Sunday PLEASE let me try a new hairstyle on her.
She is unmoved.
I promise her a dollar to buy a toy.
“I don`t need anything”, she says.
Well, I can`t argue with that.
Laila picks then to have a “needy moment” and wails to be held. I hold her and rock her in a brisk fashion. My brisk fashion only adds to her despair. She wails on. My heart really goes out to her.
Elle, you too? You want to be held to? I try to hold both and finally, seeing the time, I beg off.
It`s time to get mom dressed. Now I am feeling hot. Hahaha, not that kind of hot- I mean the warm kind. When I get stressed, I always feel really hot. when I am hot, the last thing I want to do is be dressed nice.
I crank up my hot iron. I mean, I may be a Mennonite lady, so 99.9% of my hair goes up, but we do need the flat iron for those 5 other hairs. I feel a tug on my leg.
I take a much needed break, and sit on the bed for 5 minutes holding girl 2.
Oh look at the time!
As I`m back at it, and reaching for my $30 pot of magical blush I realize at the same time:
1. Laila ate my blush last week, and smeared the rest on the carpet. I don`t have my magical blush pot anymore.
2. There is continued effort of tugging on my leg.
This time I am sick of the tugging. I try to remain nice (sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn`t) but inside I want to kick things off of my legs.
“Go. play.” I say, and smile woodenly.
Next, WHERE is my blouse. It`s not ironed? Honestly, Jenny. Really, you didn`t have time to iron that on Saturday?
My iron is in the basement. I run down 2 flights of steps. Run back up 2 flights up steps. I am in my room again. An undershirt. Really? You forgot that too? It`s hanging in the basement where my laundry room is. I do the down and up thing again. Galen seems worried I won`t be ready in time. Panic sets in. I am now wondering the same.
Gah! honestly, hair. Could you just be cool for a change?
I end up wearing a cardigan that isn`t my favorite. The color is odd with my blouse but my more-white cardigan is missing. And… it`s lotion time. Lotion is smeary and oily and makes me feel gross. I grit my teeth feeling the smeary-ness of it.
I can`t find any of my ‘pretty things’- as Elle calls my make-up- so I leave most of it.
As we go out the door, Elle says,
“Where is my shoe? I lost my one shoe!”
“Which coats are they wearing this morning?”
Bless my husband’s heart, he is a trooper.
We go to church. Church cheers me up. I have some good conversations. I feel connected again.
We come back home, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, half of my hair-bun fell down, and is dangling there, mocking me.
(Happened last Sunday.)
“Was it like this the whole time?” I holler over to G.
He has no idea.
I think it was.
I put on my pajamas. Everyone but G changes to pjs…
(He is notorious for forgetting to take off church clothes. One Sunday we vegged all day and at TEN O’CLOCK AT NIGHT I see he is still wearing his dress clothes- and Oh my stars, he is still wearing his shoes and socks from church that morning. I thought I might die laughing.)
…We are spending the rest of the day at home. I think of how un-cool I am. But I am happy. Happy to be at home with the people I love.
A clause: (This is kind of all our worst mornings rolled into one. It`s going better. I lay out clothes the night before, and try to clean the bathroom on Saturdays now.)
#4. I am an under-achiever; with high expectations for myself.
(Which is illustrated over and over in my story above.)
I am not going to say a whole lot about this. But in my little head, the two schools of thought, really war against each other. I`m sure you can imagine.
[I want to live cold winter like this (above). Do minimal amount of chores, read a lot, drink hot things together, sit around with my girls during the day and talk… it`s blustery out, after all!]
Yet, feel torn to be more like this lady and GET MORE DONE! Paint our room the way I have been dreaming of for 2 years now. I have the supplies. Sew those cute dresses I have the pattern, ribbon and fabric for. Iron all ‘however many’ of Galen dress shirts all at once- for a change. On and on.
It`s like I am a really hard-working, lazy person. (I wish I could call it well-rounded, but I can`t.)
Maybe I`ll write more on this later.
[Was weird, after I wrote this, I saw this. ^^ Seen here on Knack.]
Please someone else talk now!