Good Enough

My children have decided the best gift they could give me was them having fevers on my birthday…at 12:05 Missy woke up screaming. Of course I sent Mr.Good in. It was my for real birthday when the clock changed to 12:01. He came back and said she was burning up. After Motrin, water, and another episode at 2:30 to use the toilet she slept for the rest of the night. When I went to get Bubba this morning he was hot to touch as well. Oh the joys. I wouldn’t be upset, I’ll admit when my children have fevers they are mellow and need nothing but rest and mommy’s nurturing. I’m good at nursing them.  I’m most disappointed becausemy girlfriends had planned a sweet little lunch at their house for me. I don’t want to go over and infect their children. They worked so hard on planning it! I don’t know what to do. I wish my family members weren’t all working…hmmm…we”ll see how this one works out.  There may be hope still. Mr. Good may be able to rescue me.

So I woke in a not so happy birth week mood. The kitchen was hid-e-ous. I tried the technique of waiting till my husband was sick of the mess in the kitchen and actually cleaned it. It was four days before he did anything. I don’t recommend trying this particular technique if you have a husband like mine. His eyes are blind too any type of domestically made disorder. Needless to say the whole house mirrored the kitchen. I volunteered to watch three children yesterday. That equals six under six and they left quite a tornado of destruction in their path. I still haven’t had time to find a replacement washing machine for our broken one. My landlord said to see if I could find one for free on Craig’s List. He’s a winner! So I can only wash once a week. It’s getting to me. Especially when I have a child that still soils her pants at least twice a week.  OH the simple pleasures of a working washing machine. The next time you feel like complaining about the laundry pile up, know that you have it so much better than me.

I had no bread in the pantry this morning. I tried to convince Buster to buy lunch. He absolutely refuses too. He’s scared he’ll mess up the whole process of lunch buying. I threw together whatever I could find in the pantry. The day hit it’s all time low after I dropped off my preschooler and it was just Bubba and me.

Bubba is a tough one. He just turned two and gets so irritated when I attempt housework in his presence. I can’t blame the little guy. If the only time I had alone with my mom was four hours a week when the big sister was in preschool I’d want her whole attention as well. Hence my dilemma. I was stuck in the house that was hit by it’s own private tornado, and a superiorly hideous kitchen…and Bubba was staring at me with his beautiful squintchy blue eyes as if to say “what’ll we do now mamma?”

I took the high road and we went to the grocery store. I even let him walk by the cart. It was amazing how good he was if I just asked him nicely and paid lots of attentions to him. I hope I’m figuring him out because although he’s as cute as a baby kitten, he is my most taxing child.  

So we went shopping, and it was actually a warm, albeit cloudy day, here in the Northwest. So I decided to throw a picnic together and walk to get Missy from preschool, with a detour on the way home by the local park. This day was shaping up very nicely. Exercise for mom, fresh air for kids, everyone was happy.

I’m not kidding when I say everything fell in place from there. I threw together a fun activity for the 8 year old girls at church, my husband cleaned the kitchen while I was gone AND started dinner. We had a nice family meal before I took the kids out for haircuts (tomorrow is picture day) and Mr.Good ran off to Boy Scouts. He looks really cute in the uniform.

I usually don’t like to bore the blogosphere with every monotonous detail of my day as a fearless home-maker.

But it’s birth week people!   I’m just putting myself out there for you all to see and enjoy!

And since my blog is a NO GUILT blog and your feeling a little insecure because my day was so fluffing fabulous, just know that yesterday, the TV was on…well…pretty much all day. So I needed to make up for the guilt that I incurred.  I have this theory that if I am a fun mom for most of the days of the week, they’ll forget the days that I was less than savory.

And the party just keeps on going.

Feel free to send your birth week wishes to me via picture and I will gladly post how loved I am.
goodenoughblogatgmaildotcom

And so I begin my week long celebration of my coming birthday. This morning to my delight I discovered two birthday cards in my mailbox. One from Grandma with $20 bucks! Thanks Grandma! And another from Little Sis in Australia, that made me teary eyed. Awww…I love you too Sis. 

I’m that obnoxious friend that never let’s her people forget when her birthday is. In a way I blame my mom. She made birthdays extremely special. I don’t know how she did it. There were six of us…but each one of us had a special day where we would inevitably wake up to streamers on our bedroom door and presents on the dining room table. We would start the celebration at some unearthly hour, so my Dad could be part of it. That was fine for us because that meant we had new toys at 5 o’clock in the morning. Not a bad way to start out the day. None of us minded getting up that early for each- other either. There seemed for a moment in time to be good will between all siblings on our birthdays. Which is amazing if you know my family.

I have much to look forward to on this week. If the rains hold off I will take my children to the park every day. I will have play dates with friends I like to hang out with even if our kids don’t get along (which fortunately they all do.) I will buy a new CD and schedule a long overdue facial. I will enjoy thinking about fun ways I would celebrate my birthday if we were rich. I will watch chick flicks every night this week and be romantical with my husband. I will go for walks along the river. I will have a dance party in my kitchen. By myself. Even if my children beg me to stop. And on that wonderful birthday of mine I will not cook or clean. We will eat out in careless abandon. I will keep my cell-phone close at hand to receive the many sweet phone calls from loved ones. If they don’t call I will call them and remind them of this miraculous day that needs celebrating.

Happy Birth week to me! And thanks mom, because it’s your birth week too. You deserve a pat on the back for carrying me all those months and those extra 6 weeks I was overdue, and for pushing me out.

I love being alive! 

The conversation came a little earlier than expected, because of another phone call from his teacher during school! Mrs.Soandso said she had Buster there with her, the rest of the children were at music class. Another little boy said Buster had called him an A**.  (WHAT! ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!)

You can imagine my surprise, seeing as my husband and I are cuss free. My first thought was ”where in the world did he learn to use that word, like that?” He’s only six, he still lives in a fairly protected environment. The homes he visits are homes where I am familiar with both parents, the movies he watches are only the ones I have on my DVR or in my cabinet. Where did he learn that word?

We talked over the phone…pretty fruitless. He was crying, he doesn’t like to be in trouble. And he was denying that he said it. Mrs. Soandso said he had admitted it at first. He and this other little boy, Desmond had been pushy with eachother in line. Desmond called Buster a brat. Buster called Desmond an…well, you get the picture.

When Buster came home today we sat down to a cookieand milk. We talked about his music class that he would have that afternoon, and how excited he was for it. Then the interrogation began. I gently tried to help him remember what transpired that day in line. He would not admit to saying the word. I asked him if he knew any other swear words, he did. And it was a very very bad swear word. ”Way worse than that.” He then proceeded to point upwards and whispered “God.”  In our house that is the worst swear word. He was entirely right on that point. We have taught him a reverence for his Heavenly Father, and I’m glad he recognized that. But it still did not answer my question of where and how he knew how to use that other word.

The more we talked the more I came to believe him when he said he didn’t use it, and he didn’t know what it meant. I had the uncomfortable realization that I needed to talk with him about the swear words he would probably start to hear in grade school. One by one we went through them. I told him what words people liked to use to swear and what the words meant. It was very uncomfortable for me, much more so than the talks on “where babies come from.” On one hand I thought if he knew these words, he may want to use them, and test them out…But I wanted him to hear them and their definitions from me, before he heard them on the playground and started using them. Many people don’t consider “Oh my God” to be cussing. It’s in Disney movies, it’s on Nickelodeon, it’s definitely on the playground. Both Buster and Missy have used it like they’ve heard it being used. After some clarification at home, neither one has used it again. This is my hope with our conversation today. I hope I did the right thing. I hope he doesn’t go and teach all the other first graders the bad words that his mommy taught him. Wouldn’t that be an interesting phone call from teacher?   

All too often I find myself daydreaming about the day Mr.Good will finally strike it rich. He’s an entrepreblahblah…I don’t want to even try and spell it. He’s a business owner! He’s a carpenter, and has a hardwood supply company as well. 

It’s been about a year now since we embarked on this journey of business ownership. I’ve realized it is not for the faint of heart. And while I’m pretty much a wimp when it comes to the heart department I do have a sense of adventure. This has been one crazy ride!

I admire my husbands work ethic, and his talent. I like knowing there is no one to tell him how much he can make per year, and when he can and cannot take a day off. I take comfort in the fact that there is no one for him to answer to, or belittle him.

I grew up watching my dad face the white collar world, day after day. Nothing was ever concrete for him. I couldn’t even tell you exactly what he did for a living or what his job title was. I knew my dad worked hard and his job was stressful. He also made frequent trips around the world. I saw him leave early in the morning in a suit and tie and come home late at night. Now that I’m older, I’m finding out just how mean and abusive some of those big bosses were. And my dad put up with it for the sake of his family. It breaks my heart to think what people go through to make livings for their families. 

By contrast my husband dons his shorts and tennis shoes. He comes home with sawdust in his hair and paint stains on his hands. I know what he does.  He never has to leave the county for his work. While times are tough now, there is reassurance that the future holds smoother sailing.

It’s been a hard year, I’m not going to lie. There have been some setbacks. There have been months when I didn’t know where the grocery money would come from, and I couldn’t put gas in the van. But we have always found a way. I’m sure there will be times ahead that are similar before the road gets a little smoother. I have had to put complete faith in my husband. He sees the potential of what he’s doing, his vision is one that includes plenty of time for his family, and all the comforts we could want. He hasn’t led us astray yet. When the money is tight I just close my eyes and dream of the simple things I’m going to spend some money on when he does bring home those big paychecks. A facial, a trip to Costco, and some yoga classes. That is what I’m looking forward to. I know. I’m a simple girl. 

What do you want when your ship comes in?

Because when I saw a huge one over my shoulder this evening and screamed bloody murder it backed away quickly and was lost in the confines of “behind the couch.”

I should take you back to two months ago when I was vacationing in sunny Southern California, minding my own business when I received a call from Mr.Good.

“There’s been an interesting development around here.” He said.

“What do you mean?” I tried not to panic immediately, as it is in my nature to do so. But all the possibilities were running through my mind.  This could be the landlord must have found out we had a dog and we’ve been evicted  type of interesting development or another one of his employees stole from him type of development or he’s contracted a rare disease and we don’t have health insurance…type of interesting development.  Whatever it was I would try to hold it together and be calm.

“We have spiders,” he continued. “I was sitting on the couch and a huge one came up behind me. I also caught one that looked similar in the garage. I caught it and Googled poisonous spiders of Washington and the Hobo spider came up. It’s as destructive as the Brown Recluse, and I think our house is full of them.”

“Spiders!” I thought. “Spiders! This is the disaster I was imagining?” Well I could handle spiders. I calmly told him bomb the house.

“That’s not suggested.” Mr.Good replied. “The bomb will kill their only other living predators. Then they’ll come back stronger.”

“Well, vacuum every room in the house then!” (for goodness sake man, they’re just spiders!)

But as he told me more, I became more worried. Hobos apparently are not good climbers. But our mattress is still on the floor! There was nothing I could do about it while I was enjoying my vacation. So I put it out of my mind and tried to trust the man to take care of it.

September came and went, uneventfully. I never saw any spiders…but it was incentive to keep things properly dusted and de-cluttered. Apparently Hobos love to live in piles of clothes. Today is October 1st. And today, as I was chillin’ on the couch watching Meerkat Manor ( a disturbingly violent animal documentary) my daughter (who was standing in front facing my direction) got a queer look on her face. “Come out here little spider!” she beguiled.

That’s when I decided to peer over my shoulder…just in case.

There was the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life!!!  And as I screamed, it backed away and I hoped it wasn’t lost forever. I got out my weapon of choice, the vacuum. But as I pulled the couch away from the wall the arachnid had seemingly disappeared. After much swooshing with my weapon and tugging of the slip cover…it appeared again! My mind hadn’t played any tricks on me, it was even bigger than I thought the first time!

And that’s when I sucked it up! I kept the vacuum running for a few minutes of good measure. I just knew that spider would come back out if I didn’t. When I pulled out the cannister and looked inside I could see it kicking. I couldn’t help it. I had to scoop it out and put it in a jar. It was just to awesome of a creature not to show it off.

So now it sits in a jar on my shelf in the living room. I don’t think it really survived the suction. It’s not moving anymore.

Mr. Good came home and confirmed that it was indeed a Hobo. So the war must rage on my friends. Until next time!

I swear this is ACTUAL SIZE! PEOPLE!

    updated two hours after original post…Kathryn stopped by to drop off my laundry, don’t ask why she had my laundry, but she pointed out a “huge spider on the wall” it was another Hobo. Yes, they’re trying to infiltrate.