I'm trying something new this school year out of desperation. Our after school routine, toward the end of this past spring, had gone haywire. Frankly, after school had become an exercise in S&M, with a side of homework. And nobody, especially me, was digging THAT scene.
So, this year I've made a major attitude adjustment toward what happens after three p.m. And, no, it doesn't include copious amounts of liquor.**
See, used to be that I had this "8a.m. to 3p.m. is my time to get stuff around the house done, errands run, workout completed. And 3p.m. to bedtime is my time, too. It just happens to involve additional bodies and cooking and homework and sports. But, we all agree this is MY time. So don't mess with me."
Yeah, it sucks admitting that I was that selfish, but I was. Basically, after school became a rush to the finish line called "bedtime". And, I even rushed that routine or let Mike handle it. Can you see that I wasn't really participating in this little exercise called "being a good Mommy"?
Yes, with perfect 20/20 hindsight, I see it, too.
So, with a fresh palette called the first day of school, I've made a few changes. I've purposefully committed my school hours routine to a calendar so I know exactly what needs to get done while the kids are away. That keeps my afternoons from becoming a time of playing catch-up to the stuff that didn't get done from 8-3, which is what they had become last spring.
My afternoons now look like this: carpool, help kids with homework, complete dinner***, play board/card games before bed, help with baths****, take several minutes to dig deeper into the day's events with each of the boys/say prayers/give lots of hugs and kisses.
In case you missed the big change: my new routine involves other people's needs, not my own. And the rest of my evening, once the kids are in bed? Involves falling into bed and praying I can stay awake until 9pm to spend a little time with Mike.
It is exhausting being present. It frustrating to shelve something I started but didn't finish sub-3pm, but it's important so that I can listen to the boys unfold the events of their day. Some days it seems non-productive to make five trips to the karate studio because none of the classes line up.*****
But, in my heart, I know it isn't. If nothing else, my boys are going to remember that Mom made some funky change back in the early days of our lives and all the sudden she was THERE. Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well.
Honestly, since God has committed to being there 24/7/365 for me, and He blessed me and Mike with these boys, I think committing my afternoons/evenings to the boys should be plenty good for me, too.
And, even though change is awfully hard at times, I feel incredibly blessed, in so many ways, to be able to say that this is how I'm ordering my life as a Mom.
*My little wink at ya, David Bowie.
**I have to drive carpool, for Pete sake! But once I'm off duty? All bets are off.
***Which I'm trying to get in the habit of prepping during the day so I can be more attentive to the kids' needs. Can you say "Crock Pot"??
****Or, do dishes while kids are showering because they are now "too old for me to see them naked", except The Babe, of course.
*****Drop off at 4pm. Pick up/drop off at 4:45pm. Drop off at 5:30pm. Pick up at 7pm. Pick up at 8pm. I'm thinking of charging by the mile.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Victory!
I have a new nickname as of 7:07am, CST, August 29th, the year of our Lord 2011: The Slayer.* After several hours of wearing it, I'm becoming a tad cocky.
You see, I single-handedly managed to find the perfect resolution to this little issue. And, it is a killing machine.
It seems, in my quest for an environmentally-friendly, non-dog-poisoning, no-blood-thank-you-very-much solution, I found myself trolling the Internet to determine my best course of action.
As you can imagine, this is not something you have conversation about in polite company. Because it would go something like this:
MommaJ: "Hey, Mom of my son's friend from school! I know you live in the rat capitol of Dallas, AKA Highland Park, and I was wondering how you dealt with your little "issue"."
(Spoken as I pick lettuce from lunch out of my teeth, because that is exactly what someone who would make this statement to another human being would do.)
Other Mom: "I think I have the vapors. Please call an ambulance, cancel the play date our kids were to have, and make sure little Timmy gets to football practice."
Yeah. Better to troll the Internet.
So, after what seemed like viewing and reading about every known form of killing mice/rats known to man, I ran across the death chamber of my dreams.
And, I quote from memory, which is a dicey proposition, a comment about this contraption off the big-box-home-stores website:
"This thing works GREAT! And, since I'm into environmentally-friendly products, I have to give this a thumbs-up. Once the rats are dead, I just chuck them into the empty field behind our house and VIOLA! Lunch for the hawks!!!!"
SOLD!
Mike decided that the whole "chucking" business was only going to occur if the object of the chuck was the garbage can. I, on the other hand, was pondering dead rat bodies on the roof for the red-tail hawk that lives in our hood. Guess who won?
Anyhoo, it seems that rats LOVE peanut butter. They'd probably swim in it were it not for the sticky, thick qualities. And that fact works really well when you bait the back of the electric chamber.
Yes, electric chamber. AKA: that funky black box that sits near the porch, right near the huge gap created by unseasonably dry/hot weather, that has allowed what appears to be a small battalion of rats** to take up residence under our house.
Once the rat smells the peanut butter, it is drawn inward through the door of doom. Then, it finds itself standing on an electrically charged plate, which senses its presence and takes it on an electrically-charged ride out of the realm known as THIS HERE PLANET.
Now, some of you think this sounds absolutely, positively cruel. But, faced with disposing of a shocked body vs. a bloody body? I'm taking shocked every, single, stinking, time.
You also might be wondering "Why in Sam Hill would she be sharing this information?" Well, the answer is two-pronged:
1. I'm betting I'm not the only person in the greater metroplex that has this issue. And, I'd prefer you save your money on exterminators for lunch out with me. The total of my death trap, including batteries: $50. That would be selfish AND cheap reason number one.
2. I was afraid, after posting the first two admissions about our rat issue, that people would be all freaked out about coming to our house. As if rats and mice would be running, nilly-willly, through the house and stop to shake your hand and introduce you to first-cousin "Sal. The one with the missing whisker."
No. I want my house to be a place of peace. So, reason number two: I'm regaining my composure by killing every furry thing with a nasty, long tail that likes peanut butter.
So, please feel free to come over again. Don't worry about scheduling lunch now that I have better things to discuss over enchiladas.
And, by all means, don't resist the urge to call me MommaJ, THE SLAYER!
*Thank you, Nickels! What a supreme compliment!
**OK. Maybe that's overkill. Three we've actually seen. But you know the saying about roaches: "If you see one, there are a thousand somewhere?" Well, I feel the same way about rats.
You see, I single-handedly managed to find the perfect resolution to this little issue. And, it is a killing machine.
It seems, in my quest for an environmentally-friendly, non-dog-poisoning, no-blood-thank-you-very-much solution, I found myself trolling the Internet to determine my best course of action.
As you can imagine, this is not something you have conversation about in polite company. Because it would go something like this:
MommaJ: "Hey, Mom of my son's friend from school! I know you live in the rat capitol of Dallas, AKA Highland Park, and I was wondering how you dealt with your little "issue"."
(Spoken as I pick lettuce from lunch out of my teeth, because that is exactly what someone who would make this statement to another human being would do.)
Other Mom: "I think I have the vapors. Please call an ambulance, cancel the play date our kids were to have, and make sure little Timmy gets to football practice."
Yeah. Better to troll the Internet.
So, after what seemed like viewing and reading about every known form of killing mice/rats known to man, I ran across the death chamber of my dreams.
And, I quote from memory, which is a dicey proposition, a comment about this contraption off the big-box-home-stores website:
"This thing works GREAT! And, since I'm into environmentally-friendly products, I have to give this a thumbs-up. Once the rats are dead, I just chuck them into the empty field behind our house and VIOLA! Lunch for the hawks!!!!"
SOLD!
Mike decided that the whole "chucking" business was only going to occur if the object of the chuck was the garbage can. I, on the other hand, was pondering dead rat bodies on the roof for the red-tail hawk that lives in our hood. Guess who won?
Anyhoo, it seems that rats LOVE peanut butter. They'd probably swim in it were it not for the sticky, thick qualities. And that fact works really well when you bait the back of the electric chamber.
Yes, electric chamber. AKA: that funky black box that sits near the porch, right near the huge gap created by unseasonably dry/hot weather, that has allowed what appears to be a small battalion of rats** to take up residence under our house.
Once the rat smells the peanut butter, it is drawn inward through the door of doom. Then, it finds itself standing on an electrically charged plate, which senses its presence and takes it on an electrically-charged ride out of the realm known as THIS HERE PLANET.
Now, some of you think this sounds absolutely, positively cruel. But, faced with disposing of a shocked body vs. a bloody body? I'm taking shocked every, single, stinking, time.
You also might be wondering "Why in Sam Hill would she be sharing this information?" Well, the answer is two-pronged:
1. I'm betting I'm not the only person in the greater metroplex that has this issue. And, I'd prefer you save your money on exterminators for lunch out with me. The total of my death trap, including batteries: $50. That would be selfish AND cheap reason number one.
2. I was afraid, after posting the first two admissions about our rat issue, that people would be all freaked out about coming to our house. As if rats and mice would be running, nilly-willly, through the house and stop to shake your hand and introduce you to first-cousin "Sal. The one with the missing whisker."
No. I want my house to be a place of peace. So, reason number two: I'm regaining my composure by killing every furry thing with a nasty, long tail that likes peanut butter.
So, please feel free to come over again. Don't worry about scheduling lunch now that I have better things to discuss over enchiladas.
And, by all means, don't resist the urge to call me MommaJ, THE SLAYER!
*Thank you, Nickels! What a supreme compliment!
**OK. Maybe that's overkill. Three we've actually seen. But you know the saying about roaches: "If you see one, there are a thousand somewhere?" Well, I feel the same way about rats.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Let's Hear it for the Girls!
From the chronicles of "Never underestimate a girl" comes this gem. Can you say "Well done, sister friends?"
I am a HUGE proponent of teaching kids how to protect themselves. Not be vigilantes. Not go crazy on a hooded robber in the local bank. But, to know, should someone attack them, how to defend themselves enough to get away or, at the very least, kick someone in the tenders and render them a soprano.
And, while I applaud what these girls did, I am also realistic that this could have gone the exact opposite way. This creep could have been carrying a gun and turned on either of these young women with tragic results. Thank God that wasn't the case.
I can tell you that this story, should Olympics be in their future, will be retold countless times. Every interviewer will, inevitably, ask for details hoping to get some new tidbit.
And these girls will become synonymous with "girl power", much like Dan Jansen has become synonymous with triumph in the midst of grief. This story could become the thing that propels other girls to believe they can do whatever they set their mind to.
And, coupled with Justin Bieber's genius "Never say never"? Look out world--here come the girls.....
I am a HUGE proponent of teaching kids how to protect themselves. Not be vigilantes. Not go crazy on a hooded robber in the local bank. But, to know, should someone attack them, how to defend themselves enough to get away or, at the very least, kick someone in the tenders and render them a soprano.
And, while I applaud what these girls did, I am also realistic that this could have gone the exact opposite way. This creep could have been carrying a gun and turned on either of these young women with tragic results. Thank God that wasn't the case.
I can tell you that this story, should Olympics be in their future, will be retold countless times. Every interviewer will, inevitably, ask for details hoping to get some new tidbit.
And these girls will become synonymous with "girl power", much like Dan Jansen has become synonymous with triumph in the midst of grief. This story could become the thing that propels other girls to believe they can do whatever they set their mind to.
And, coupled with Justin Bieber's genius "Never say never"? Look out world--here come the girls.....
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