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Laundry Day Blues September 3, 2009

A song for the Fly Lady’s

Jake sings the Laundry Blues

What is it about underwear that five year old boys find fascinating? My two children are on spring break here in our fair city. After a few days of running wild, it is now clean up the house day. We live in a two story home, and getting laundry from the top to the bottom can be a real chore…especially if you only do laundry once a week…or so. I know fly-lady says, “a load a day will keep laundry blues away.” Such organization, is lost to my creative mindset. When someone invents a fun way to do laundry everyday, maybe I will.

Perhaps, a slot machine washer…that rewards the beleaguered housewife with spa tokens every load completed.

For me, it’s not over-stuffing the washer or transfer to the dryer that I despise. I can even handle the folding (if I have a great movie on). No, the bain of laundry, is stuffing the drawers….

Conversation with my nine year old daughter…..

“Go upstairs and get dressed….we are already late!”

“I don’t know what to wear ….will you pick it out for me?”

“You never like anything I pick out, so no.”

“But mommmm….I promise, this time I will wear whatever you pick.”

“Whatever?”

“uh-uhhhh…” (add whimpering puppy dog sound effects, complete with blinking and pouted lips)

…… 3 cute shirts and several jeans later…

“But I don’t like any of those.”

“Then pick it out yourself, we are beyond late now.”

“Fine….”

Danger, Danger!!! This is the moment that all my hard work is about to be overturned, crumpled, thrown on the floor and generally smashed onto the top sedimentary layer of Barbie shoes and Polly pockets. It is why I despise laundry. I mean, truly you are just rewashing clothes never worn. The ones they do wear, they are willing to wear dirty because they are the “Only cool things I have!”

Which gets us back to the five year old. In order to make laundry day more exciting, I have reinvented the laundry chute. One sibling stands on the top landing, and the other at the bottom of the stairs. The one at the top upends their laundry baskets over the head of the sibling squealing with delight below. It keeps them occupied for at least an hour. After they dump all the laundry down, they rake up the fallen clothes into a big pile and jump into them… (palm trees don’t allow for fall leaf piles…so this is novel to them. )

After a while, you are supposed to switch positions (equal opportunity tormentor)…my daughter however, refuses to give up the power position. My son, wanting to dump out his clothes on her head, starts demanding surrender. After unsuccessful threats and pleas, he decides to take action. As the cascade of clothing falls on his head, he picks out his underwear from the stream and starts taunting his sister above with them.

“Underwear, Underwear, Unnndder-ware” gleefully, he takes steps two at a time.

“Noooooo,” she squawks, and starts to run into the castle keep.

He sings, “Dirty underwear….dirty unnndderware” and cuts her off at the pass

gagging sounds…. as it is dangled in front of her nose

“My dirty underwear…it touched my privates.” he laughs, flicking it at her… he has invented a weapon more powerful than the super soaker. A little brother’s equivalent of a plague victim being catapulted over castle walls.

“OOOO, it touched me!…..MOM, he threw his underwear on me.

I laugh. I am an evil mom, I find the whole thing hilarious, and can’t hold even close to a poker face. I remember similar exchanges between me and my little brother. I wish that I would have thought of a weapon that powerful.

“MOOOOMMM, stop laughing.”

“Why? It was funny, now give your brother a turn upstairs.”

Hmmppfff….said in the way only an 7 3/4 year old can… complete with upturned nose, eye roll and back turn. She plops down on the floor and waits for the clothes to cascade down.

My son has a highly developed sense of the dramatic. Instead of a fabric waterfall, he sends a constant drip of shirts, pants, socks (ewww)…

and of course scooby doo underoos…piece by piece.

….MOOOOMMMM

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Your Thanksgiving Gift…John Williams November 27, 2008

I am thankful today for many things… healthy children, a warm home, a safe and loving husband, family and an abundance of food and gifts from God. I am not trying to take away from the import of the day, but instead add a little levity. What I am most thankful for is the gift of laughter. In a world that seems grim, sometimes just having a good laugh is better than most everything else. So, here is my Thanksgiving gift to you…laughter. Do yourself a favor and hit play. For the 2 million of you that have already seen it, laugh again. Presenting, in four part acapella harmony…John Williams is the Man…performed by Corey Vidal. And if you are wondering what he just sang, here are the words… http://www.moosebutter.com/lyrics.php/3 Happy Thanksgiving!

 

What, no shoes? November 20, 2008

clover.jpgAs a special treat for my daughter last week, I took her to the mecca of fur-tastic capitalism for the under 10 set…Build A Bear. Actually, to be specific, Friends 2 Be Made (their doll division).  We were on a hunt for the elusive Jayden, a celery hair fashion doll. Now, I am not completely altruistic in my motives, I am tired of hearing “I have to have it in order to have the Gem Band with my purple, pink, blue and orange jammin’ jewel dolls…plleease.”

 So, to get you “in” the doll only costs twelve dollars. Big deal right? Totally do-able, I mean twelve dollars, you can’t even get a Barbie for that much. Then they up-sell you on the extras that your doll simply must have to live a fabulous life. Being a savvy customer, I am wise to their ploys. Between my own guilt purchases, and grandparent’s sprees we could probably host a decent table at a collectors show. We walk into the bubble gum pink and candy blue store. Hannah Montana is playing softly, and the store looks like daylight on a 1000 watt binge.  I steel myself for the saccharine doll salesmen pitch from the teenage doll-ologist.

Bring on your best….we are only getting the doll.

My daughter be-lines for green yarn hair. She knows what she wants…five trees have been chopped down to make the promo mailers featuring “Jayden” that flood our mailbox alone. “Her Perkiness” bounces up to us and asks my daughter what her doll sounds like. My daughter looks up at me, I stand firm. No way! I know this trick, I am not buying the five dollar voice box that sounds like Cheerleader Chuckie when the batteries start dying in a month. Her perkiness looks a little miffed when I say:

 “She doesn’t need one.”

“All jammin’ jewel girls need a voice!” reproof from a teen queen.

I let this slide. It is after all, supposed to be a happy day for my daughter, not a lecture in the cold reality of the world. Her perkiness starts in on the ritual of endowing the doll with attributes like artistic, talented, responsible and my favorite … superstar. She hands my daughter a satin taffeta heart and commands her to rub in on her tummy so the doll will never hunger, rub it on her brain so the doll can be brilliant like she, kiss it to let the doll know she is always loved…and on…and on. Finally, she stuffs the darn thing, and we can go onto the all important wardrobing.

I have already given into my daughter’s protest that you can’t bring home a naked doll. Why not? was my argument. The minute you get it home the clothes come off anyways, I am saving you time and me money. I concede though, but not the expensive one…. the outfit that cost more than the doll. We pick through the possibilities, it takes an hour. The doll has more clothes in her wardrobe than I have owned in my entire life.

Her perkiness has now turned into a personal shopper for our new acquisition, newly dubbed Clover. She trots out Lycra, satin, bags, glasses, dresses for cocktail and for the prom, karate Gui’s and soccer outfits so that Clover can be a well rounded girl. I glare at her. No I don’t think we need the Lycra rock star suit, and we don’t do karate. I find a cute little green satin shirt and capri’s. Feeling a little cheap under the accusatory eye of her perkiness, I turn my back to check out the price tags. I breathe a sigh of relief, we can still get out of there for under $30. As long as I can talk my daughter into it.

My winner argument…if we pick this outfit out, maybe we can find you one to match.

Bingo! We negotiate. She now likes the outfit, but really wants the shoes and guitar that matches the rock star outfit. She barters like a trial lawyer. 

“No shoes”

“But mom” 

I find myself almost agreeing to the plastic guitar that does nothing, not even make a noise. Even Happy Meal toys make noise… I am sticking to my guns.

“But mom”

“No way! You always lose them 10 minutes after we get home, and all your other dolls have never worn their shoes past the parking lot.”

“Mommy, pllleeeease.” Blink, blink.

“Guitar or shoes….not both,” did I just say that?

“Guitar”

I smile. We hug. Relieved that I have won the battle…I think… at least stood some ground. I go up to the register, and look around for her perkiness. She has given up on us long ago. We obviously are not her kind of customer.

She bops up, ignoring me…the one with the credit card…and hands my daughter a “special invite” for Bella Blue’s Birthday party. She is the blue yarn head doll. “You get to sign a big birthday card to her, and even get a special gift if you come!”  

Recognizing me…finally… she tells me that there is even a special party dress for the doll we can buy, only twelve dollars. My arm starts hurting from the entire 60 pounds of my daughter pulling on it….”Pllleeeease.”

“Just the doll today.” I hand her my card decisively. I won!

Her perkiness looks into the box, and looks up at me with a horrified expression…as if I have abused the poor doll.

“Is there something wrong?”

“What,” she says disgusted. “No shoes?”

We finally escape. I feel like a bad doll mom. I let the poor piece of material stuffed with fluff leave the store without shoes on. What will all the other doll moms think of me?

My daughter looks at me, what about her outfit? She always remembers that stuff. The stuff that I say hoping she will forget it. But I won, so I am filled with largess. I steer her into the kids gap. We found this great shirt and capris to match…on sale…twelve dollars. I am euphoric. My daughter thinks I am a great mom.

We get up to pay.

“You know, we have great shoes that match this.”

…says her perkiness 2.

 

Word Doldrums November 17, 2008

Filed under: thoughts,writing — writetools @ 9:55 pm
Tags: , , , ,

wow1I’m back… back from the doldrums that frightens even the most salty writers… not writers block…more like the word blues. I have a myriad of excuses (my nemesis laundry included) that I will not bore you with. Thank you to those who wrote and encouraged me to get back on, it’s for you and me that I am. So…what’s on the docket? A Tribute to Mr. Darcy, Church with the Lights On, A Write Tools Tip including a new tool you are going to love… and a few slices of life thrown in for a laugh. Since my worldview is decidedly angry and grim right now, I am steering clear of politics for a little while…but never fear, I am sure come January it will flare with color.  But look for a couple new regular features including On the Road Again, travels the world over. Thanks for reading again! Amie

 

Slam Saturday July 12, 2008

The name of the game is Saturday Slam, everyone is welcome to play. I will give you a story theme and a sentence to start you off. You are allowed to write and add ONE SENTENCE. It doesn’t matter how long the sentence is, but it must be grammatically correct. Read the theme and the comments above you and add to the story. It can be dialogue, it could be character or setting development,  your choice…but the idea is that at the end we have a story. The game starts Saturday morning and I will close it out Sunday night, and then post the entire story on Monday. Invite your blog friends to join to, the more sentences…the better the story. If Saturday Slam is fun,  I will make it a regular feature. Ok here is your theme:

WHILE THE NURSE ENTERS WITH A SLEEPING PILL

 

Gotta Laugh June 26, 2008

My son has a wonderful sense of humor. When something strikes him funny, he doesn’t hold back. His laugh fills the room… a head thrown back…deep belly laugh that brings tears to his eyes and an ear wide smile. It is the sound of pure bliss. I laugh, just because he is. 

He loves old cartoons, you know the ones our parent’s watched when they were kids… Something I love about him.  He is a lot like me in this way. I appreciate humor without swear words and complicated punch lines. When writing is funny, it doesn’t matter what age you are or era you live in… universal humor that crosses these lines…is magic.

Tex Avery, is a humorist like that….and his cartoon Magical Maestro (1952) is what brought my son to happy tears this morning. I figure we could all use some humor today, so here is your chance to fill a room with laughter and shed a few happy tears.

 

Better than Shoes June 21, 2008

My best friend Gwyn and I hired a babysitter and stole away late tonight. We went to see a great film about four girls in New York looking for love. For me, who spent a good deal of my 20’s watching and wishing I could strut around NYC in Manolo’s and Dior (going to flamboyant careers and fabulous events) like they, it was a closing note on that decade of my life.

It was fun to dress up in my most “designerly” dress and heels, and feel as fabulous as one can amid popcorn strewn floors and sticky arm rests. We shared laughter and tears… ooohed and awwed over which dresses and shoes we would “so” wear.

For the night, I lived glam vicariously…

and I got to thinking. I spent a lot of time wishing that I could experience the trappings of those character’s lives, when those characters were focused on finding what I have in REAL life… deep, meaningful love… unconditional acceptance… abiding joy… happiness and laughter ever day… a great, wonderful man… children who love you just as you are…time tested friendships….  relationship with an amazing, forgiving God. 

As I was driving home… and moonlight illuminated the car interior… it’s blue light cast over the peaceful faces of my children sleeping in the backseat. Through the rearview mirror I saw my jewels, more valuable than anything. I realized my dreams were still there, they had just expanded, mellowed and rearranged themselves in even more beautiful and organic ways.  Gone the desperation and need to put myself out there… gone the need to prove my worth to gain love… gone the frantic searching and unfulfillment…

I still have ambitions, dreams and desires…but the stuff that really matters…the stuff that really seeps in and glues up the cracks….

I have in spades.

I have love…I have acceptance… I have friendship… laughter, hugs and kisses…I have happiness and joy everyday in my life…

From the little corner of the world I live in… I realize that I am blessed. I am not searching anymore… I have come home… I am home.

(now, if someone offered me Manolo’s I wouldn’t turn them down:)

See you on the flip side…Amie

 

 

 
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