I'm Going 'Round, 'Round, 'Round...

I'm picturing a hamster cage, sort of like the one here on the right. It's got a nice little hang out pad or dome on one end, which connects by a tube or passageway to the hamster wheel on the other side.

I believe I've become the hamster.

I've been here before; I think most of us have. It happens when we over-commit, forget how to say "no," and make promises we're not sure we want to keep. We find ourselves spinning madly out of control and getting nowhere fast.

Here's the situation. Everyday I go to work and do a job that I absolutely love. I know what needs to be done, I know how to do it, and I enjoy my responsibilities. I consider this the "hang out dome" part of my day. I am steady and content and sitting on my butt (at the computer) for hours on end. But around 3:30 or 4:00 p.m. as my day is about to end (hey, I start at 7:30 a.m., so don't judge me), I start to feel the slightest pang of anxiety. On my drive home, the traffic is much heavier than it should be, giving me entirely too much time to think. I spend 20-30 minutes considering what my options are once I reach my humble abode. For most people, heading home after eight-plus hours in the office is the best part of their day; the at home options are far better than whatever they've just left behind. For me, this transition time is the equivalent of the tube/passageway section of the hamster cage. As I pass through, my anxiety reaches a dangerous level, and before I know it, I'm on the hamster wheel.

As I spin, I know I have some decisions to make, namely, what should I do with my time? There's the gym, and I know I should go, but I don't want to go, even though I always feel better afterwards. Then there's my never-ending list of things to do. If I could handle just a few small things, I'd spend less of my weekend making myself (and my children) miserable with what needs to be done. One of my most stressful options responsibilities at home is making dinner. Like the gym, this is something I know I should do (if not for me, at least for the children), but don't want to do. Unlike the gym, however, I rarely feel better when I'm done. Mostly because my cooking stinks and I don't know what to make, and God forbid I try anything new (the picky eater being me).

If I survive those couple of hours before dinnertime, I now face a decision about what to do with my evening. That's assuming I don't have a meeting on the calendar for youth committee, church session, or book club, and that Abby doesn't have a sporting event that I'd like to attend (providing me with a very good excuse reason to not take care of other stuff). Do I clean? Maybe I should handle the laundry. Or put the dishes in the dishwasher, and wipe off the table, stove and kitchen counters. For some reason, the prospect of cleaning up after I've just tortured myself by making dinner (or serving bagel bites), is more than I can bear. And don't suggest that I have the kids clean up. No one else in the house can properly load a dishwasher. But I digress.

Because I am a completely insane individual, I recently decided that it would be fun to add a little something extra to my list of time-killing obligations. I committed to spending about 10 hours a week handling the social media for an organization I'm fond of. Normally this is the kind of work that I would thoroughly enjoy, but because 1) it's brand new, and 2) I'm spinning on a hamster wheel, the whole thing has me a little stressed out and wondering what I've gotten myself into.

You might be saying to yourself, "I wonder what Kim really wants to do with her time?" Well, it's nice of you to ask, and I'm not embarrassed to say that I want to catch up on American Idol (love that Harry Connick Jr.), watch last week's episode of Scandal, or binge watch some new series. If we want to pretend I'm more highbrow than that, then let's say I'd like to read, or at least play spider solitaire (I'm up to three suits!) or sudoku until my eyes glaze over and I can shut my brain down and go to sleep.

Ah, sleep. My happy place. The other night, Abby asked me why I go to bed so early. Without hesitation, I told her that some people do drugs to deal with stress; I go to bed. (Then I asked her to fill my weekly pill organizer; the irony wasn't lost on either of us). It's true. Sleep has always been a wonderful avoidance technique for me. I recall during college, if I felt the least bit tired, I could convince myself that sleep was more important than my school work. Worked then. Works now.

Not surprisingly, by going to sleep early, the morning comes more quickly. I love mornings. I realize this makes little sense, given the way I've just compared my life to a hamster cage, but for some reason everything dissolves away overnight and I wake up happy, even though I know what I'll face at the 4:00 hour. Makes me think of the movie Groundhog Day when every day is a repeat of the last. I'm detecting a rodent theme here. Of all the animals I could compare myself to...

The good news is that I think I may have found a solution. I've been asked to join the Sanctuary Choir at our church (I felt flattered at the invitation, but in reality 1) they will gladly take anybody and 2) they just want to use me to help bring the median age down closer to 60). Singing has always been a source of joy for me. In fact, it's one of my favorite memories of my Pop Pop: "When you're unhappy, Kim, just sing." So I might say yes to this choir opportunity. That will take care of Thursday nights, giving me one less evening to figure out on my own. Although it does add one more commitment to keep...

Hanging on by a thread...

A Love Story

I recall a conversation with a friend on the topic of greeting cards. More specifically, cards for her husband. Her husband is the demonstrative, lavish-shows-of-affection type and she's just about the complete opposite. Sometimes she feels guilty about this and on the rare occasion that the mood strikes, she'll pick up one of those warm and fuzzy, lovey-dovey cards for her man. Unfortunately, he often doesn't see them.

"I have good intentions, but by the time I planned to give it to him he's somehow irritated me again and the mood is lost." 

This leads me to the purpose for this post. A declaration of my love for my husband. I know this is not typical Kim territory. Positive, loving, and kind are generally not words associated with this freakin' angel, but the spirit is moving me today. I did consider waiting to share this on our anniversary (Jan. 7) or his birthday (Jan. 8), but there's the distinct possibility that he will tick me off by then. So here it is.

My husband Rob. A love story. Quit rolling your eyes and go with it.

Like every married couple, Rob and I have had (and will continue to have) our ups and downs. Our arguments are generally short-lived, but there are stretches of time when they seem to come more often than either of us would like. Some years overall seem tougher than others in every way, not just for our relationship. I recall 2011 being pretty crappy, but as we wind down 2012, I find myself smiling. Me, smiling? Weird, huh?

So what's made this a year worth smiling about? I think it was the way all the forces combined to remind, reassure, and reinforce what an amazing gift the love is between a husband and wife. More than a year ago Rob was suffering with extreme back problems that resulted in ER visits and ultimately surgery. I held his hand and tried to comfort him, but was otherwise helpless while he dealt with pain that actually made childbirth seem like a walk in the park. While my heart broke to see him in such agony, I think the brokenness, when healed, made my heart--and my love for him--even stronger. And this year when my depression brought me lower than I'd been in a decade, Rob took care of me. Never losing patience or avoiding the problem despite not truly understanding what I was experiencing because he hasn't been there himself. He simply loved me when I most needed loving.

Somewhere along the line Rob also started making a visible effort to be more involved on the home front with everything from housework and the kids to my ever-growing to do list. He knows my least favorite chores and takes them upon himself. He knows I hate running errands so he does the running. And he started doing whatever he could to deal with sick kids or their appointments so I wasn't always sacrificing my career to handle everything that came along. At the same Rob started pitching in, he became more attentive and affectionate. I used to tell him I always knew when he wanted something because his level of helpful activity and romantic gestures were blatantly obvious took a marked turn. Now I never know when he wants something because his good deeds are such a regular part of how he treats me. I'm never sure now when it's time for sex.This new approach to marriage was very disorienting for a while, but trust me, I've gotten used to it.

Don't get me wrong. Rob was never a lousy husband (I know a few of those). I never questioned his love for me. But like many women, there were times I felt like my biggest job as a wife and mother was making sure everything didn't fall down around us. We were in that rut that is so easy to fall into after 15+ years of marriage, two full time jobs and full-time kids and incredibly full lives. I truly believe having cared for each other through some difficult times and actually listening to each other's needs has brought us to this much better place. I don't know if it's Rob, the new job, or the correct combination of meds (probably all three), but I haven't felt this content, this thankful, or this light in a very long time.

Rob, I know you don't appreciate being the subject of my blog posts, but I hope you know this one was written in love to thank you for all you've done, all you're doing, and all you are to me. Now don't screw it up.

Debunking a (Sub)Urban Myth*

I am writing at the dining room table because my husband had an office created for himself during our recent renovations even though I'm the one who works at home as the sun floods my living room. My eyes are drawn to the beautiful bay windows which reveal blooming azaleas, springtime in all its greenery, and a solid year's worth of grime. I suppose this is why spring is deserving of its own special cleaning, leaving summer, fall and winter in the dust. Literally. Personally, I've never been a fan. Of cleaning. During any season.

10 Random Thoughts About Cleaning:

1. If no one can see it, it isn't really there. This means washing your walls, cleaning behind your refrigerator, and dusting the top shelf of a 6+ foot tall bookcase are completely unnecessary.
2. When those dirty things you can see begin to bother you, invite guests to your home. This will provide much needed motivation.
3. If you prefer to just avoid cleaning at all costs, only invite guests to your home who don't give a damn how dirty it is. Unfortunately, this leaves out my sister and brother-in-law.
4. If you have no friends never have guests, I recommend waiting to clean until the children leave for college, otherwise it will just get dirty again. In like an hour.
5. Speaking of children, where their bedrooms are concerned, it is best to wait until conditions are intolerable before you suggest request demand they clean it. Then, you can justify a complete and total mom meltdown, threatening, "If these rooms are not cleaned up immediately heads will roll..." Or even worse, "There will be no video game playing for the rest of the week."
6. Intolerable can be identified by mysterious odors, living things that are not your child or a pet, and green, growing things that are not potted plants.
7. Guilt is also an exceptionally effective technique when trying to solicit help around the house. When a simple cleaning request is denied, try this response: "That's fine, don't worry about it. I'll take care of it right after I make your lunch, wash your clothes, and pay the bills for the house you live in for free. That's my job." Tears are a definite plus.
8. When you really don't want to clean, consider that cleaning is about taking pride in your home and the Bible says pride is a bad thing.
9. Have you ever noticed that dust bunnies, like real bunnies, scoot away if approached too quickly? This means they should be left alone. 
10. Research has shown that obsession with cleanliness is negatively affecting our immune systems. To improve health, I recommend living in harmony with dirt.

Finally, I think someone needs to have a talk with the music teacher at our elementary school. Abby tells me she divides the class into "parents" and children, and then has them do some silly routine where they chant back and forth to each other:

Parents: Lazy slob, lazy slob

Kids: Cleaning is a parent's job and I am not a lazy slob.

I really need someone in authority teaching my child that cleaning is a parent's job. These are my freakin' tax dollars at work...

*Thanks to Linda DeCowsky for recommending the topic and the title of this post.

We may have already talked about this (and a heck of a lot of good it did)

Dear Ian and Abby –

Back in April, when we returned from Spring Break, we had "the talk," a family discussion in which I expressed my need for more assistance around the house. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened quite like I hoped it would. For the most part, you still don't do shit around here your work detail has included emptying the dishwasher and putting away your clothes. And even those small tasks require me to nag ad nauseam multiple reminders.

The additional jobs I asked you to help with have been basically forgotten:

• Wiping the table after meals
• Rinsing dishes and put them in the dishwasher
• Picking up after yourselves (when you get something out, put it back where it belongs)
• Bringing in the empty garbage cans on trash day (without being asked)

You can see how short that list is; I really don’t think I’m asking too much, particularly when I add up the value of the freakin' electronics in this household. The electronics that I don't play with, by the way. I won’t go into the whole bit about how I never would have told my parents to “wait” or even boldly said "no" when asked to do something. I won't mention that I never would have gotten away with the consistent whining or blatant ignoring of requests directives, from my parents. But I realize that’s my fault. I’ve allowed you both to get away with that insubordinate crap for years, and now I’m finding it difficult to change your behavior. Only when I show signs of mental or emotional collapse do I get the support I'm looking for around here.

Given that I have done the bulk of the work I requested of you this summer, I am now going to issue this assignment: On Friday, after we have returned from another special outing for you both (Globetrotters, boardwalk rides, and beach), you are going to spend as long as it takes (in other words, all day if necessary) to thoroughly clean your bedrooms. “Thoroughly” is defined as the following:

• Picking up everything that doesn’t belong on the floor (ex: clothes, nail polish, baseball cards, video games, shopping bags, duffel bags, backpacks, books, posters, water bottles, food items, etc.) and disposing of it properly or putting it where it belongs.
• Clearing out what doesn’t belong under your bed or between the wall and your bed; see list above. The only things that belong there are large items like artwork, chalkboards, plastic bins, and dust bunnies.
• Removing everything other than knick knacks (decorative items) from the tops of your tables, nightstands, and dressers. This includes clothes, dirty tissues, water bottles, food wrappers, paper, books you aren’t reading, etc.
• Emptying suitcases, duffel bags, backpacks, etc. that probably still contain items from summer trips. Check out the ones thrown in your closets as well. Any that are filled with rotted food, moldy bathing suits, or dead animals, should be immediately taken to the trash. And I mean the big trash can outside.

Under no circumstances will “cleaning” take the form of shoving miscellaneous items into already over-flowing drawers in which they don’t belong, or throwing them into your closet so they’re out of view. Such attempts at cleaning will result in beatings until morale improves beatings until shit gets done right additional unpleasant assignments like scrubbing the driveway, cleaning the oven, and using a toothbrush to clean the grout between the bathroom tiles.

Until your bedrooms are cleaned to my satisfaction, there will be no duct tape projects, nail painting, play dates, trips to the pool, hula hooping, or television for Abby, and no Xbox, computer, or television for Ian. Oh, and my iPad is off limits for both of you.

From this point forward, each Saturday will begin with a time of general bedroom clean up. The neater you keep things during the week, the less you will have to do on Saturdays. You are both exceptionally bright children so it may occur to you that simply putting away what you get out should do the trick. If you choose to make no effort during the week, Saturdays may end up being your least favorite day of the week.

Given the vastness of the project before you, if you would like to get a head start today, feel free. Otherwise, plan on spending much of the day Friday in clean up mode (and note that the weather is supposed to be spectacular).

Any questions regarding this directive can be addressed to your father because I don't want to hear it. He will enforce these instructions or risk being banished to the couch for the unforeseeable future. And please note that whining and complaining about this assignment will not be tolerated.

Love, your PMS-ing pissed off Mom

Is it Because "Cleanliness is Next to Godliness?"

It has come to my attention that I am "always cleaning." This will come as a tremendous shock to those who have known me for most of my adult life. I'm sure my parents, sister, and college roommates are picking themselves up off the floor right now, having just collapsed in a fit of laughter. Abby, however, insists that it's true and Abby has been correct about nearly everything for the nine years she has spent on this planet.

I suppose I have been cleaning more often than usual as of late, but I attribute that to a number of factors:

• I dismissed my latest cleaning service. I've gone through at least three or four over the past few years and have tired of the substandard work, random breakages, and unsolved disappearances. It's also expensive and I'm always looking for ways to save a buck (so I can use the money to eat out instead). 
• Home renovations. We just had our bathroom and much of our bedroom gutted and renovated, plus we had hardwood floors refinished. No matter how often I clean, the dust seems to appear again the next day. 
• I finally have areas of my home that are worth cleaning. We redecorated the living and dining rooms and they really deserve to stay looking nice now. That wasn't the case a year ago.
• Dog and cat. Dog went swimming again today. Cat is shedding her winter coat. Enough said. 
• Two children. Requires no further explanation.

While I suppose I'll never be able to blindly accept the dust bunnies, hair balls, crumb hills, or sink overflowing with dirty dishes, there are some efforts that I'm beginning to rethink, including:

• Folding my children's clothes. It's rare that they put them away without being reminded a minimum of five times, but even putting them away doesn't ensure they will stay in the condition I delivered them in. This morning, Abby took everything in her drawer and tossed it around like a salad in search of one particular shirt. Ian has limited space so his idea of putting clothes away is to shove them in his drawers in whatever manner will allow them to fit. Spending time on laundry is clearly not a good use of my time.
• Making a decent dinner. Short of frozen steak sandwiches, waffles, or pancakes, my children express their displeasure with nearly everything I make. Another waste of time.
• Picking up "stuff." Every mom knows this is a complete joke. I've been tempted to leave a dead body on the kitchen or TV room floor just to see if anyone even notices. 
• Cleaning the toilet. I could paint it neon green and still the men in my house would aim for the floor instead. 
• Washing the glass on the front door. Does anyone even know there's a handle that can be used to open the door?

I'm definitely going to give my household efforts a bit more thought in the future. After all, no one would believe I'm "always cleaning" once they see my house!

Share your thoughts. What household chores do you consider a waste of time and effort?