But soon, the dishes in the sink will be a distant memory. Because in about 2 weeks I will have a
I now you're thinking why does that matter? I, like so much else of the world, do not have a dishwasher. I wash them by hand. And that's not a huge deal to most humans. I mean, I got food, I have dishes, I have clean water to clean them in. Pretty much more fortunate than most human beings on the planet. But I HATE doing the dishes. I do about two sink-full's of dirty dishes, and sippy cups and coffee pots a day. It's tiring. It's like college but at least I do them daily instead of weekly. No more mold growing on plates in this house. Thank god for that.
We are going to move from the house we've lived in for four years.
It's the longest we've lived anywhere in the entire 9 years of our marriage. It's strange that it was supposed to be only a 6 month kind of thing. However, my plans did not materialize and I guess I just lived. I'm really grateful for the past four years. It wasn't what I had planned, but I've been happy (along with all the other emotions) and that's pretty great.
Yet, I'm excited for this new place. I'm going to have a DISHWASHER. A fenced in yard, no more angry yappy chihuahua's chasing my terrified children around the swing-set. We are going to have a pantry. A PLACE TO PUT FOOD. Wow. A whole closest, just for food. That seems unreal to me. I'm gonna live in a place where you can actually get Pizza DELIVERED.
I will miss some of my neighbors. I will miss the river we throw rocks into, and the pool across the street my neighbor lets us use. I will miss all these tree's. (no no no, not all the tree's, I wont miss the figs, or the plums or the pears because those are a huge time suck for no real fruit to eat).
I sure won't miss the leaf-cutter ants that de-leaf the entire tree in one evening.
But I've got some good memories, and I'm taking those with me.
So, since my full-time job is a stay-at-home Mom and during the week I work about 15 hours a day, does that mean that I can ignore my kids on the weekends?
I have a feeling it would go like this:
Jedi "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, I need chocolate milk, MOM!!!!! Chocolate Milk NOW!!! MOM did you hear me!!!! I NEED IT! I WANT IT!!! GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!!!"
Me:"You have reached your Mom's voicemail. Your mother is away from her office, so you'll have to call back on Monday. If you have any pressing concerns or questions that cannot wait until Monday then please call my associate named Dad, and he can help you.
Thanks, and have a nice weekend. I KNOW I WILL.!!!"
I runs into his room screaming as though he's just been shot.
I'm putting the clothes on his sister Goose, and she's squirming and protesting. I wonder if I'll be able to get their teeth brushed this morning or if that's just absolutely ridiculous.
5 minutes pass. No Jedi.
I go to his room and his closet door is shut.
I open the door to his closet, he's sitting on the floor pantsless, surrounded by all the pants in his drawer.
Rudy: It's been 5 minutes, why aren't you wearing PANTS YET!
Jedi: Close the door, CLOSE THE DOOR!!!!!
Rudy: I slam close the door and start counting loudly. So he know's I mean business.
It at 15 and he's still not out. Goose is standing clutching my legs and screaming. I pick her up and go back into the kitchen to gather all their stuff and shove it in the car and try to heat up the car because it's Texas and it's 40 degrees and that makes a lot of sense apparently. Thanks WEATHER.
He hears the front door slam as I prepare myself for Arctic conditions and trek out my 50 pounds of junk. And when I finish loading lunch bags, back packs, diaper bags and putting the heater on Carribbean Summer. He comes running into the living room wearing a pair of pants. And it only too a good 20 minutes of yelling.
I wish I felt proud of our joint accomplishments of getting him to wear some damn pants. But honestly I'm just frustrated.
Teeth brushing is forgotten.
I've gotten Jedi in his coat, Goose in her coat, and am walking out the door. I buckle up Goose in her Iron Maiden car seat and she wails. I get into the driver seat, buckle myself in and wait for Jedi to do the same.
JEdi: Mommmmmmmmmmm !!!!!
When did he stop calling me Mommy? Why does that make me so sad?
Rudy: Yes Jedi.
I turn around in my seat and see Jedi slumped halfway out of his chair.
Jedi in the most whining voice ever: I cant do ittttttttt. Please, you do it for meeeeeeee????
I unbluckle myself, get out of the car into the frozen tundra, go around the car, open the door, and try to buckle him in as he goes completely limp, except for his hands which are clutched in his pockets.
I have to physically move him in to a seated position and wrench his hands from his pockets.
Rudy: Jedi, you need to take your hands from your pockets or I cant get them into your seat belt.
I pull harder on his hands and he lets go.
Rudy: Why do you have to make this so hard Jedi. I really wish you'd be nice to me and just behave.
Jedi: (In increasingly whiny voice) I can't be nice to me when you're all Cray Cray!!!
I burst out laughing in one of the loudest guffaws I'd screeched out in a very long time.
I couldn't stop for awhile and he even started laughing although he didn't know what he did or said to make me laugh.
Cray Cray. My 4 year old son just called me Cray Cray. (slang for crazy)
I mean. Really? He's 4 years old!
Just this morning he had pudding for breakfast. (Don't judge me, he also had waffles. So, there's some sort of grain or something in that.) And he came in with what looked like a tiny thin mustache. Which is weird on a blonde, let alone a child.
I laughed and told him I liked his mustache. He looked in the mirror and said,
"When I have a mustache I feel like a GUY!!!" And he flexed his arms.