"Maka you Christopher"

Mom, maka you Christopher

C-h-r-i-s-t-o-p-h-e-r

Maka you Zachary

Z-a-c-h-a-r-y

Maka you daddy.

Maka you Madison.

Maka you Nick.

Maka you Mom.

Maka you Disneyland.

Maka you Christopher.

Christopher is obsessed with having me write his name and everyone else's on nearly everything. Paper, the whiteboard, and apparently now my blog. He's whining at me right now.

"Maka you Christopher."

The upshot is, he's pretty good at reading names. Our names, his friends' names, his classmates' names... And can spell most of them for you. Also, it sorta sounds like he has an Italian accent. It's the best when he talks about food "Mommas a maka you-a pizza."

I have decided to cross off "furniture mover" as a possible career choice.

I mentioned yesterday that John was out of town when I got my chair for my library.

"That's ok. It's just a chair. How hard can it be, really? I can totally do it myself."

Holy cow.

And so the question is, How does one girl (me) get the World's Heaviest Chair from the back of her Suburban and into my house without killing myself?

With my brains and my kids' wagon that's how.

Of course getting it onto the wagon was quite a feat, and I nearly quit right there and waited for either Nick or my neighbor Mike to get home, but I persisted.

And navigating the front walk was pretty tricky, and getting it in the front door...

Then there was the fact that it was in two pieces and needed to be assembled, but didn't come with instructions...

And it was only by chance I discovered the feet tied in a bag to the underside of the chair...

But I did it!

All by myself.

7 years

Seven years ago we were in the process of building this house. Every Sunday afternoon we would take the kids over and wander through the skeleton of our future home looking for progress, and trying to visualize what it would be like when it was done and finally ours. We would get so excited about each and every little thing that was "new".

"This will be Nick's room, this one is Maddie's, and this is gonna be Zach's. The couch will go here, and the TV here... Look! We have plumbing!!!"

And since I have visualization problems, I'd sneak off to the model home every chance I got to see it completed. I remember once not being able to rest until I checked out the lighting in the kitchen and talked to the salesman. I didn't remember if we upgraded the lighting or not, because when you build a house there are 40,000 possible upgrade options and after awhile all you see are dollar signs, and what if, what if I got the standard lighting and it was (gasp!) fluorescent lighting? (It wasn't)

One thing that started to bother me was that the house has a dining room. I didn't really see the need for dining rooms. They're kinda stupid. A whole room dedicated to eating a fancy meal once or twice a year? And given that you use the room on "special occasions" it is generally accepted that the furniture be a little nicer than your average kitchen table, and the dinnerware be a little nicer as well.

We don't own any of that stuff. And our money is generally being spent on things we use pretty regularly and has to stand up to four (then three) active kids.

A whole room dedicated to a couple of meals a year where I will spend the whole meal worrying that somebody (myself or the kids) will spill cranberry sauce on the carpet?

In other words, I think dining rooms are stupid.

Apparently I'm not the only one.

Our house was a pretty popular model. I have several friends who live in my exact house. Instead of a dining room table, one friend stuck a pool table in her dining room. I know someone with a baby grand piano in there. One friend walled it off and made an office. And another completely remodeled her kitchen, moved some walls around, and now she has a walk in pantry where her dining room once was.

Since those days of wandering around the skeleton of my future house, I have had a different vision for that room.

I wanted a library.

My vision included a 9 foot book case along the one wall without a window, and the rest of it was a little blurry. A chair or two? A table? Maybe a desk?

For seven years I have kept my eyes out for the right book case.

I never really found the "perfect one" and any extra money was usually needed elsewhere, so for seven years our dining room/library has remained empty. Except for of course at Christmastime, and that's where we'd put the tree.

The only exception being this last year, that room has been home to The Ghetto Couch, because the kids have been having so much fun playing with a piece of furniture where nobody restricts activity -gymnastics? Why not? Using the cushions for a fort? Be my guest. I just haven't had the heart to throw it out (it's a good bet to look for a future posting on the love/hate relationship we have with The Ghetto Couch.) The thought of putting it out on the end of the driveway with a "free! Take Me!" sign on it, brings more than one kid to tears.

But soon, any day now, that couch will have to make room for my brand new library. (And the Christmas tree will have to find a new home next year too)

This year, I saved all the money I used from selling caramels, and combined that with any birthday and Christmas money I was given and went shopping. We looked at a few different places, and couldn't find anything we loved.

We really liked this one (I didn't have a tape measure and was too lazy to go look for a salesperson, besides I hate the way they stand there and stare at you waiting for you to make a decision, and I like to stew on big purchases for days or weeks, coming back to look at something time and time again) so I made John stand in front of it for perspective. (when we got home I made him pose the same way to get a feel for it)

That particular book case ended up being too big for the wall, and while I really love the idea of having a ladder on my book case, (that bar running across it behind John's head supports a ladder) I was afraid Christopher would like it more, and he'd end up breaking an arm jumping off it or something. The $2500 price tag made me choke a little, (okay, more than a little) but that seems to be about the going rate for a larger wall unit. (hence the 7 year wait)

And then in my searches, I discovered a little furniture store- Cortate Furniture. They are as bare bones as they come. Only open 3 days- just 18 hours a week. No showroom- you order from a catalog. No returns, refunds, or exchanges. (They don't keep stock on hand) It's owned by a lady named Hope, who started the business to help herself and others get reasonably priced furniture. I think her only employees are her grown kids. They're all super nice and honest, and helpful, and I think hands down I don't think I've never had a better furniture shopping experience. AND I'M STILL WAITING FOR MY FURNITURE. (I really can't say enough nice things about the people or my experience so far- if you're in the Gilbert area and in the market for furniture go check them out.)

Long story short, two months ago I walked out of her little store with the receipts for a book case, a desk for me, and a reclining reading chair. All for less than money than I was thinking I was going to have to spend on just the bookcase. And the desk and book case are custom made solid wood affairs. (hence the two month wait)

So yeah, that was two months ago. I did get the chair a week ago. (that's another story) And I am still waiting for the other furniture. It's been 7 years, but these past couple of weeks have been the worst. I run to the phone in anticipation every time. "Oh, Hi John. It's just you. So, how's (insert city here)?"

Any day now.

Hopefully they will call on a day John is actually in town. They don't deliver, and have no room to store it for you, so they want you to come pick it up that day. And that would really suck if I would have to do it by myself.

10 1/2 months to go...

Madison got invited to her first Young Women's activity at our church last night.

No, she's not twelve yet.

They had a 'New Beginnings' night, and invited all the girls who will be turning 12 sometime during the year.

Now she's even more impatient to turn twelve.

It's already killing her that she's not old enough to babysit.

Of course, out of all the girls there, guess who was the youngest?

I remember being her age. (and as we have the exact same birthday, I can totally relate) I remember sitting on the back row of primary watching all the other kids graduate and move on until I was the. very. last. one.

It sucked.

I had always loved primary, but then something clicked inside of me, and the best way to describe it was I was in limbo.

waiting.

waiting.

waiting.

At least all of Madison's besties are younger than her. My BFF was 2 weeks older than me. I really hated her those two weeks.

She would go on, and on, about how awesome Young Women's was, and what super fun activity they did that Wednesday, and look at this cute handout they gave us to go along with the lesson, which by the way was totally awesome.

I really, really couldn't stand her those two weeks. I think every word out of her mouth had something to do with how much she loved being in Young Women's and how glad she was to not be in primary any more.

I think it will help me, remembering how I felt when I was her age, because watching all those beautiful older young women last night, I started to panic that I am not ready for any of that. I am amazed at the difference just a couple of years make.

very, very scary.

(just a random thing I noticed- I think Maddie is wearing the exact same pearl necklace in both pictures)

I'm better now.

"better" being a relative term of course.

John let me take a three hour nap this afternoon.

And then for FHE we had a nice discussion on how we can ALL make our home a happier one. And discussed ways to revamp the current system of chores and responsibilities around here.

And why I don't feel like making cookies or dinner for or playing games with or being in the general vicinity of children who leave me messes like this to clean up.

(Granted these pictures were taken last February, this is what I returned home to find one evening, and while this is an extreme example, scenes like this are a little more common than they should be. And fyi I made my kids stay up way past the their bedtimes on a school night until it was all cleaned up )

I am totally open to ANY thoughts, ideas, or suggestions on what works for you, has worked for you at any period, worked for your mother, friend, neighbor, etc.

It's probably PMS

I ran away yesterday.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I thought we'd get the day started off right and I promised the kids I'd bake something yummy if we could get the house cleaned.

5 hours later I was at my wit's end.

"Are you seriously telling me you cleaned this bathroom?!?! That toilet is so disgusting it should have warning signs. And what did you wipe down the counter with? a kleenex?"

"Really??? You're telling me your bedroom is clean? I'd like to know what it looked like before, because all I see are clothes all over the floor and your bed isn't even made! Seriously you're telling me this is clean? You're either a liar or incompetent, which one is it?"

Then there was the fighting, and the screaming, and the hitting, and the tattling, and the whining. It was non-stop.

So I left.

I didn't know where to go so I went to the mall. I wandered around for awhile. Ate soup. bought a pair of earrings. I finally ended up in the travel section of the book store fantasizing about all the places I'd rather be.

It occurred to me about an hour before I needed to be at the airport to pick up my husband that I should have gotten that pedicure I am in desperate need of. Or seen a movie.

I have to be honest though. I didn't really enjoy myself. I was super crabby, so I didn't feel like being around other people, and wandering around aimlessly just wasn't as much fun as it sounds.

It was kind of boring. It's kinda like when you have money to buy something, like a dress or shoes, or whatever you might be in the market for, and nothing fits, or is all wrong for whatever reason. But then when you have no money, everywhere you turn is something begging you to buy it cause it's just perfect.

Only instead of a million things to do and no time, somehow I managed to find all the time in the world, and nothing to do.

The soup was good. Baked potato in a bread bowl.

Today wasn't as bad, but I had a couple of moments.

The first was in church. We learned the hard way our family was too big for the smaller pews on the side. There was elbowing, and arguing, and even some screaming from Christopher. I actually smacked his mouth (not hard- just enough to get his attention) in the middle of the sacrament. We finally decided we should return to our usual seats in the back of the church next week and sit in the chairs.

And then there was dinner. There were lots of "When is dinner gonna be ready?" questions, and no "what can I do to help?" They ran around ignoring the fact that I was cleaning up all sorts of messes that they left for me (sticky silverware, used paper plates, spills burnt on to my stove top) in order to even be able to start cooking dinner. (while I grew more and more resentful by the minute) Finally after spending 15 minutes scrubbing the kitchen table that was impressively grody after only a day and a half of neglect (remember I ran away yesterday), and dinner was nearly ready, I had one kid offer to clear off the table and set it. (after I did most of the work)

Of course that's when I lost it.

Within about 30 seconds all three of the older kids had cooperated and set the table, and were watching me and waiting for my head to start spinning around.

John thinks it's PMS. I think that he really missed his family and is so happy to be back in a city where the temps don't go below zero that he will have the patience of a saint for several days. I also think that if you are going to wake your mother up from a much needed nap at 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon to find out when she's going to start dinner, you better be prepared to help. And not leave her standing alone in a kitchen surrounded by every single cup we own (dirty, of course, because heaven forbid you use the same cup twice to drink water) and the remnants from lunch scattered across every available surface. Because then she doesn't feel like a mother who is appreciated and who is succeeding in raising responsible, considerate kids, but that she's just an under appreciated maid and cook.

Or it could be PMS.

I think I might have to take my friend Tricia's advice- she says sometimes rocking back and forth in the fetal position and making weird noises works wonders. But first I am going to eat a lot of chocolate.

Mixed drinks

John and I both have our versions of the classic drink- the screwdriver

Correct me if I am wrong (I'm not an expert when it comes to alcohol) but a "screwdriver" is a drink comprised of vodka and orange juice.

John and I each have our own (non-alcoholic) version of this drink.

Mine was born out of necessity. Have you tried these little packets before?

All sorts of vitamin C, and B vitamins and other good stuff. I try to have one a day. Unless, like today, I think I am coming down with a cold, so I will have a couple more. You pour the contents into a glass (4-6 oz) of water, and drink up. It's not bad, but it's not that good either.

I find it goes down a lot easier if I pour in a splash of orange juice. Unless the packet is the pink lemonade kind, then I like cranberry juice. Just a splash seems to do it. Makes it easier to go down.

John's version is a little more "hard core". The story goes that it was born out of necessity as well. I think he was trying to pull a fast one on his mom when he was a teenager, so he'd add just enough orange juice to a glass of Mountain dew so it would look orangey, and try to pass it off as plain orange juice. (I don't think she was fooled- it was probably 10 parts mountain dew to one part orange juice)

He still does that. Not because I frown on his drinking Diet Mountain Dew, but because he likes it. I just have to look closely to make sure his OJ doesn't have a toxic glow to it before I steal some of his juice.