Note to self: Make these fridge pickles.

I’ve had Justin Timberlake playing on repeat for awhile this afternoon (oh hush) and Hayley has heard Futuresex Lovesounds” enough that she knows a good percentage of the words. Just a few minutes ago, it came on and she was doing some sort of complicated, choreographed, intricate dance routine (complete with standing on a stool at points), and she was singing the parts that she knows, belting out, “do you like it like this, do you like it like that, just tell me which way you like that” at the top of her lungs.

I actually had to leave the room because I didn’t want to giggle and offend her.

It suddenly gave me a flashback and I can just imagine how hard it must have been for my own mom to keep a straight face when I would hold a little dance performance at my grandmother’s house (she had a perfect stage-type of area under a large window that was for storage, so I used to dance and sing up there, and I’m sure people walking down the street must have had a good laugh too at times) and my ten-year-old self would be wiggling around and singing that I was “like a virgin, hey, touched for the very first time”.

There’s something about kids singing songs with lyrics that they don’t understand that runs in my family I guess. (Don’t get me started on how my older cousin turned very pale when we were listening to Prince and “Darlin’ Nikki”came on and I listened for a few minutes only to turn and ask her what “sitting in a hotel lobby masturbatin’ with a magazine” meant. She told me to go ask my mother. Something in her tone made me decide NOT to ask.)

Note to self: Buy some long grain white rice to make Congee. Best food to eat on a cold day or when you don’t feel well. I like mine just plain, no meat or vegetables added, with just a bit of salt and pepper. And now I am hungry.

When I used to work in an office, weekends were exciting. They meant sleeping in, and if I wasn’t sleeping in it was because I was doing something really interesting. It meant eating breakfast in a diner, shopping, hanging out with friends, partying, maybe going to a bar, especially if George was playing.

Now weekends aren’t quite the same. You’d think they’d still be exciting, because I do work on stuff from home now but the joy of freelancing is that it all overlaps and I still have things to do on the weekends anyway. Plus, it’s not as carefree what with having kids.

On the other hand, Hayley is at school all week and although she’s home at a reasonable hour in the afternoon, she’s usually tired and a bit cranky, so weekends mean that I get to relax with both of my girls. It’s certainly not bad at all, it’s just different. I’m not sure where I was going with this, but I guess I’m just finding myself thinking of how different certain parts of my life are between now and more than five years ago. It makes me wonder how different things will be in another five years.

——-

Here’s a request, one I think I do for most of these daily post exercises. I’d like to invite you to ask me a question or two. If there’s anything you’ve always wanted to know, go ahead and ask. Even if I’ve discussed it before, it may have been from before you were reading. If I’ve mentioned something and then neglected to update you on what came afterwards, let me know.

It will help fill the gaps of these daily postings!

If I was pregnant (which I am not), I would be expecting to go into labor any minute now. This morning I went to get something from the bedroom and couldn’t find it, and well, I sort of lost my mind. I don’t know if other people do this, but the bedroom is the one door that can easily be kept closed when someone is visiting. Hayley’s can’t because she’s always in and out. The bathroom needs to be accessible for obvious reasons. The living room, kitchen, and dining area are all open rooms. George’s music room could theoretically be closed to hide a mess but if the person coming over is here for the purpose of recording or wants to hang out in there, that door is open too.

So when someone is coming over and there’s a mess of whatever on the floor of the living room, no problem! Stick it in a laundry basket and stash it in the bedroom! I’m in the middle of folding laundry? Dump that in there too. Pile of books and papers? Ditto! Also, if something needs to be taken away from one of the kids because they’re fighting over it, throwing it, breaking it, whatever, the bedroom is the best place since they aren’t normally playing in there. On top of that, it’s not a room we spend much time in while awake, so we don’t really see much of it.

As a result, without regular upkeep? Total warehouse. If you put a grenade in the middle of the warehouse first and detonated it.

When I couldn’t find what I was looking for – and I can’t even remember what it was because it was about 14 hours ago – I snapped and decided enough was enough. I started cleaning and tossing and folding and after awhile it was better. A little more effort involving dusting and wiping and it was even better than that. I want that bedroom to be in a state where I can keep the damn door open when people are over without worrying about it. Right now it’s there.

Once I got done in there I was tired yet strangely hyper so I just started doing other things. I had a load of laundry to start so I cleaned the bathroom, cleaning everything but the tub (and I would have but I need more baking soda). When I came out, I tackled the dining room (our deep freezer is a magnet for piles and doodads), the living room, and Hayley’s room. Breanna was really good throughout my entire whirlwind. Sometimes she would follow me around, chatting to me. Other times she would draw at the little table in the living room, and sometimes she would take some toys and play with them (on occasion she pulled out the basket of animals and chased me with them, making dinosaurs roar at me or gorillas screech at me). The nice thing is that she helped clean up everything each time she was done. Having a kid with OCD rocks.

I washed and folded two loads of laundry, washed a third which is still drying, made supper, cleaned up afterwards, swept the floor three times today, prepared George’s lunch and Hayley’s snacks (she’s getting a hot lunch tomorrow so that’s all she needs), did a bit of work, and managed to squeeze in some must-see CSI and Grey’s Anatomy.

It’s like I’m nesting but without the pregnancy. Which works just fine for me, thanks!

(Now someone has to tell me I’m not the only one who does the bedroom-turned-storage-and-disaster thing so I don’t feel like a big slob. Also, that will help distract me so I’m not that person who goes around shrieking, “I JUST CLEANED THAT UP!!!” at everyone. Not that I did that today. Nope.)

My good friend Heather is hosting a t-shirt giveaway with the molecular structure of chocolate on it. While it’s not edible, it’s the next best thing, something to show off your love of chocolate. Go enter!

There are no words for how horrible this crochet hat is. I think the only reason the model is smiling so much is that they must have doped her up with something potent. But hey, American Thanksgiving is right around the corner so there’s still time to make one or order one or whatever if scary-ass holiday hats are your thing. (thanks, Andrea!)

This afternoon, I went to throw some more stuff in the washing machine to get some laundry done, but I paused because I realized that the lint trap had fallen in. It was when I reached in to retrieve it that I screamed because something moved. Angel, who puts to rest any notion that all cats are smart, had decided that the presence of a small blanket and a few soft towels made the washing machine the ideal place to catch a little nap. Had I not noticed him, I would have thrown the rest of the towels in on top of him, dumped in some soap, closed the lid, and turned on the hot water. I’d like to think I would have heard him but Breanna and I had Rascal Flatts blaring at high volume, so I don’t know.

He’s a freakin’ moron but that doesn’t mean I want to first scald, then drown him. He’s one lucky little shit.

And of course, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a little cat macro.

A collection of love letters written to friends, strangers, enemies, etc. Easy to get sucked in and spend way too much time reading.

One thing I love about kids is how you can catch them doing something and in response they’ll flash the most innocent face in the world at you and totally deny it.

This afternoon, I gave Breanna a chocolate-covered cookie. She enjoyed it and then asked for another one but I said no, one was enough. Unfortunately I had been distracted by something (the phone? A loud noise? Something shiny? Who knows?) and had left the bag open on the end table. Naturally, Breanna wandered over and took one out. I decided to let her, because eh, one more cookie, big deal. I saw her glance at me out of the corner of her eye and then she snuck back over to the television where she was watching Free Willy (or “Fish” as she calls it, firmly convinced that the giant Orca is a fish. And also, there’s some stellar parenting, eating cookies and watching a movie, go me!). She ate it as discreetly as an almost-two-year-old can. When she was done, she was quite pleased.

And she looked at me.

Breanna: Hi Mommy.
Sherry: Breanna? Did you just eat a cookie?
Breanna: (looking at fingers, then at me) No Mommy.
Sherry: Are you sure? Maybe you had a cookie?
Breanna: No.

Sherry: Your face is kind of messy you know.
Breanna: MESS! MESS!
Sherry: I think you ate a cookie.
Breanna: Cookie? Peeeease?
Sherry: No more cookies, Miss Smuggler.
Breanna: Okay Mommy. See Fish.

And then she went back to her movie, convinced, I’m sure, that she had pulled a fast one on Mom. Yeah, right.