The Path of Least Resistance

The other day my brother mentioned something to me about "since you stopped blogging." Wait a minute . . . did I stop blogging? Like so much in my life, sometimes decisions are made in a passive manner--where I let things take their course without my direction . . . where I keep running along on the path of least resistance. I hate that about myself. I would prefer to have these grand ideas and make a plan and carry them out.

Today I was thinking about how in adolescence I told everyone that I wanted to be a marine biologist. And, at the time, I thought my biggest problem was that I lived so far from the ocean. Now I am wise enough to know that I suck at math and that I am terrified of being more than three feet under the water. And that I have a short attention span. All these are much bigger problems than not living on the coast. But at that time I wouldn't let myself see "meaningless" obstacles because I was a dreamer and capable of anything.

Currently, my personal aspirations (if they are still in there) are buried beneath a barrage of day to day child-rearing, house keeping, and food making. I have been so caught up in trying to keep up with life that I have forgotten than maybe I could do even more.

And yet, I have to admit, I am happy. I have achieved many of my dreams. I don't regret anything I have done.

So what I am wondering is this; is it ok to just be who I am without being something spectacular? Without ever being noteworthy? Without being someone who utilizes her time on earth to really make a difference to people? To go on doing what I've always done?

For now, I choose to just keep on living and I hope that's ok.

PS I haven't stopped blogging.

At our house . . . .

. . . . you have to bring your sunglasses to breakfast.


"Mom, stop messing around with the camera and give me my pancakes."

Jackson Turns 2

The Sum of My Parts

I should be making dinner right now and I should be cleaning up the basement for Jackson's party and I should be supervising the craft time in the laundry room but you know what . . . I just don't feel like it. Instead I feel like writing, like expressing some coherent thoughts that will mean something. I wish that I had something profound to say because I feel like being profound. Unfortunately, profoundness doesn't come on command. Usually, bursts of inspiration come while I am doing something else. Which, incidentally, would require doing something.

Instead I just want to say that I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than just a mom. I am more than a wife. I am more than a runner. I am more than a cleaner. I am more than a cook. I am more than a party planner. I am more than a chauffeur. I am more than a sounding board. I am more than a robot who can move from action to action accomplishing and completing. Actually, I am a complicated piece of matter that even I can't figure out completely: living, changing, growing, thinking. I am a jumble of thoughts, emotions, feelings, urges, desires, and un-desires. I am shy and confident at the same time. I am indecisive and decisive in the same moment. You don't believe me, do you. You should.

Also, I have a gut-full of sugar in the form of rice crispy treats. How's that for profound?

Pairs

I have a problem. It's a serious problem. It's a sock problem. Seriously. I have a problem with socks.

I hate folding the little buggers. Actually, I hate MATCHING and folding them. I just don't see the point of it. So much time for such little return. You know because I get so much more fulfillment out of the rest of the laundry. Who am I kidding.

But the socks . . . I just can't get around it. I can go months without folding a single sock. I'll just pile them up in a basket and expect family members to dig through them until they can find a pair. It probably isn't kind. It's kinda like how I expect my kids to get their own stinkin' water. But that is a different story.

One time, a pregnant friend of mine asked me how to make sure that the little newborn socks didn't get stuck in the washing machine. I replied, "buy all white." And I was serious. Finding errant pairs are just not a high priority for me.

After my last baby, my mother was helping me with the laundry. When she saw my sock pile, she gasped. Audibly gasped. I told her sometimes I just buy more instead of folding them. (I was only halfway kidding.)

But the really pathetic thing . . . the thing that really puts me above the rest . . . is that I brought my sock problem with me when I moved. I mean, even when cleaning out an entire house I couldn't bring myself to match socks and instead schlepped the entire 5 lbs of unfolded socks with me.

A couple of weeks after we moved in, I found my husband in the laundry room surrounded by an explosion of socks. He was going through them and folding the darn things. As if he didn't have enough to do.

So after he took care of the initial load of socks, I vowed to keep abreast of the socks and fold them right as they came out of the dryer. But the temptation is so great to just go ahead and throw them in the basket.

Anyway, now that I have revealed to you one of my darkest secrets, I feel so much better about myself. I mean, if unfolded socks is all I've got, then I can't be doing too bad.

Progress Report: Final

I know you are probably all sick of reading about my house. I know I am sick of writing about it. But it just doesn't feel right to go on writing about other things when I have left this hanging. We moved into our new house the second weekend in January and we are enjoying it immensely. Lots more space and just how we like it. There are a few things that have surprised me like how everyone says that it has that "new house" smell. I didn't realize there was a new house smell. I mean I've heard of "new car" smell . . . Also, I am surprised that I feel so comfortable here. It felt like our house from the first morning we moved in. I've also loved how welcoming and kind the neighborhood has been--which is a big deal for me.

Here's a little tour. I had to take the pictures at night because it was the night before we moved in. So, sorry, no natural lighting.


Front entry--we have added hooks to the shelf for hanging coats etc.


Looking up as you enter the front door.


Looking straight as you enter the front door. On the left is the office. On the right is the entry bench. Straight ahead is the kitchen/family room.

Pocket doors that connect the office/living room to the family room. (Announcer voice: "So easy a baby can do it." Doesn't it look like I staged that?)

Looking from office to family room fireplace.

Family room. Apparently it is good for dancing.

Looking from family room to kitchen.

View of kitchen.

Main floor powder bath.

Master bedroom.

View from master bedroom to bathroom and closets. One closet on each side of the hallway.

Master bathroom vanity. Strange girl taking pictures. Looks like I didn't take pictures of the other half of the bathroom but you can kinda see it in the mirror.

Alisa's bedroom and closet playhouse. I didn't post pictures of the other two bedrooms but they are similar.

Laundry chute door that feeds down into the laundry room. (By the way, this is the best system ever!)

Kids bathroom vanity. Oops. Forgot pictures of the toilet/shower part. It's just behind the next door.

Three kids bored out of their minds resorting to watching movies on the laptop.

The laundry room. I have added baskets above and below and this room has turned out super functional. We also put our old table in here for the kids to do their crafts.

Looking from the laundry sink to the other side of the room. We added hooks here too. The flat door leads to the garage so this a mud room for the kids. It's so nice to have a place for them to hang backpacks and kick off shoes.

Ta-da! Finally all painted.

Come over anytime and sit on my porch with me.

In other news . . .

. . . . I'm pregnant!

Just kidding. I just wanted to see if you were listening. At least I better be kidding. Man wouldn't that be ironic. I realized that I have only written about my stinkin' house for two months. But you know, life goes on and we've actually been living here too. Living and breathing and burping, I guess. So here are a few random thoughts:

• Diego noticed that the drive up drop box at the library has little braille plaques underneath the signs. Just wondering . . . if you can't see well enough to read those giant signs, should you really be driving a car.? Just asking.
• Why did the cashier at Rod Works treat me so rudely when she treated the woman before me like gold? Was it because she bought $300 worth of merchandise and I only bought 6 hooks? Or maybe it was the constant screaming to my children that put her off. Either way, I noticed the difference. Yes, I did.
• Quote from Alisa: "I'm playing that my barbies don't like each other any more because the one girl wants the other girl's boyfriend. So she is going to kill her." Do I need to be worried about this? I swear I don't watch soap operas.
• My plantar fasciitis is finally giving me some relief. For those of you who don't know what that is, think of walking around with a marble attached to the bottom of your heel. It only cost me five pounds and a spare tire to get rid of it. You know the phrase, "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak?" Well, that's me in the literal sense right now. It's a real downer for me.
• Christmas was fabulous. We did the traditional, "stay up until midnight and then open your presents" thing. I was still hung over (mormon hangover) by New Years and had to go to bed at 8:30.
• The outside of my house is still not finished being painted but we are moving in anyway. It's been too cold for paint to dry. That's what they SAY anyway.
• Diego decided to announce to the congregation last Sunday that we are moving. Subsequently, I spent the next two hours justifying my decision to move to people. It never fails: people feel betrayed when you move away from the neighborhood. "What, we're not good enough for you?" "Why would you want to leave me?" I'm truly sorry everyone. It really wasn't meant to be a personal affront. It's what's best for our family.
• Since I knew we were moving soon, I just haven't been able to muster the willpower to clean my house? What's the point? I'll have to scour it all after moving anyway. But don't come visit me. I'm embarrassed.

See ya in the new house ya'll!