Where Does it Come From?

How many toothbrushes does a 2 year old need?

Lately I've been so motivated.  And not just motivated by the normal everyday things like keeping my house clean and eating healthy food, I mean I've been motivated to do all those pesky things that have been bothering me.

For instance, Dave's clock has been set to the wrong time for the last, oh, 3 months maybe?  It's a clock he keeps over his workbench in the garage.  Which means he rarely consults the thing, therefore, he probably hasn't noticed that the time is wrong.  I, on the other hand, look at that clock every DAY as I'm pulling out of the driveway.  I check it to see if I'm on time to drop William off at school.  And every DAY I realize the clock is wrong and have to then consult my car clock.

No big deal, really.  But it bugs me. 

And the thing is, by the time I get HOME from dropping William off at school, I've completely forgotten about that annoying clock.  That is, until the next morning, when the whole Groundhog Day-Style insanity starts over again.

And so, this weekend, I finally remembered to fix the damn thing.  And Internet, I cannot TELL you how nice it is to scratch something like this off my list. 

And I could go on and on about all the little pesky things just like that clock that I've managed to do.  I've taken purses to the shoe shop for minor repairs, I've changed the oil in the car, I've re-organized the closets.  ALL of the closets.  And? AND! I've dusted the top of the refrigerator. 

And here's what I want to know: why now?  Why am I motivated to do these things now?  Why wasn't I motivated a month ago?  And why, in a week or two, will I be un-motivated again? 

Where does motivation come from?  And where does it go?  I've gone so far as to pin all this on the phases of the moon, or perhaps my own reproductive cycle.  It's so mysterious. 

And since this Elusive Motivation Monster has visited me on and off all my life, I am learning to just go with it when it comes.  Enjoy the ride and see how much I can get done while it's here. 

Because I know, maybe even as early as tomorrow, it will disappear again and I'll be stuck here with my too-wrong clocks and my dusty refrigerator tops.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pin all of the gloves and mittens together so that they'll be easy to find.  The Motivation Clock is ticking, you know.

He's Hooked

On Phonics.

I love that the teacher had to clarify his meaning.

And, he's an artist!  Look at the detail!

Bless his heart.

Personal Stylist

I had an epiphany yesterday while shopping for a new handbag.

What?  Doesn't *everyone* have life-changing thoughts in the purse department of Dillards?


I have a DAUGHTER!

So, Paige and I stopped off at Dillards yesterday for the specific purpose of looking at the sale handbags (Did you hear me?  SALE! HANDBAGS!).  I purposely parked at the door nearest the purse department with the intention of blazing a trail straight there and straight back.  You see, I had no stroller (It was in Dave's car.  Don't ask.) so I knew I had mere minutes to shop before the Tornado Toddler decided she'd had enough.  In fact, one could argue that is madness (MADNESS!) to try to shop at a mall with an un-contained toddler.

But you guys, 50% OFF PURSES!  I had to try.



I hyped up the whole experience on the drive to the mall.  "We're going to pick out a new purse!" "A new pretty purse for mommy!"  "Won't that be FUN?".

And Paige said "Yes! Yay! Purses!".  I've taught her so well.  Because we all know there is no joy like the joy of a new handbag.



And here's the thing, when we got there, Paige wandered around the purse department picking up bags, putting them on her shoulder and squealing with delight.  She'd say "Ooooo, Momma, wook at DIS pwurse!", or "Ahhhh, what about a pupple (purple) pwurse, Momma, it's so PWETTY".

And in that moment, it occurred to me, I HAVE A DAUGHTER.  Someone who will go shopping with me.  Like, maybe for the rest of my life.  I *love* to shop with MY mother.  I always have.  

And then I went a little further in my mind, to a day when Paige will look at me and tell me I look hideous.  That my clothes are painfully out of style.  And then I'll make her take me shopping to buy something decent.

Oh I'm so excited!  I've given birth to my own personal stylist.



A Five Star Experience

Continuing on the theme of yesterday - that my life appears (just APPEARS) to be empty and meaningless - let's discuss fast food.  Namely: Chick Fil A.

I love Chick Fil A.  I love it.

I love their food.  That chicken is just divine, y'all!  And do I even need to mention the waffle fries?  I didn't think so.

And can we just talk a minute about the cow ad campaign? 

How dang cute is THAT?  It's cute.  Bordering on adorable, even.

So today, when Paige and I happened upon a Chick Fil A while we were out running errands, I decided we'd just stop in and get ourselves some of that deliciousness.  Now, I don't live near a Chick Fil A (thank GAWD, because I would weigh, well, even MORE than I already weigh), so eating their divine chicken is a treat.  A rarity.

Paige wasn't acting very pleasant at the time I stopped.  Frankly, she was acting like a 2 year old (the nerve of her - since we all KNOW she's two and a HALF. Totally different.), so I did what all moms do when desperate: I bribed her.  I told her THIS restaurant had a PLAYGROUND. 

That did it.  She perked right up.

We were greeted at the door by an employee who HELD THE DOOR for us. 

Then?  They went ahead and made us lunch, even though technically they were still serving breakfast for another 10 minutes.

THEN we were told to be seated and they would bring our food to our table.  How nice!

Oh!  And get THIS: when they brought our food, the manager went ahead and gave us a couple of chicken biscuits "because you really should try these biscuits".

Can you believe?  They brought EXTRA food, and DELIVERED it to my table.

So nice.

And? AND? When you say "thank you" to an employee, instead of the standard "you're welcome" they are trained (I presume) to say "it's my pleasure".  Isn't that lovely?

I would challenge you to find a 5 star restaurant with better service.

And I would also challenge you to find a more meaningless blog post.

It's not possible.  I swear it's not.

Tomorrow, I promise I'll think of something better to say.  Like, how my husband is actually BAD at Hungry Hungry Hippos.

No, I'm not kidding.  

Sometimes I Can Be Sort of Slow

Did you know that if, say, you decide at the age of thirty six, after being a stay-at-home-mom for almost 7 years, to start cooking dinners for your family, that you will discover this thing called LEFTOVERS.

Leftovers! Leftovers can feed an entire family on a Wednesday night WITH NO COOKING REQUIRED.

Isn’t that cool? Oh. Wait. You already knew that? Is it because you’ve been cooking longer than THREE DAYS.

Well, I can be a little slow sometimes.

Here’s another example. Approximately six YEARS ago, I bought myself some socks. White ones. The kind you wear with your tennis shoes. These particular socks came in a big ‘ol package from Walmart. I think there were 6 pair in the package. And I think that package cost, oh I don’t know, $8? Or maybe $6? (it WAS Walmart, after all).

And they’ve never fit. They’re too big. Turns out I bought the "shoe size 9-11" sock.  The socks are too long – which makes the heel part hang awkwardly out of the back of my shoe. And all that extra sock sometimes gets bunched up in my shoes. It’s totally annoying.

Meet my ill-fitting, flappy-heeled socks.

And yet I’ve worn those socks FOR SIX YEEEEEEEARS.

Why? Well, because, it seemed wrong to “waste” those six pair of socks just because I’d inadvertently bought myself the wrong size.

What the heck, ME?

Today, in a moment of clarity (sanity? divine inspiration?) I bought myself a brand new package of socks. Ones that actually fit.

I believe this is really going to change everything about my life. There’s almost nothing I cannot accomplish now that I have socks that fit. And I will not dwell on all the joy that has been robbed from me for the last six ill-fitting-sock years. I’m just going to move forward.

After I’d put my new fancy Properly Fitting Socks into my cart at Target (see? I’m even stepping up! No Walmart this time!), I felt inspired to improve my life in other ways. Which I why I brought home a little piece of magic.

Internet, feast your eyes on THIS:

Ooooooh. Ahhhhhh.

A little “holder” for your kitchen hand soap, dish soap, and spray cleaner. I cannot properly express to you how excited I am about this. I went so far as to describe it IN DETAIL to my husband today while we were on a lunch date.  Dave, as you might imagine, was RIVETED.

What’s that you say? I’m pathetic? My life must be empty and meaningless if THIS constitutes “magic”?

Well. I. Uh. I suppose I cannot argue with that.

I mean, I wore too-big socks for more than half a decade.  "Pathetic" sort of sums it all up.

Ok, FINE, Here's the Update

Oh the cruelty

Many (ok, four) of you have asked about the final outcome of my Very Mysterious Secret Santa.

If you want to read the whole back story (which you SHOULD, because, hoo boy it's a good story.  Ok, it's just an "ok" story.  Just shut up and go read it) you should click here and here.

Or, I'll summarize for all you lazy asses out there who cannot be bothered with clicking.

Approximately (or exactly) twelve days before Christmas we received a bag in our mailbox containing a little pear-shaped ornament.  Every day afterward we received a bag right on our front porch containing something relating to the Twelve Days of Christmas.  If you weren't so lazy, you would've seen photos of each item we received, but you wouldn't click.  Serves you right.

Anyway, the whole thing was very clever and adorable.  My children (and ok, maybe me) would run outside each morning with breathless anticipation to discover what we'd been left.

We were counting the minutes until Christmas morning (the 12th day) when our Special Secret Santa would reveal him/her self.

And GUESS WHAT?  S.S. simply included a note in the last sack that said "See you next year".

OMGAREYOUKIDDINGME?

We were a little (or totally) bummed.  Which is why I haven't written about it.  I lost my Secret Santa mojo after that.  I can't believe I have to wait a WHOLE YEAR to see who's doing this.

Because, you and I both know I'll be installing hidden cameras and motion sensors before next Christmas. 


P.S.

For those of you who are considering pulling this stunt on one of YOUR unsuspecting friends next Christmas, here's what we got in the last four bags:

Day Nine "Nine Ladies Dancing" - 3 solid chocolate ballerinas and 6 dancing Disney princess stickers
Day Ten "Ten Lords 'a Leaping" - 10 plastic "army guys" with parachutes attached
Day Eleven "Eleven Pipers Piping" - Pipe Cleaners with a note that said "Eleven Pipers Cleaning"
Day Twelve "Twelve Drummers Drumming" - A dozen little Christmas ornaments in the shape of drums.


After some comments on yesterday's post, I've decided to put a "What I'm Cooking" tab on my home page.  Maybe it will help some of my fellow Cooking Idiots come up with a meal plan.

Resolved

Well, here it is.  Another New Year.  This particular new year will be the year that my baby turns THREE.  And the year *I* turn THIRTY SEVEN.

And yes, I realize I'm worrying about things that will happen SIX MONTHS FROM NOW.

But still.  Three.  How did that happen?

I've made only one resolution this year.  And no, it has nothing to do with this:

I'm *certain* something is faulty with this thing.

Although, damn, the holidays have been brutal on my waistline.  I ate with reckless abandon this season.  But, I figure I'll take care of that extra tonnage like I always do.  A little less cake.  A little more exercise.  You know, the usual. 

And I figure something so ordinary as "lose ten pounds" does not merit my resolution list anymore.  Especially since I've been gaining and losing those same ten pounds for the last ten years.  We're like old friends, that fat and me.  It says 'goodbye' every spring, and then comes back around for a visit every winter. 

No, this year I'm resolving to Be a Better Meal Planner.

It took me some time to come up with that.  At first, I thought I'd like to Be a Better Cook.  But that doesn't really do it.  I *can* cook.  But, I am craptastically bad at 1)coming up with a meal idea 2) having the correct ingredients on hand 3) starting the meal on time 4) coming up with appropriate side dishes.

I realize for some women this is just second nature.  Like "of COURSE you serve baked potatoes and apple sauce with pork chops!".  For me, nothing comes easy in this realm.  Once, right after I had Paige, my friend Susan drove here from Tulsa to help out.  She spent the day doing my laundry and my dishes and holding my newborn baby while I napped (best gift EVER from a friend, by the way).  And the last thing she did before she went back home was to make me a meal.  And she made an entire meal FROM THE INGREDIENTS I HAD ON HAND.  She just looked through my freezer and my pantry AND CAME UP WITH AN ENTIRE MEAL. 

This is so amazing to me.  If she had walked outside and leaped my entire house in a single bound I would not have been more impressed. 

There is absolutely NO WAY I could do that.  NO POSSIBLE WAY.  In order to make a meal, I have to 1) make a list of all ingredients needed 2) go to the store for those specific things 3) come home and begin preparing the meal 4) go back to the store for the one damn thing I forgot (ALWAYS!) 5) try not to burn anything (including myself).

But I'm resolving to get better at all this.  I figure the only way to get better at anything is practice.  So that's what I aim to do.  This year I'm going to make meal after meal after meal until I get good at it.

For inspiration, I *did* buy myself a cookbook. 

By the folks at 'Southern Living'... so it *has* to be good.

I'm not particularly fond of crock pot cooking, but this cookbook comes with little meal pairing suggestions next to each recipe.  Like "serve this with brown rice and sauteed spinach".  And *that's* what I need.  Lots of suggestions.

Because I am a meal ninny.  A stoopid stoopid ninny.

Here's hoping for a delicious 2011!



Postscript:

I also vowed I would clean out all my drawers and closets this year, WHICH I'VE ALREADY DONE, so if this cooking thing fails, at least I can say I accomplished *something* in 2011.




Any bets on how long this stays clean?

 

Organized drawers: a thing of beauty