Top of the List

I am a list maker.

I make weekly To-Do lists, grocery lists, laundry lists and errand lists. There’s also birthday lists, doctor lists, and grooming lists. Of course, let’s not forget the Honey- Do list.

It’s my attempt to keep on top of things.

It makes me feel in control, at the mommy wheel and commander-in-chief-ish.

To say the least.

If there’s a lost errand, rambling about loosely, undone, unaccounted for and undocumented, I hurriedly shoo it in the direction of said lists.

“Now, now, haircut, you’re not going to get the best of me this season. Go find your place at the top of the list.”

“Ah, dental cleaning….go stand in line with the vaccinations. And, not such a sour face, please. I promise I won’t put you off much longer.”

“And, where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Ms. Mammogram? Hmmmm? OK, Ok, you can stand at the end of the line, but no more hiding out with Mr. Pap.”

My list making does consume quite a bit of my time. In fact, I spend much of my day overseeing these lists.

“I know, I know, Oil Change. Your point is duly noted. Pops will receive a memo with his coffee.”

“And, sorry, Mildew in the Shower. We’ll have to take you off any and all lists until further notice. Check back when the kids are enrolled in school.”

“Pedicure, pedicure. I understand you’ve been shuffled and reshuffled. But, there’s no getting around it. End of the line with you!”

“I know, I know Mr. Date Night. You’ve been parked last in line far too long. How about I upgrade you to a Quickie and we call it even?”

What with the managing of all these personalities, it’s a wonder anything gets done around here.

Good thing I have lists.

New parent

Please check out my guest post on New Parent. It's a great new site with lots of information for parents.

Murder by Vacuum

So, it all started with the best intentions, really.

I was doing a little vacuuming in the playroom. Now, if I had noticed the pink feather boa cascading on to the ground, I could have avoided the whole fiasco.

But, I didn’t. And, so it happened.

Immediately, my high power Dyson vacuum violently sucked the boa halfway up into its bowels, causing a flurry of feathers, a burning smell and a high pitched whine to emit from my most beloved appliance.

Luck was with me (kinda) as it happened my girls were occupied downstairs and did not bear witness to the blunder.

Eager to cover up my crime, I pulled the vacuum to my room, boa firmly attached, trailing and bouncing behind. My cats began dive bombing the tail end of the boa, eager to help finish off the kill, I suppose. Shooing, them away, I hid the whole kit and caboodle deep in my closet and returned to the scene of the crime.

Assorted feathers were scattered on the floor and another kitty was making a feast of the situation.

Having heard my cursings, hubs was quick on the scene with the girls hot on his heels. I tried to stop him, but he was fast footed and eager to help. The feather strewn trail and burning aroma led him to the closet. Opening the closet door, he allowed a cat to escape. The cat coincidentally had firm hold of the boa and dragged the entire…um…situation out into full exposure.

As my daughters shrieked, a cat began regurgitating a feathery, glittery mass at our feet.

I, of course, stepped into the sticky muck. Hubs muffled a giggle. The cats fought over the boa’s carcass. And, the girls won a free trip to the toy aisle at Walmart.

Murder by vacuum.

At least it was quick.

And, kinda G rated, really, if ya think about it.

Sweep it, Sister!

"I sweep,” My toddler furrowed her brow as she pushed her plastic broom across the Lego littered floor.

“Clean up, clean up. Everybody, everywhere…” My preschooler had discovered my fluffy fuchsia feather duster and was boisterously bouncing around the room in search of cobwebs and dust bunnies.

And, where was I, you ask?

I was directing traffic from my perch on the couch, novel in one hand and a Cadbury egg in the other.

“Over there, darling, over there. The dust bunnies are under the sofa…”

“Atta, girl. Kick those Legos back into the closet.”

“We’ll have this place in ship shape in not time…Hand me the remote, would ya?”

Hallmark moments such as this are few and far between.

Gotta drink it up when you can. Live in the moment. Linger in the sweetness.

‘Cuz these kids can turn on a dime.

“Mommy! I hungry!”

“She won’t give it back!”

“I potty!”

“AHHHHH!”

Stick that!

My daughters love stickers. They put them everywhere.

On books. On paper. On car seats. On themselves.

In purses. In boxes. In shoes. In backpacks.

It’s highly addictive.

And, their dealers are everywhere.

The Target cashier.

The pediatrician.

The dentist.

Trader Joe’s, even.

Usually, they are in sticker heaven enjoying their stash.

Stick.

Stick.

Stick.

But, the other day, a monkey wrench was thrown in their direction.

“Mamma. Fix!” My toddler’s eyes filled with tears.

“Mommy, it won’t unstick. It’s broken!” My preschooler was mortified.

It was quite the sticker conundrum.

A bit of a sticker orgy, really.

Clinging to each other, the stickers were in a sticker game of Twister.

An impossible situation.

I eyed the garbage, but thought better of it.

“We’ll take these stickers to the sticker hospital. The Sticker Doctor will fix it up.” I nodded enthusiastically.

Then, after a quick late night trip to Target, we replaced the mangled stickers and it was another winning mamma moment for me.

Sure, hubs felt silly at the check out stand. “Sticker, please.”

But, he’s beginning to learn to roll with the pink and polka dot punches around here.

If ya know what I mean….

Toddler Aerobics

My toddler had a serious case of the wiggles today.

Getting changed….

“Get back here, Miss Naked Pants!”

In the car….

“Eyaaak!!”

At the store…..

“NO standing in the cart!”

At lunch……

“Get out from under there!”

The good news is, those who play hard, sleep hard….mostly.

Time for a good book and a little afternoon nap.

Anybody seen my Snuggie?

Idiom Me.....

Ya gotta be quick witted around my house. My little daughters always have something up their sleeve. They’re a regular barrel of monkeys, those two.

Ya really gotta keep up with the best of ‘em. Stay on your toes. Keep your eye on the ball. Sometimes ya even gotta be scrappy around here.

I mean, I always try to keep ahead of the game. Outwit ‘em. Throw 'em for a loop. Head ‘em off at the pass.

But, sometimes they really give me a run for my money. Or simply put, knock me on my hiney.

At the end of the day, I guess you just gotta count your blessings and shine your best silver.

‘Cuz we all know who rules the roost around here.

And, it sure ain’t me.

A big thank you to my friendly idioms for lending a hand in this post. Sometimes a good idiom really knows how to take the words right out of your mouth.

Err…Or something like that…

Dino-Hearted

“It’s ruined! Just ruined!” My preschooler threw herself to the floor, sobbing loudly.

“I am sure we can fix it, honey,” I said moving in to investigate.

“It’s broken and it can’t be fixed!!” She thrust the purple, plastic T-rex into my face, shoulders heaving.

I closely looked for broken parts, but in the end, failed to identify the problem. Prominent fangs were sharply intact. Forearms were in attack position. And, the tail was in working order.

“He looks all good to me,” I reassured her.

“SHE is not good!!” And, then a shaky whisper… “She is hurt.” She pointed to the ferocious beast’s right hand. Sure enough, this prehistoric creature was missing a claw. The tip had snapped off. I can only assume it took place during a hunt, a feeding frenzy or some Jurassic showdown.

“Sometimes dinos break their claws, sweetie. They don’t mind.” I tried to reason with her.

“She does mind. She does!” My Princess Paleontologist wiped her tears. Then a final plea. “It hurts her little finger.”

So, needless to say, I took pity on the beastly creature.

Before I knew it, that dino was all bandaged up, claw in a swing, and re-situated amongst her Jurassic cohorts.

It’s not every day one gets to assist a predatory, prehistoric animal. I felt a little proud. A tab bit heroic, even.

Although, on second thought…… judging from the look on the Stegosaurus’ face, I kinda got the feeling I was doing a little aiding and abetting.

You might want to remind me to do a quick head count in the morning. Just in case.

Chocolate Bandit

He couldn’t be guiltier if he had been holding a smoking gun.

He was standing there wearing his boxers and a lopsided grin. And, he was holding the empty box of Dreyer’s chocolate peanut butter ice cream

“You wanted some?” He asked, attempting to display belated concern.

The gall. The indecency. The lack of civility.

“Scoundrel!” I muttered under my breath, turning on a swift heel.

Now, let’s hope he doesn’t discover the missing Hershey’s chocolate bar that was hidden in his top desk drawer.

Because, that would make me a hypocrite.

Or something. No?

A big thank you to Babymakin' Machine for the lovely shout out! If you haven't been over to visit her yet, what are you waiting for? Jen is so bright, funny and charismatic.....

Playing School

Now, when my little girls invited me to play Schoolhouse, I was under the impression that I would be the one at the chalkboard, ruler in hand.

But, oh, no.

My little ladies had something else up their sleeve.

I was directed to a footstool between Barbie Mariposa and Baby Alive. I was told to sit. Be still. And, heavens be, I had better listen up.

That schoolmaster appeared to be a bit uppity. Crochity, really. She stood in front of class, book in hand and she began her lecture.

On and on she went.

I started to doze off. Who could blame me? She was hard to follow. Kept hopping around topics. Frankly, I questioned her authority on the subjects.

The Dora footstool was jammed into my backside causing my lower extremities to grow number by the minute. I had to think of a plan. And quick.

I searched through my brain archive for escape plans and exit strategies.

I finally settled on the idea to fake illness and ask to be sent to the nurse’s office.

So, in a nutshell, that’s how I ended up lying here in the toddler bed tangled up in bandages with a thermometer up my nose.

Kinda made me consider re-entering the work force.