Oops, I did it again.

Back at it. Cleaning. Again.

After a slow start Wednesday morning, I managed to get Hannah and Ian's room Spring Cleaned, which I feel super-fantastic about. Yeah, I just said that. Can you hear the sarcasm in my voice? I have to admit though, I dread the start of each new day as I have to think about what the chore of the afternoon must be. Tomorrow I'm going to focus on the nursery, which should be an easy fix, and the rest of my efforts will be on the wash. I'm in the middle of switching out the children's clothing, too. The too-small-gently-used clothes go into bins for the next child in line or child to be, and the current season clothing goes into drawers. You know the drill.


For those that have followed me for some time, through my "5th bed obsession", here is the IKEA fold out bed, which we LOVE. It's comfy, and provides a THIRD bed in this room.

The lighting isn't too hot in this photograph, but here's a desk we put up for the kids, also from Ikea. What's cool about this find was the price - $20.00 for solid wood. The other cool thing is it is mounted into studs for good hold-up, and also folds down.

Here are Hannah and Ian's bunks.

And also more from Ikea. These shelves are also cheap and solid wood. Great for toys AND clothing storage.

And last, but certainly NOT least. This little one knows when to make a break for it. I found Olivia this way, screeching because her finger was stuck in a tic-tac pack. Mom on phone + toddler = TROUBLE.

Until Friday..... have a great one.

From the mouth of Ian.....

I did it. The bathroom is done. I have yet to decide what my spring cleaning chore is for the day. Maybe Hannah and Ian's room. That would be a good one. A good, tortuous, time consuming mess.

This little laundry sign hangs in my bathroom. I've often though I should turn the sign around so the arrow is pointing down to the ground. Maybe underneath stick the word "hell".


Yesterday while I was scrubbing away in the bathroom these 3 beautiful conversations happened.

Ian: Mom, can I take a dump in the toilet?
Me: What did you say? Who taught you how to say that?
Ian: You did, Mom.
Me: (muttering under my breath) Heaven help me now. (Followed by a long pause while I thought) You have GOT to be kidding me. Boy! Go ahead. And don't say that any more.

Ian: Olivia, your hair looks horrible.
Me: Ian, don't say rude things to your sister. What do you know about hair anyway?
Ian: Moooommmmmmmm. Her hair is all straggly and stringy.

Ian: Wow, Mom. You are really scrubbing hard. Are you doing to scrub that floor too?
Me: Well... yes, I am.
Ian: Wow, Mom. That's going to be the cleanest that bathroom has ever been.

Mind you, Ian didn't help clean one tiny bit. Who's the sucker now?

What is in Misty's Pan? Prepare to be amazed:



Ladies, I admit it. It IS PURE laziness on my part to not take the cookies down and throw them away. It's been an eye-sore that's bugged me for months. Every time I look at them, I think to myself "Gosh, I really should throw those out.". But did I? NOPE. After I took that video clip, I stuck them right back up there on the cabinet. Talk about taking action.

Let's play a game.

Remember my grand plans to have my house spring cleaned in a week? I made that plan a couple months ago, and instead of spring cleaning, I had a spring melt down. It was my birthday month and all that goes with it. Yearly, around my birthday, I reface thinking of both (failed) mothers and I reface the memory of my mother abandoning my sister, brother, and I years ago when we were small. It's a sad month for me. My melt down has left my spring cleaning on the to-do list, which I am supposed to start today. As we speak plans are in the making to get close and comfy with my bathroom until it shines. I already roped Ian in for help. Sucker.

Let's play a game today. See this pan? It's on top of my kitchen cabinets. What I want you to tell me is:

A. How long you think it's been there.

B. What do you think is on it.

Happy guessing for you. Happy toilet scrubbing for me.

Denial.

I am in serious denial that it is Monday, and in denial of all that means. The laundry that is piled high, the chores that need starting, the meals that need planning, the yard work that is waiting, the home work that needs attention.

Instead I have spent the last 2 hours fiddle farting on the computer organizing 1 years worth of pictures.... which ones need printing, which ones to toss. I'm also in denial over how VERY far behind I am in my scrap booking. Like 8 years. For real. Bad... bad...bad!

This post is going to contain one major butt load of pictures. A few from our zoo trip over spring break, a few of the carnival over the same vacation. Nothing too special, but it was fun, to say the least. Can I say I love my kids. Every thing about them. Spending time with them. Playing with them.

Is any one else counting down the days until Summer Vacation starts? We so are.

Happy Monday-ing.... I suppose I'll get my head out of the clouds now, and get to work.

Not so sweet dreams.

I had a recurring dream when I was growing up. I would dream that I couldn't move. That I was helpless, that I couldn't escape. I would wake, wet from sweat, and would discover all of my many sheets and blankets from my bed wrapped and entwined around my legs. Interesting enough (or maybe not so much) when I moved out of my parent's house and loosened the ties of abuse I had been encircled by for years, my dreams stopped. For the main part. My recurring dream was replaced by night terrors for about a year and a half. At night I would re-live my childhood-prison, but as time passed, so did the terrors.

Remember my poop flinging cat? I'm happy to report he has adjusted quickly and smoothly to his sweet life outdoors... hunting, stalking, rolling in the dirt. My only complaint is now my sole kitty left indoors in lonely, and has decided that she should be my bed-time companion nights. I can't say that I would normally mind, but this little kitty had decided her favorite place to sleep is on top of my ankles at night. Which.I.Hate. I hate, hate, HATE it, because it reminds me of that same feelings of being trapped. I hate my legs feeling constricted. I've woken up the past few mornings feeling irritable and irrational. Blast from the past, if you will.

So, my plan of attack? A swift boot to the kitty at night. So inhumane sounding I know, but the price to pay for my sanity? I think she'll get the hint soon. **hanging my head in shame.... while giggling**

Friends, send sweet dreams my way. Stat.

It's my party.

What do you do when one of your best friends moves away?

a. Cry
b. Feel lonely
c. Throw yourself a pity party
d. All of the above

Um..... Amy..... you REALLY can move back and live with me if you want....

One of these things is not like the others.

Behold my message board. It hangs nicely in the kitchen, right by the front door, where I can't miss it. Hannah is my message writer. She makes me cards, draws me pictures, and she leaves notes around the house. Can you spot it? (Granted it's not that hard, but it is pretty stinkin' cute, if you ask me.)

As a side note:
There is a method to my madness.
1. Capital One Auto payment due.
2. Mail mortgage payment.
3. Mail replacement social security card application.
4. Mail package to Holly.