Housework: September 2006 Archives

And I cook for CHILDREN part II

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How to Make Spawn, the Image Comics hero.

This is ridiculous. Do not look at this while you are eating anything. Because dang, Gina. I'm a really good cook and an even better baker, but last night, GAH. So:

Begin by making beef stew.

Allow your toddler, who's drawing on the storm door with a blue window marker, to distract you by rubbing his drawing off with his face.

You holler "EWAN. Stop it!" and when he turns around he looks like Baby Smurf.

Spend an inordinate amount of time wiping off The Baby.

Return to the stove, lift the lid to the pot, and scream. Congratulations! You've succeeded in scaring the holy crap out of yourself with your own cooking!

The stew is supposed to have the appearance of burnt flesh. Or George Hamilton. It should be taut. If it is not, go and occupy your time with something because it is no where near burnt enough.

Remind yourself "This is food, this is food" over and over as you set the table, bent on not wasting five dollars of beef.

Laugh inside as your five-year-old starts to cry when he sees what's for dinner.

As you play chicken with your five-year-old to see who will take the first bite, decide that it really is awful and end up making grilled hot ham and cheese sandwiches.

Be sure to tell your mother that you're taking her OUT to eat Saturday for her birthday.

Happy birthday Nana.



(And I Cook For CHILDREN Part 1)

I can tell that we are going to be friends

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It's almost 11 p.m.
I have two baskets of laundry yet to fold, one of them big enough that it could take me in a barfight. It taunts me when I walk past it. There's a load of darks still in the dryer.

My bedroom is a disaster. Clothes are strewn about the bed, which isn't made - my mother is reading this at work and cringing right now because to her, admitting that your bed went unmade all day is akin to confessing that you wear dirty underwear.

My floors are clean, my bathrooms are clean, if only because, as the only girl in my household, I refuse to let the boys completely overtake everything. A cloud of dust follows them like Pig Pen from "Peanuts."

I need to start the dishwasher, but this being the first time I've sat down all day in a non-excremental manner, I AM NOT GETTING UP.

There are wooden alphabet blocks scattered across the living room floor. Chris might step on one of those because he never looks where he's walking. I'm still not getting up, though.

Liam began kindergarten today and we conducted our first K5 lesson.

It was wonderful. Teaching him is like running outside after the first snowfall of the year to your smooth, blank, white yard. There isn't the intrusion of one single footprint, handprint, or dog print.

Because of this, the laundry doesn't matter. That big basket can suck it. The blocks all over the floor barely register in my consciousness.
Liam had his first lesson. And he rocked it.
I rocked it too, I think.

The years of researching, the previous year of preschool practice, all of it geared for this very day were worth it. I know that I had a good day and I know that I have beginner's zeal. I know that there will be hard times, days where I'll want to hang myself with my fancy bedsheets off my deck, days where Liam's attention will crumple, days where he won't catch on so quick, days where he'll be frustrated and I'll be frustrated and he'll shout how he does "not like learning very much at all!" Like last year, when A Beka said I should teach him cursive and I was all "Okie-dokie" because I was stupid. Now I know better. But there will still be those days.

But it's the days like today that help me move on through.

He could teach you, but he'd have to charge

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Remember the yard? Of course you remember the yard. It was no longer a yard; it grew to such a size that is developed its own personality and required proper address, such as The Yard.

Lo, The Yard was mowed:

And it was good:

Yes, our yard is really that green and no, it doesn't have anything at all to do with the latest version of Photoshop.

Mike and Brian even took a poll. We have decided to pay the neighbor kid to mow it when Chris can't, may God have mercy on my dollar-wasting soul. You all got into Chris's good graces with that suggestion.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and pop some Aleve because this new schedule is totally kicking my bass.

He could teach you but he'd have to charge

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Remember the yard? Of course you remember the yard. It was no longer a yard; it grew to such a size that is developed its own personality and required proper address, such as The Yard.

Lo, The Yard was mowed:

And it was good:



Yes, our yard is really that green and no, it doesn't have anything at all to do with the latest version of Photoshop.

Mike and Brian even took a poll. We have decided to pay the neighbor kid to mow it when Chris can't, may God have mercy on my dollar-wasting soul. You all got into Chris's good graces with that suggestion.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and pop some Aleve because this new schedule is totally kicking my bass.

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