How freaking awesome would it be to have a delete button that worked in real life?! I would LOVE it! Especially in certain situations and with certain people.
If the trouble makers showed up at a family event to cause their trouble--DELETE!
If someone cut me off in traffic--DELETE!
If someone's kids were running amok in the grocery store--DELETE!
If someone left dirty dishes in their room even though they know better--DELETE!
How much less stress would there be in our lives with a marvelous delete button? TONS less. I'm not joking.
When someone tells you how much a wedding venue/caterer is going to cost--DELETE!
When someone sticks their nose in where it doesn't belong--DELETE!
When someone doesn't do what they say they are going to do--DELETE!
When someone tells you one thing and does another---DELETE!
I can feel the excitement over this already! My whole body is relaxing just thinking about it! This could be BIG! I can just imagine life flowing so smoothly.
Especially when someone puts stuff on your front porch and says it's only for a couple of weeks and then, 8 years later, gets around to finally moving it all and you have a conversation like this:
Me: Where, exactly, are you going to put that thing?
Him: Out in the corner of the backyard under the trees. You won't even be able to see it.
Please notice that he had to cut down the trees to fit that thing in there.
It's Monday and time to join Stasha over at The Good Life for
Monday Listicles! Each
week Stasha gives us a theme for our lists. This week, our topic is 10 WAYS MY PARTNER IS AWESOME. Riiight. I decided the best thing to do with this one is just have some fun. Besides, I'm not in a mood to get all mushy and stuff. So I'm putting my own spin on it and I'm going to list the 10 WAYS MY DREAM PARTNER IS AWESOME. (All in fun).
Next week's list will be 10 Things Spring.
All you have to do to join in with this week's list is click on the button!
TEN WAYS MY DREAM PARTNER IS AWESOME:
Never forgets to put the seat down.
Always takes responsibility for his own bad decisions and never blames others.
Never fights dirty.
Always takes care of problems only he knows how to fix when they break instead of waiting until they become too big and too costly.
Never comes inside covered in dirt and sits on the furniture but takes the time to shower first.
Always does what he says he's going to do when he says he's going to do it.
Never fails to listen quietly and respectfully to the opinions of others.
Always finishes what he starts. (Related to always gets started...).
Never leaves the bathroom sink dirty- this includes the soap dish.
Always cleans up after himself because he is organized, neat and tidy.
Am I living in a dream world or what???? LOL
I'm sure there are plenty of the male of the species who have their very own dream list. And I bet I can guess what number one is.
Just having a little fun on a Monday because, if I don't, it's just a Monday. :)
I've read several articles/blog posts about ridding oneself of clutter. They have great ideas/suggestions about how to declutter your life/house/mind---
figure out YOUR time line- either break it down into 10 minute increments over the course of a month or do it all in one day---don't bite off more than you can chew
FINISH what you start regardless of the size of the task
start with just one area- clean it and keep it free from clutter
throw away or donate to charity anything you do not use/need/love
throw away anything that is broken
make a place for everything and make it a habit to put everything in it's place
SORT into 3 boxes- keep, throw away, maybe
Yep. Nothing new and exciting. Nothing I didn't already know or do. But good tips.Except for one thing.
No one tells you how to be a successful declutterer when you live with someone who does not throw anything away because he might need/want it someday or because there just has to be someone, somewhere who can use whatever it is so he'll just keep it until that day arrives. Ha.
What does one do when she's beyond ready to simplify her life but lives with a junk hound and it appears to be a losing battle?
When I throw something away (OF MINE, mind you), the husband either interrogates me as to the validity of my decision or he pulls it right back out of the trash. His idea of cleaning it all up is stacking in a pile or shoving it all behind closed doors.
I wouldn't call him a hoarder because he's still living. I mean, living here. And because there's not a bunch of crap all over the house. Just in his areas. I would, however, call him, I mean call this thing about him, annoying. As hell.
So come on writers of decluttering tips Experienced clearers of space. Pursuers of feng shui. Seekers of empty spaces. Fellow lovers of simplicity...
Women in my life who are a smidgey bit older than me are always telling me all the wonderful things I have to look forward to when menopause finally descends upon me- particularly the part where a lack of sleep is involved. Terrific. One more thing to anticipate that will leave me in a-very-bad-mood-mister due to lack of blissful, uninterrupted sleep. I mention this because I am, of late, sleep deprived. Experts say that a complete sleep cycle lasts from 90 to 120 minutes. Apparently, my family is very aware of that fact because they seem to wake me up at just the right time….just the right time, that is, for me to be wide awake and unable to return to my much coveted slumbers. ONE complete sleep cycle is simply not enough to ignite my mom-is-such-a-kind-and-wonderful-person attitude. On the contrary. If my coveted seven hours is interrupted what they get would make Genghis Khan run for cover- speedy quick.
At night, I tend to leave Hubs asleep on the sofa without awakening him for his own protection for self preservation- - I REALLY NEED TO GET MY SLEEP. Hubs can sleep anywhere anytime. Just coming off a nine hour sleep? No problem. He sits down and falls right back off to sleep. Just coming in from work? Just coming in from outside? Just sitting on the sofa watching a movie? Just HAD a blasted nap? NO FREAKING PROBLEM. AT ALL. And, about 2 minutes into his sleep, he starts snoring. I don’t mean a little snorty snore here and there. I mean the kind of snoring that makes workers in a buzz saw factory with machinery going at warp speed and over 1000 active buzz saws being tested turn and say, “What’s that noise?”
Oh, Hubs is not the only one who likes to live dangerously. Don’t get me wrong on this one. It is completely wonderful when the kids come home. And, when they are here, I want them to have their fun. I want them to enjoy the food I prepare for them. I want them to see their friends who still live here. I want them to sit back and let Mom cater to them (which they have no problem allowing me to do). Blah, blah, blah. But then, at the same time, there are some things about having an empty nest that you just can’t beat. It’s called quiet, peaceful calm. And it disappears the very moment the tornadoes kids burst through walk in the front door. Their first night here this weekend (Thursday), they came in around 3 a.m. speaking in those wonderful whispers that people who might be a bit tipsy tend to speak in (I call it whisper shouting), turn on every light in the house, go in kitchen and make noise like they are short order cooks in a diner in New York City during the busiest lunch they’ve ever worked because they absolutely MUST have food in an attempt to counteract the effects of their alcohol consumption AND, wake their dad. Who comes to bed, lies down and, within those first two minutes….Buzz. Saw. Factory. Of course, Hubs, who is very helpful in this type of situation, says: “They’re only here for a few days and then there will be plenty of time to sleep.” Thank you so much Mister whatsthebigdeal. Easy to say when someone has had twelve hours of sleep.
Everyone was gone by 8:00 p.m. Sunday and the house was back to its three inhabitants: Hubs, Tucker, and myself. Boredom Quiet and calm descended upon us just as quickly as it had left us three days prior. For about 30 minutes. When Hubs fell asleep... and began snoring.
Our darling daughters and BestSonInLawEVER got together this year and bought us a Wii for Christmas. Not JUST a Wii, but a RED Wii--very important as RED is my favorite color. I even like the controls--one is red and the other is white-ish with red buttons...so cool. I was rather stunned at first because, well, that's more like something we would have gotten them when they all lived here at home. As a matter of fact, over the years, they have received Super Nintendo, a Sega, a Nintendo GameCube and a Playstation 2--the latter has moved on with them but not before we had some BIG FUN with it--Dance Dance was a blast and Guitar Hero, although frustrating as all get out (meaning I never got past the beginner level), was great fun as well. We have been having a grand time with the Wii so far. My favorite is tennis. I have yet to win a game, but I am having some kind of BIG FUN with it and so are the girls--and there is NO standing there moving only the controller either, we are moving our entire bodies while we play (can you say 'weight loss'?!?!?). There are, however, just a couple of problems. Well, really just one problem. It's HUBS. You see, the remote he uses has some issues. Which is really odd because he has used BOTHthe red and the white control as do the rest of us. When he plays tennis, the remote will NOT allow him to hit the ball. When he bowls, that darn remote does NOT send the ball in the direction that Hubs 'rolls' it. When he plays baseball, that $%#@ remote will NOT let him hit that ball. When he plays golf... Yep. Those blasted controllers are giving him a fit which then causes Hubs to HAVE a fit. It's like they're out to get him. He has NOT ONCE put together the fact that none of us are having controller issues.
Deanie and Birdie in intense competition
When the girls are playing we hear things like, "Oh CRAP! I didn't mean to do that!" "WTH?! I keep making the ball go out!" "MAN! I keep hitting the freaking net!" And I say pretty much the same things, though my explicatives are a bit stronger...at times. The point here is that we all realize that WE are making the balls/avatars/etc. do what they do by the way we manipulate the controller. Every single time Hubs plays, there is something dreadfully defective with his controller and we simply MUST take it back and get a replacement. This is what we hear when Hubs is playing a game: "What's wrong with this controller?" "Something is wrong with this freaking controller." "THIS #$@% CONTROLLER IS NOT WORKING RIGHT." "What the HELL???" The entire time he's playing the statements get progressively louder and the language gets stronger and, by the time he's lost again before all is said and done he is swishing the controller from side to side and up and down faster than Tucker wags his little tail when I come home and he's thrilled to see me. Even Tucker's behavior changes when Hubs is playing. When the girls and/or I are playing, Tucker likes to bark at us. When Hubs is playing, Tucker is no where to be seen- which makes him way smarter than those of us who stay in the room.
If this is a man thing, then I am seriously considering uninviting my dad, brother and BestSonInLawEVER for any future event EVER (or, at the very least, hide the Wii). If this is a HUBS thing, I wonder how many controllers we will take back before he realizes wherein the real 'defectiveness' lies.
One thing I quickly discovered upon having an empty nest is, just because there are no children here to cater to take care of, the need to nurture does not stop. It's a wonderful gift this nurturing spirit we mothers possess. It is one of the best innate gifts we have been blessed with. It keeps us going when we are exhausted from chasing little devils our precious little ones around; allows knowledge we didn't even know we had to kick in enabling us to handle situations our babes get into; it enables our healing nature when the sweet ones are sick; it guides our disciplinary actions with understanding, fairness and a gentle manner. We may have to let our children go do our best to raise our precious ones to go out into the world, but our need to nurture does not end when the young ones leave us stranded venture out on their own. This stripping of the motherhood stripes almost automatically leads to a huge tidal surge of love and nurturing washing over husbands like a tsunami. Immediate effects? Nurturing nature satisfied. Long term effects? Husbands become SPOILED ROTTEN and can no longer do anything on their own. I, personally, have, because of this blasted evil nurturing spirit, created the proverbial MONSTER. Overnight.
The last 26 years have found every second of my time occupied with the raising of our four daughters. When they were babes they had to have my nurturing care 24/7 at least. Hubs was very good during these years not only with the changing of diapers, but he would also get up, fetch a crying baby, change her and bring her to me for nursing. He was able to get himself up in the mornings for work without disturbing anyone's sleep (and by anyone, I mean mine), get himself dressed, make his own lunch and head out the door with ample time to spare. As the girls grew older and became involved in their various activities, Hubs was there to attend the events or stay with a younger daughter or, really, whatever I needed him to do. And he did it quite well. Oh, I might have had to leave him with instructions, but he followed them and no one was ever hurt or left wanting. Point is, he was quite capable.
Now that our nest is empty, however, Hubs has quickly developed a helpless sort of nature. And, at fault, is my nature to nurture.
Hubs: "Are there any jalapenos?"
Me: "Yes, in the fridge."
Hubs: "Where?"
Me: "On the door." (And, under my breath: "Right where they ALWAYS are because I know you love them and I never let you run out of them you moron wonderful man")
Hubs: "I don't see them." Followed by me going to the fridge, opening the door (very key step when looking for something located in said fridge), securing the jalapenos and handing them to Hubs.
Hubs: "Oh, I didn't see them." (Really? Oh geez...)
Or, this senario:
Picture the bedroom, bed covered in just washeddriedfolded laundry that I haven't put away yet.
Hubs: "Did you do laundry today?"
Me: (holding breath and quickly counting to five MILLION before answering) "Yes, I did."
Hubs: "Did you wash my under armor?"
Me: (in my mind: WTH? Can you NOT see right in front of you freaking face?!) "Yeppers. Sure did."
Hubs: "Where is it?"
Yes, I created that MONSTER. Though I do wonder that, since God gives mothers this nurturing spirit, can He be blamed? (After all, Adam DID blame God for Eve's indiscretion---The woman you put here with me...)
I would NOT under any circumstances ever wish any kind of pain on any of my daughters. But, today, DoodleBug had to have her wisdom teeth taken out and, just for today, I was able to nurture her and Birdie, who isn't sick or anything but came to sit with her sister. I made mashed potatoes and served it to them. I made homemade, triple chocolate milkshakes and served them. I slaved over homemade mom's-heal-all-chicken-noodle-soup and served them. Whatever they needed, I got for them and, when they wanted me to play Wii tennis with Birdie, I did and, it was pure pleasure. AND, not one single time, did I have to speak mentally or do any counting at all.
Being a transplant to the low-country of SC for 31 years is still not long enough to be called a ‘benyeh.’ If I stay until I’m dead I’ll probably go a ‘comeyeh’ since I am, originally, ‘from off’ (which is the upstate but, rules you know). By day I take care of my sweet little granddaughter, Baby M and do all those things I did when I was a SAHM raising four daughters which has translated to, ‘by day, I am exhausted.’ By night I blog, blog, blog, and blog some more or I sleep, depending on my level of exhaustion (do they still make Geritol?). I have a very unhealthy addiction to sweets (nearly any kind will do) and all comfort foods not covered under the ‘sweets’ category. I’m known for speaking my mind so, if you don’t want to know, don’t ask me. I love to find the humor in my empty nest life. I live life hard and smack into that brick wall almost daily because I’ve always had to learn the hard way. Why change now? I’m so glad you’ve come to laugh with me as I do this middle age, empty nest thing like a BOSS!
