The Time Has Come, The Time is Now. Mommy the Maid needs to Start Writing NOW.

I love to write.  I love to blog.  I constantly think about all the awesome things I could blog and even write rough drafts in my head...but that is where the process typically ends.  I try to tell myself that I am just too busy to keep up with all my ideas... but that is a bold-faced lie.  I only work 24 hours a week at the bar and I have been slacking on housework.  My kids are doing so well in school and the once daily meetings have been reduced to the typical mid-year parent/teacher conferences.  I have time to lounge in my bed watching the X-Files or Telenovela with my new Xfinity on Demand.

So why am I not following through?

I want to share my trips to the Denver Zoo, school projects, awesome recipes I have tried, my thoughts on family and love, and even how crazy my cats get when I give them catnip.  What about the time the lizard got loose from the cage?  Or when the baby learned to say "peacock" in the most accidental hilarious way?  I need to finish (or start actually) the letter to the little's step-mom.  All of it swims around in my head.  Why can't I get it to "paper"...okay...screen...

Maybe Facebook has something to do with it.  I can jump on my phone and write a quick sentence to share the cute tidbits of my day.  I can take an entire blog post that is circling in my head and cut it down to 140 characters and an emoji.

Maybe because we only have one computer (for 6 of us) and I am not nearly tech savvy enough to figure out how to use the voice feature on my phone to record some notes.  I can't get the Blogger app to download on my phone, and what if I wanted my own domain again?

I am not looking to blog for money, although I was once VERY successful at it, nor am I looking for any kind of blog fame -it exists- I just want to write and share.

So, what am I going to do about it?  I am not sure I have figured that out beyond the "I should just blog more" idea.  Do I give myself a challenge?  Maybe try to write a certain amount of words or posts and not burn myself out like I did with the Blog-a-Thon from many years ago.  Perhaps challenge myself to one or even *gasp* TWO posts a week.  Maybe I need some kind of accountability...although it saddens me that I need to be held accountable for something I like to do.  Perhaps I can join a few of those blog hops that I love so much.  I could even use writing prompts.

Whatever I decide, I will be writing more.  I won't allow myself to go an entire month between posts again.  I want to record my life and do it with a mixture of pictures and words.

Tuesday Coffee Chat: Beauty and the Past

ETA:  I'm a nidiot hopped up on cold meds.  This week is about gratitude...I'm a moron and will write up my thoughts on that.

For a woman who swipes on some eyeliner and the occasional spritz of body spray, I sure do post a lot about BEAUTY on my blog.  It seems to be a topic popping up everywhere this month...and with Halloween around the corner, perhaps we should be talking about it a lot.  We should be focusing on how beautiful a person's spirit is, not how her rack looks in her "Sexy _______ Costume".  I mean, is there really such thing as a sexy lobster?  And Snow white was not made with garter belts and thongs in mind.  Fight me if you want, but she wasn't.  Just No.

Beauty is the word of the day with Rory Bore's Tuesday Coffee Chat


So what do I have to say about beauty today?  I have a story of my past.

I have naturally dark black hair and light skin.  A little like Snow White.  My mom used to tell me that my hair made me look like her and strangers in the store would tell my mom how beautiful my hair was.

Then I went to school and the kids realized it was different.  Very few kids in my school had darker hair and if they did, they had darker skin.  I was not the little blond suburban white girl.  I was the "freak" with dark hair.  Kids at my school picked on me for a lot of reasons, my hair just happened to  be one of them.

As I started the 5th grade, I bore a striking resemblance to Wynona Ryder.  This was also about the time the kids at school were allowed to watch BeetleJuice.  The mean kids used to yell "BeetlJuice" three times in hopes that I would go away.

That is some mean shit huh?

Anyway, all those years of being told I was ugly and different really wore on me.  I tried to change my appearance, my attitude, and anything else I could to simply fit in.

Needless to say, it never worked.

And not only am I okay with that now, I LOVE it.

After a few decades, I embraced who I was (outside and inside) and realized just how beautiful I am.  My dark hair and light skin is unique and even my butt chin that I used to hate is beautiful.

Tipping the Server

I feel that the custom of tipping your waiter or waitress (or server, whatever you call us that bring you refills of soda and plates of pancakes) is a well known one in our society.  In fact, most people know that a common tip is between 10% and 20% depending on how well the waiter did his job.  

And by his job, I mean HIS job.  His job is not to cook the food,  So if you ordered no tomatoes, don't expect him to dig around in your breakfast skillet to search for tomatoes.  Trust me, you don't want him to stick his hands in your food.  It is his job, however, to bring it back to the kitchen, have it fixed, and notify a manager of the mix-up.  Please don't decide to not tip him because of a kitchen mistake.  You want to save a buck?  Ask the manager about a discount although there are many who won't give it to you.

And if the kitchen is taking FOREVER to get your food (this sucks for all of us), don't blame the server.  Perhaps there was an accident in the kitchen, or maybe the host sat too many tables, or any number of other reasons that your well-done steak is taking more than 3.4 minutes (ok, that's a little snarky).  The point is, did your waitress refill your drinks?  Stop by the table to apologize and give you an update?  If she did, she did her job.  

If you get served crappy food, that is also not the servers fault.  If they fixed the situation for you, they did their job.  Tip them.

I also expected that people who tip knew what a tip was.  It is monetary.  Cash money.  Or credit card tips that turn into cash money.  Thanks for the pen with your business logo on it, but that doesn't pay the mortgage.  Thank you for your awesome note about how fabulous I am.  That doesn't put food in my kid's mouth.  The stickers promoting marijuana are cute, but they don't put gas in my car.  

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the pen.  And I appreciate the note, but...

CASH MONEY!!  It pays the bills.

This is not a tip:

However, this is. 

This adorable little elephant was given to me as a tip on top of a few more dollars.  And it MADE MY DAY.  Cash money and a cute little elephant that danced on the counters and my co- workers shoulders all day.  Awesome sauce.

The tip that was left for me was a nice tip.  The cash money equaled about 18% and the elephant was something to make me smile.  

I plan on passing this along to a server, bartender, or other tipped employee that I want to make smile.  

Tuesday Coffee Chat: Immortality for One Day

I am back for another week of Tuesday Coffee Chat.  Granted, it is almost 11 p.m. on Tuesday, but I really wanted to participate.

Tuesday, October 7th/14 

If you could be immortal for one day; what would you do? 

Immortality for one day.  That would be one hell of a day.  I would use my temporary ability to not die to conquer all my fears.  I mean, how great would it be to no longer fear snakes, airplanes, or underwater caves?  My fear with many things is that I have a chance to die.  I have almost died a few times and you would think that would help me, but as I get older and have more children, the fear multiplies.

When I was 19, my ex-father-in-law took his entire law firm and their spouses to Puerto Vallarta.  It was an amazing trip and I have many memories of the crazy nights and delicious food.  However, what I remember the most is the flight back...and how thankful I am that it landed.  Another flight leaving the same airport did not.  That was supposed to be our flight but we changed the flight to avoid a layover.

Hence, my fear of airplanes started.

I refuse to set foot on one.  The idea of flying makes my palm sweat and neck break out in small hives.  Thinking about my mother  holding my 18-month old daughter and watching news coverage of what she thought was my flight causes my heart to drop into my stomach.

No airplanes.  No thanks.  I will drive with three fighting children across county.  I don't mind.

Never mind that the likely hood of my plane crashing is FAR less than my car crashing...

So if I had an entire day to avoid dying.  I would get on a plane.  I would allow myself to have anxiety and panic attacks.  I would peer out the window and force myself to see how high in the air I am.  What's the harm?  If the plane goes down, I won't die.  I might have a lot of explaining to do, but I won't leave my children motherless.

What would YOU do if you were immortal for one day?

The Luxury of Sleep

The baby didn't sleep very well last night.  She woke up a few times to be fed and a few times to play.  She looks up at me with that big, toothless grin and I have to smile back and say "go back to bed baby."  It made for an interesting day at work...but I realized that sleep is a luxury.  Not just for me and other new parents, but for a LOT of people in this country.  We run ourselves ragged and the first thing we sacrifice for more hours in the day is sleep.

Parents struggle to find time for work, the house, the kids, and the spouse and sometimes that means staying up an hour extra to get the dishes done, lunches packed, or some cuddle time on the couch.  We wake up an hour early to get breakfast ready, find the "lost" shoes, and have a few minutes to fart around on the computer before the kids wake up.  The world just keeps spinning faster everyday.

This morning I woke up after on and off bouts of sleep all night and readied myself for work.  That includes getting myself dressed and presentable, the baby ready for grandma's house, and getting the breast pump and accessories ready for work.  Now, I should have done that last night, but I went to bed early due to exhaustion.  So it needed to be done in the morning.  I also took a few minutes to check my e-mail and Facebook and send a message to my ex-husband regarding my son's homework he was hiding from us.

Tonight I will probably stay up late working on a form for Alexandria, get the pantry re-organized (since all the food is sitting on my kitchen table), and maybe have some cuddle time and a movie with Steven while crocheting Perry's blanket.

I might sacrifice a little bit of sleep before my 5:30 a.m. alarm (if the baby doesn't wake up first) in order to do these things, but when else do I do them?  And I am tired of hearing "sometimes you just have to let some things go and spend time with your family."  Just how far do I let things go?  I let the yard go when the baby was sick and ended up with a fine and court fees for the weeds by my fence.  I let a lot of things go.  I won't even mention how long it has been since I vacuumed...  There are things I can't just let be.

For instance - the pantry.  One of my darling children (or boyfriend...) spilled honey on one of the shelves.  Then someone set a box of cereal on top of it.  I can't let honey and cardboard stick to the shelf and have things keep sticking to it.  Also, we were at a point in our disorganization that it appeared we had tons of food and no room to put new groceries, but in reality, we have nothing to eat.  Please tell me someone else has been there...  It appears that I "let it go" for too long and now I have to spend an hour (when I could be sleeping) to fix it.  

Also- Cloth diapers.  The baby is almost out of diapers.  And we have a 3-5 day stash...whoops.  Those are in the washer as we speak, and fortunately, I can usually fold them while the baby is awake as long as we play peek-a-boo and she gets to play in her bouncer or exersaucer.  But I usually end up folding them (and other laundry) after bed time.

So yes.  Sleep is a luxury that not everyone can afford.  I have things to do that can't be ignored.  Now, I am sure that a little more organization would help me out and I would have more time to do that sleeping that eludes me at times, but I need the time to get organized.  I have been working on organizing key areas of the house (like the pantry, laundry room, and the bedroom closet) but it has been a slow go.  I can't give up too much more sleep or I might fall asleep in the syrup dispenser at work.

What do you give up your sleep for?  Or better yet, what are you "letting go" of to get sleep?

Who I Want to Be When I Grow Old

An elderly man in northern FranceBy Blaikley, Ernest 

Children are asked all the time what they want to be when they grow up.   They excitedly answer with dreams of becoming doctors,  Olympians,  and parents. Their eyes sparkle at the idea of becoming an adult. But we fail to ask them who they want to be.  

As parents we try to nourish and build successful futures for our children.  We help with homework to keep grades up, send them to dance and softball practice, and we show them how to be the best parents they can be through example.  It is through example that we need to show them WHO they want to be.  

I've really been mulling over this subject the last few months. It is all due to an elderly gentleman who regularly dines at the restaurant I work at.  We have a lot of regulars, and we do cater to the senior citizen population, but this man is different.  All through society, and I see it in the restaurant every day, we see the cranky side of our elderly population.  We hear stories all the time of senior citizens complaining or being grumpy with everyone in general.  It is to the point where we expect this behavior.  I won't get into my theory that society's treatment towards the elderly is the cause of much of this stereotypical demeanor-that is a story for another day.  

But this man is different.  Everyday he walks in the door, the entire staff is delighted to see him.  He simply shines.  He is always smiling, joking, and starts up conversations.  He jokes about his slow speed and his failing eyesight.  His stories about his time in the war, his children and grandchildren, and even his doctor visits are all told with smiles and usually some wisdom.  Life has handed this man some difficult cards. In the past year he has fallen a few times, had cancerous spots removed, and is currently suffering dizzy spells.  Yet he smiles through it.  He talks about how grateful he is for everything he has.  And here I am crying and complaining because the rose bushes out front stabbed me through my gloves and left a sliver of thorn in my thumb.  I complain that I don't have the money to get my nails done or that the baby wouldn't sleep more than 2 hours at a time.

I am an asshole.  

I have 4 amazing children that I get to watch grow.  I have a beautiful home that is filled with material items and so many more memories.  I have the money to feed my family healthy meals and still take them out for a fun evening once in a while.  I  have decent health and my children are very healthy.  I have health care plans for them that help me keep them healthy.   I HAVE SO MUCH!  So why do I spend my time complaining about what I don't have?  Why do I think negative thoughts about people in the grocery store and let people who have no business in my life upset me?  WHY?

That is not who I wanted to be.  That is not who I want to be.  

So I decided to change.  

As humans we are always a work in progress and I like to think that I am making huge progress.  I try to concentrate on the positive.  If something upsets me, I try to look inside myself and find out why.  When I find myself judging the lady at the grocery store, I try to figure out what I am insecure about in myself.  

But no is perfect and everyone messes up.

I had a slight set back last week.  My hours at work were cut for a few weeks and I spent days complaining, blaming, and threatening to leave or file partial unemployment.  While I still might consider a new job and file for partial unemployment if the hours continue to be non-existent, I am not going to continue to blame my co-workers or ruin their mood by complaining about it.  I am not going to spend time thinking about all the bad things that could happen to my boss or the building.  Instead, I am going to concentrate on the large projects I want to accomplish around the house that I complain about never having time to complete.  I am going to plan some mommy-baby time and have a picnic with my kids.  Maybe even a night with Steven where we can be adults and not talk about diapers and vomit.  I have this time away from work and I don't want to be the person that can only see the downside.  I don't want to be the person who lets crap like this drag me down.  

This man at my work had 4 cancerous spots taken off his nose and he came in to say hello and have his bacon, eggs, and toast.  And he smiled and told stories about the waiting room and the other Vets he had the privilege of speaking to and reminiscing with.  

THAT is who I want to be.

THAT is who I want my children to be.

And only through example am I able to show them how to be that person.  I am so grateful that this sweet old man came into my life and showed me this.  It is my hope that through example (and the sharing of my story) that other people will see how much sunnier life is when you make it that way.  

How Did I Do It?

Today was one of THOSE days.  Long, exhausting, and still didn't have enough hours in it.  I am not sure how I did all this 6 years ago.  Check out the videos on YouTube for MommytheMaid and you will see that my house was always nice looking even with a toddler under foot.  When Troy was born, my house was still clean, the laundry hampers mostly empty, and the kitchen full of delicious and nutritious dinners and snacks at all times.  Athena was 3 and Troy was a fairly easy baby...as long as he was held and nursed every other hour.  I type this post with Persephone grabbing at my arms and Athena in the shower asking which shampoo to use.  Troy is busy to convince me that playing with his DS is the same as reading a book...and Persephone just loaded her diaper and part of my pant leg.

A day in the life of Mommy the Maid.  

Most days I feel as though I haven't accomplished anything.  I keep my goals small.  Every day I try to get the following things done:

Dishes

One load of laundry (wash, dry, and put away)

One Activity with the children

One thing for myself (even if it is just a sneaky candy bar in my closet while the kids have screen time)

At least a few minutes to spend with Steven

One more small chore around the house 

On days where we have appointments, bills to pay, or errands to run, a lot of these things slip through the cracks.  When Troy was a baby I managed to keep up on the house, run to the store, feed the children homemade food, go to my knitting group, take the kids to a play date, help Alex with her homework, sew for a few hours, and spend time with my husband.  How did I do this?

Today felt productive and I am beat.  However, I only accomplished the following:

6 hour shift at work

Picked up some items for the baby from my friend

grocery shopping

Dinner (mostly frozen but I assuaged my guilt by adding a few veggies and grapes)

Folded a load of laundry and started another

assembled and put away the cloth diapers 

two kids showered and ready for the first day of school tomorrow 

swept the kitchen floor

unloaded the dishwasher

I guess the 6 hour work shift really takes a chunk out of the day.  However, without it, there wouldn't be water or electricity to do the laundry nor food to make for dinner.  So I guess I have done a lot.  I just wish that I could do more.  My house is a mess, dinners are less than nutritious, and I have a citation from the city because I missed some of the weeds on the side of my house.  If I still had that 6 hour chunk in my day, the rest of that list would have been completed before lunch time.  Maybe even some time to work on the scrapbooks.

 Where is this "balance" people speak of?

It doesn't help that both Steven and I work in the restaurant industry and work opposite schedules.  I serve pancakes in the morning and he cooks dinner for hungry golfers.  Persephone demands to be held all the time and nurses often, so when one of us is home with her there isn't a great opportunity to grab the weed whacker and trim the grass and weeds along my fence.  Since it is my neighbors complaining, they shouldn't mind hearing the weed whacker sometime in the middle of the night.

Perhaps it is also the fact that I have more children.  When Troy was a baby, Athena was in preschool.  There wasn't a lot of school related tasks during the day.  Now I have a 1st grader and a 4th grader to help out with homework that is far more complicated than I can handle.  Common Core math anyone?  I also refuse to allow screens to baby sit my kids all day.  Don't get me wrong, I am a typical overly exhausted mom and I do allow my children more screen time that I should, but I still prefer to play games, go on a walk, or bake a cake.  Catering to two kiddos with the baby might be a part of my house remaining a mess.

Another factor is my age.  I know I am only 34, but that is almost a decade older than my "prime" Mommy the Maid years.  Perhaps I require more sleep and my body just doesn't  handle it.  I don't like that excuse.  I really don't I would rather admit that my weight causes me to slow down more than my age.  

I hope that when Persephone gets a little older, it will be easier. Here is to hoping!