Category Archives: Mommy

Spring reigns.

We hit a major weather milestone here at the Fun Apartment recently. Blow ye trumpets! We are back on scooters! And the rest of the city is so happy to unzip their poofy jackets that they don’t care about three wheeled terrors on the sidewalk!

See, without the scooters, we are virtual shut ins. I blocked out with alcohol err conveniently forgot the fact that the scooters are three season transportation. They have no snow tires. After the stroller went the way of the dinosaurs, bouncy seats, and things I thought looked good on me in college, the Age of Scooters commenced.

Why, oh why, did no one tell me about the scooters? Suddenly, aboard these wheeled wonders, we got places on time (ok, closer to on time, but Still!) and, more importantly, we got there happy! And exercised! Our springs and summers and falls are efficient and relaxed. (And hardly anybody asked me about the bruises on my shins!)

And then the snow fell again. The scooters went to drydock. We were stuck. The sidewalks were somewhat clear, but they were significantly more narrow. And lined with piles either garbage or ice. With lots of slushy patches and clogged reservoirs of brown sludge deep enough to accommodate an outboard motor at every intersection.

So I found myself dragging the boys up and down these gray brown paths, tugging them by the mitten, (when I could manage to find the mittens). I felt like some sort of large ship towing her loaded rowboats  behind her. It was trudgery.

But now, after a few warm days and one good rain, the whole dirty world is ours again! We have survived! One after school visit to our local (playground, not pub) and everyone’s head is clear and mood is up. We come home happy! We arrive there before nightfall! Trader Joe’s is accessible again! And the best news: two exhausted boys, sleeping away.

See you at home!

See you at home!

But for now, I care not. We can ride. We are out. Spring is here.

(Naturally, just as the spring weather commenced, I found this amazing coat at the salvation army for $8. It is cute enough to make me wish for six more weeks of winter. I will now hide under my desk to dodge all of the snowballs you are flinging at me.)

Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.

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Filed under Mommy, Not cool, The outside world

We don’t make it look easy.

Sometimes, my life feels like a string of unrelated and inexplicable tasks, perplexing projects, and quests for bizarre items, interspersed with the repeated cleanup of the Same. Exact. Things. I put away only hours before.

Like Valentine’s Day. All four of us sat at the kitchen table trying to eat breakfast and assemble super hero valentine lollipops. We needed 44. And we ran out of tape on number 7, thanks to the older son and his tape fetish. His “I’m a fixer!” Phase suddenly became an “I’m a problem!” Phase. The discovery of some double sided tape helped a little, but not much. The man of my dreams wanted me to cut it into two millimeter strips so that it would better affix the tiny masks. I didn’t show him my middle finger, but I did show him the one with the wedding ring, which means “Nope. We’re married, dude. Now start taping,”

After this fun family project, I had a quality four minutes to get dressed, because, you know, a girl likes to look her best, and then get the kids to school. With both of them safely ensconced, I could go on a mad tear through the city in search of toy sharks. Party City 0, pet store 1.

This day also included assembling Lego Star Wars separatist commandos (who the . . .??), caving to demands to put AC/DC’s Thunderstruck on our playlists, pulling an architecture coloring book from thin air, making an origami dinosaur, “helping” to clean up the knocked over cat food, and researching the role gladiators played in the society of Ancient Rome. And in preparing dinner, I spent rather too long trying to make my hard-boiled eggs heart-shaped. This whole process was not overwhelmingly successful, because when I asked my kids what they thought they looked like, my pensive older son looked at them for a long time before he finally guessed “Turtles?”

Sometimes I wonder: why all the effort? We don’t need to eat turtle-shaped eggs. Drug stores do sell valentines. But I guess life needs the exciting moments to drown out the screaming tedium of the repeated daily routine. Even if nobody follows the routine without me reminding them twenty times at exponentially increasing volume.

I guess that’s how we put the fun in the Fun Apartment.

I heart you.

I heart you. Or I turtle you.

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Filed under Home Ec, Mommy, Not cool

Clutter

The magazines I was supposed to read in January are getting a little bossy.  “Lose Your Clutter Now!” they tell me. “Start the New Year Clutter-Free!” “Organize Your Bathroom!”

Really, I feel like the bathroom is the only room I can organize. Perhaps this is helped by the fact that it’s minuscule and I am not super girly, so there are not a lot of products in there. But I do wonder why four people need four different kinds of toothpaste.

But do they need to be so bossy about it? They don’t live here. They don’t know how it is here on the ground.

Ok, I admit, there’s a clutter problem  at the Fun Apartment. But the magazines don’t seem to understand that microapartments are immediately cluttered by the simple proposition of setting down one’s keys or owning possessions. The Fun Apartment is really &%^#ing small. I can clean the place up within the limits of possibility. But then I do something crazy, like get the mail and the whole thing starts all over again.

Also, there never seem to be any kids in the magazines. I mean, even if they have kids, they don’t have real kids. The kind that play with toys. The kind that are a little bit like rock stars at hotels. The kind who consider a day without the lego bins dumped out a day not fully lived.

I might be part of the problem, too. After all, I have a natural inclination to keep stuff I like. And then there’s the Mister, who would prefer that I not mention him in this post, lest the producers of Hoarders be trolling around for material. But really, how many pith helmets does a man need?

Trust me, I’m a believer in the latest home organizing religion: bins. But we’ve run out of shelves for the bins. So the bins just float around like lifeboats for the couch.

More bins! Different bins! Lots more bins! Well, eventually one reaches a point where one believes that this is all just some Container Store shakedown. Also, I haven’t really seen a bin in the shape of a rocking giraffe, or an old typewriter, or a basketball hoop. I think they’re missing an opportunity there.

But the magazines of January make one quite purge-ish (in non-eating disorder and non-Stalinist ways). So we’re condensing the whole Pandora’s Unit of our storage situation. Countless hours of fun, I assure you.

But I might have discovered a solution to keeping the Fun Apartment clutter-free.

I'm sure Mommy will be back any minute now. . . .

I’m sure Mommy will be back any minute now. . . .

But it wouldn’t be fun anymore.

So, Clutter, it looks like you’ll be sticking around a while. Make yourself at home.

But, as one reader suggested, I am going to get rid of the magazines.

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Filed under Living Small, Mistakes I have made, Mommy, Not cool, The outside world