Guess what? Clutterbutt.

A few weeks ago I misplaced two tacos. No clue where they went. It still haunts me and I won’t rest until I find them.

Tacos poster

I’m not sure when I became a grown woman who loses tacos, but it seems like a step in the wrong direction. Today it’s tacos – tomorrow it’s my wallet, my phone or my children. And Lord knows I would die without that phone.

So I’ve been trying to get my act together. Make some plans. Clear my space. Focus my chi. I don’t really know what any of that means, but I do know that it’s been tough. I am the type of person who needs 6-8 hours of solitude to feel like I can accomplish something, so it’s a real struggle to Get It All Done in the 6-8 minutes of solitude that tend to come with parenthood.

Kids, man. They bring loads of joy but they are also little tornadoes, tearing your plans apart and ripping the tacos right out of your hand.

Step 1 of my Operation: Get Your Sh*t Together offensive has been to cut clutter and organize my house. Decluttering is both miserable and soothing. In order to cull through your mess, you first have to make an even bigger mess. Heaven forbid if you need to stop midway through – you might as well just burn your house down and start over.

On the upside, weeding through piles of things lets you rediscover lost gems and relive fond memories. For instance, this failed attempt to create a time capsule with my child circa 2013:

I got this Q&A from Pinterest. I don't know why I bother.

I got this idea from Pinterest. I don’t know why I bother.

Kids are fun. I saved this in her baby book.

I also found this old gal in my underwear drawer.

Spanx are so cuddly.

At least someone is enjoying the Spanx.

Poor thing has been swimming in a sea of old maternity briefs and matchless socks for a year. There are two kinds of people in this world – those who throw out a single sock when its mate disappears, and those who hold on to that sock, holding out hope that there will be a reunion.

And then there are those of us who turn old abandoned socks into doll-sized ski masks.

I should probably be in therapy.

I should probably be in therapy.

I’m not done with the clutter cutting, but I’m making progress. Next up is my closet. I don’t touch 95% of the clothes in there and have been contemplating the best way to cut the excess, other than lighting a match, and then I stumbled on this blog post. It describes my situation to a t(shirt). Ha I love puns don’t judge.

The gist is that you create what trendy fashion people call a ‘capsule wardrobe,’ which is a mini collection of staples that you wear regularly and can mix, but you axe everything else. Errything. This is now my mission. I essentially do it already by wearing the same three shirts each week, I just didn’t have a cool name for it.

I genuinely hope that clearing the spaces around me will help clear my brain so I can focus more and do some things I’ve been failing to do like write, read, exercise, invent something, cut my toenails, mow the lawn, learn to juggle, play the oboe, organize a flash mob…or honestly if I can just find those damn tacos I’d be happy.

Maybe don’t buy a minivan the same month you turn 40

So far life in the middle ages is going OK. Not the Middle Ages. Just the middle ages. As in, my 40s. My apologies to anyone who was hoping for a summary of life during the Medieval period. 

As the title of this post suggests, I celebrated turning the Big 4-0 by purchasing a minivan. In hindsight perhaps I should have waited a few months. When you are already grappling with the reality that you are Halfway To Death, it would probably be better for your psyche to buy yourself stylish shoes or a saucy jacket vs. a boat on wheels.

But alas it’s too late now. I am officially the proud owner of the most uncool car on the planet, and not surprisingly, I like it. It’s big, but so am I. It has power doors, which I deeply appreciate as a lazy person. It fits a buttload of people, and I have a buttload of friends.

Ok fine, that last part is a lie. I use the extra seats to drive around a buttload of kids who scream too much and leave a trail of crumbs and filth in their wake. But whatever. As my neighbor said, it’s only for a season. Someday these screaming banshees will be able to drive themselves and I can buy a new Mercedes with leather interior, gold-plated hubcaps and a crystal chandelier.

Until then, you will find me tearing around town in my used Dodge Caravan striking fear into the heart of every parent in the school pickup zone when I attempt to parallel park. COMING THROUGH EXCUSE ME PLEASE AM I IN REVERSE? WATCH YOUR TOES OOPS SO SORRY.

It’s not easy being that driver, but somebody has to do it.

Minivantastic

2015, baby

Whoo boy I ended 2014 with a bust. I crashed and burned so hard on my NaBloPoMo effort which seemingly set things into a tailspin through the end of the year (I say this to justify if/when I never do it again).

December overwhelmed me. It chewed me up and spit me out. I did not have the fortitude to withstand a month of holiday parties, end-of-year activities, gift-buying, illness, traveling, trying to bake with my children, and more illness. I just managed to take my tree down today, January 8th, before its dry crusty branches spontaneously combusted in my living room.

But alas today I finally feel like I might be returning to normal. I managed to declutter my kitchen and I’m not going to lie – that might be my favorite accomplishment of the past 60 days. It’s an odd and alarming stage of life when you get serious joy out of things like clean counter tops.

Perhaps not unrelated to this development, tomorrow I turn 40. I can’t decide if I care or not. I didn’t think much of it, but then all of a sudden I did. Am I really 40? Is that possible? Should someone double check the math on this? It’s a mind game.

I’m just going to baby step it into this new decade and try not to overthink it. I have some very simple goals for the year ahead including to get more sleep, buy new socks and underwear, and remember to set the coffee pot to auto-brew each night so I can awaken to the smell and anticipation of fresh coffee each morning. The bar is low around here but I need some easy wins. Also I’d like to eat more pancakes made by Mr. Martha.

snowman pancake

 

Happy 2015!

The price of Pinterest perfection

My husband rose to the challenge today and created this holiday masterpiece.

turkey pancake

My kids loved it and at this point he has a pancake portfolio that could land him a guest spot on Martha Stewart. Or at least a temp gig at IHOP.

But there is a dark side to this type of picture perfect cooking, and I feel the need to shed light on it. This type of artistry takes time. There is planning. Sketching. Fruit slicing. For the love of breakfast pastries, I think the man had to julienne some carrots to make those turkey legs.

My children and I were beyond hungry by the time those cakes were done. My daughter shoveled that cake into her mouth so fast she almost choked. Know that for every beautiful recipe creation you see on Pinterest, behind the scenes there are famished families desperate to eat that damn food. Ask yourself – is it worth it? Or should I order them a pizza while they wait?

Friday fun for everyone

What a week! Here are some things I liked about it:

This holiday gift guide, which has gifts that give back to the women who made each item, who are all survivors of abuse, conflict or disease.

This sweet and funny story, which hits close to home as someone who is often telling my oldest child to ‘hurry up.’ (I’m working on it.)

Another round of celebrities reading mean tweets on Jimmy Kimmel, which never fails to make me chuckle

This post about the unquenchable thirst of kids these days, which I swear I was just thinking about last week as I was washing my children’s 472 water bottles.

This great post by Wendi Aarons about how to write a funny post.

I also read Amy Poehler’s new book on the plane last weekend and I loved it. She can do no wrong.

Happy weekend!

Adventures in sci-fi, part one (Trilogy #2, Series #4, Book #3.2)

The friend who convinced me to do NaBloPoMo is currently writing her second science fiction novel. When I went MIA last the weekend she assumed I had thrown in the towel on NaBloPoMo, so she generously sent me a few post ideas, and she even wrote me a guest post in an attempt to resuscitate me.

Talk about friendship. Or maybe she just felt guilty for roping me into this. But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. She also said it was a good way to procrastinate writing her book.

As it turned out I had already written a post on the plane so I didn’t need to use hers. But now here I sit four days later, with no post in my brain and I can no longer use hers because it was only applicable to my first day back in the saddle.

So I’ll borrow her procrastination tactic and try my hand at science fiction writing instead. Here goes:

Marstark was traveling through time when he realized he had forgotten his laser sword back on planet Arfdrart during his battle with the fishling king, Wanooknen.

“Oh snardbart! I better use my zoinkstaffin to hit warp speed and get back there before the death swell hits land.” 

He shot some fire out of his fingertips to re-start the blaster engine, and then shot ice out of his toes to prevent it from overheating. Then a little more fire. Just a hair more ice. Fire. Ice. Fire. Ice. 

Marstark then combed his beard, tucked his tail into his leather pants and snapped himself into his Graco* 5-point harness car seat. Re-entry was going to be rough.  

———-

* Shameless attempt at a big brand sci-fi sponsorship. Pretty sure I nailed the demographics on this one. Graco – have your people call my people and we’ll talk.

Adventures in food blogging, part deux

When I was away last weekend my husband took the opportunity to step up his pancaking skills and debut the next animal in his series. Behold, the bull:

Bull pancake

Honestly I worry he might be peaking too soon. Where do you go from here? Surely a pig or cat would just feel like child’s play at this point. If you are going to showboat like this then you need to be prepared for the consequences. The children now have very high cake expectations, and I think I speak for the entire internet when I say, Show Me The Manatee.

Also, clearly weekend breakfasts are in good hands around here so I see no reason why I should not be able to sleep in. Wake me when there is an edible marine mammal or forest creature on my plate. Extra syrup, please.