The Hostess

Well, I've survived Thanksgiving.  I've decided that I am not a good hostess.  I make a MUCH better guest.  I enjoy having people in my home and would probably enjoy it more if my home were bigger and had more space for people to spread out.  But that's not an option at the moment, so this year I was faced with the inevitable: hosting Thanksgiving dinner in our tight quarters.  Even though Planet Pink is always bustling with activity, I'm typically able to mostly stay on top of it.  But add 3 extra adults and another bouncing pink baby and well, you've got Your Majesty running in circles.  

I've washed more dishes in the last 24 hours than I probably did the entire week prior.  I wouldn't be sad if I never had to peel another potato again.  Ever.  I fought to keep the Princesses on some sort of a routine.  The laundry piled up so high that today (the day after) I have literally done 5 loads of it and probably have another 5 to go.  

Certainly this aftermath can take the joy out of any holiday celebration.  It's sorta hard to feel thankful for much of anything when you're vacuuming, washing, sweeping, washing, etc. etc. etc.  But then those Princesses bring it all back around.   Princess #1 asks me to tell her Daddy how thankful she is that he works so hard for us, when he gets home from working Black Friday.  Princess #2 tells me in her sweet voice that she wants to be my friend forever because she loves me so much.  And Princess #3 comes running so willing to just plant one on me at any given second.  And that somehow makes it all worth it.  The mind-numbing exhaustion, the clutter, the pruny dishwater hands.  I'd do it all again in a heart beat.  And I do, every day.

I'm baaaaaaaaack!

Did ya miss me?  Time flies when you're having fun, huh?

My sincerest apologies for dropping my pee-on-a-stick bomb and then dropping the blog altogether.  I kinda lost my mo-jo.  But I'm feeling the inspiration again, so I thought I'd dust off the writing side of my brain and start exercising it again.

So, let me kick off my return with this little interchange I had with Princess #2 this morning:  I was getting ready for the day in the bathroom, drying my hair, when Princess #2 came running in with a very concerned look on her face.  I stopped the hair dryer and asked her what the problem was.  VERY seriously she asked me if we had a "converner box".  Appropriately confused by this question, I asked her to repeat herself.  She asked again, very slowly and enunciating every syllable as though I were a small child, if we had a "converner box".  Still not understanding I asked her why she wanted to know?  And she replied that it was very important that we have a "converner box" or our TV was not going to work anymore.  

Ah, thank you PBS for making sure my children are properly prepared for the digital transition that is to take place this February.  

The planet has been rocked...

and it came in the form of a little + that appeared on a little stick.  Ah yes.  Now how did that happen?  haha.

Apparently God feels we're decent enough parents to bless us with one more.  I just hope we're up to the task...

Now the wait begins to see if the planet pink is going to be infused with a little blue...

Sucker

Alright, I'll be straight up with you:  I'm a total softie with my babies.  I mean, not when it's *REALLY* important of course, but in any average sort of situation, I'm constantly fighting with myself over whether or not it's really worth it to hold my ground.

So, today I realized that Princess #2, at the tender age of 3, has TOTALLY caught on to this and has learned to work the system.  I've been battling a cold/sinus crap for the last week.  Princess #3 started it and of course, I had to catch it from her.  I've been watching the other 2 girls like a hawk, waiting for their noses to start running or for a fever to hit.  So far, so good.  We were eating dinner around the table and catching up on the day.  Princess #2 scarfed down her helping of peas, but was being quite hesitant about actually ingesting any of the main meal - Chicken Fettucine Alfredo.  She started saying she was "so tired" and was laying her head on the table.  Concerned about her, I encouraged hubby to help her eat her food while I started on the dishes.  He coaxed her to take a bite, but just barely.  I finished the dishes and decided it was time I stepped in.

I tried to get Princess #2 to take a few more bites before her strange behavior convinced me to carry her away from the table and hold her on the couch.  She wrapped her arms around me and told me how sleepy she was.  Her head, which was laying on my shoulder, was heavy and her arms were droopy.  I was getting a little concerned.  Perhaps I'm a little bit of a hypochondriac when it comes to her (she had a febrile seizure last October), but I began to panic a little inside.  I lifted her head and tried to get her to look at me.  Her eyes were heavy and she would barely lift her head.  That's when I called hubby into the living room to get his opinion.

He looked at her, then at me and rolled his eyes.  I told him I really didn't think she was faking.  I mean, I know my baby right?  And she's only 3.  It's not like she could be *that* cunning.  Hubby, in his infinite wisdom, decided to test her.  He asked her if she was still hungry.  She lifted her head just a little and nodded.  Then he asked her what she wanted to eat.  Instantly she popped up from my lap and bounced into the kitchen proclaiming "let me show you!" as she headed for the refrigerator.  Hmmmm.... so much for being SO TIRED.   She concluded the evening with no signs of her previous ailment and thoroughly enjoyed her apple for dinner.  Oh yeah, I'm not going to live this one down for a LONG time.

The Perfect Homemaker

Ugh, why do I just not feel like blogging lately?  I'm in less of a funk these days, but still not 100%.  My parents are visiting right now, which is good and bad at the same time.  I love my mom and dad.  I have a great relationship with them.  But I am very very different from my mother, and in alot of ways I feel very inadequate when I'm around her.  

She's "SUPER housewife".  You know, the kind that has the clean dishes emptied from the dishwasher before they've stopped steaming from the heat.  The kind that only has about a days worth of dirty laundry sitting in the laundry baskets at any given moment.  The kind that plans meals way in advance and always has a pantry full of food.  Seriously, I used to make fun of her because before she could leave the house she had to make sure the cushions on the couch were straight.  Contrast that with me - who's lucky if I remembered to turn the dishwasher on before going to bed.  Who's seriously lucky if I can go a week without the laundry monster taking over my house.  The kind who waits until about 5:30 to worry about what to eat and then opens up the empty pantry and announces it's cereal for dinner night!  And couch cushions?  They make GREAT trampolines on the floor for the Princesses.

Now, on most days, I'm very comfortable with my housekeeping skills.  No, my house is not spotless, there will always be a toy underfoot.  Often there are dirty dishes sitting in the sink.  And there is ALWAYS laundry to be done.  But for the most part, no one complains and I feel like I'm doing my best.  But when my mom comes to visit...  I dunno.  I know she's just trying to help.  But the first thing she does is inspect my refrigerator and pantry and make out a shopping list.  Then she tackles the laundry.  And it's not at all uncommon for her to begin reorganizing my tupperware drawer or my linen closet, just for kicks. 

Why does this make me feel so much like a failure as a homemaker?  I mean, I know my reality.   I have 3 small children.  I work part-time outside the home.   My husband is not a neat-freak and thus I have no pressure to keep a perfect house.  I don't need to hold myself to such high standards.  I am not my mom.  And I really don't think that my mom does these things to make me feel badly.  She's really doing it out of the goodness of her heart and because it's her gift.  I know I need to just get over myself.  Stop feeling sorry for myself.  Let my mom love on me this way and stop taking it so personally.