The Booger Heard ‘Round the World

Two bloggers. Two different hemispheres. One vision (largely impaired by too much clutter, dirt, and booze). Exposed for all the world to see as Housekeepers of Ill-Repute, Proprietresses of Dubious Maternal Instinct, and Woefully Neglectful Wives.

Here they are, flashing their dirty bits in the first of three simultaneous postings. Click here to read the sister-post. 

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It all started with a booger.

A single booger, which I found stuck to a semi-freshly painted wall in one of my kids’ bedrooms. 

What? Can’t see it? Oh sorry… let me help you with that:

It was the proverbial straw that broke this camel’s back. That wall is painted with Behr Premium Plus paint in Shortgrass Prairie, 760D-5. It is my favorite paint color in the whole house. My husband and I lovingly painted that room as a peace offering to our oldest child for having to switch bedrooms when our third and final baby was a few weeks shy of  becoming a “fire in the hole!” 

I noticed that booger the other day and bitched about it via email to a fellow mother/blogger friend I had recently met through the wonders of the Internet. “Not Drowning Mother” or “NDM” was very empathetic. “Kids are disgusting,” she agreed. Even Australian kids, it turns out. She said “I’ll see your booger and raise you a whole Wall of Mysteries, showcasing a full range of human excretia.” And thus, a plan for a tell-all “simulpost” was hatched.  

However, there was so much material that we decided it wasn’t fair to only focus on the kiddies and their nastiness. We would have to out ourselves as well. And in addition, why stop at only housecleaning (or lack thereof)… we also found loads of common foibles in the areas of child rearing and husband tending. But for simplicity, we decided to break it into three separate simultaneous, intercontinental, photo-filled posts.  

So here is my portion of part one. A photo-essay on the squalor in which I live. Some of it is kid-induced. Most of it is my own damn fault. All of it is bad enough that I actually did apply to be a home on “Oprah’s Clean Up Your Messy House Tour,” and they actually ARE considering me as a potential guest for the show. No lie. But I don’t want to jinx it, so let’s just leave it at that for now. 

Oh, one more thing. You may be wondering why on Earth we would choose to air our dirty laundry like this, and why now? It’s simple, really. A new year begins tomorrow. A new year filled with the promise for change. I am always abuzz with excitement at this time of year! Excited for the potential for living a better life and creating a better life for my family. But I am also a real fan of using one’s talents and treasures to help others. Thus, if I can help even one overwhelmed woman to feel better about her life by comparing herself to the trainwreck that is my home… well, so be it. You are welcome, overwhelmed woman! You are clearly not alone. But you better get on the stick, lady… because I am seriously going to get my shit in order this year. I fucking mean it this time. And once I do, you WILL be alone. So join me, won’t you? Let’s turn over a new leaf (or scrape an old booger off the wall) together. 

And now, more proof that your home is cleaner than mine:

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, my kids fingerpaint with toothpaste to have a ball!"

 

...but why stop at mirrors? Every surface in my home is a canvas for dirty, sticky fingers.

 

Every surface is an equal-opportunity canvas. Yeah, that's a permanent marker. Good times.

 

never a dull moment, or surface...

Alright, let me explain. I was worried that NDM was going to show me up with her Wall of Mysteries, so I went on a fact finding mission to locate anything of equal nastiness. It didn’t take long. Here you see a permanent party favor from Klepto’s not-so-recent bout with the stomach bug. Yes, friends, that is the “popcorn” ceiling in the master bathroom, and the stains you see are the remains of her regurgitated cheeseburger. Beat *that*, NDM! 

 

But they don't only create messes... sometimes they help me clean too. See? No rinsing required.

 

Typical kitchen counter any given day... notice clothes, crafting supplies, dirty dishes, an iPod, food...

 

... the aftermath of letting Bucket Head help me unload the dishwasher. This should really be filed under "Good Parenting" and not "Kids are disgusting."

 

... poor Ernie: drowning in a sea of dog hair and dust bunnies.

 

... my "craft corner" in the basement... only it is too messy to work in, so I have taken over every other horizontal surface in the house. You can see where my kids get it... bad Mommy. Bad, bad Mommy.

 

... underneath this mountain is our dining room table. Who has time to put things away with all this writing and crafting and present wrapping and booger scraping to do?!

Wow. That’s impressive, even for me. Who else do you know with a six year old plaster casting of her breasts and pregnant belly just sitting on the dining room table? I’d love to take credit for the gorgeous Mermaid-Nymph painting on that belly, but I commissioned an incredibly talented artist/sistah/friend to do it. I have BIG plans to turn that sucker into a night-light for Klepto’s room. Yeah, plans that have been in my head for 6 years. Sigh. Which reminds me…

"Iris, telephone! It's Oprah."

“Take a message, dammit. I’m writing.” 

Yeah. Right. Happy New Year, ya’ll! And happy cleaning! 

©2008 The Bearded Iris

At the end of the day…

I am not a structured woman and it irks my husband to no end. He constantly reminds me that if I would just create a few simple daily routines, and stick to them, my day-to-day life would be so much easier and my overall life quality would improve exponentially. I believe him. I do. But my baby-addled-brain just doesn’t work like that. Even with pharmacological support, I cannot seem to stick with most routines. 

A few years ago I was having trouble remembering to take my vitamins everyday. We were discussing this at the dinner table as a family when my then five year old son said, and I am not kidding, “Mommy, too bad they don’t make Oprah Vitamins… because you’d remember to take THAT everyday.” GULP. So much for trying to convince The Gatekeeper that I don’t lounge around watching TV all day.  

So in spite of the fact that I am clearly vitamin and mineral deficient, there is one routine I’ve developed as a busy housewife and mother of three: I always empty out my pants’ pockets at the end of the day. I learned this one the hard way. Must run in my family. My brother has a handmade sign taped above his washing machine that simply states: “Don’t wash your fucking phone!” The note didn’t work, so he added a more dramatic handcrafted visual aid: he nailed three of his waterlogged cell phones to the wall above the washing machine. I asked him to email me a picture of that… I’ll post it if he does. I’ve got five bucks that says there will be a fourth phone nailed to that wall before the end of the year. 

So last night, after an incredibly long day of house cleaning and nekkid toddler wrangling, I took a moment to empty out the two front pockets of my trusty old khakis. Here’s what I found:

Inventory:

• Two cell phones: one working, one broken one (yep, washed it) which is a now toy for the kids
• Two vintage Fisher Price Sesame Street Little People (Ernie and Bert…Bucket Head’s favorites)
• One aqua blue Sharpie marker
• One sharpened pencil
• One random Happy Meal Toy…have no idea what it is.
• One elastic hair band
• One plastic hair clip
• A single green, sour apple “Nerd” candy piece
• One empty candy wrapper (Twizzlers), in three pieces
• Two dirty tissues
• One roll of Scotch Tape
• Some lint

I am fascinated by the quantity and variety of treasures and trash in my pockets last night. “How did all that crap get in your pockets?” you ask. Well, I’ll tell you. A great deal of my day involves walking around the house, perpetually noticing things where they don’t belong, picking them up, and sometimes, returning them to their proper place. I have a great eye for detail – I can instantly notice something out of place. I just don’t always get to finish the cycle and put it where it actually goes. What’s more, many many things in my house don’t really have an official spot to where I can return them. Thus, the piles. The plethora of piles. Piles as far as the eye can see. 

Lest you think I don’t have enough trash receptacles in my house, let me assure you that this is not the case. However, due to the kleptomaniacal tendencies of 4 out of 6 of the occupants of my house, I cannot leave interesting object lying about in trash cans. The kleptos in my world take after their Mama and don’t miss a trick. They watch me like a hawk and as soon as I put something of interest into a trash bin, they pounce:

“MOM! I can’t believe you threw that out! That is my favorite Happy Meal Toy!” (Nature Boy)

“Mama, why did you throw out my school papers? I worked so hard on those worksheets.” (Klepto)

“Mommy. More.” (Bucket Head)

“chomp, chomp, slurp, lick, swallow.” (Devil Dog)

As a result, I often find myself walking around the house, hiding things in my pockets until I can either covertly dispose of them, or put them where they do belong (if such a place exists).  

Perhaps this is the wrong thing to do. Perhaps I am not teaching my children how to pick up after themselves or thoughtfully edit their possessions. I must think about this. I just know that if I do not pick up the things I find on the ground, their fate is sealed. 

Devil Dog likes to chew. And I am very protective of my vintage Little People collection. The bigger kids are getting better at putting their things away, especially when I threaten them.  But 20 month old Bucket Head is the worst offender of the “pick it up, carry it around, and drop it somewhere random” syndrome. It makes it really hard to get things done around here.

Just yesterday, in fact, as part of my Oprah show inspired pledge to “Clean Up My Messy House,” I had gathered a bunch of random piles, placed them on the kitchen table to sort through them, toss the junk, and put away the keepers, when look who I spotted getting all up in my bidness:

 

Nice hat, dude. Clearly he meant business. It didn’t take long for that blue bucket full of random crap to end up like this: 

 

Yes, there was a large container of safety pins in there, just waiting to be put away, that scattered to the four corners of the universe when that bucket fell. Ah, good times.

At least he’s forthcoming in his pursuit of THE STUFF. It is my 6 year old daughter, the one I affectionately refer to as “Klepto,” who worries me the most with this issue. She covets and she steals, and she is very sneaky about it. Yesterday, she noticed that I had confiscated a hideous plastic Barbie vanity set from the playroom… the one she NEVER plays with, the one that was handed down from an older cousin without my consent, the one who’s very existence in my home sends my girl child all the wrong messages about what really matters in this world. I have always hated that thing and thought there was no time like the present to get it OUT of our lives. It was in the garage as of yesterday morning, just one little car ride away from the Goodwill Store. Yes, I was so committed to ridding our home of this made-in-China-monstrosity that I was willing to be called “sir” again by that myopic Goodwill volunteer in order to do it. THAT is dedication. 

So when Klepto noticed the pink plastic vanity and matching stool in the garage, she freaked.

“Mommy! Why are you going to give my makeup desk away?! I love this thing!”

“Honey. You never play with it. It is not useful or beautiful to us and it is taking up valuable space in our home. We are going to donate it to charity so that we can share it with someone less fortunate who will enjoy it and take care of it.” 

“Oh, alright,” she begrudgingly moped. We’ve been talking a lot lately about clutter and the importance of letting go to free up our space and our minds. Clearly she was getting it.  

A little while later I stepped outside to check on the kids playing in the yard, and look what caught my eye: a flash of pink from behind the bushes.

I don’t think she could carry the vanity table/mirror combo by herself, but apparently the chair and detachable jewelry boxes were another story. I would have given anything to see her tiptoeing across the yard, eyes darting back and forth, carefully eluding witnesses as she pilfered those goods. That girl knows what she wants and is not afraid to do whatever it takes to get it. I’m partly horrified by this, and partly impressed. Perhaps a clutter-free home is just not in my cards.  

Oprah Vitamins. How about one of those famous Pomegranate Martinis instead?

© 2008, The Bearded Iris.  

How to Have a Green, Lean, Mean Halloween

Halloween is in the air and there is a growing trend in the land of Über-Mommies to NOT give out candy to Trick-or-Treaters. You know…all the cavity-causing sugar, the Red Dye #40 that ignites kiddies like roman candles, the artificial ingredients, the risk of cross-contamination from nuts and nut products, the razor blades, and so on. I get it.  Just one lap at the local WalMart and I see that there are equal numbers of non-food items for sale as Halloween Treats as there are “fun size” candies. Some popular choices this year are individual sized Play-Doh containers in Halloween colors, plastic spider rings and bracelets, Halloween Pencils, Hannah Montana temporary tattoos for tramps-in-training, and plastic glow-in-the-dark vampire fangs. So sure, we have options. We don’t HAVE to distribute candy to the little ghouls and goblins on Friday night.  

However, in addition to not wanting to buy and distribute candy, there is also a growing trend among some of the more conscientious parents I know to not buy into the whole consumerism thing. Do we really need to spend money right now, with the economy as it is, on CRAPPY PLASTIC TOYS that will just clutter other people’s homes, become a choking hazard to some unsuspecting infant, and possibly poison some poor kid with a lead-infused-made-in-China-petroleum-derived-piece-of-shit that will surely end up NOT decomposing in a landfill once the overwhelmed parent gets around to finally tossing it out after stepping on it three times in her bare feet and screaming “FUCK! FUCK! FUCKITY-FUCK!” in front of her 80 year old in-laws?  (Hypothetically speaking, of course). No. No we don’t.  

I propose another option.  And since it is “Just the Tip Tuesday,” I will gladly share my rockin’ idea with you. I’m a giver, ya’ll. Tell your friends.  

Listen honey, this idea is a winner! I’m so excited to tell you that there is indeed a way to be “green,” economical, practical, and safe this Halloween, that I think I just peed my pants a little! (Note to self: increase the Kegel repetitions).    

It is so simple… you are gonna kick yourself for not thinking of it! Just take 20 minutes and run through your house with a garbage bag. Look for any unappreciated toys, tchotchkes, and unused individually wrapped cleaning, self-care, or food samples that you can recycle as Halloween treats.  Clutter comes in so many forms in my home… how about yours? Especially the kid clutter. Lordy! I’m thinking Happy Meal toys, rogue Legos, anything that came home in a birthday party crap goodie bag, carnival prizes, etc.  Here is a picture of some of the kid clutter I was able to gather in just a few minutes.  

Now this is important: do NOT ask your kids to help you gather, and in fact, don’t even do it while they are around… kids are notoriously clingy to those awful Happy Meal Toys. Also, once you assemble your stash, keep it hidden from the ankle biters or you will open yourself up to a world of whining, fighting, and/or stealing. OH! Lookie here, even as I was taking these pictures, a little hand was sneakin’ in to reclaim some of the booty.  

Hold it right there, bub.

 

Don’t forget to check the pantry! This is a great way to get rid of the individual soy sauce packets cluttering up your drawers. And how about those fancy dip mixes, water crackers, and jams that you got in a holiday gift-basket so long ago and never seem to use?  Ooooh, individually wrapped tea bags! The possibilities are endless.  

But why stop there? Why not freecycle all those extra (unused) toothbrushes and individually wrapped flossers from dentist visits, detergent samples, hair product samples, etc.? Out out out! Share the wealth!

I suggest breaking up the loot into age-appropriate baskets.  You personally might not want to distribute left over pre-vasectomy condoms to kindergarteners. (Although, if they are dressed up like my neighbor’s kid was last year… maybe a condom or two isn’t such a bad idea. Lord have mercy!)

 

 

Likewise, the stoned teenagers who show up without a costume after your porch light is off are not going to appreciate gently-used Shrek and Princess Fiona action figures. They will most certainly dig a free condom or sample size of KY Warming Gel, however.  And hey, if you can avoid having your house egged or TP’d, by all means, be strategic with your treat distribution.

So have at it, ya’ll. Reduce your clutter, save the planet, and hoard your cash this Halloween. Your kids might miss some of those Happy Meal toys and think you are one mean ol’ bitch of a Mommy for a couple of days; and hey, the neighbors might have even more to say about you than they usually do, but think of the serenity you’ll gain eliminating clutter and reducing your carbon footprint? And with the money you’ll save you can hire professional window washers to remove the egg shells and soap! Try it. You’ll be glad you did, or my name isn’t Iris M. Beard. 

© 2008 The Bearded Iris