Anyway, back to Patience. I was at Hobby Lobby yesterday (scrapbooking supplies were 40% off!!!) and the whole time I was in there, they kept calling people to come check. They had almost every line in there open and they were all several people deep. A new checker came up and I got in her line, thinking it would be the fastest. The line I WAS in, ran through two people that had been behind me, before it was finally my turn.

The ladies in front of me were taking flipping forever. When she whipped out a checkbook, I silently cursed her. When she waited until the cashier gave her the total before even starting  to fill it out, I mentally squished her head by blinking hard. Then her daughter had the cashier helping her looking up something online on her smartphone. REALLY?! There are 47 people in line, for Pete’s sake! JUST WRITE THE CHECK! And she was the slooooowest check writer ever, too.

FINALLY, she tore it off, handed it to the girl, and got her receipt. THEN she offered me a 40% coupon that she didn’t use. She saved me $6.50. And I silently plotting her death the whole time. I felt a little bad, and mentally “un-cursed” her.

The universe was trying to teach me patient pays off.

It holds everything I need for all the scrapbooking I never do: cardboard stencils I’ve never used, patterned tissue paper I got when I bought something breakable at the Dollar Tree (that I have since gotten rid of, I imagine) that I have never used, stickers, decals, cute little papery leaves, gemstones, pipecleaners (you never know when you are going to need a fuzzy pipecleaner) that are now called “chenille stems” because that makes them so much more glamourous, patterned papers, glue, glue dots (A-MAZing invention), markers, mapcolors from my freshman year in high school (yup, we had to color), crayons from before my freshman year in high school and unopened scrapbooking kits (thanks, Mom! I really DO plan on using them!)

So, I threw away the cardboard stencils, tissue paper (I mean really, why did I save these?), paper cutouts of flowers and whatnot, some sports themed wrapping paper and file folders that held all this stuff. Okay, I didn’t throw away the file folders. I just moved them to the back room.

Also in my scrapbooking cabinet is everything “Riley”. Pictures, artwork, mementoes, all waiting to be glued onto fancy paper and labeled for future rememberings. While it would be nice to say, “I own every piece of artwork he’s ever made!” it is not feasible. I filled up a binder from his first 5 months at school. I had to whittle it down. Think how much I would have after 18 years? Report cards, tests graded with all A+’s (a mother expects no less!), school permission slips, blue ribbons from all the science fairs he wins, football trophies (according to his father)…

Along with all these mementoes are little reports on half slips of paper that he gets at school every day. It tells me how much of each meal and snack he ate, how his nap went, what his morning and afternoon activities were, diaper changes (for the babies) and other misc pertinent info. I look forward to being handed these and I treasure the little insights into my son’s day. It’s a peek into my son’s life away from me. I have kept every single one of these. He’s been in daycare for almost a year now. One everyday. That’s a LOT of slips. About a 3 inch high stack. Again, not feasible for me to save everyone. Though I, as his mother, might care very much that on 2/21/11 he made a heart owl, but it’s not something I need to remember and hang on to for the rest of my life.

So I threw away all but a handful of these. I kept my favorites. A few are listed below.

6/21/11 He bit his friend Desmond today on the face.

6/23/11 He bit Brody today on the face.

8/18/11 He’s been so ugly to his friends today, esp to Desmond. He kept pushing and hitting him.

11/4/11 Timeout: knocking friends down and the running over them with the lawn mower when they tried to get up.

That last one still makes me bust out laughing. What a little turd. I promise he’s a very sweet kid. He just doesn’t take anybody’s crap. Just like his Mama.

Not changing lanes at a red light so I can be first in line.

Calling someone a moron instead of a jacka$$ when he pulled out in front of me while I was going 45, only to turn 10 yards up.

Not constantly changing lanes, ala Office Space, trying to find the fastest one.

Going the speed limit, in most instances.

Bad driving habits as of late:

Changing lanes at a red light so I can be first in line.

Laying on my horn at said moron mentioned above.

Somewhat constantly changing lanes, ala Office Space, trying to find the fastest one.

Slightly speeding, but no more than five over.

Hey, ya win some, ya loose some. And sometimes you eat that Snickers bar in your desk drawer at 1:30 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon.

6:45 a.m. – Have sensible breakfast of Blueberry Bread, milk and 1/3 of a tangerine. Would have had a whole tangerine, but son was a bit demanding this morning. Will plan to get up 5 minutes earlier tomorrow to deal with early morning version of Riley.

8:35 a.m. – Sensible breakfast has worn off. Snicker bar left over from yesterday’s raid remains in my desk drawer…shouting my name.

9:15 a.m. – Eat rest of tangerine in attempt to silence Snicker bar.

9:25 a.m. – Does not work.

10:59 a.m. – Race to be the first one in line at the cafeteria.

11:15 a.m. – Have a smart lunch of chicken, vegetables and a not-so-smart-but-really-yummy egg roll. Was given an ice cream sandwich by my friend Jim. He must be reading my blog again. He wants me to fail.

1:30 p.m. – Got hungry thinking about what I had for lunch.

6:00 p.m. – Frito pie for supper. Picked lettuce from the garden for a salad, but decided to save it for later.

8:30 p.m. – Brushed my teeth in an effort to not eat anything. Seemed like a good plan at the time.

9:30 p.m. – The munchies hit. Dang. Could really use that salad now. But my teeth are so clean…. Will try to ignore hungry feeling.

10:00 p.m. – Dang.

I never buy candy myself, but nevertheless, it always seems to find its little way into my desk drawer and subsequently, into my chocolate-covered fingers. Perhaps this is because I am constantly picking it up from our communal “dumping spot” at work for things we have cleaned out of our house and are up for grabs. My current contribution to the dumping spot? Cookbooks. About 10 of them. Ha.

My eaten inventory thus far:

2 boxes Nerds (LOVE strawberry)

Mini Twix (not as good as I remember, but now I kinda want another)

Rest of my KSMGoodbar

Mini pack of Reese Pieces (makes me think about my younger-movie-theater-going days

Mini Dark Mr. Goodbar (see? Healthy chocolate!)

My inventory yet to be consumed:

Snickers bar

Mini Butterfinger

Granola bar in mysterious silver packaging that simply states “Granol Bar”

White Mint Ghirardelli Square

One of those Carmel chews with cream in the middle (actually, just popped this one into my mouth. Needs to be moved to category above. Scratch that. I spit it out. Kinda gross.)

I started out the day healthy with some Blueberry Breakfast bread, a couple orange slices, and half a banana. Then at lunch, I got a sensible salad and the two HUGE pieces of pizza that came with it (Pizza and Salad Bar Day at work). But I only ate one! So proud! Then a friend and I were talking about ice cream and he came back with three Snickers Ice Cream Bars. 300 calories each. I had to eat it; I didn’t want him to feel bad. AND, if I had saved this in my desk drawer for later, it would have melted. So SEE? I had to eat it. For the good of humanity.

Let’s hope I can do better with supper. I bought this handy little tray with measured out portion sizes for easy control. You put it on top of your plate, then fill the little cups up. But I’ve only used it once. Clearly, that was $15 well spent. I’m going to try and start using it for reals.

After a semi-sensible breakfast, I write this to you. Oh wait, Jordan just made some chocolate chip bar things. Gotta go.

I got rid of cookbooks I bought before I even had a license, 2 of my 4 pie plates (since I rarely cook 4 pies at once, ha), and a glass Eiffel Tower filled with those weird veges that you aren’t supposed to eat, but only look at. I glued a bunch of stuff in my “to be glued” pile and taped a bunch of stuff in my “to be taped” pile, which of course went right back into that pile after I handed it over to Riley. 

I found a stack of paper plates and plastic cups that I have had for who knows how long, so we are at least happy to not have to do dishes for a week or so. I kept about 20 candles that are half burnt, lightbulbs I don’t remember buying but I think will fit in a chandalier and I though I debated it, I still decided to keep my Quesadilla maker I wrote about in my two week trial of kitchen gadgets. You never know.

Some things I did get rid of: 1) bottles/nipples for nursing puppies, because really, how often do I do that? 2) two orange bottle openers from our tax guy 3) 8 of about 20 measuring spoons 4) a collection of colored glass wine glasses that started out around a total of 10, but thanks to my husband, has now dwindled down to a measly 4 5) 8 ice trays (why does one need 12+ ?) 6) part of a motor from a vintage ice cream maker ( I had to work on it and there was this piece with all this copper I thought I’d take and sell…) and 7) 4 cuzzies (sp?) for beer we don’t drink. And yes, that is a little wooden man with straw hair playing the drums on the back of the table. Riley keeps breaking his drumsticks off and I keep gluing them back on. NO MORE!

I did find all of these little cat balls under my Baker’s Rack, which Gollum was happy to see returned to him. Riley has since thrown them to (and at) the cat, so I think every room of my house can now claim 3 each.

I rearranged and organized the pantry and dishes cabinets, and now Jordan can’t find anything. What a fun little game…

Meanwhile, I write this in a Benadryl stupor, which I took last night in a moment of weakness and a last ditch effort to get any relief and more than an hour and a half of sleep  from my poison ivy.

I would rather have a broken leg for 6 weeks than poison ivy for one.

I would rather have the flu for a month, and live in my pajamas on the couch.

I would rather not eat for an entire week, and you KNOW how I love to eat.

I would rather give birth 3 times, back to back.

This sucks. Off to scratch…

Last night, my house was the epicenter of a Hurricane Riley Melt-Down like no other. Everything was pissing him off. His supper choices (all of which he liked), the cat scratching on his 4 foot cardboard Mater (that might make me mad too), the fact the we turned his movie off (heaven forbid!), having to brush his teeth (sooo terrible!), being denied another glass of juice/water (I don’t want to have to get up for him to pee at 2a.m.), his bedtime (not soon enough), and his pajama options (which were thrown all over his floor).

I kept my cool. Not once did I yell at him or spank him (not that I do spank him all that often anyway) all the while he is throwing himself on the ground, screaming “no” and “leave me alone!” (that’s a new one) and throwing his hands at us and running the opposite direction. My child does NOT act like this. Not ever. It was like a meaner, grumpier, turd of a little kid had temporarily inhabited Riley’s being. I had to pick his entire body up and lower it thrashing about into his bed, where, or course, he wouldn’t stay. Since Jordan has taught him he can get out of his bed in the mornings, he has quickly translated this into not having to stay in it at night either.

I heard the door knob to his bedroom turn for the 3rd time after we put him to bed. I glanced into the hallway but didn’t see him. I figure it must have been something else. Twenty minutes later, I see his Mater box in the living room moving. I count the cats. One, two, three. All accounted for. It’s got to be Riley.

Yup, sure enough, he has snuck out of his room and hidden in the Mater. His little eyes were peering at us from under the cover of Mater’s hood. We were putting up laundry in the bedroom, so if he had played his cards right, he might have just been able to stay there all night.

I walked him back to bed, threatened a spanking if he got up again, and went to bed smiling at his goofiness. He slept all night until Jordan woke him up at 8:15 this morning.

So… I was patient with him all night, talked softly, was encouraging… all the while he was a disaster with a capital D. But today after school, he was an angel. Didn’t argue about anything. Was good at WalMart. Very talkative and friendly. Ate his supper. Brushed his teeth without complaint. Picked up his toys the first (okay, second) time I asked him. Not one temper tantrum, even when I gave him a time out for playing in the cat water.

See what good I have done? My patience has paid off. I am a Zen master of parenting.

Wait, did I just hear the door knob turn?

My “dresser nicer for work” has been put on hold a little due to my poison ivy covered legs. I am no Uma Thurman, that’s for sure. Much more red than green. So guess what I wore to work yesterday? Yup, my comfy-cargo-type-elastic-waistband-brown pants. I can’t stand to have anything touching my legs and these are pretty baggy. I thought about wearing them today too, but thought people might start to wonder if I owned anything else, or ever washed them, or ever even bathed.

I can’t do too much with my raw legs, so while Riley was playing yesterday, I sat on the couch with my Nook to try and finish The Help for my book club meeting. He was happy for a few minutes, then told me “No do this, Mama,” and closed my Nook case so I couldn’t read. Then I realized that this is one of those times I need to play with him and do nothing else.

So I got out his Lincoln Logs. I am becoming quite the architect. It comes with instructions for one house/barn and then just picture each for two others. I am proud to say I have built all three. And I am becoming quite fond of the little log cabin design. The whole time I am building, he is standing by with a truck to mow it down as soon as I put the last board into place. He takes great pleasure in destroying the things we build him.

He did this a few days ago, too. We went outside to play and silly me thought I could read a book while he played on the slide. “No do that, Mama.” He closed my Nook up, took it away and told me to go slide, head-first. Granted, my childbirthing hips are a little too wide to go down the slide but I manage. He finds it hilarious. And that’s what it’s all about, right? I can always read when I retire… At age 78, because there is no Social Security left and my mutual funds have tanked. But whatever. My kid loves me and loves to play with me, so that’s all that matter. Tonight, maybe we can build a Lincoln Log garage for his cars. And then knock it down with a tractor and scatter the tiny little pieces all over the living room.

Saturday night, my leg started itching. This morning, my legs (and one arm) are covered and big, red, raw, itchy patches. Nothing seemed to help. I tried two creams, which only helped as long as I was scratching rubbing them on. I kept thinking about that Friends episode where Phoebe and Charlie Sheen get the chickpox and Monica tapes oven mitts to their hands so they won’t scratch. But that rip them off with their teeth and scratch each other in this funny, awkward scene. I felt like that. Scratching it felt so good. Until you stopped. Ahhhhh!

I went home from work early, because I couldn’t think of anything else. I looked up some home remedies and decided on an oatmeal paste. Yum. I made a cup, stirring in 2 tbsp baking soda and tasted it to make sure it wasn’t too hot for my skin. It. Was. Disgusting. Really salty.

So Jordan came home to find me lying on the bed, legs splayed out over three towels, covered in gooey oatmeal. He said it looked like I was laying in puke. Which it kind of did. The dog was real interested. But it helped. I later took an apple cider vinegar bath (boy, do I smell pretty now!) and then dabbed some tea tree oil all over it. Surprisingly, I’m not trying to claw my legs to death like I was earlier. Improvement!

But before it set in, I was able to do some serious cleaning out of my bedroom Sunday.

My mom bought me a jewelry bag holder thing for Christmas (which I absolutely LOVE!), so instead of having my jewelry still in little boxes, all crammed into an Eiffel Tower tin, they are neatly gathered in my hanging bag. It now hangs out of the way in my closet. But I didn’t stop there. I cleaned out my jewelry box and crap that sits on top of the dresser, so you can see the top of the dresser now.

The five+ things I got rid of. I counted the clothes as separate items, but lumps them into groups.

1) 7 pairs of pants my naive hidden skinny self has given up on ever fitting into again. I mean, I had a size 4! Who are we kidding, here? Never gonna happen. 2) 3 pairs of shorts. Can’t even get one thing into them now. I can’t believe they ever fit. My childbirthing hips are my enemy now. 3) 4 shirts. I can’t even remember what they are now, so I must not be missing them. 4)  2 Sweaters that my sister will inherit. 5) 1 dress. Again, I will never fit into that sexy little black spaghetti strap number again. Not with these thighs. 6) 4 skirts. Scratch that. 3 skirts. I put one back in a moment where my hopeful skinny self spoke up. She’s very convincing. 7) Some random crap from my makeup tray: nail files, eye shadows… 8) And one more item from the bathroom -some old baby wash clothes.

I also organized my sock drawer (I KNOW!… but it will never stay that way) and my lingerie chest, and a little of the closet.

I was hoping to start running again today, but I didn’t figure sweat from running and my poison ivy would mix well. There’s always tomorrow. I am very hopeful with my tea tree oil!

I think I am considered an adult now (the jury’s still out) and I think my job is considered professional (say it’s not so!), but I dress like I’m going shopping at Wal-Mart. Well, maybe not zebra print spandex, a torn ACDC halter, and pink lace up boots, but not far from it. My brown-extremely-comfy-elastic-waistband-cargo-type pants certainly aren’t becoming of a “professional”, BUT they are within dress code (and oh so easy to throw on early in the mornings).

I started this “resolution” last September when I spent about $100 at Ross buying nice work clothes. Problem is, they are all nice SUMMER work clothes. Now that it is winter, I want long sleeves. I don’t have too many nice ones, though. But I did get a few cardigan type things for Christmas, so technically I could still wear those same shirts with those.

Today I wore something nicer and a fancy male “higher-up” at work commented that I looked nice. Does my boss always make me dress up, he asked? I said, “nope.” And I got several compliments on what can only be described as a poncho that my mother in law gave me years ago. It’s soft and striped and pretty. Guess it works!

I’ve only got a couple slacks that fit. And by “fit” I mean, when I was 10 pounds lighter. They are tight on my tummy and butt now, which brings us back to my “exercise more” resolution. Eck.

I did get one nice long sleeved shirt during my Ross trip, and a pair of slacks that actually fit, but they need to be ironed. Yup. Bought them in Sept, still haven’t ironed them. They hung in my living room on a cabinet for a month or two, then I got tired of seeing them and moved them to the closet. I don’t iron. I hate it. Ironing’s stupid. I think I have ironed maybe 3 times my entire life. And all of those were probably shirts for Jordan. And once was carpet glue.

I do own an iron. Sort of. It’s a travel iron that my Gran got me as a present when I was going off to college. Yup, it was awhile ago. But we recently used it to glue down the new carpet in the living room, so it’s covered in a sticky orange substance. Don’t want that on my white shirt.

So I went to borrow my Grandma’s. She couldn’t loan me her good one, because she needs it (Really? She doesn’t go anywhere… and she wears the same thing for a week, which is usually sweats…but ok.) So she lets me take her travel iron. It’s from the 70s, easily. It weighs a ton. Is it cast iron? Do I need to heat it in the fire? I’m a little afraid of it. I don’t want to burn or stain my new clothes. Maybe I can rub the glue off of mine.

Or just let the shirt and slacks continue to hang in my closet another 4 months. Yeah… that sounds like a plan.