Confessions of an Absent Washer-Woman

Laundry - the bane of my existence.  


Truly, I hate laundry more than most things.  It is the one chore that can achieve no satisfaction.  It is never complete.  Not really any way.  If you dust a room, it is done; if you vacuum the floor, it ends; if you repaint, you run out of wall; if you wash the dishes, they dry and can be put away.  With laundry, unless you strip everyone naked, IT NEVER ENDS!!!


I despise laundry so much that if I could trade my first finger for laundry always magically being done, I would do it.  And if I didn't, I would have spent so much time weighing the points that it would be a testament itself as to how much I hate laundry.


So last weekend, with dread and a heavy heart, I bundled up all the pending laundry and took it to the laundry mat.  22 loads of laundry, no that is not a typo, 22 loads and 4 & 1/2 hours later I returned with everything clean and dry.  I even sat down and folded it.  It took until the next morning to finish and put it all away, but it did get done!


Here we are a week later - one load is in the washer & one in the dryer.  Other than the clothes that people are wearing it is done.  I'm going to try and stay on top of it this time.  


But have I mentioned....
                                                         .....I hate laundry!!!


kcgnome

It's a Pirate's Life for Me!

The Captain of the Ship Dreamer's Revenge

Boots.  Before he was even born, my son was destined to become a pirate.  Dad started calling him Boots (in reference to 'Boot-Strap Bill') while I was pregnant because I hadn't picked a name yet.   Once he was born with beautifully bright red hair, he became William the Red.  That's not his name of course, just his pirate one.  Though I did almost legally change his name to add William.

Before long, with mom's encouragement, he was wearing pirate bandannas and playing with plastic swords.  Not much has changed.  When I mentioned that I needed to buy him a bed and convert the toddler bed he was using back into a crib for the baby that was on the way, it was only natural for dad to suggest making a pirate ship.  Usually I would laugh it off and start shopping but the sparkle in his eyes stopped me.

And so the ship building began...

After several different drafts and visit's to IKEA's website to change the size of the mattress, the garage was officially converted to a ship yard.  For the next several months (including the cold winter ones) most weekends were spent constructing a ship.  Dad, Mom, Stuart, Nathanael and G.W. did the most work (poor mates!) and my little Jade would come home talking of nothing but "going to the tool store".

The Dreamer's Revenge approached time for her maiden voyage and I began preparations on the pirate bedroom - that meant bring on the paint!  I finally decided to do his room very basic - the ocean, sky and an island.  With working a full time job and four kids it took a lot longer than I expected but we finally finished.  

Then came the decor.  I picked several images that I wanted around his room and painted them to look like they were involved with the room.  For the most part I am happy with them.  The real challenge came in the form of the dresser.

My husband wanted an old ugly dresser to go in Jade's room.  With an impressive pirate ship on it's way that sure wasn't happening!  (You can see the old dresser in the background below).  I started looking online for ways to paint it and came across the cutest dresser.   Unfortunately, I didn't have the cash ($2500) for the dresser, so I painted my own version of it.  

So far, everything has come together beautifully to make Jade's room a place he will love.  The ship isn't quite done yet.  She has one more piece to go on the back to make her complete.  Hopefully dad leaves a way to get it into his room this time as the ship herself had to be taken apart to fit in the doorway (guess I won't be moving any time in the near future!).  

More than just creating a bedroom, I'm very grateful for the time that I was able to spend with my parents working on this project.  Some of my very favorite memories are working in the garage with my dad.  It must be why I love the smell of the wood right after it's been sawed through, the satisfaction of pounding in a nail and even the smell of the stain as I brushed it across the planks of the ship.  Perhaps it explains why I'm happiest when I'm creating or destroying.  

Thank you mum and dad for taking the time to share these moments with my children as well.   It has been so rewarding to have them see the satisfaction of doing something with your hands and following through on an idea.  They can say that they helped to build the pirate ship and I am beyond grateful for the time you spent with them.  

I think that no matter what, the garage will always be one of my favorite rooms in the house.

Aarrgh!!

kcgnome

My happy Pirate!

Cut Me Down to Size

I think from the moment I first took a breath I've been my daddy's girl.  My mum likes to remind me how I would cry until he walked through the front door and then it was all smiles and giggles for my main man.  Though there were times that I swore I hated him, not much has really changed.  He still holds my heart and I turn to him when it's aching.  
My mums a bit of a different story. While dad and I are in sync, my mum and I are trying to talk in different languages.  I tend to me stubborn, willful and defiant, she on the other hand is reserved and quiet.  We are both passionate - just about different things.  Despite our differences, I love her deeply.

She raised me well and I am a better person for having been her daughter.  She had the patience to teach me to read, something that has brought me great enjoyment, and she taught me to sew, cook and to love myself.  I have so many things to thank her for.

Recently I watched her cry and I thought I would break.

I know that we grow from adversity.  It is a necessary and simple, though difficult, part of life.  I've heard it be compared to a rosebush.  If a rosebush is not pruned it will cease to bloom.  Instead it will send out shoots and continue to grow thorny tendrils.  When cut back, the rosebush will produce delicate flowers of fragrant beauty.  But what happens when the snipping doesn't stop?

It is easy to put someone down so that we feel better about ourselves.  It is easy to lash out at another and blame them for our own short comings.  It is easy to pick on someone weak so that we feel powerful.   So often we are consumed with our own devises, our own longings and our own desires.  We become blind to the feelings and needs of others.  How often do we consider those that are hurt by our selfish behavior?  How often do we end up blaming them instead of looking at ourselves as the source of our pain?

I have seen my mum cry too much.  I have seen the look of shocked hurt spread across her face too many times.  I am ashamed to say that I have been the cause of that pain on more than a few occasions.  Though I didn't cause it this time, it affected me as though I had.  I remembered so many things that I said and did to her in my stubborn defiance.  The problem is that it isn't just her.  I've been mean to so many people just to make myself feel better.  In my great need to feel important, I've torn a wide path of hurt.  It saddens me that it's taken this long for me to realize it.

I can't take back the things that I've done and I realize that a blanket apology doesn't erase the hurt.  Instead, I am going to cut myself down to size.  The next time I feel like lashing out at someone else with a mean remark or a snide comment, I will instead turn the pruners on myself.  I will still be bold and fierce, but not with the purpose of tearing anyone else down.  There is enough pain, I don't want to be part of it. 

Maybe it will help someone bloom.

Mum, I love you.

kcgnome