New Moon Drama

I realize I haven't posted in a good while, but I felt compelled to make this a post on my own blog when I realized how long a comment it would be on someone else's. I don't read andPop.com regularly, and actually, this was the first time I'd hear of it. I realize it has nothing to do with my normal topics on the surface, but reading is one way I "escape" my crowded little apartment. Most days, I read something, anything, be it for 10 minutes while the kids are sleeping or all evening when Ron's doing the laundry, and so when I find a book or a series I enjoy, I like to read all about it, the good and the bad. The Twilight series was such a fun read for me, my husband, my friends, and my nieces, that I'll be disappointed not to see the movie (even if it's as bad as the first was), but I still want to make an informed decision as to whether or not I, as a grown up Catholic who is charged with setting an example for my nieces especially, should be taking said nieces to see a movie people in the Vatican are condemning. This is what led me to the blog in the link above, and this is my response to the comments and the blog itself:

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I'm not 100% sure here, but I believe the "esoteric element" he was referring to was not the fan base, but the feeling the teenagers watching it have of power b/c they believe they know something that is only meant for a few, i. e. the "fangirls" who believe they have some secret insight into the occult and vampires in general b/c they are uberfans of Twilight. This feeling may lead some unchaperoned or unprepared (or simply immature) viewers to take more of an interest in such things than is healthy. Also, I agree with David in his comments. People don't seem to understand that there is a huge difference between the people in the Church, and the Church Herself. Just as there is a difference between the opinions of the POTUS and the actual foreign or domestic policy, or even better, the Constitution. The media simply plays on this lack of understanding to pain the Holy Father and/or others in the Church as people devoid of an understanding of popular culture. The fact of the matter is that Catholic culture and pop culture are very rarely going to see eye to eye b/c the former has it's eyes focused on heaven, and that latter, on earth. To another point, simply calling something "fiction" and "harmless" does not make it so, and in fact, in some cases, makes it more dangerous than so-called "facts". People tend to treat fiction lightly, not understanding that just b/c it is a fictionalized story does not mean that the basic human behavior it portrays is the real story, and not the vampires and werewolves running around. In the same manner, just saying that satan and evil in general are the stuff of make-believe makes them more powerful as people then are no longer on the lookout for what may be tempting them to wrong. All in all, I am a fan of the books. I actually find Edward to be a morally acceptable and even exceptional character, whose ethics fall much in line with my own, and I am a practicing Roman Catholic and follower of Church teaching. (Please do not read "saint" here! I am a sinner, like everyone else, I was simply trying to clarify my intellectual position.) I make my own decisions, but take what people in positions of "power" in the Church have to say into consideration when making them. I am left wondering if the good monsignor means simply the movie or the novel as well. As we all all know, the first Twilight movie fell far short of the novel when it came to capturing the generally Christian and redemptive message the latter held.

Well it's been a long, been a long, been a long, been a long day...

Yeah, that title is long, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. Hester is busily crying her eyes out in her crib right now as I am making her "cry it out" this week. We've had our ups and downs, mostly ups, but she's still crying before each nap and before bed. On Tuesday morning, she only cried for 5 minutes before falling asleep, but then he rambunctious brothers woke her up with their playing after only a 45 minute nap. The bottom line is that yes, it does break my heart to listen to it, but it would break my heart even more if I had to listen to it later on. You know, when they start speaking? When they can actually say/shout "Mommy!!!! Mommy!!! Mommy!!! Daddy?!". Such is the life of a parent.

To combat the sadness of this week, I decided that we absolutely had to celebrate the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary on the 7th. The boys and I baked mini cupcakes. (By the boys and I, I mean that Rimmy helped a lot, Seton helped a bit, and Ransom stood on a chair, giggling, and refusing to touch the scary, loud mixer.) We even used my brand spanking new "Catholic Cuisine" apron, which I love btw. It has pockets!!! Yes, I

know. I'm too excited by those pockets. What can I say? It's been a rough week. Anyway, back to the cupcakes. We made a cupcake rosary with them on the kitchen table and had the Byers

over to celebrate. It would have been perfect if we had actually all said the rosary together, but as our group was made up predominantly by the pre-school set, and it was after dinner, we opted to just say, "Yay Mary!!" and eat. This is not to say that I didn't explain the reason for the holiday to the boys in the morning while we were baking, complete with having them hold their own rosaries, but there's only so much a 4 year old will get out of the Battle of Lepanto. We settled for them understanding that the BVM goes by many names, and that this is one of the many celebrations we have throughout the year for her. We talked about how awesome it is that she wants us to ask her for help just so that she MAY help us, and that her petition of choice is the rosary. I think that's pretty good for little kids.

Also in the news this week, I have been knitting up a storm. I had to fully frog my Project Linus blanket because, quite frankly, it turned out awful. It was warping in the worst way, and as I tend to do, I ignored it until it was completely unavoidable. It was more trapezoidal in shape than rectangular, and so it has gone the way of the yarn bag.

After giving up on that though, I made a lovely little shrug for Hester. Yes, I made a shrug for a baby, and it has actually been perfect for this can't-make-up-its-mind weather. It's just a little something extra on her shoulders and arms to keep out the chill, but not enough to overheat her when the weather changes.

After completing the shrug (in record time for me, I might add), I began work on my next two projects simultaneously. The one is a pair of knee high slipper socks for Maureen's bday. I have one completed, and it would have been both but for Hester's not letting me put her down all day long all week long last week. I think the total amount of time spend actually knitting the one sock was about 3 or 4 hours, so I should have had the pair done in time for her birthday on the 4th. Unfortunately, I had to give her one knee high slipper sock at her party, and while that upset me, I believe the look on her face made up for my own disappointment. It was a mixture of surprise and a feeling of awkwardness at not knowing exactly what the hell it was she had just received. I could just see that thoughts flashing across her face: "Oh! How nice! Bridget made me...um...a skinny Christmas stocking? Is there something I'm missing? Maybe there's another...*checks the bag again*...No? Ok. Um...*and then out loud*: Thanks! It's great!". LMAO I then explained to her the situation, and that I was taking it back so that I could make sure the second one matched the first. She seemed relieved. That scene from Veggie Tales kept running through my head: "Shocked and slightly embarrassed at the sight of Larry in a towel..."

And now the second sock would be just about done if it hadn't been for two things: I'm still working on another project which, being as I've already missed the deadline for Maureen's bday, is more pressing as I have a chance of finishing it on time, and as I was working away on it last night, I totally forgot to do any decreases on the leg. I was basically done the entire leg and hadn't decreased once. That's the problem sometimes with "easy" projects. I tend to think to myself that it's an easy one, and just keep knitting, and never check the instructions until, hours into it, I look up and notice that it's not quite the correct shape or size. So, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, I frogged back the the first decrease and started over. Only a night's worth of knitting gone. No biggee.

My second current project I could tell you about, but then I'd have to kill you. All I will say is that it falls into the knitting category of "Awesome".

And that, my friends, concludes today's section of aimless ramblings. I now have to keep the boys occupied and quiet as noise doesn't have to travel far from the living room to the nursery as they share a wall, and I really don't want to have to listen to another half hour of Hester's sad cries.

Walk Off the Weight

So, I've decided to do it...as soon as my second cold in 3 weeks is gone. Pray for me people, I need to get in better shape!

Walk Off the Weight

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So apparently, I want to become a nurse...

At least, that's what I'm starting to feel like.

Ron and I have been discussing him changing career paths lately, because, let's face it, working at a non-profit in the social services never made anyone rich. The simple fact is, having a large family requires a certain amount of money. It doesn't require much more than having a small family, honestly, but it does require a bit more. For instance, if children are close enough in age, one set of clothing can easily be worn for several years by different kids. If you buy the right clothing from the right stores, you can really get a great deal of use out of it before having to send it either to charity or the trashcan. Having 4 or 5 kids insn't much different than having 1 kids when it comes to things like clothing and toys. Feeding 4 or 5 kids is different, but by making some slight "sacrifices" (if you can really call it that) such as buying the store brand instead of the name brand, a frugal homemaker can "make it work", as Tim Gunn would say. That being said, more money is needed for things such as more house, because people take up space., and that's something you just can't share. (It's silly how that whole physics thing works, isn't it?)

Looking at all our options, we've both been thinking of his becoming an APN. It will mean a couple of years of hard work getting his RN, for starters, and then a few more to get his APN, and possibly his Masters. What makes all this furthering of education worthwhile, you might be wondering? To begin with, he'd be making a far better living doing that than doing this, and that's just with the RN. If he manages to get his APN, forget it. We'd be...good. We're not looking to become rich. If we wanted that we wouldn't have decided to get married in the first place until we had things in place, such as a house, 2 cars, and lot's of money in the bank. We are looking to make a decent life for our family, doing good and necessary work, while raising our children as good Catholics, and this is where the nursing option comes into play. Being a nurse would afford us all of that.

Why do I feel like I'm trying to become a nurse? Well, as all us married ladies know (or maybe it's just me -- I'll consider that possibility), our husbands generally need a nudge or two or ten in the right direction sometimes, and often, a good bit of help to get to where they want to be. After all, we are supposed to be their "helpmates", right? In helping Ron right now, my second full time job (you know, after the whole homemaker/mom thing) is researching RN programs at local community colleges, making appointments with admissions contacts, and generally scheduling all of Ron's "free time" with activities that will help us reach our goal quickly and in the most efficient manner. I didn't do this much research before starting at Seton Hall, hence why I feel like I'm the one getting ready to enter the nursning program.
At the moment, we're considering both Essex and Bergen County colleges, each for their own benefits. Obviously, we live in Essex, so it's less expensive and close to where Ron works. Bergen, on the other hand, has a better laid out, more clearly defined, evening nursing program that would fit better into his already busy schedule. On the down side, it's also about twice the cost when all is said and done, but all will definitely be said and done inside of two years, whereas at Essex, it could drag on for three or more. Both will mean a great deal of work for both of us. Ron will have at least two to four nights of classes each week, and that means that I will have the same nights on my own with the babies for dinner, baths, and bed. We'll have to weigh them and pray over them, and hope that St. Rita will help us make the right decision.

In the end, the main goal is to get to a point with his career where we won't have to worry quite as much about money as we do now. (I guess though, if we really have the faith we profess to have, we shouldn't be worried in the first place.)

So, if Ron becoming a nurse means that in two year's time we can get a house of our own, and have a bit more financial stability, then that's what we need to make happen. And if to make that happen, he has to be out of the house more, and I here "alone" more, then so be it. It'll give me the chance to catch up on all those sappy romances he doesn't really like to watch but indulges me in when he can't help it.

blue is the color

I am so fed up with this blanket. I'm trying to be charitable and suck it up and just make the darn thing, but I find myself running in the opposite direction every time I have the chance to sit and work on it. Tonight, for instance, I actually chose to wash my dishes and tidy up the kitchen rather than sit and crochet. My quandary now is whether I should work as hard and fast (and well, it is for charity, after all) and finish it double quick, or put it aside and work on something I actually enjoy for a while, perhaps even starting a new project for a friend. I hate situations like this and try to avoid them as much as possible.

Being, however, stuck in just such a situation, I feel the need to figure out why I hate it so. It's not that difficult a question to work through, actually. First, I hate making blankets in general. Blankets are tedious things. Generally, it's the same stitch over and over and over again, ad nauseam. I'm currently in the "ad nauseam" stage at the moment. I was actually interested in this one for a longer while than is usual for me. It's a progressive stitch afghan, so it starts at the corner and grows out along 2 sides, forming a square. Never having done one of these before, it piqued my interest. My interest wanes. Second, this one is taking a particularly long time, as I'm making it for an older child/teen. Project Linus needs these bigger blankets because, let's face it, it's much easier (and often more pleasant) to make an adorable, small blanket for a baby than it is to make a larger, generally not as "cute" blanket for a big kid. Third, it's summer, and things that start as small corners grown eventually into full on lapghans, which then cover your legs. It's finally gotten warm out, and I'm spending evenings under the cover of a blanket. Uh uh, not cool.

I need to pray. I need to be inspired to finish this blanket before the fall when a child will actually need it for warmth, as opposed to for security. I wonder who the patron saint of crocheters is. I think it should be a bishop, if there isn't someone already. And no, a patron saint of knitters does not "cover it".

i'm not a rabbit...

i need some west...

I'm a so tired today, I can barely type. I'm not sure exactly why toady it is hitting me quite as hard as it is. I can't honestly say I have no idea why I'm so tired, when in fact, I have several quite plausible ideas as to why it may be. Take for instance my 3 month old, Hester. She has an odd fascination with waking up several times a night to be fed. I haven't figured out why she feels a need to eat at midnight...and 2AM...and 4ish...and of course we can't sleep in after all that. We simply must be fed at 7AM as well, before deciding to sleep most mornings until elevensies. The real problem isn't that she needs to eat so often. It's that I have 3 other kids to care for all day long. By the time I head to bed around 11 or so I'm done. I've had it and then some and would love to just get in a solid 5 hours or sleep all at once. That hasn't happened since some time back in March. You see, she stopped letting me get enough sleep about a month before she was born. Wasn't that kind of her? She must have been trying to help me ease my way back into the new baby lifestyle that I now have. Hester's always so sweet like that. So, that could be one reason I'm so tired all the time.

Another related reason is that I'm in pain. My neck has been hurting for the past month and half at the point and my lower back isn't feeling much better. I haven't had a full range of motion in weeks, and what I have is generally painful to use. I think it's from a combination of things. When Hester wakes up, I try to get out of bed, sit on the couch and nurse, and then place the sleeping baby back in her bassinet before returning to bed myself. Unfortunately, what usually happens is one of 2 things: A) I do get up and sit on the couch, but I'm so tired, I fall asleep there and spend the rest of the night sitting up on the couch with the baby nursing on and off at her leisure; my head falls forward and then snaps back up periodically, causing some of the neck pain; or B) I don't get up; I instead have Ron bring me the baby, she lays in bed next to me, nursing on and off all night. One would think this a win-win situation. One would be wrong. While I am "sleeping" it's not very restful having to remain on my side, awkwardly at that, all night long to nurse the baby without falling on her. As my neck is constantly in pain, the way I hold my head is key, which keeps me from actually getting a good night's sleep, even if I spend the whole night in bed. It's a vicious cycle. I sit up, which hurts my neck, so I lay down, which hurts my back, so I sit up...you get the picture. Either way, it all adds up to me being constantly exhausted.

Oh, another theory as to why I'm tired, as if the first one (or 2) wasn't enough: there's the matter of the other 3 boys and Ron and the apartment and the being well over weight and the lack of exercise and the...yeah. All of that.

You would think this would make me try to cut back...on just about anything. For instance, take a nap in the afternoon when the kids are all either asleep or resting in front of the TV. Nah, that's when I blog here. Perhaps go to bed earlier? Well when would I crochet or knit if I didn't do it after the boys went down? Hmmm...maybe try simply dinners to reduce time spent cooking. That's silly. However would I incorporate things like Scapular cakes and St. Anne Watermelon Sugar Cookies into our daily lives if I did that? Again, you get the picture.

Oh well. I have a child whimpering at me for more juice, as if he didn't just down the cup I got him 20 minutes ago. The joys of motherhood.

scapulAR, people, scapulAR!

So, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel was this past Thursday. I was inspired by reading the Catholic Cuisine Blog and decided that I, too, should make a cake shaped as near as possible like a scapular. Well, the best laid plans and all that coming to fruition, here is my attempt:

Notice how it ends in an ellipsis? That's because of my poor planning, or should I say, my poorly executed plan. I had every intention of getting to the food store by Tuesday night and it just did not happen. I was at the beach all day Wednesday, and couldn't get to the store in time on Thursday, so I was stuck working with what I had in my pantry. It turns out, I had about half as much of the proper icing, no chocolate frosting, and no cake mix. I made a milk- and egg-free cake from allrecipes.com, turned vanilla frosting into chocolate with the addition of too much cocoa powder and some veggie oil, and used the one tube of icing plus the Wilton's cookie icing I always keep on hand to the best of my ability. I'm sure the BVM was happy with my efforts. I know my kids were. Even Barbara and Ron liked it, and neither they nor I are huge fans of "scratch" cakes. Better living through chemicals (and store bought cake mix) I always say.

As for the day at the beach, all the preparation was worth it for the most part. (So I guess really most of the preparation was worth it?) The boys loved the sand, were more or less well behaved, and Rimmy even made it into the water before the day was out. Literally. Right before we headed home, he decided he NEEDED to get into the ocean in a last ditch effort to extend our stay. Will I be doing this again any time soon? Probably not until next summer, but at least I know I can do it now. It's not nearly as scary as I thought it would be.

"A mice! A mice!" and Other Fun Festive Occurances

It's been one helluva week here at Le. Rheims. I was practically a cleaning diva. I scrubbed the kitchen floor; I put away out of season clothing that had been in a basket awaiting my attention for weeks; I cleaned up the boys room as it had started to look like what I affectionately dubbed "Little Sarajevo". The bedroom was almost done! This is, of course, as always, with the exception of Ron's piles. He tends to pile things in front of his dresser as opposed to placing things IN the dresser. I only mention this as it pertains to what made the week a week from hell. And now that you have some background info, our story begins...

Last week, I managed to actually get in touch with the people from Good Counsel Homes and scheduled a pick up for Friday, July 3rd. Ms. Morgan was delightful and we were delighted to be able to not only help a good cause, but clear a bit of our own clutter in the process, with nothing going to waste. Over the weekend, I whipped up way too many desserts for Barbara's backyard Fourth of July Bash. There was no baking involved, but tons of pudding, jell-o, and chocolate. Seton and I especially enjoyed the jell-o flavored popcorn and peanuts. Everyone else loved the individual trifle cups. Dad favored the Triple Berry Pie. (Note to self: make it again, just for him). We spent Saturday at the Byers' enjoying a barbecue with the family, complete with obscure singalongs and Kieran's rendition of "Don't Stop Believing". Suffice it to say, the weekend was fun and full. See?

Of course, Sunday had Rimmy creating his best loop yet with the GeoTrax:

Never let anyone tell you that good old fashioned playing isn't the most important form of education for toddler. Those loops get more complicated by the day and with them so do his planning and logistical skills.

Monday meant a return to the daily (summer) grind, including tennis lessons and baby swapping (where Barbara takes Rimmy to tennis and I take Johanna and Matt for whatever it is we do that day). I even switched rolls with Barbara on Tuesday and did the tennis thing (gave me a chance to work on my blanket which is still not finished) and she stayed home with the kids (including Seton, Ransom, and Hester). Mom and Stacey were huge helps as was Siobhan. On Wednesday is when the fun begins.

As I said, all were quite helpful this week, but Siobhan was especially so. She managed to wash my dishes, wipe down my stove and table, and scrub my tea kettle inside of 20 minutes while at my apartment this day. I'm not sure why, but I'm so happy she did. In fact, I was so very thrilled that my main daily "chore" of kitchen work was done for me, that I decided to go into full cleaning mode after the kids were settled into "rest time". I scrubbed the kitchen floor and cleaned up the bathroom. I worked in my bedroom and folded all of the previous Friday's clean laundry (which was a dwindled pile at this point, I admit). I put away stuff, I rearranged stuff, I swept, buffed, and polished stuff. Then, I went to work in the boys' room. I made them help. We put all the toys in the appropriate boxes. We swept the floor (even under the bed!). I put the pampers where they belonged and filled all the wipes boxes. I even managed to make an actual dinner instead of throwing some nuked chicken nuggets at them (which I have no problem doing on busy days, let me tell you). I cleaned so much in fact that I was looking forward to getting on my new treadmill for the first time the next day as I settled down for some relaxing TV viewing that evening. Sadly, this never happened.

As Ron went in to bed around 11ish, I sat on the couch with a mostly asleep Hester, attempting to nurse her once more before putting her in her bassinet with the hope that she would sleep most of the night (ha ha). As I sat there, watching Property Virgins, I heard a noise; one of a piece of paper falling to the floor. I paused the show and listened intently for a few moments. Nothing. I went on with the program. A few minutes later, I heard something else. I'm not sure what it was but it gave me pause. I listened again, and there was a scratching noise, much closer to me this time. I looked around, and there, on the floor outside my bedroom door, about 3 feet from where I sat holding my 2 month old, in the glow from the TV, was a hideous mouse. I started calmly yelling to Ron. I believe my precise words were, "Ron! Ron! Ron! RON! RON!!!" It did the trick. Within moments, he had jumped out of bed and was standing in the living room. Unfortunately, it also frightened my little visitor, as it scooted, you guessed it: right under the couch I was sitting on with the baby. After a few minutes of internal debate, I finally managed to get up off the couch and run into the bedroom, where I planted myself in the middle of our white comforter (figuring I'd be able to see the little black bugger easiest against a white background should it have the nerve to follow me). Ron moved the couch, searched the living room and kitchen and vestibule, and was still doing so when I heard a noise inside our bedroom (the room I had run to for safety with the baby). I screamed for him, and after about 10 more minutes of search, he trapped the demmed thing in a shoe box, brought it outside, and tried to pummel it to death, barely missing. It escaped back towards the bushes in front of our building.

I fell asleep, holding the baby next to me, while Ron lightly dozed nearby. About an hour later, he jumped up b/c the thing had managed to get back inside. This time, however, we found out from where it had come (the whole around the radiator pipe in the corner). It gave chase, managing to hide out somewhere for the rest of the night, despite Ron's best efforts (and he gave great effort, trust me). I spent the night sitting on the couch, with my legs tucked up under me, Hester on my lap, with Ron and the thing trapped in our bedroom. I remember thinking that it reminded me somewhat of "The Most Dangerous Game" in my sleep-deprived state and laughing b/c of the dissimilarities between the two situations.

The next morning, the kids and I headed to Barbara's as usual for tennis and baby sitting, while Ron stayed home, attempting to catch it again. After tennis, Mom and I took Rimmy and Hester out for their 4 year and 2 month pictures, respectively. (On a side note, you can see those on my facebook. They rock.) While at the mall, I received a phone call from Ron, telling me, "It's dead. No really. I killed it. With a long ruler. Love you too." Can I just say, I have the best husband ever? I do. That's right. Be jealous.

Later that evening, after a trip to Pathmark, he plugged any and all holes (regardless of size) with steel wool, which apparently is something akin to barbed wire to those little bastards. We haven't seen or heard anything since.

So why did I mention the pile in front of his dresser? Oh, because had it not been there, and therefore been in front of the radiator and in our way, he could have caught the demmed thing in half the time. Also, I wouldn't now be stuck with getting all of that extra laundry prepped to be washed today. (You had to have guessed that the real reason I'm updating relatively so soon is because I'm avoiding real work.)

We slept much better last night. But only after a rousing trip to Riverfront Stadium, where the boys got to witness, at their first ever baseball game, the home team Newark Bears get trounced by the Barnstormers. It was truly awful, like a bad accident you just can't look away from. On an up note, they loved the whole thing. The Bears, like most minor league teams, keep it very family friendly. They have a whole kids section on the promenade, which last night included a moon bounce and bouncy slide. Rimmy and Seton managed to win free tickets by "shooting" 3 hoops in a row (of course, the lovely young men running it held them directly up to the net). They enjoyed meeting Rupert and Effa, too: Well, except for Ransom. He was kinda frightened, but couldn't look away, I think out of fear that the giant fuzzy thing would get him. The only one missing from the picture is Mary, who graciously offered to take it for us. So she and I took our own, obligatory, way too close up one: Good times had by all.

Team GeoTrax, all aboard!!!

I would love to be able to post that I've gone on a major cleaning jag in the last two days, scrubbing floors and polishing silver (if I had any, that is), or washing down the windows and walls. Alas, that is not the case. And do you know why that is not the case? Well, I'll tell you. *She's going to tell! bom bom She's going to tell!! bom bom* I got sucked into a major GeoTrax planning session with Seton. When the others were all asleep during "rest time", and he was the last hold out, I simply couldn't resist his mantra of, "Play GeoTrax with me, Mommy! Mommy, you play GeoTrax with Seton?!"

And the end result?

Of course, this layout would not have been possible without the addition of the High Flying Bridge, the GeoTown Farm, the GeoTown Ranch (with Tex and Ol' Rust), and the bag o' track, all of which Rimmy got for his fourth birthday:

The cake Barbara and I made also rocked, and rolled, all night long, sweet Suzie.

See? It's Knight, Rimmy's favorite GeoTrax train, with Oreo wheels, black licorice connectors, and awesome Art Deco lettering, courtesy of Barbara.

So you see, I have many wonderful reasons for not cleaning much this week, right? Don't I? I think I do, not the least of which is this: Honestly, who has time for cleaning when they have a yummy baby to play with? Not I, said the fly.

cleaning

so, it's been almost a month since last i updated with my ambitious plan of keeping myself honest by posting about cleaning up my disheveled apartment. since that time i have cleaned. oh, how i have cleaned. it's not completely neat and tidy, but, with four kids, i don't ever expect it to be. i mean, i'm as much a believer in miracles as the next girl, maybe more of one, but cleaning the house while the kids are still growing is like shoveling the snow in the middle of the blizzard: you can try to keep the mess as bay but you'll never get it fully done. that being said, i have made progress.

my living room has been completely rearranged; something i've wanted done since about a week after we moved in here which was also about a week before ransom was born. now that i have honest to goodness shelves in my living room, i feel like the apartment is tremendously improved. i have books on display again! books!! and it also enabled me to free up some actual closet space for things that do need to be hidden away, like, say, potty chairs. who wants those out when not being used? not i. the new layout also allows for a greater play area for all of us. ron can get down on the floor with the boys and make massive GeoTrax layouts while hester and i take a break on the couch. no one needs to be exiled to the bedroom anymore.

as far as the bedroom goes, i have my shelves/dresser cleared off about 2 days after my last post. has it stayed that way? a resounding no. is it anywhere near as bad as it was initially? again, a resounding no.

after mostly tackling that project, i moved on to the infamous corner of crap, in front of our closet.

it now looks a million times better. see all those white laundry baskets? emptied and stacked neatly in the closet for laundry sorting day. the giant stack of green boxes that contain christmas ornaments? stored in the babies room (which is where we actually store things like that). anything belonging to hester, like the blankets and towels, are now neatly inside that pink box, which is still in my but only because she's in transition from 0/3 month size to 3/6 months. the blue toy box lid is tucked inside my closet door, on the side we don't use and all those cardboard boxes have been disposed of appropriately. i could actually see my floor for a week or two. and then the mastitis kicked in and i've been out of commission with fevers, chills, and mandated rest for a couple of weeks now. i'm still not completely over it, but there's only so much sitting around and doing nothing any SAHM can be expected to do (you know, once she's decided to get up off her butt and do something).

not only did i manage to drastically improve the condition of the bedroom, i also managed to start improving my overall health. i filled that empty void left behind by the pile of crap with...*drum roll please*...a treadmill! yes, it's used, and yes i bought it on craig's list, but it's a functional treadmill and it's mine! i can now begin my daily half hour walks at night, after the kids are down for the count, and, here's hoping, lose some of the baby weight i've been accumulating steadily since...when was rimmy born? 2005? yeah, since then.

on a the crafting front, hester has gotten to wear her sweater multiple times since it's completion because june's weather has just sucked that badly. apparently, we're all being forced to live in seattle east. it's been raining or threatening to since some time in may almost non-stop. it's been so chilly, in fact, that i've had hardly any problems working on my project linus blanket for the essex county chapter. it's about halfway done i think, although it's hard to tell on this one as it starts at a corner and builds up on two sides for a while before the back and forth work begins. i'm using up some super saver i had on hand from edward's MIL. i figure i got it for free so it's only fitting to use it for charitable purposes, right? it's navy blue, red, and heather gray. it's for a teen boy i'm guessing from the colors and size i decided to make it. i also have to get some yellow and orange so i can make a duck for lori.

oh well, kiddies are beginning to awaken so i guess fun time is over on here.

Finally

I finally have a working keyboard (okay, I've had a working keyboard for a couple of months now, at least, but who's counting?) so I can finally start back up here. Okay, so I can finally start here, as I never really started before, but why worry about little things like that? I have bigger fish to fry, like buying Tinted Windows on iTunes, and crocheting the Pixie Hat from Sweaterbabe.com, and finding my US size 3 dpns, which I know I own and have somewhere in this fricken apartment, so that I may start knitting some preemie hats for St. Joe's. In essence, I'm a busy little bee. No wonder this place never gets cleaned.

I suppose I try to keep myself busy with things I like to do that are also of a good nature so that I can claim I have no time to clean. Cleaning seems so trivial compared to making hats for tiny babies, doesn't it? Well, doesn't it? Cleaning is what I do in my "spare" time, and as I rarely have any of that...well, you get the picture. This has worked for me so far, in that I really don't have to clean much. It's one weak point, however, is that when one doesn't clean often, one has to clean a great deal when one does clean. Case in point, my bedroom. I don't know how Ron sleeps in it, blissfully unaware of all the clutter that to me seems to be ever encroaching on my floorspace. I literally lie awake at night from time to time, contemplating the crap we seem to surround ourselves with, wondering how I let it get this bad, and wondering more how on earth I'm going to get it "un-bad". I mean, this is worse than bad or wrong. It's reached the level of badong.

Why waste time blogging then? Well, unlike some people, I happen to think that blogging keeps you honest, if you let it. If I talk about how pathetically unclean and cluttered my apartment is, publicly, and holding no punches, not glossing over any of my dirty secrets when it comes to the pile in the corner that's taller than I am or the abundance of laundry (clean or dirty, I can't tell) in front of Ron's dresser, then maybe, just maybe, I'll shame myself into actually cleaning it. Yes, that's right. My theory is that if I waste enough time blogging about my dirty apartment, I may actually find enough time to clean the blasted place.

First task: the dreaded corner. *gasp!* It is, literally, as tall as as I am in places. There are 3 large storage bins of Christmas decorations. Why are they in my bedroom? Because there's no where else to put them at the moment. This apartment is great for what it is but I wouldn't recommend living in an apartment with 4 kids. Even though we have decent closets in the bedrooms and even one in the vestibule, there is no real storage space. We have things under every bed( and crib) in the place, boxes upon boxes up against the walls, luggage underneath living room chairs, chairs shoved under the mantle, and Christmas wreaths still hanging on our front door (albeit on the inside) because they are the only places we have to put them. My mission in cleaning the bedroom is to get as much of the storage stuff out of here (or at least out of sight) as possible and to give Ron and I a place that is neat, clean, and most of all, livable. To accomplish this, we need to be able to see all floor that is not covered with a piece of furniture. To that end, tomorrow I begin moving boxes out of here and into the nursery (which is also the only room where we can actually store things, as the baby doesn't need that much space).

What really sucks is that, while today is the perfect opportunity to clean, as Ron has Rimmy and Seton out for the afternoon, and Ransom and Hester are actually sleeping (probably because the older 2 aren't here), I simply refuse to do actual work of the kind that needs to be done in my bedroom as it's Sunday. I do have some standards. Unfortunately, those standards doom me to a week of constantly getting the cleaning half done and having to stop to change a diaper, nurse a baby, cook a meal, break up a fight, serve as a judge, etc. This leaves me, usually, with a bed covered in laundry or general "stuff" which I was attempting to organize but which must simply be swept aside at bed time to be dealt with all over again in the morning. I feel like I'm constantly getting 1 step forward during the day, only to end up 2 steps behind at night. (Again, this is a side-effect of living in a 3 bedroom apartment with 6 people and no dining room. A dining room would solve many of problems, mainly because of the table it would hold, but I digress.)

And there's Ransom, awake at last. I'll update during the week sometime with my progress. Here's hoping I actually have some progress to report.