prepare yourself...

I'm not a good 1930's wife. I know, you are all shocked. Because my house is always tidy, my kids have newly ironed home-made clothes, and my hair is curled with precision as I cook every meal in my plain -yet tight waisted- dress and apron. You would think I should have scored better.

As a 1930s wife, I am
Poor

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On a side note (that is actually quite related...)

Today I am on a domestic strike. There will be no cleaning, cooking or personal hygeine rituals practiced today.

Ok, so really I've been doing loads of laundry all day - but I'm totally not folding it. And the kids' toys....staying on the floor (and couches, and stairs, and table and bathroom sink.)

And I did make peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, but that hardly counts as cooking.

And I may have violated the no personal hygiene thing when I put on deoderant this morning. But I didn't shower, I have no makeup on, and if it counts 2 of my 4 children are still in their pajamas. (Well, technically Screamer is only in half of his pajamas since his bottoms were ditched sometime around noon.)

And I'm doing -or I guess I should say NOT doing- all of this so that tomorrow when the disaster is still waiting for me, I can groan and remember that it's not a good idea to go on domestic strike unless you have a maid/cook/nanny. But for now I'm going to go read a book and pretend like my kids aren't screaming "Mommmmmmy!!!" every two seconds. Maybe they'll just get lost in the pile of toys and clean clothes...

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dream home

I don't really want a 'dream home'. I don't want to settle down in one house to raise my kids and then grandkids and then great-grandkids. I don't want to be trapped within the confines of the same exact walls from this moment until the day I die. The whole idea sounds like torture. Sometimes my house feels like a prison. (Although, I think it may have something to do with the little wardens that keep me from leaving at my leisure.) And once I've lived in one place long enough I just get really really bored. We've been married for 8 years and moved 7 times. I always hate the moving part, but I do like being somewhere new. And the house we're in right now is actually perfect for us. Just the size we need, great neighbors, close to the school, blah blah blah. The only thing is that we're renting and I can't paint the walls. I like painting walls. But for the most part, I really like living here. Granted, we've only lived here for seve...

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I am an artist.

I really am. But not one of those deeply moving, "what do you mean you don't understand my painting, it's BLUE" kind of artists. I'm more like one of those "oh hey, a pen and a napkin, doodle doodle doodle" kind of artists. Because I do it for fun. And yeah, for money. But still. Fun....most of the time. But I feel like branching into new mediums. Do you know how long it's been since I painted? Like with something other than finger paints or the kids' water colors where all the colors are mixed so they just come out brown anyway? It's been awhile. I've been itching to paint for months. I've also wanted to let Monkey loose on a canvas for awhile. He's not like my other kids (who all carry mine and Husband's arty genes) who like to draw endless pictures of unicorns, princesses, transformers or dinosaurs. Monkey likes to feel his art. He'll probably end up being one of those deeply moving types. And I'...

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hair loss and mourning

I like Monkey's hair long. I tried to grow out Opie's hair when he was younger, but he has always had a tremendously large head, and he also has very thick wavy hair. You pair those two together, throw in some long locks, and you've got yourself a genuinely bonified giant-head child. So I've learned my lesson: keep Opie's hair short. But Monkey's hair? It's so soft, and straight (our only straight-haired child) and super super cute when it's long. SUPER CUTE. (Agree with me - it's my blog.) But not many people liked the whole long hair thing. I kept having to threaten various family members with things like, "If I come back to find him with short hair I will DISOWN you, run away with my kids and you will never hear from us again. EVER." (Husband was particularly sensitive to this threat.) However, I did say that once random strangers started referring to him as a girl, I would consider cutting it. And even though ...

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because I really can't get enough of myself

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