Another example from our series on Why I can never get anything done:
Toddler Boy is still in his PJs. When the potty training started regressing a few months ago, I decided I needed to change him from Pull-Up to underwear immediately after he woke up in the morning. That helped a lot. I’ve almost dressed him about 5 times today, but I’m pretty sure he’s out of clean underwear. I’ve made several attempts to move the laundry process along but, as I mentioned earlier, there are so many preparatory steps I have to take (by which a person like me could be easily distracted (ooh….that’s shiny!…)) that I’m not making much progress. I really have no excuse for being unproductive because Baby Boy has been asleep most of the morning.
So I decided to sit down and write a blog post about it instead. A pretty lame blog post. I’m just praying the Crap Blog Detective doesn’t stumble over here.
Update @ 11:46 am: I did manage to find Toddler Boy some clean underwear and the laundry process is underway. I’m pretty sure this will be the 4th time I’ve washed this particular load. Happy Earth Day.
Update @ 11:59 am: Whoops. Baby Boy wasn’t really asleep all morning, I just turned the baby monitor off at some point and forgot to turn it back on. My bad.
So I felt like I should post something today because Laurel said she’d be a “daily reader” so I don’t want her to be disappointed. Well, not today anyway. I’m sure you’re in for some serious disappointment, Laurel. At least as far as this blog is concerned. I can’t really speak to the other areas of your life, but you should probably be prepared for some disappointment because it happens to everyone. And it’s better if you aren’t totally surprised by it.
Anyhow, for today, I can feel like I’ve at least made an attempt to meet your expectations. Tomorrow’s another day.
So Kacey commented that she did a how-to speech on how to take a dump in the woods, which reminded me of the time I had to do a how-to speech. I was still at my old job, which involved finding ways to make postal software better and sell more of it.
Holy crap, I almost fell asleep writing that last sentence.
Anyway, I was involved in training people on how to use the software (actually, I think I was supposed to be in charge of training or something, I’m not really sure). We planned to start holding classes at the training facility of our parent company in Durham, North Carolina. They also did a “train-the-trainer” course there, so my co-worker Russ and I went there to check out the facility and take the course that would make us supremely better trainers.
The course sucked. This happened like four years ago or something, so I’m fuzzy on some of the details, but I distinctly remember talking with Russ at lunch and dinner about how lame and sucky it was and how much time and effort we were wasting being there. It was like a Speech 101 class, apparently designed for people who had never spoken in public, or maybe to any other human beings ever, under any circumstances. There were some people in class who could barely string a coherent sentence together, let alone stand up in front of a group of people and tell them something they hadn’t known already since they were like six years old.
Wow, that was an awkward sentence. I always want to put a little “awk” in red pen in the margin of sentences like that. I’m feeling way too lazy right now to fix it, so just figure it out.
Did I mention I was four months pregnant at the time? And when I’m pregnant (and sometimes when I’m not), I get these ocular migraines. Someday I’ll write about what Husband lovingly refers to as my “when I go crazy on him” headaches. Long story short (for now)…if I don’t take Excedrin Migraine within like 10-15 minutes of symptoms, I get a full-blown “put me in a dark room and leave me alone, don’t speak, don’t breathe, don’t eat, don’t emit any odors, get a bucket ready” migraine. And around Day 2 of the 5 (!)-day training, I got one.
I didn’t want to take aspirin and risk the possibility of birthing a kid with a thumb growing out of his back, so I tried to dull it with Tylenol and coffee. Which sort of worked, but sort of didn’t. It worked well enough (and the course was sucky enough) that I was a tiny bit glad that I got to bail on Part 2 of Day 2. I hadn’t told anyone at work that I was pregnant and didn’t really want it to get back to them, so I only told Russ and swore him to secrecy. Is this boring? I’m getting bored.
So the culmination of our sucky seminar was to pick a topic and do a how-to speech on it in front of our cohorts, our “instructors”, and some other random people they pulled from jobs that apparently were not all that important if they could just be pulled away at a moment’s notice to watch me make tiramisu. We were supposed to have all the props and everything and they gave us like twenty-five duckets to go to the store and get our supplies.
If you’ve never made tiramisu, it’s kind of complicated and requires a lot of special ingredients, like shaved dark chocolate and espresso and ladyfinger cookies and zabaglione (which is a fancy Italian custardy thing that you’re supposed to make from scratch). And I was in Durham, North Carolina.
Also, one morning a group of us ate breakfast at the only restaurant remotely close to our hotel, which was…wait for it…a Waffle House. Not being from the South and having no experience with this particular “eating” establishment (no, those are not unnecessary quotation marks), I thought, “Oh, good…waffles. That sounds yummy.” I was SO wrong. It was the nastiest, greasiest, I’m-sure-there-are-insects-in-the-back dive I’ve ever been to. So finding what would pass for ingredients for my tiramisu in this particular corner of Durham was quite a challenge. I think I ended up with pound cake, a can of whipped cream, some kind of vanilla pudding, and chocolate sprinkles. My ancestors would be so proud.
So I finally gave my stupid speech. After all of that, the only comment I got (from one of the so-important-I-can-be-whisked-away-at-a-moment’s-notice workers) was this: “I was kind of grossed out because you kept touching your face and then working with the ingredients.” I was like, “WHAT?? AFTER ALL THAT??? I just taught you how to make a freaking tiramisu out of ingredients I found at a gas station and that’s all you’ve got to say? Like there’s ebola or MRSA or flesh-eating bacteria on my face that’s going to get transferred to your precious crappy pound cake tiramisu? [“precious crappy” – is that an oxymoron?] Don’t you eat at the (gag) Waffle House like three times a week?”
I’m sure I totally said all of that.
Warning, sort of: If you have to drive a motor vehicle or use heavy machinery or anything later, you might not want to read this now. I’m tired just thinking about writing it. If you suffer from insomnia and need a cure, read on.
So I was all excited about getting sleep last night and had big plans for all the stuff I was going to get done today. And it’s 10:00 pm and I have gotten exactly nothing done. Well, I worked out and did the dishes and some other miscellaneous child-rearing things like feeding them and diapering them and keeping them from getting strangled by the Wii console cords. But nothing extra. Like the 14 projects I need to get done.
And here’s why.
The list of prerequisites for every task is inversely proportional to the perceived simplicity of said task. For example: laundry. It’s not like I can just throw a load of whites into the washing machine and get the process started. Because the load of wash I started 2 days ago is still in there and now smells like Baby Boy’s shirt after he’s been drooling on it all day. So I have to wash that load again before I can even get started. But before I can do that, I have to clear off all the crap that has accumulated on top of the washing machine in the 2 days since I tried to start the laundry process the first time. Then by the time I get all of that taken care of, Husband will be asleep so I won’t want to wake him up to go get the next load of clothes to wash. Once I do actually get a load washed and dried, there is absolutely zero chance I’ll have time to fold it when it’s done, but I’ll need to move it to make room for the next load. So it will go on the bed or (more likely) the couch. Then Toddler Boy will jump on it and pile it all over him and/or Medium-Sized Dog will decide that’s the perfect spot to settle in for a snooze. If I do manage to fold some or all of it, I’ll neglect to put it away immediately, and Toddler Boy and/or Medium-Sized Dog will fling it around the room while I’m feeding Baby Boy.
It’s easier to just sit at the computer and complain, really.
And that’s just the laundry.
There are other reasons I can never get anything done, including but not limited to:
- Computer games
- Did I mention laziness?
So wouldn’t you know it, the day after I start my blog and name it “Sleep-Deprived Blatherings”, I get what almost resembled a full night’s sleep. After approximately 8 months, 2 weeks and 3 days of sleeping 2-3 hours at a time at night, falling asleep in my chair, and full-on drooling-on-the-pillow mid-day naps once a week or so, I actually got 4 hours of sleep in one stretch. So look out World, stuff is going to happen.
Just so we’re clear, from here on out you’re just going to have to use your powers of intuition to decide for yourself if any particular blatherings are actually a result of sleep deprivation or if a fully-rested sane person really just wrote that.
Oh, and although being sleep un-deprived has questionable implications for my blog, I’m super-dooper excited to see what surprises await me in my first day as a nearly fully coherent mother of two.
Catchy title, huh?
On a recent trip to visit the grandparents, my 3-year-old recently potty-trained toddler (understandably) wanted nothing to do with the “bathroom” (a.k.a. outhouse) at the rest stop. It took some serious negotiating, but I convinced him to go in the grass. Now he drops trou without a moment’s hesitation.
Having grown up as a relatively wild child in back-woods Montana, I’m pretty much okay with this. Except that last night I glanced outside during our home fellowship group and saw him up on the hill in their back yard, pants around his ankles. And today he informed me he was going around the corner to go poo-poo in the yard. Amazingly enough, this I did not foresee. In his defense, it’s probably pretty confusing. But rules are rules. (Or laws are laws, I guess I should say.)
I have once again succumbed to peer pressure and started a blog. My children are unfed, my house is a disaster, and my first blog has been seriously neglected, but what the heck. I thought about combining the blogs. But people who like coupons might not care that my dog barfed all over the carpet and Husband left it because he thought “the other dog would just lick it up”. And people who want to read about dog barf might not be interested in learning how to be that annoying person at the checkout with 9700 coupons and two screaming children. So there you go.