You know those times when you are with a friend, family member, recent acquaintance, or generally another person's company and they do something that makes you think, "that's odd"? We all have these little things that we do that seem perfectly normal to us but to others seems off-putting or weird. Or stupid. Or crazy. In my case, I either recognize that these things are weird or have been told so by well-meaning friends. If you and I are friends, chances are good that you, too, are odd. So here's my list of things that make me oddly me. I hope these make you feel a little better about all of the weird-o things you do that give people the creeps.
1. I Steal Tupperware
Bear with me here. I don't steal it from, like, the grocery store. None of my odd habits are illegal (that I know of). But I do steal it readily from my friends. If you are reading this, I've likely got something of yours in my cabinet. Anytime someone comes to my house bearing gifts in the way of food, I am secretly more interested in the Tupperware they will be providing than the meal they've prepared. (The one exception to this would be Dena's pot roast.) I don't remember the last time I bought Tupperware. If I ever do pay for it, you can guarantee I will not ever put something in it meant for someone else. If I've paid for it, I don't want to lose it. You'd think I'd hold that same philosophy if you bought it. But you'd be wrong.
No, I'll never bring you a dinner in my good Tupperware. Because if you look at Tupperware as "no big deal" and either keep it (like I do) or toss it (thoughtless, bastard!), then I will never see it again. And I keep Tupperware forever. My favorite piece is almost seven years old - a(n unintended) donation from our former neighbors, the Schramkos, who brought me dinner while I was on bed rest during my pregnancy with Kate. The homemade chicken soup she made was delicious. The Tupperware, however, was perfection. The perfect size. Sturdy. Not one of those that stains when you put something tomato-y in it. Just perfect.
2. I Am Particular About Paper Towels, Gum, and Kleenex
I have an irrational fear of running out of certain items like the aforementioned paper towels, gum and tissues. This one is a little like the Tupperware hoarding, but it's kind of for a different reason. I have very specific rules about usage of these items because I do not ever want to be in a position where I need one, and do not have one available. Imagine - you grab a garlicky lunch with a friend and then head to the school to meet with a teacher. You reach in your purse to find gum and do not find any immediately. So, you begin to dig a little more furiously. Then you begin removing items from your purse because you just know you have some. It must be hiding under your wallet. But it isn't there. And your breath could keep vampires away.
That is a position I NEVER want to be in. I have nightmares about it. Because of this, I really resent having to share my gum with others - even good friends. Even my husband. So much so that I will actually secretly get myself a piece of gum where you can't see it so you won't know I have some and ask me for a piece. Because unfailingly, you will not adhere to my rules when ever you chew a piece of my gum. Which is really no fault of yours. You likely do not know my rules. Most people happily share their gum without strings attached. But not me. If I give you a piece of my hard earned gum, and you spit it out in under ten minutes, you have committed an unforgivable faux pas. Irredeemable. What were you thinking? If YOU are going to have the audacity of chewing a piece of MY gum, you best keep it in your thieving mouth for no less than an hour.
I'm not as maniacal about my tissues and paper towels, but I have rules there, too. Not so much with the tissues. My weird Kleenex thing is that I use the same one multiple times (like our elderly grandparents' parents used to do back during the depression when provisions were scarce). I will use one until it is threadbare (paperbare?) and has holes in it and cannot possibly contain the nose blowing it's getting any more (keeping reading for an interesting take on how I clean my nose). And paper towels - I have very specific things I use them for. If you come to my house and wash your hands and then reach for a paper towel to dry them, you run the risk of not being invited back. Not really (kind of). Paper towels are for wiping down counters and tables. They are for cleaning up spills. They are for my daily routine of cleaning Dudley's tee-tee spot in my dining room. They are not for drying off your hands. That's what my kitchen HAND towel is for. It's right there. Looking at you. Begging you to dry your hands with it. And you're ignoring it. While you're wasting my paper towels and polluting the earth. Damn you.
3. I Stick My Fingers Up My Nostrils When I Blow My Nose
Okay, not during the act of blowing, but once I've blown and I've got some cleaning to do. It is pretty gross, I suppose, and I am so accustomed to doing it this way that I've probably done it in front of you without even realizing it. But, one of my nagging daily fears is that I'm parading around town with a visible something in my nose. As sarcastic as I can be, how foolish would I look if I said something obnoxious (but hilarious) to you and the whole time you were in on a joke about me that I was unaware of? It would be disastrous. So, I do everything in my power to ensure that it will never happen. Once I blow my nose - which we all must on occasion - I will put my finger through the tissue (that I've used 712 times) and go into each nostril to get whatever remains. I turn my finger clockwise to gently scoop any foreign matter out so nothing is left behind for your amusement or disgust. But, you take away the Kleenex and really I'm just picking my nose. Not something that should be done in public, I guess. And if I'm paying attention, I won't do it publicly. But again, these are little idiosyncrasies I have that I am very likely doing A LOT more often than I realize.
4. I Am Stricken With A Gentle Thump In My Right Ear Every Time I Put My Silverware Away
This one is just plain weird. It's not anything that anyone would ever notice but it's kind of what inspired me to tackle this hard-hitting topic. Without fail, when I empty the dishwasher and put my silver (not even the good stuff; just the every day plated stuff) away, I get a thumping in my right ear. Every time. It does not happen at any other time doing any other thing. Ever. How odd is that?! It can't be normal. What on earth would cause it to do that? Is it because I'm leaning over a little? I do that every time I stretch for a run. Is it because of the metal (or whatever it is) in the silver itself? I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just the way it is. I have an thumpy ear. So there.
5. I Love Listening To Good Ol' Congested Coughs
Kate has one right now and I am loving it. It was really annoying last week when it was just a dry cough. But now I am getting to hear the sweet, sweet sounds of the crackling deep within my baby's lungs. Of course, I don't wish her sick. That would make me a horrible mom. But I'd be lying if I said that I don't look forward to when she gets into one of those really long, drawn out coughing fits. (*She's on antibiotics and the doctors say it's just allergies so this really doesn't make me a terrible person.) If I could switch places with her, I would in a heartbeat. For one thing, I really don't want it to balloon into something worse for her. But really, I am jealous. I have had strep only twice in my life. The first time was in college and it was the best coughing I've ever had. That rattling! The phlegm! It was marvelous! The second time, all I got was the damn sore throat and fatigue. What a waste. I was so bummed.
Many people hear that sound and think it's gross. Not me. I know that's weird, but I love it. Now, if you are chomping down on an ice cube or piece of hard candy, I'll want to punch you into the next room. That's just annoying. But if it's a real good guttural cough that's got you by the balls, please, please come sit next to me in a quiet room.
6. I Have To Pee Whenever I Hide From Someone
This dates back to my childhood I always hated playing hide-and-seek because I would go into a closet and immediately have to pee. I can remember so vividly, holding myself, legs crossed, while listening to faint footsteps coming closer and closer to wherever I was hiding. I don't know if it was because I was in a place I knew I couldn't leave for an undetermined amount of time. I don't know. The same thing happens at night when I go to bed. I'll read a couple of chapters in a book or play some mindless game on my IPhone and I'll have to pee no less than five times before I can actually go to bed. It's like subconsciously I think I'll have to wake up in the middle of the night if I'm not absolutely empty. Whenever we go skiing, I'll put my layers and layers of ski clothes on and then have to pee like a racehorse before we leave the cabin, when we get to the resort, and once we get in line to get on the first lift. If I had regular clothes on that weren't such a pain to put on, I could probably hold it all day. But you put three layers and a cumbersome pair of ski boots on me, and it's Niagara Falls.
6. Every Night I Tell My Kids It's Time To Go Brush Their "Toofy Toofs".
I can't believe I just typed that last one. It's conceivable that I could find a sympathetic friend on any of the last five, but this one is really just awful. I said it one night and it just took off. I'm not saying my kids liked it. They had no reaction whatsoever. But I said it and then it came flying out of my night the next night as well. This has been going on for over a month now. As the words come out of my mouth, I hear it coming and I tell myself how stupid it is. And yet, come out they do. And it's only at night. In the mornings, we simply "brush our teeth" like a normal family. But something about my routine at night; I am powerless to change the fact that this is the idiotic utterance that I direct at my children. And if my children were to ever repeat this to anyone, they would ostracized from all of the other "normal" kids they interact with. "Toofy Toofs" is kind of a cutesy phrase too. Nothing about me is cutesy. Nothing. So, how did this even become part of my daily vernacular? And why in the world am I telling you about it??!
Well, I suppose that's a good start. I'm sure there are countless other things I do that I have no idea are odd that you all are listing quietly to yourselves at this very moment. What I would enjoy is for my blogging friends to compile their own lists so I could enjoy reading about the random and ridiculous things they do. The things that make us uniquely "us" are really quite fascinating (as opposed to this particular post about them...). Somehow I have managed to make my way in life. I have a husband. I used to work. I am raising kids. So maybe I'm not all that odd as compared to everyone else. But I did just have a sobering thought. If I'm this weird, what on earth are all the weirdos hiding from view? I'm looking at you, Lady Gaga.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Beautiful Summer
Well, my first official summer as a stay at home mom is coming to an end. It seemed all too brief. Where did the time go? It seemed like only a few days ago that I was looking ahead at my new found freedom from employment (well, paid employment anyway) and wondering what all we would do over the coming months while the girls were out of school. Now I am getting back to the evening routine of making lunches, scrambling to get everyone fed, bathed, read to, teeth brushed, pottied, etc.
Since my last blog entry - about a month ago -I am sorry to say that I've accomplished nothing in the way of good projects around the house. Although to be fair, I have on occasion knelt down and scooped up the gigantic dog hair wad tumbleweeds that have been collecting in the corners throughout my home. (I'm guessing that Dudley is shedding more than usual due to the oppressive heat we've experienced this summer?) That's as much of a cleaning job as I've felt compelled to do. Now that the kiddos will be in school, I should have reports of more cleaning/organizing in future posts. Unless, that is, I become so sedentary that the hair wad tumbleweeds overtake me on the couch. That is a very real possibility.
Also, since my last post, we've had our annual trek to the beach with my family. I used to describe my family of origin by saying that we put the "fun" in dysfunctional. I have learned over the years that there really isn't anything fun about the dysfunction (perhaps I'll write about that someday), but that we do have an awful lot of fun when we are together. Everyone who goes on this beach trip is just hilarious. We cannot have a meal together without several quotables emerging that stay with us for the rest of the week. And we are weird - we never go out for meals at the beach. The guys will go out for breakfast before golf, but that's it. People ask me all the time for recommendations for good eats in Hilton Head. I am somewhat embarrassed to say that I have no idea as we've never patronized any of them. There's too many of us. We'd miss out on too much in a noisy restaurant with awkward seating where we couldn't all interact with each other. Not to mention the wonderful food and drinks we'd miss out on.
Yes, we cook our own meals starting with elaborate appetizers and ending with an even more elaborate and sinful dessert to cap off the evening. All of the meals are comprised of our best recipes and each year we remark that it's the "best food we've ever had at the beach". This year as with previous trips, as the week progressed, my collar and hip bones became less and less discernable. Eating and drinking with complete abandon in just one week's time while fun, is not good on the figure. And there are pictures to prove it. Between my brother and I alone, we took over 2000 pictures. That's not an exaggeration. Not a typo. Over 2000. Just ridiculous. I'm sure by the end of the trip, Mike was ready to chuck my camera into the ocean. I was just scared that if I put down my camera or, gulp, left it in the house, I'd somehow miss out on the best-picture-taken-by-anyone-ever. So it pretty much went with me anywhere I needed to go. Which wasn't far.
Wake up.
Go downstairs for breakfast.
Go upstairs for bathing suit.
Go downstairs for towels and sunscreen.
Go to beach.
Come in for lunch and bloody mary or whipped cream flavored vodka drink.
Go back out to beach.
Come in for shower.
Go downstairs for dinner and too much wine.
Go upstairs for advil and bedtime.
Repeat for seven days.
So, as you've gathered by now, the beach trip was fantastic just as it always is. What's really gotten fun about it is that the older my children get, the more I get to see them experience what I always loved about our family vacations. They enjoy the beach and playing in the sand and ocean more and more each year. And they LOVE playing with all of their cousins. The trips for them are very similar in many ways to the trips I took when I was their age with the same family members. I grew up loving spending time with my cousins at the beach. Meg is named "Meg" after my cousin, in fact. When I use the restroom, I use the "john" because my cousin is named John. Also, Mike and I have a "will" in case of our deaths (in case???) because another cousin of mine is named Will. See how much we all mean to each other?
But to watch them experience and enjoy the humor that is always present with this group of people is really a touching thing for me. I hear people talk about needing a vacation after their vacation or dreading having to spend time with the family. I have never really been able to relate to that because that beach trip is the one time of year I can really let my mind go and relax. Something about the salty air and all of the memories from the 35+ years we've been doing this... it's kind of exceptional. And the perfect way to put a close to this special summer I've had with my babies.
They are no longer babies, but they'll always be my babies. And I had the pleasure of spending my summer with them unimpeded by the stresses of work. We got to go to the beach twice. We spent long weekends at the lake - sometimes as a family, sometimes with friends. We took a couple of road trips. We went to movies. We had spend the night parties when daddy would travel. We ate LOTS of pizza and popped LOTS of popcorn (much of which I would discover in my sheets for several days afterwards). We did everything we wanted to do. It was... lovely.
One thing that started close to the end of the summer but has quickly become one of my very favorite things to do with them is story time before bed. It's not what you may be thinking - we've always read books at bedtime. But one night, in an effort to calm Meg down in a crying spell due to exhaustion, I told them a story that I made up as I went. To be honest, I don't even remember what it was about or who the characters were. But they do. The next morning they were talking about the storyline. Asked about the characters - did they do this or did they like that. They had really paid attention. Much more so than when we read to them.
So every night they began begging me to tell more stories. I would have to oblige since it it seemed to mean so much to them. Since that first time, I've told them stories about a deer family. There was one about a turtle named Tippy. There was one about a new student at school who was having a bad day until someone went up and spoke to her. After a particularly nasty day of the two of them fighting, I told them a story about two sisters names Sally and Sissy Sue who learned a very important lesson about the value of having a sister. They hang on my every word. It is such a sweet time that I get to spend with them. The best way I know to describe it is sweet innocence. I have no idea if they know that I'm making it up or if they really believe the stories are true. I just know how much they look forward to that time we spend and I would not trade that feeling for anything.
This has been a beautiful summer. Everything I had hoped it would be when I made the decision to walk away from a great job. In a few weeks, Mike and I will celebrate our tenth anniversary. I am so grateful to him for supporting my need to be home with the girls. I have no idea where we'll be after the next ten years. I'll likely be blogging about how much my kids hate me and are embarrassed by me. But until that time, I think I'll enjoy their sweet innocence as long as they'll let me. I don't know if my house will ever be clean and organized, but something tells me that's not what matters. And just think, I only have 281 days to wait to get to experience it all over again.
Since my last blog entry - about a month ago -I am sorry to say that I've accomplished nothing in the way of good projects around the house. Although to be fair, I have on occasion knelt down and scooped up the gigantic dog hair wad tumbleweeds that have been collecting in the corners throughout my home. (I'm guessing that Dudley is shedding more than usual due to the oppressive heat we've experienced this summer?) That's as much of a cleaning job as I've felt compelled to do. Now that the kiddos will be in school, I should have reports of more cleaning/organizing in future posts. Unless, that is, I become so sedentary that the hair wad tumbleweeds overtake me on the couch. That is a very real possibility.
Also, since my last post, we've had our annual trek to the beach with my family. I used to describe my family of origin by saying that we put the "fun" in dysfunctional. I have learned over the years that there really isn't anything fun about the dysfunction (perhaps I'll write about that someday), but that we do have an awful lot of fun when we are together. Everyone who goes on this beach trip is just hilarious. We cannot have a meal together without several quotables emerging that stay with us for the rest of the week. And we are weird - we never go out for meals at the beach. The guys will go out for breakfast before golf, but that's it. People ask me all the time for recommendations for good eats in Hilton Head. I am somewhat embarrassed to say that I have no idea as we've never patronized any of them. There's too many of us. We'd miss out on too much in a noisy restaurant with awkward seating where we couldn't all interact with each other. Not to mention the wonderful food and drinks we'd miss out on.
Yes, we cook our own meals starting with elaborate appetizers and ending with an even more elaborate and sinful dessert to cap off the evening. All of the meals are comprised of our best recipes and each year we remark that it's the "best food we've ever had at the beach". This year as with previous trips, as the week progressed, my collar and hip bones became less and less discernable. Eating and drinking with complete abandon in just one week's time while fun, is not good on the figure. And there are pictures to prove it. Between my brother and I alone, we took over 2000 pictures. That's not an exaggeration. Not a typo. Over 2000. Just ridiculous. I'm sure by the end of the trip, Mike was ready to chuck my camera into the ocean. I was just scared that if I put down my camera or, gulp, left it in the house, I'd somehow miss out on the best-picture-taken-by-anyone-ever. So it pretty much went with me anywhere I needed to go. Which wasn't far.
Wake up.
Go downstairs for breakfast.
Go upstairs for bathing suit.
Go downstairs for towels and sunscreen.
Go to beach.
Come in for lunch and bloody mary or whipped cream flavored vodka drink.
Go back out to beach.
Come in for shower.
Go downstairs for dinner and too much wine.
Go upstairs for advil and bedtime.
Repeat for seven days.
So, as you've gathered by now, the beach trip was fantastic just as it always is. What's really gotten fun about it is that the older my children get, the more I get to see them experience what I always loved about our family vacations. They enjoy the beach and playing in the sand and ocean more and more each year. And they LOVE playing with all of their cousins. The trips for them are very similar in many ways to the trips I took when I was their age with the same family members. I grew up loving spending time with my cousins at the beach. Meg is named "Meg" after my cousin, in fact. When I use the restroom, I use the "john" because my cousin is named John. Also, Mike and I have a "will" in case of our deaths (in case???) because another cousin of mine is named Will. See how much we all mean to each other?
But to watch them experience and enjoy the humor that is always present with this group of people is really a touching thing for me. I hear people talk about needing a vacation after their vacation or dreading having to spend time with the family. I have never really been able to relate to that because that beach trip is the one time of year I can really let my mind go and relax. Something about the salty air and all of the memories from the 35+ years we've been doing this... it's kind of exceptional. And the perfect way to put a close to this special summer I've had with my babies.
They are no longer babies, but they'll always be my babies. And I had the pleasure of spending my summer with them unimpeded by the stresses of work. We got to go to the beach twice. We spent long weekends at the lake - sometimes as a family, sometimes with friends. We took a couple of road trips. We went to movies. We had spend the night parties when daddy would travel. We ate LOTS of pizza and popped LOTS of popcorn (much of which I would discover in my sheets for several days afterwards). We did everything we wanted to do. It was... lovely.
One thing that started close to the end of the summer but has quickly become one of my very favorite things to do with them is story time before bed. It's not what you may be thinking - we've always read books at bedtime. But one night, in an effort to calm Meg down in a crying spell due to exhaustion, I told them a story that I made up as I went. To be honest, I don't even remember what it was about or who the characters were. But they do. The next morning they were talking about the storyline. Asked about the characters - did they do this or did they like that. They had really paid attention. Much more so than when we read to them.
So every night they began begging me to tell more stories. I would have to oblige since it it seemed to mean so much to them. Since that first time, I've told them stories about a deer family. There was one about a turtle named Tippy. There was one about a new student at school who was having a bad day until someone went up and spoke to her. After a particularly nasty day of the two of them fighting, I told them a story about two sisters names Sally and Sissy Sue who learned a very important lesson about the value of having a sister. They hang on my every word. It is such a sweet time that I get to spend with them. The best way I know to describe it is sweet innocence. I have no idea if they know that I'm making it up or if they really believe the stories are true. I just know how much they look forward to that time we spend and I would not trade that feeling for anything.
This has been a beautiful summer. Everything I had hoped it would be when I made the decision to walk away from a great job. In a few weeks, Mike and I will celebrate our tenth anniversary. I am so grateful to him for supporting my need to be home with the girls. I have no idea where we'll be after the next ten years. I'll likely be blogging about how much my kids hate me and are embarrassed by me. But until that time, I think I'll enjoy their sweet innocence as long as they'll let me. I don't know if my house will ever be clean and organized, but something tells me that's not what matters. And just think, I only have 281 days to wait to get to experience it all over again.
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