SHINY Sink

It is the end of Day 2 of the Flybaby challenge.  Since I have done the Shiny Sink Challenge before (I wasn't ready to be a full fledged flybaby yet), Day 1 wasn't so super rough.  I must admit that I am doing more than just shining a sink though.  See, Day 1 was a day without kids for the morning since they were all in school.  So I had me some three full hours to tackle the beast of CHAOS downstairs.  By the time Day 1 was over, worked on some laundry, moved a desk into the west side of the living room, moved the computer out, moved the filing cabinet out, cleaned through all the mess of toys and junk that formerly resided on the west side of the living room, and made my sink shiny.  Just a note, the directions of only doing one side at a time are highly recommended.  Because if you are like me, you are annoyed at how slow the scalding hot water is filling the sink, so you walk away and remember something you wanted to grab from downstairs and bring upstairs...and lets just say the floor in front of the sink is nice and clean, as well as inside the cabinet. :)

 

I do have to admit I did go a little "crazy" after the sink was all shiny and I had some dishes to put in the dishwasher.  See, I found a glass in another room, and realizing that I was going to have to pour it into my nice, clean, shiny, beautiful sink...I headed to the bathroom and dumped it in the sink then went to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher.  Oh, wait...it gets better.  See, I am not usually the last one to bed.  So the dear, sweet hubby was still up and decided to indulge in his favorite nighttime snack of a large glass of chocolate milk.  He came to tell me how nice the sink looked, and how much he loved me.  He thanked me for all my hard work.  I told him I would kill him if he dared to pour his glass into my beautiful sink.  He laughed.  He thought I was joking.

 

I was greeted by this wonderful sight the morning of Day 2:

oh, and two empty glasses with chocolate syrup residue on the bottom and spoons stuck inside.  Yes, he is still alive.

The sink has remained empty and shiny pretty much all day.  It helped that I was the only one here this morning, and we only spent a total of two hours at home before 8pm tonight.  There really wasn't much for dishes, which makes getting into the habit of using them then sticking them in the dishwasher much easier. Training the others should be this easy!

I kept my sink shiny today, plus tackled a few more piles in the abyss.  I threw away 3 grocery bags of garbage yesterday and another two today. 

Now, to wander around the house to find all the dishes, rinse and store in the dishwasher, wipe out my sink, grab a good book, take a relaxing bath, and do it all again tomorrow.  I will be starting my Control Journal tomorrow.  And I'm looking forward to it!

PS...Did I mention Thanksgiving is not at my house?!  THANK GOD!!

Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving!

What WILL tomorrow bring

Yeah, so I've pretty much had enough.  I'm tired. I'm frustrated.  I'm throwing in the towel. Yep, you heard me.  Done!

I'm tired of my house being in CHAOS mode.  I'm frustrated that there is always so much to do and never a clue where to begin.  I'm throwing in the towel...in the washer of course, because there is always so much laundry to do!  I'm done...waiting for the house to clean itself. 

So I jumped on the FLYlady bandwagon.  I'm going to become a FLYbaby tomorrow.  There has got to be something to this...though the whole shiny sink think is kind of crazy. I've tried that one before, and did pretty good for a couple weeks or so.  The hardest part was that was actually the one job that the hubby gladly took on...so made more work for me.  He loved it of course, but I wasn't so crazy about it around day 3. I liked waking up to no dishes on the counter or in the sink.  That was all nice and dandy.  But I was too stinkin' tired of all the cleaning.  I really don't like to clean.

But the paperwork is taking over.  There's always a pile of stuff here, or there, or several here and there and over there and right there and....well, enough with the mental picture.  It's a mess.

I kind of already started with my cleaning phase.  This weekend, I finally went through all my clothes in my room and took the "summer" stuff out and all those "yeah, I gained another 5 pounds and now can't fit into that" clothes, put them in the tote or in the "Outta here" pile, and straightened up the master bedroom.  I kind of like my blue carpet.  Just a few minor touches, then to the grind of making a habit out of making the bed.  This piece will prove most difficult with the added confusion of how to make the bed when the hubby is still in it. I'm open to suggestions!

My mission for this week...shiny sink, made bed, and a "Control Journal." :)  Wish me luck!  Or just pray, that will be SOOOO much better.

A Simple Thought

I know it has been a little while, and any day seems a good day to sit down and throw thoughts randomly onto a piece of paper.  Life rarely seems to allow it though, and even when I feel the urge many times a pile of papers or clothes or kids tend to distract me.  But a quiet moment surfing the social media sites and seeing all the well wishes to all the wonderful dads out there left me suddenly aware of something very important.  Something missing.  Something that I did not feel the absence of until it is time to put the kids to bed.

This is the fifth year that I have not called my dad to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. 

You may ask why.  Who wouldn’t call their dad on Father’s Day, or send a card? What kind of horrible daughter am I?

Well, I could sit here all night listing my failures as a daughter (or maybe all week), rattle off the pains my father and I have caused each other, the multitude of barriers in our lives to a strong, healthy relationship.  But none of them would be the reason I did not call today…or last year.  But unlike last year, I was not saddened by this absence earlier in my day. 

I spent the day yesterday with my husband’s family, even getting involved in a very spirited game of soccer.  I married into a very competitive family and had lots of competitive offspring.  Who knew soccer could be a contact sport?  It was the most fun I think I have had with my father-in-law in the last twelve years of marriage.  The laughs, the sweat, the jokes…none of them stirred the yearning for contact with my father or any memories of fun times we had. 

At church, the kids made goodie bags for their dads.  We headed home to make the hubby breakfast for lunch, including not so over-easy eggs, toast, pancakes, bacon and American fries.  And he only got up once to “help” check the thick bacon.  A quick shopping trip with my mom (and two crazy kids who I SHOULD have left home no matter what they said), a few shows on Netflix with the kids, fend for yourself dinner, and just lazing around.  Nothing big, hubby at work.  But most of all, no thoughts of connecting with my dad.

No, I am not some insensitive whelp of a child.  I love my father.  And I have tons of great memories of growing up.  Yes, there are bad ones too.  But those I choose not to dwell on.  I have so many more good memories.  Building wooden cars in the garage for my cousins for Christmas.  Catching a tarantula in a glass mason jar.  Listening to him play his guitar.  Driving somewhere, anywhere, and turning off the radio to hear my parents sing a song together.  Watching my dad play soccer, teach me how to be the goalie.  Cheering on my dad when he played softball.  Helping him mow the lawn.  Rooting for the Wildcats together. 

Why don’t I just pick up the phone?  Simply because there is no one on the other end. 

My father passed away five years ago in February.  Brain tumors.  He was not expected to live another six months.  We were hopeful, but a part of me knew.  I think I knew in my heart that he would not make it to Father’s Day, or even to the birth of my son.  I didn’t want to believe it.  I wanted so badly to see him hold my son.  But the fact remained that he was gone. 

There would be no more cards, no more phone calls, no more emails or IMs, no more texts, no facebook.  There would be no more visits to grandpas. 

I sit here and wonder.  I can’t call my dad to wish him a Happy Father’s Day and I am not sad.  Is it because my dad and I weren’t terribly close, in relationship or in distance?  That he wasn’t that huge of a part of my life that his absence isn’t felt so strongly?  Does that make me a bad person because I didn’t have a closer connection to my father?  Is that wrong?

Honestly, I don’t think so.  I do not ache, because it serves no purpose in my life.  I will not be a better person for weeping daily over the loss of my father.  I will not build strong relationships with my children by mourning.  I can not bring my father back with any of my tears.  Instead, I hear him in my laugh.  I see him in the eyes of my mischievous son.  I feel him in the strum of my guitar.  I smell him in the stands of the baseball diamond. 

And I remember.