organized chaos

I’m here now–the gremlin wrangler.

Scroll down for the explanation or just come on over without one. Your choice.

I’ve hem hawed around long enough. I’ve made a hard decision. Let me explain.

Awhile back I tried to hop on the band wagon of cool hip bloggers with their own domains. My Man finally approved the $100 up front that we really didn’t have to spend (thanks Discover), and I signed up for my own domain and got as far as picking a free WordPress theme.

And I’m not going to bore you with all the dirty details, but after three hours and slow technical support, I ended up in tears and canceled the whole thing. And I thought I was so technically savvy. I just couldn’t do it. Apparently installing my own wordpress blog was not a three minute setup.

One of the reasons I even considered this was because the free WordPress I currently use does not allow ads, or selling from your blog in anyway, unless it’s a link so discreet no one knows about it. Nor do they allow changes in your template and other technical stuff like that. Font color and size is important to me, folks. I’m very visual.

But, they’ve been a swell place to blog. Hence the Hem-Hawing around. I’m comfortable here.

But I set up a blogger. For the freedom to do what I want over there. You can’t begrudge a girl for wanting to promote her business and make a little moola.

And if you follow me over there, you might find a surprise waiting. Something you really, really want. I’m not above bribing my friends. I just love you guys so much.

So come visit me over there. I even have a new title, only because I’ve since discovered there are several “Organized Chaos” blogs out there and you know I can’t be like everyone else. I think you’ll like the new one. You know what to do.

clicky, clicky

So we had some birthday madness around here this last weekend. I might have mentioned that my oldest is now a decade old. Wowzers.

But the real issue at hand is the cake building. I’ve built some doosies in my time. Some really swell and some really not. That’s how most things are for me. No middle ground in my life. That’s how I roll with it.

I’ve found, however, that with working weekends, cake building becomes infinitely more stressful to complete in the 5 hours available to me on a Saturday morning. Because you know that’s not the ONLY thing I have to do on a Saturday morning before a party on Sunday.

And then there’s the sleep deprivation from the late night at work on Friday. So. I’m a real peach to be around on Saturdays. Really. You should come over so I’ll have an extra head to chew off.

No matter how peachy I am, though, I never forget to document these moments for all posterity you folks to laugh at.

Here’s some snippets of info I thought I’d pass on about cake building.

Let’s say you forget to add the water to the cake mix. Then you start mixing away and realize the mix resembles thick chocolate ice cream. Here’s a tip for you: Don’t just pour all that water in all willy nilly. Especially if you have two boxes of cake mix in the bowl for a double batch. The result when you turn the mixer back on will be similar to this picture. And you will have watery goop up and down your shorts and shirt as well. Not that I would know. I’m just guessing here.

Unless you like to make as much of a mess as possible as you go. In that case, forget I mentioned it.

Once you break your arm stirring in the water by hand, it will then be safe to turn the mixer back on and go to town. All’s well that ends well.

Unless your sink looks like this.

I don’t know about you, but there is nothing more defeating to me than to look at this. So let’s interrupt this program for a word from our Sponsor:

Methylphenidate.

Known to the common man as Ritalin.

Known to the tired man as wakefulness.

Friend to the narcoleptic and ADD children the world over. Available by prescription only. Use as directed. Side effects include rocking the messy house and dancing uncontrollably to 80’s music.

So the cakes actually turned out fine, and I moved on to the frosting bit. Last year I actually bought the canned frosting. *GASP* Please don’t choke on whatever it is you’re eating or drinking whilst reading this. Like I said, working the weekends has greatly kinked my cake building skills, and had I the money, I probably would have bought a cake from the store already made. The gremlins would actually prefer it. And at this point, I’ve got nothin’ to prove.

I found out at the last minute that I was out of frosting bags. Drat. Luckily, Charlie’s mom sent one of these crazy doo-hickies in the box one time, so I had something to frost the bat with. I’ve avoided it so far because while it is easy to use, it’s small and you have to keep refilling it after exactly 10 star shapes. And my frosting color?

Don’t judge me. Frosting color is my nemesis. I was going for a dark blue. I added tons of blue and some icky old brown stuff I found in my birthday tub and this it what I got. Puke green. Batman was feeling a little sick that day. The bat signal just didn’t have the usual significance. But ask me if I care.

A word about the frosting itself: scrumdiddlyumptious.

For some reason, the frosting was extra good this time. I used real butter and some maple flavor. I’m not a huge fan of frosting, but I do taste a little when I’m making it and I almost died of euphoria when I tasted this.

It couldn’t have been related to the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. But that might explain the maniacal laughter eminating from the kitchen for about an hour afterward. In the end I was forced to bypass the spoon and inject it straight into my veins.

I might need help. Anybody know the hotline number for this sort of thing?

Don’t worry though, I finished the bat cake.

The puke green bat signal strangely represents the exact color of my face about an hour after my frosting injection. Sugar highs only last a little while, then the fun’s over. What goes up must come down.

Good times.

ww HQ

Usually care packages are reserved for kids away from home. My Man is an only child and his parents have never really accepted that he is a grown man and since they live two states away, technically he is a kid away from home.

So we’ve always received care packages full of goodies the likes you’ve never seen. I thought you’d like to share in the bi-monthly excitement that is “The Box From Grandma Diana.” But a disclaimer from My Man: We don’t ask for the box. We never have. It’s a free will offering that only a mother can provide, lest you think him a spoiled child. Which he is not.

Join me.

First we have the usual shipment of office supplies. As you all know, I need these desperately. Sometimes I ask for specific things like three ring binders, but mostly she just has closets full of this stuff and it’s luck of the draw. That glue stick in the front? It’s about as thick as the fat end of a carrot. I’m still not sure what I’ll use it for. Maybe I can glue Jackelope to his chair at dinner so he’ll stop getting up and performing Jedi moves all helter skelter in the middle of devotions.

I can’t remember the last time I bought toothpaste. It’s one of her favorite things to send. And heck, I’m not picky, so it works out fine. Unless it’s sandpaper flavor. I’ve found that to be a bit–grating.

Oh, and that allergy medicine is supposed to be for My Man who sneezes 15 times in a row at times, but according to him, medicines are all placebos. That actually might come from the fact that his parents still buy their medicines across the river (Rio Grande River) and use out of date penicillin for colds and viruses. I’ve told them it’s not really effective for that, but you can’t buck tradition.

And The Box would not be The Box without the necessary snackage for the gremlins. She also thinks I use a lot of splenda because there was this one time when I did, but I’m out of that phase now. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her, so I keep getting sandwich baggies filled with splenda packets. And coffee mate that My Man and I would rather gag than use in our coffee. I’m all about the coconut cream people. Don’t judge me.

Then there’s my special sack inside the big box. The photo’s a bit blurred from my excitement over all that loot. Usually I get beef jerky, a special notepad just for me, some cash!, and a pain reliever of some sort to rid the gremlin induced headache. And apparently The Cuteness does not get his own sack yet, because all his baby junk was in my sack also. It was a bit of a let down, to say the least, when I opened my goody sack and pulled out baby plates and cutlery. But again–I got cash, so I’ll stop my moaning. And that blue comb?

Who knows where she found this jewel, but do you guys know I have always wanted a fancy blue comb with my very own name on it? Well I have! Don’t judge me.

Now here’s where I broke the rules a little.

This is officially Charlie’s bag o’ goodies, but I peeked in to give you nice folks the first look and the vast difference between the golden boy’s goody bag and my own. Notice the George Strait CD circa 1980’s. I think the puffy vinyl coat gives it away. And yes, Charlie was very excited about this goody. What a nerd. He also got some cool pencil leads and a Coleman watch for all his OCD treks out to the backyard.

And then there’s his second goody bag.

Now, I’m not much for chocolate. I’m weird like that. But she could of sent me a big bag of avocados or nachos supreme. I suppose that would get messy. Even so.

Ten chocolate bars for mom’s little sweetie. I think I’m tearing up. With tears. Actually I might need some of that pain reliever now that I think of it. For the throbbing headache of injustice.

Still. I’m grateful for the cash. Did I mention that? I am.

It’s been quite a weekend around here, and it’s only Saturday morning.  You know, Saturday in the park, I think it was the fourth of July. Only, there’s no man selling ice cream. And it’s not the fourth of July.

But I digress. Before I go off on a weirdo tangent let me just take this moment to refer you to one of my favorite East Texas posts. That is, if you’re looking for something to read. If not, why have you even read this far, hmmm?

Recycling makes the world go round, no? Click here to read.

So apparently some other people like my madness enough to let it infiltrate another blog. If you haven’t checked this neat blog out, head over there. Aside from my usual nonsense, which is on there today, there are some quality writers on there to check out every day.

It’s been one of those days. Those days.

I woke up to find my wireless router not working. But hey, without mobile access to the web, maybe I’d get a few things done around here.

Me and the gremlins went a round during school about their attitudes. Again. But hey, it sunk in for the time being and we finished our work without incident.

I’ve chewed most of my nails down to the nubs because my file is pretty much worthless and I just can’t shake the nerves and doomsday feeling that’s plagued me all day. Thank you, hormones. You’re the BEST!

But true to my motto that there’s something to laugh at everyday, I give you this.

He’s looking very dapper today, no? That’s what I thought when Socrates brought him downstairs after his first nap. I asked, “Why did you get his hair wet, cute as it is?”

Socrates gave me a bashful sideglance. “It’s my spit.”

I examined the wet, shiny hair of The Cuteness and mumbled something unintelligible towards Socrates about never desecrating the head of The Cuteness again or I would take exactly $5.37 out of his money jar as punishment.

That doesn’t seem unintelligible when I write it or when you read it, but trust me. I was running for the camera when I said it. Because even with his hair slicked down with Big Brother’s Spittle (available now at your local Hair Port!) The Cuteness couldn’t be more dapper.

A lot can change in 10 years. Just my hair color/style alone has changed at least twice a year. It’s not until you have gremlins that you realize how psychotically fast time passes. This week my firstborn, Chaz (a.k.a Socrates) turns the big One-O. And there’s a whole slew of funny things I could tell you about that guy, but as I was thumbing through his mountain of firstborn pics, my brain started working and I had The Best Idea!

You know how I feel about slideshows. Nothing says It better than music and images, in my opinion. But there’s a few things I’d like you to know about this special one I made for Chaz.

The song: my man and I wrote it almost 10 years ago. I wrote the words the night of Chaz’s 1st birthday. He was in bed, asleep and I had one of my first moments of time-passing panic. So I went in and got him out of his crib (first time mom) and took him to my bed to cuddle with him one last time for the day. He was such a good baby, he always went right back to sleep.

But after that, God showed me the age old comparison of our love towards our children vs. His love for us. Yes, it’s really very different when you get right down to it, but on a human level, it’s all we have. I’d never really thought of having children much as a young person and so this feeling of unexplainable proportions had really thrown me for a loop. And when I realized that God the Father loves us like that–times infinity, it revolutionized my heart.

So I wrote a song about it. And the reason I’m using it with Chaz’s 10 birthday slideshow is because he was what God used to open my eyes to His heart.

**some technical tidbits: if the video is choppy, try pausing it and letting it load fully. And if some of the photos are blurry, my apologies. Scanning photos is NOT my forte.

I started taking Mondays off from school to utilize at least one day a week to catch up on the myriad of nonsense that apparently needs to be done around here. But I’ll be honest. I’ve been lax in the Getting Things Done Around The House category. Stuff above and beyond everyday needs.

Now, if you want to talk to me about the Writing category, the Personal Hygiene category, the Meet-Your-Personal-Yell-Quota category, or Eating Three Squares A Day category, then I’m good. I take care o’ me.

Then there’s the issue all moms deal with. Why even bother? It will never last, it will look like a tornado again 5 seconds later, and I’ll feel like I never even did a thing. And some days are such a blur, I feel like I didn’t get a thing accomplished.

So for the sake of posterity, I did a little photo journaling of a few of the various self imposed tasks of the day. And if you must know, I almost decided against this post because I just knew someone would exhale a big gust of exasperation and think,

“What in the freakin’ heck is this woman trying to do to the inhabitants of the internet? Kill us slowly with the mind numbing mediocrity of a house wife? We have our own chores to obsess over daily! Enough!”

And to that person, I’d like to say. Point and click, Friend. Point and click.

I started the day with this catastophe. There’s the jerk in the midst of the laundry maze, making himself right at home. Never lifting a paw. Jerk.

8 loads and 12 hours later…

Washing and drying I can usually handle. It’s that dadgum folding thing that chaps my hide. Maybe I accidentally took an extra ritalin today. Hmm….

Now, this is one thing I’m really good at putting off. I usually make one of the older gremlins take The Cuteness to bed and such, so I don’t have to experience the spike in blood pressure when I come up the stairs and see this room. Jackelope just doesn’t possess a whole lot of domestic skills. It’s not for lack of trying.

He’s just better at being Black Spiderman.

But it’s been worse. Trust me. I didn’t even have to turn into the Tasmanian Devil to get it done in a timely manner.

Then the whining commenced. Because the hair had grown long enough.

You’d think after 10 years of haircuts, he’d quit looking at me like this when I break out the shears.

But Jackelope. Oh man. He’s the reason I put this chore off as long as possible. But in the end, he endured with the promise of gum when we finished, and was a happy chap.

And then there are all the interruptions to deal with. I know you all are most definitely tired of seeing spiders around here, but they are infiltrating my house. After meeting Arachnid King, I’m just not freaked out by the likes of this little peon anymore.

Nothing but cake.

And this image just brings peace and joy to my soul. There’s nothing quite as soothing as walking into a clean kitchen. It’s a rare gem, that.

Just don’t look too close.

You’ll see I don’t demand perfection. Just the appearance of. From a distance.

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