Saturday morning reality check

Ok, first reality check -- it's not Saturday morning. It's Saturday afternoon and I'm still in my jammies with no real intention of changing out of them for at least another hour or so.

Second, you know all that waxing nostalgic about Little House in the Suburbs and roughing it by doing dishes by hand, leaving the windows open and cooking from scratch? Well, the windows are closed, the air is on, we bought pizza from Papa Murphy's last night (it was at least cooked in our oven), and I'm calling the repair guy on Monday to come fix my dishwasher. One of the reason I'm still not dressed is because I was doing dishes this morning, stopped to make Belgian waffles, then had the original dishes plus the waffle mess to wash up.

Now that the kitchen is (mostly) back in order, I have to wrangle the laundry. I've said it before, but this time I might mean it. I'm limiting my family to 3 pairs of shorts, 2 pairs of pants, 5 pairs of underwear, 4 t-shirts, 2 nice shirts and 2 pairs of pj's each. If I stacked up all the dirty laundry into one big pile, I bet I could set a world record. I wonder if there is a world record?

Actually, I don't mind doing the laundry. Washing, drying, even folding. (Don't tell my family, but I kind of enjoy it.) It's the putting away that I absolutely despise. Maybe if we had fewer clothes to put away, it would be less of a vile job?

The real task of the weekend is to clean my bedroom. This is closely tied to the laundry b/c there are clothes everywhere. I would take a picture to show you, but even I'm not that bold. Suffice it to say, the bedroom floor is like the moon -- uneven surfaces, mounds of physical matter and occasional craters. It's hard to yell at your kids about their bedrooms when your own could be declared a federal disaster area.

I'm hoping to make some good headway in the bedroom before Robbie and I leave for our "date" tonight. (He does not have an aversion to the word like Charlie does). Thanks to an anonymous benefactor -- and I do mean THANK YOU -- Robbie and I are going to see "Walking with Dinosaurs" tonight. I think it's gonna be awesome!

What's on tap for your weekend? Hope it's a good one.

Indulging his inner artist

I was in Robbie's room last night to tuck him in bed and say prayers, when I looked up and saw this:

and this:

and this:

"Robbie! What did you do to your walls?!"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me nothing, you colored on your walls."

"Not me. It was a ghost."

"It was a ghost my foot. Why did you do that?"

"To make it beautiful."

And then my mind turned to The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch (if you haven't read it, definitely put in on your summer reading list. It's both short and inspiring.) As a teenager, Pausch lobbied his parents to let him paint his bedroom and draw all sorts of crazy things on the walls. And his folks said yes.

The difference here is that Robbie is not a teenager and he went with the "ask forgiveness, not permission" philosophy.

So I said, "Robbie, the next time you want to make something beautiful either do it on paper or ask Mommy or Daddy if it's ok first."

But I have to admit that there is something endearing about his dinosaur art. And I don't want to be guilty of quashing his inner artist, which has shown itself before. So, I'm leaving it right where he put it.