It's time to get our sh#t together

This past week I took a break from all the "fun" I was having "decorating the bedrooms of my two little "angels" because school is only a few weeks away and I need to de-summer the kids. We have spent the last 12 weeks staying up late and sleeping in, running free through the neighborhood, filling our daylight with swimming, running, biking, grabbing meals on the fly, wearing shorts and flip flops, hours of television shows and movies and video games. And, at least in my house of five children, some real Lord of the Flies type sh*t. When you are 12, shotgun is a fighting word. Your struggle is real.

How do you de-summer kids? That's this weeks project and I honestly have no idea. I'm not good at parenting, but here is what I do. It may or may not be the worst possible advise you have ever heard. It's the final weeks of summer and I've either gone mad or become brilliant.

Restore the sleep cycle.
Suddenly out of nowhere enforce a bed time. It's important that you are not provoked. No one child should feel that it is directed specifically at them. Your sudden outburst must defy all reason leaving them too confused to be combative. At about 9:00 when every one is laughing and running around, flip the $#%@ out! Be as loud and crazy as humanly possible. Give them the old Lou Ferrigno gets angry. Use more sounds than words. You have to be the kind of insane that inspires all around you to flee. Don't break character. If you break character you just created a game and they will demand a repeat performance every night forever. You don't want that. Go to a yard sale. Buy a coffee table. Spend about a week pretending that you love LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE your brand new $15 coffee table. Then right at the peak of the go to bed performance. You break that sh#$. With a bat. If you do this right the first time you will benefit from your labor all year long. From that point on when you say go to bed with that crazy look in your eye KIDS WILL GO TO BED. I have found that prison law often applies to raising little ones. Children are crafty and cunning. They can plead and negotiate with logic. A sane mind can be tricked and manipulated. They will work you over and at the first sign of weakness they pounce. They will wear you down, and once they do, your life is no longer your own. Does your child require you to meticulously prepare their dinner plate so that none of their food is touching only to leave it untouched while they freely eat from your plate? They're messing with ya. Prison law. You're their bitch. Hulk smash a coffee table sounds a little more reasonable now doesn't it?

Manipulate their surrounding
Secretly gather everything that has any association with water and fun. Destroy it. Destroy it all. Hang up jackets. Put boots by the door. Get an apple cinnamon or pumpkin pie air freshener. Books. Place small stacks of books in common areas. All over the house so that everywhere they look they are reminded of learning. If the TV is on, demand to watch PBS. Continue to force PBS down their pie holes until they crave bran muffins and simpler times. Breaking the spirit of today enhances the Halloween of tomorrow. Trust me. You can't force your children to choose bad ass Halloween costumes. That comes from with in.

Clean
Nothing breaks up the stain of a free spirit like the power of Clorox. This can be one of the most difficult routines to establish. A successful chore chart is the holy grail in the world of stay at home moms. I have a chore chart with an impressive run. Six weeks. In the land of chore charts six weeks is ancient. Like a Sequoia. Or an Elder wizard.  More like an Elder wizard because Sequoias are real and successful chore charts and elder wizards are not. Any family with multiple children knows even the best chore charts have an extremely limited life span because one of every four children is a criminal mastermind. They appear to follow the rules but they are always searching for the one little thread that will unravel everything. They will find it. They always find it. In my home of five children I have two evil geniuses. One is 13. His secret power is Signus. That's Latin for lazy. I say it in Latin because it is an art form. The only thing about this boy that is not lazy is his mind. The other is a six year old girl. Her power is deceit. One of her first words was "nuffing!" it was said in alarm with both hands behind her back. It was said often. Anytime you entered a room she was in. She would jump up hide something and say "Nuffing!" We once found her in the morning passed out behind the couch lying in a box previously full of donuts. When asked if she had eaten the donuts in the middle of the night she looked me right in the eye and said "no" Despite all of the evidence. Sticky hands. Mouth covered in glaze. Donuts stuck in her hair. A photo of her using the remaining donuts as a pillow. She denied any involvement in the baked goods heist. She was two. Her powers have only increased.

A system that can survive this level of treachery must be magnificent. Here is my chore chart in all of its glory.

It's comlex. It's rewarding. It's competitive. Here's how it works.

Each child has a list of chores. Each chore is worth a point. At the end of the week their points are totaled and either saved to be applied to a reward with a specified point worth, e.g. date with mom requires 50 points, or converted to an allowance. Each point is worth .50 cents.

The child with the most points becomes King or Queen of the children for the following week. What does that even mean? It means automatic shotgun privileges any time we go anywhere. It means they are the deciding vote on everything. What movie do we watch tonight? ask the Queen of the children. What should we have for dinner tonight? Ask the Queen of the children. Who's going to the store with mom? Queen of the children. It solves many if not all arguments and is a very coveted position. Plus I always draw their name on the board super artsy fancy and include compliments. But what if all the children do all of their chores everyday? They would all have the same amount of points. Have you ever dreamed of your children coming to you and asking for more housework? In this house it happens. We call it extra points. Any day that all chores are completed you can always ask mom for an extra. Does it cost me extra at the end of the week for any kid converting to allowance. Yes. Is it worth it when the house is always clean? F$%# yes! If one of my children wants to really bust ass and wash every wall, mop every floor, scrub every toilet etc etc etc and make $50.00 in one week. I'm all for it. A housekeeper for a couple of hours is substantially more.

I want these chores done right away. So every day there is a small activity that can only be done when everyone has all their chores done. It doesn't have to be expensive or time consuming. I try to get out of the house but you would be surprised how hard your kids will work for the promise of a card game or to frost cookies. Or sit in front of the TV after dinner and watch shark week. This component is awesome. I don't have to nag the kids because they nag and help each other to get to the activity, the sooner they're all done, the more time we have for the activity. As a mom who's often torn in too many directions, the promise of my time and attention is a powerful motivator.

We have a weekly super secret chore. I give one clue. If you can figure out and complete the chore you get the immediate reward of a date with mom (or a boatload of extra points) The catch is I won't reveal if you have guessed correctly until you have completed the chore. If you cleaned out the car thoroughly but it turns out that wasn't the secret chore. I'm still going to praise you and give you a few extra points for a job well done. There is a rule that no one can attempt the secret chore unless all their other chores are done. This not only gets each kid to hurry through their chores so they can get to the activity or so they can take take a shot at the super secret chore but because they know everyone else is hurrying through their chore to take a shot at the super secret chore and they may get to it first. This week it was the fridge in the garage. That thing wreaked, it hadn't been cleaned out in a year. It now smells like Pinesol humping freshness. It's that good.

This is working and it's working well for us. I've been doing this mom thing too long to think it will last though. If it begins to fail I will simply buy a coffee table. Bring it in to the living room and tell the kids I love it with a crazy look in my eye. That should buy me a few more weeks of diligent chore doing....

       

Good enough I say! Good enough.

I want you to understand what I started with. These two rooms pictured below were the cause of a lot of my daily frustration. The photos were taken once the kids had "cleaned" their rooms. As you can see when they say "clean" it actually means "I found all sorts of clever places to stash an ungodly collection of shit I don't need. Can you smell that? Can you smell that putrid mustiness mom? You'll never find it." I can't really blame them for being so lackadaisical though. I sort of set a precedence with the way I hung up their decor.

Last blog I covered the adventure of getting the rooms cleared out, thoroughly douched, and the furniture in. This is all about the decorating. The prettying up. The makin' shit classy. I had so many ideas. Google "decorate girls room" and HOLY SHIZAM there is just so many options! So many! Just as I started sketching design ideas and bringing home fabric samples my boyfriend said something wise to me. He said, "Are you high? You're not doing any of that. I swear sometimes you are out of your friggin mind. You're bat shit crazy." He's a silver tongued devil :) Actually he didn't really say any of those things. He just stared at me for a long time and then shook his head no. Totally means the same thing though. Also, he wouldn't give me any money for this little project. That left me with a real challenge. I had to transform these two shit holes in to one clean, organized, room that was cheap, simple, and fun. And most importantly, easy for them to keep clean and organized. And I had to do it on a budget. But how? It seemed like an impossibility. An enigma. A mystery. A horrid epidemic that will forever plague our house. Luckily for everyone involved I'm brilliant.

My inspiration went from this:

To this:

I know! I know! The first one is so cute! But the second one is clean as F$#% and a room on a budget if I ever saw one. Am I right or am I right?

Here is what we chose.

The beds - Platform with three drawer storage. It eliminates the need for a dresser.

The shelf - Gives them a place they can keep a few things but by using empty spaces and small baskets it means they can't shove a bunch of garbage into it and shut a drawer/door/compartment when they "clean"

The closet - I took the doors off. I had two reasons. 1. The doors open in to the room and that requires a lot of space for clearance. We have two beds in there. We don't have a lot of space. 2. Transparency. Just like the shelf, if I can see it they can't hide it. Also we strung up fun lights. I like that. It's the perfect night light.

The decor - A collage. Its fun, its cute, its so bohemian and its all stuck to the mother F%#@& wall so they can't even think about playing with any of it or turning it from decor to clutter. Plus I had this wonderful idea that they could take pictures of each other, we'd print them and hang them. Each girl would be so proud of every picture because they are either in the photo or they took the photo. That was an epic fail. Because little girls are shitty at everything and that includes photography.

We did a few crafty things though. We took a Styrofoam circle and pinned and glued floral fabric to it. They seem to like it, but I kinda think it looks like I nailed a pillow to the wall.

We went to yard sales, antique stores, thrift shops and found fun frames and wall hangings. I also got a few things from Hobby Lobby. Calm your tits folks! I bought those things long before the conglomerate declared war on the lady parts. Anywho... We took those frames and wall hangings and we spray painted them. If you would like to try this project here are the steps.
1. Put the item on something you can get paint all over. Because you will get paint all over. I chose grass. It was not a wise choice.
2. Aim and spray

Once you have finished there are a few other things you have to do
1. Pick all of the grass out of the paint on your newly painted object.
2. Dance. If you are like me, you sprayed in to the wind and inhaled enough to paint your brain brighter than a pride parade. There are many killer moves that can only be executed when you are high on paint fumes, so COME ON CLOSER TINY DANCER ....
3. Accept it. Just accept that you are and will be covered in paint for a few days. People will recommend you rub gas all over yourself. Don't. You are way too high for that shit.
4. Apologize. You got paint everywhere and there is going to be someone who is not happy about that.

At the end of the day we've got this. Still a couple of lat minute touches are needed. It may not be perfect, but it's good enough.

And so it begins.....Project 1

I have this bright idea that involves our youngest daughters sharing a room. It's not because I need more petty ridiculous fights among siblings. I've got plenty of that. I've got the Costco size container of that bullsh**. The reason they will now be sharing a room is.... actually it's a long story and would make for a boring blog. It has to do with blending families and it looks a lot like this situation:

Let's just say it's mostly because they need more room for activities. There is really more to it than that, but the moral of this story is it has become my first of 52 projects and as an added bonus it combines all 3 of the project criteria mentioned in my previous blog. 52 weeks, 52 projects I'm finishing a room, I'm doing something fun with the kids, and I'm creating. That's right ladies and gentleman I'm a little rookie fresh off the bench and I'm coming out swinging!

NOPE!

So...... apparently this was not one project. This was many projects that could not possibly be done in one week. Also, this was not a project. This was hell on earth. No, not hell. This was hell's dirty infested anus on earth. For this week I was hoping I'd sail right through the preparation phase and get right in to creating fun projects. I have just barely mostly completed preparing the rooms and have done zero fun things. So there is no step by step Pinterest linked how to's, instead this is a list of what we planned, how it worked out, and then a helpful tip or two in case you intend to attempt this at home.

Plan: Clean, Sort, and Organize in preparation for the merge 

How that worked: I wouldn't know. Ten days later and we're not completely done. How do young children accumulate a never ending pile of worthless shit? My daughter has a dresser with four drawers and a desk with two drawers. Somehow I have cleaned out 11,000 drawers. And I'm not done. It's like that mythical beast that as soon as you cut off one head two grow back and when you cut off those two then there's four and so on and so on. I can't seem to end this. 

Helpful Tip: It's hard for kids to spend hours sorting and organizing their stuff in to stuff to keep, stuff to store, and stuff to toss piles. I suggest making a game out of it. Every time your child tries to sneak off in the middle of the job or fakes an injury or illness to get out of work or just begins to break down and wine and lament all existence. Take a shot of tequila. After about the first hour of work, they'll have run off, you'll be totally shit tanked and you'll find sorting becomes very very easy because suddenly everything goes in to the "stuff to build a bitchin bonfire" pile. Honestly. This is a really good plan. For many reasons. Here's three reasons.
1. Cleaning a kids room drunk is actually hilarious. When I find something important that I've been searching the entire house for months for, like the television remote, in a desk drawer. It's so funny. I am filled with laughter. Make the same discovery sober and I am filled with rage.
2. If I diligently sort and organize everything then at the end of every cleaning day I notice it's not cleaner it's worse. This continues for days and spills out in to other areas of the house. When my guy gets home from work and looks around at the chaos he of course asks "what the hell happened?" not in a judgmental way. In a concerned and genuinely curious way. When I have to look him in the eye and say "I'm cleaning" I feel shame because I am obviously failing hard at anything remotely related to cleaning. However, if I look him right in the eye and say "I'm ser jrunk" this answers every possible question and I feel somewhat accomplished. Six straight days of tearing apart the house and calling it cleaning, sad. Six straight days in an alcohol induced frenzy showing signs of being oddly productive, strangely impressive. 

3. Its all about making memories. Ten years from now will my children ever say, "remember that time you organized our bedrooms?" No. They will not. That is not a memory. That is so lame. I promise you though ten years from now my children will definitely on many occasions say "remember that time you were drunk for two weeks and threw away all of our stuff?" That's golden. Right? Good times. 

Plan: Buy, Assmeble, and Personalize cutsey matching beds

How that worked: I blame myself. Why? Because I sleep in a gorgeous bed. Handmade by the Amish folks. I love this bed. It is so beautiful. Sometimes I just look at my bed and I am filled with pride. It was expensive and it is an accomplishment. You don't deserve a bed like this until you've seen some shit, okay? If your kid is under ten and has a "bedroom set" consisting of well made sturdy real wood furnishings, I can guarantee your kid is an asshole. If any of that stuff came from a store like pottery barn or Ethan Allen or similar, I promise you that your kid is now, and will likely always be an asshole. Just sayin'. Because your kid has not earned nice things. I believe kids should start out with nothing. Just a mattress a tattered blanket and an old sweaty pillow. That way they will lie awake at night and dream of a day they will have coordinated bedding and a pillow that doesn't smell like crotch. If you start them out with everything they will never appreciate anything. So with that theory in mind I did not buy the girls the highest quality of craftsmanship in a bed. I bought ones I had to assemble myself. I gave a pile of money to a company in exchange for a wood like substance and bolts that strip instantly. Thank god we didn't go for the bunk bed option. They have not yet been cutseyed or personalized because right now I'm still angry at those beds. They are rude.
Helpful Tip: I meditate. It helps me center. It calms me. Even though I bought these beds from Lowes, I quickly discovered that F#@& YOU IKEA! is still the appropriate mantra for the activity. Get real primal with it for maximum efficacy. The louder and more guttural the chant, the better. And because you're drunk it won't even seem weird. Oh and read the instructions several times before you even start. Because sometimes step six starts with Note: complete step six prior to step two. Seriously.

In conclusion, the one bedroom is cleaned out. Everything has been combined and put away in to one shared bedroom. The furniture is purchased, assembled, and in the room. Now it's time to decorate. But that is another adventure and another blog.

52 Weeks, 52 Projects

I know! That title is intense! A project every week for 52 weeks would be a productive year. Hush now child. I know what you're thinking. Don't go feeling bad that you have already scoffed at the very idea of this being accomplished. I have no faith in me either. This blog may very well be renamed "51 failures, 673 naps, and one load of laundry that was washed, dried, and mostly put away" If there is one thing I have done well my whole life, it's almost never finishing anything sometimes. Cause I've sort of done that before soon. Ya follow me? So 52 weeks, 52 projects. I'm excited. You're excited. Everyone is excited. I could totally do this. A week is a long time and when you dial it in and think about it in terms of one little project over one long week, I'm probably already doing that anyways right?

If you are anything like my boyfriend you are probably thinking "Why the hell? Can nothing be simple in your world?" Here's the deal. Lately my stress level has been a little elevated. In the way Everest is a little elevated. In fact, on many occasions only Tibetan Sherpas are capable of traveling to the height my stress levels have reached. I might be exaggerating just a little bit, but mostly I'm not. I've decided that there are a few things. Simple things. That I can do to help with my stress. Because nothing relieves a mofo's stress like taking on a massive amount of work for absolutely no reason and then setting unrealistic deadlines. Once you think about it, it's really not that hard to understand. In a strange way setting such an ostentatious goal will force me to take care of and manage many of the things that stress me out. And I'll feel busy and useful and for me that is strangely relaxing.

1. I want to get organized! We moved in to this house on October of 2012. We are still not fully moved in. We are mostly moved in, but not fully. In every room in this house there are random things that I'm "going to do later." These tasks vary from hanging a picture or curtains, to fixing or replacing a wobbly knob or fixture, to sort through a box or drawer of random misc junk, etc, etc. I want to stop postponing all of these tasks and go from "later..." to "now!" Some of my 52 projects will be this boring. I'll apologize for that now. Just keep in mind that often it's the boring items on the to-do list that are the most rewarding to cross off.

2. I want to have fun with the kids! More often than not I get distracted from my chores because I suddenly explode with the need to do something fun with the kids. It goes something like this.
Me: We need to clean up the garage
Kids: whine, complain, whine, complain, finally acquiesce.
Me: Is that a kiddie pool? I didn't know we still had that. we should fill it full of pudding and see who can eat the most the fastest.
Kids: Yes
Me: That would take a lot of pudding
Kids: The store has a lot of pudding
Me: Find my keys we're going to the store!!
Some of my 52 projects might be new and interesting ways to do ridiculous sh*t with your kids that sets a very bad example of how to choose appropriate activities

3. I want to create! I have a huge imagination and a need to see these fantastical ideas come to fruition. I'll happily take a DIY chair that you can't sit in because it won't hold more than two pounds but I love it cause I built it myself over a sweet leather recliner you can buy at a furniture store. As long as I can have both. Which is actually very reasonable, because I have to have somewhere to sit while I fondly admire my chair I built without any instructions from stuff I found when I took apart a perfectly good chair. I can't be the only one who feels this way. The biggest problem with my need to create is I don't know how to create anything. When it comes to talent in this area mine is about as abundant as cherries on a cactus. Which is to say it's not even plausible. Maybe if there was some sort of lab experiment gone awry I would suddenly be brimming with ability. But it would have to be a weird experiment to begin with and then gone awry from there. Horribly awry. Investigators may never understand what happened type of gone awry. Short story long, I have no talent. But I have one thing people with talent also have but don't necessarily need, PINTEREST!!! And I have family and friends who are willing to help me as long as I pester them incessantly for three days straight and refuse to stop until they bend to my will. I think they secretly like being a part of my shenanigans because they enjoy calling me an idiot and watching me fail miserably at simple tasks. Some of my 52 projects will be of this nature. These, I think will be the funnest of all the projects slated.

and finally,

At least one of my projects will be a secret passageway in my house. A revolving bookcase activated with a lever, perhaps an inconspicuous candlestick. My dedication to having my very own secret passageway is unrivaled. Never before and never again will you witness such a misguided passion for nonsense as my passion to spend both time and money recreating the architectural design genius of Scooby Doo.

Out on the Mashu's boat

I have an older brother named Mashu. That's not really his name, that's just what I call him. Because he hates it. And I torment him. Why do I torment him? I don't know. I just always have. As children whenever Mashu made the mistake of falling asleep on the floor of the living room I immediately began to struggle. Seeing Mashu so relaxed, so at peace, so asleep, made me want NEED to stand on his head. I struggled to resist the urge but that is a battle of wills I rarely won and I often stood on his head. That is not a metaphor. I quite literally, one foot after another stepped on to his head. It didn't seem to hurt him. Just annoy the hell out of him. I myself have no idea what it is like to wake up with someone standing on your head but I would assume it is alarming. Mashu never appeared alarm. In fact he always asked me the exact same question as if there was going to be a different explanation. Unable to turn his head to look at me, because I was standing on his head, he would mumble in to the carpet, "Why are you standing on my head?" and I would bend down and loudly exclaim, "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" I've never overcome my need to confuse, antagonize, and sometimes abuse Mashu. This weekend was no different.

My boyfriend and I headed up to the lake to stay a night at my parents cabin and do some fishing in the morning. Bright and early in the AM we went down to the dock and we took Mashu's boat out on to the lake. I wasn't going to mess with him, in fact I hadn't planned to even speak with him that morning, but having not used the boat before there were a couple of things I needed to ask about before leaving the dock. It was pretty early so instead of calling I sent Mashu a simple text letting him know I was using the boat and I had a quick question. Matthew call immediately. He answered my question. We hung up. Then I realized, he had called immediately. Very very immediately. I know immediately means right away, but it seemed somehow even sooner than that. I had sent him the text, seconds later and BAM! he calls. Not only did he immediately call, there was a hint of concern in his voice. Just a hint. Barely noticeable. I noticed.

For some reason Mashu was nervous that I was on his boat. I thought about this for a good five minutes before sending him another text. I didn't bother with salutations this time. I got right to the point.

Does smoke always come from the motor

I waited. Sure enough, he immediately called. I assured him it was not out of oil and it wasn't on fire and it didn't sound like it was misfiring or sputtering or anything else. There was no longer a possible hint of concern. It had been affirmed. Mashu was definitely very concerned. I was not concerned because there wasn't really any smoke. I was testing his faith in me. He had none.

What should I do about this? Mashu is at home. Trying to relax. I'm on the boat. I thought about this for a good five minutes before I decided it was best to send Mashu another text.

How do you get the stereo off? Or at least turn it down?

Once again my phone immediately rang. This time before answering I turned the radio up really loud. I screamed "hello!" in to the phone repeatedly followed by "I can't hear anything you're saying because I don't know how to work the radio. I'll have to call you back when I'm done fishing! This is too loud!" I hung up.

I was hoping this would alarm and confuse Mashu for at least half an hour because I had some fishing to do. I didn't come all the way out here to play on my phone the whole time. It was a great day for fishing. Clear skies, calm waters, perfect temperature. I was really enjoying myself until I glanced at the time and realized it had been awhile since Mashu had heard from me. He was probably getting worried that everything was fine. I should probably text him.

How fast can this thing go in reverse!!

I don't know what Mashu was thinking when he received that message. He didn't call immediately, and when he did he was strangely calm. I said "hello?" and he said, "what the hell?" and then he was silent for a long time. "I have no idea how fast the boat will go in reverse. How fast did you go?"

And then soon after:

WHAT DO I DO ABOUT ALL THESE BEES!

"What Bee's? There are no bees on the boat?" "You can't just suddenly have bees on a boat." "Wasp spray I guess."

This is what I was hoping Mashu was imagining based on my very colorful description of bees on a boat. I of course used my very best Samuel L Jackson voice. "I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE MOTHER FRIGGIN BEES ON THIS MOTHER FRIGGIN BOAT!"

At this point he seemed really agitated and I didn't want to play with him anymore. And we were done fishing and done using the boat so there was really nothing left to say.  

Stacy hosts a book club part 1

A couple of months ago I found myself in a discussion with a total stranger about something personal enough I really shouldn't have been sharing it with a total stranger. It caused my inner monologue to scream, "Holy Sh#t Kid! You have got to make friends!" and it's true. I couldn't argue with me. Usually, I can always argue with me. Not this time. I moved to a new city over a year ago and I've yet to really make any friends. Stop picturing me alone. In the corner. Begging one of my thirty cats to, 'come give momma some love!' That isn't me. I'm not alone. I have a very full life actually. I'm ALWAYS busy. Plus, I have no cats. My best friend is my boyfriend and because we live together, I hang out with my best friend every single day. I don't feel lonely at all. Yet, it would be nice to occasionally go out with girl friends. The problem is if I wanted to have a girls night, there is a lengthy commute involved. I liked all of my friends where I used to live. I miss all of my friends where I used to live. I just don't like them enough or miss them enough to spend two hours in traffic round trip. No reflection on them. They are good quality people, wonderful people, awesome in the whole friendship department. It's me that is a poor friend. I have a billion kids. Actually I have 5 kids, but 5 kids is equal to a billion regular things. It can't be explained, it's just a fact. When you have a billion kids you can really only arrange to get away from them for maybe a few hours, and that would be maybe once or twice a month, making the idea of spending most of that time in traffic a very effective deterrent. But getting away and connecting with friends is SO important. It keeps you sane. Or in my case, it keeps me as close to sane as I am ever going to get. So I all agreed with me. I need to make friends locally. There lies the problem, how do you make friends when you no longer have recess? I can't just show them I have gum. That works when you're a kid but not so much when you're an adult unless you're trying to make friends with kids. I don't want to make friends with kids, they can't handle their liquor. I want to make friends with grown ups. But how? I Googled it. According to the all powerful interweb, you simply find something that you are interested in, and you invite people to do that with you. At first that was perplexing. I am interested in almost nothing. I do not like cats, or hats, or cats with hats. I don't like to sew, I don't like to cook. I don't like to sew hats on cats that cook. I don't like to paint or draw. I don't like to paint cooks that draw hats on cats that can sew. YOU SEE? NOTHING!!. That's when the idea hit me. I like naps.

 
I will find other people who like naps as much as I like naps and invite them over for nothing ever. Some things are just too weird. That's when a completely different idea hit me. I like to read. I read a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Reading is the best form of entertainment for me. I have a hard time really paying attention to television because my mind tends to wander. But I focus when reading a book. Even good television shows I end up missing things. It seems like I look away for one minute and when I look back suddenly somebody got shot or someone has a baby or somehow there is a goat. I spend the rest of the show wondering when did that happen? How did I miss it? The number one greatest thing about books is no one in the story says or does anything if I'm not looking. I really respect that.

So if I read and they read, I just invite them over to read. At first that seemed weird too. Two people crowding one book. Ridiculous. I'm just asking for yet another one of my "Craigs list ad placed with good intentions but horribly misunderstood" fiascos. No read-overs, they are as creepy as nap-overs. And then a third idea based on the second idea hit me. What I need is a mother f@#$%&! book club.

I created a book club and the story of my creation minus the details has been told "far" and "wide". Many have asked me "What the hell Stacy?" some have even proclaimed, "Do you even know what a book club does?" People are so curious. I've even been asked, "YOU! started a book club?" It really seems like many of these people would like to start their own book club but they just don't know how. So, I created a step by step guide for creating and hosting a gathering focused on the love of reading books. It's more than that though. It's flexible, it's fluid. It could be used as a step by step guide for creating and hosting a gathering focused on the love of whatever the hell you like. Except for instead of a step by step guide it's more of an account of what I did.

March 1st: Originally, it was my intention to join an existing book club. I asked four people if they were aware of any local book clubs I could join. They were not aware of any book clubs, so I gave up all hope of ever finding a book club. Because people are stupid.

March 2nd: Decided that since all 4 people I had asked about existing book clubs, had agreed that a book club would be fun, I should start my own.

March 2nd thru April 30th: Occasionally remembered I was going to start a book club.

May 22nd: Had a much more serious conversation about definitely eventually maybe starting a book club soon with a few other ladies that agreed book club would be fun.

June 9th:

• Read a really good book and decided more people should read. Which reminded me that I was going to start a book club.

June 10th:

• Created a Facebook page dedicated to Book Club
• Named Book Club. Book Club.
• Google searched good 'book club' books. Chose a book and immediately messaged friends that had shown interest in starting a book club. 
• Decided that we would maybe need more members
• Sent out personal messages via Facebook to anyone that met the following criteria: 1. They were local. Because I'm not making friends that live more than 20 miles away. I'm just not. 2. They might have the slightest interest in reading. They didn't need to be the bibliophile that I am to enjoy a good book. 3. I've met them and would like to get to know them better which pretty much means that I've met them and not once did I want to stab them. 
• Got super excited as the membership grew to an astounding 6 members and envisioned all of the things I could conquer with such a formidable army!!!
• Lost track of time because I "make believed" for the next six hours.
• Sternly reminded myself it was a book club not an army of the undead and I needed to calm the hell down.
• Gave myself a good pat on the back because even though I had not in fact raised an army of the undead I still accomplished a lot on this tenth day of June. If you didn't county any of the make believe time. 
• Stopped congratulating myself when I realized that in reality I had wasted the entire day, I had no idea where my children were, and they should probably be fed. Or at least watered.

June 12th:

• Checked the Facebook group and was surprised to see membership was nearing 20.
• Got so excited I made up the song "I have a book club in my pants"  
• wondered why the lyrics were "I have a book club in my pants" and not simply "I have a book club" 
• remembered the song I wrote called "cookie cookie in my pants. I'm a kangaroo."
• Became sad that I didn't have any cookies
• Became mad that I didn't have any cookies 
• Decided I should probably read the book

June 16th:

• Finished the book. Realized in horror it was the worst book I had EVER READ and I just forced 20 other women to read it too.
• Got annoyed with myself for being so dramatic. It was not the WORST. It just wasn't what I expected.
• Got annoyed with myself for trying to contain myself. I can call it the worst book if I want.
• Had to take a minute and ask myself why I never let myself be me anymore. Understood that I had a point that maybe I'm an adult and I should try harder to act like one. 
• Promised me I would stop arguing with myself. I'm not my enemy.
• Appropriately felt personally betrayed by the New York Times for convincing me I was picking a good book that tuned out to be either the worst book ever or a book I didn't like. 
• Stared at the ceiling yelling "Damn you to hell New York Times" while wildly waving my fist of fury

June 20th:

• Finally all my lamenting about book club and of high hopes and crushed dreams annoyed my family to the point I was forbidden to talked about book club between the hours of 12:00am and 11:59pm
• Was chastised for only lasting two minutes before I brought up book club again

June 27th:

• Realized the day of book club is upon us. 
• Realized it's noon and despite my barely contained excitement I had done nothing to prepare for the gathering at 7pm
• Literally nothing. At all. 
• Haven't showered
• Haven't even put pants on
• Took a nap

Part 2 of Stacy hosts a book club will be continued because I feel like this blog is long enough 

I obviously didn't mean it when I said I would throw you at a charging herd of rhino's.

I obviously didn't mean it when I said I would throw you at a charging herd of rhino's. Think about it, I'm never going to Safari with you. So for you to claim that was a threat, really just makes you look silly. Did you think I was going to lure you to the zoo, cause a commotion that would result in a stampede of all two of the Rhino's they keep there and then toss you in? That would take all afternoon! at least! and I don't have that kind of time reserved for "sweet revenge scenarios".

If I had a dime for every time I've had to issue this or a similar apology. Am I right or am I right? It seems like every one talks about PMS but no one ever shines a light on the days one must face shortly after a PMS exchange. If you suffer from PMS then you know what its like when you're trying to have a nice dinner with your family, but everyone is still crying about you burning some of there stuff in the backyard a minute ago. Hello! Do they think I enjoyed being in the clutches of an apocalyptic rage? I didn't. My throat is still scratchy from all the screaming and I'm sure I broke a toe when I kicked that giant play set slide. Think about how hard I had to kick that slide. It was bolted down and it still cleared a six foot fence.

I know its hard to be the family members of the fine gracious wonderful woman who suffers endures PMS, but there are a few things you should keep in mind. Who the hell do you think you are? What kind of perverse death wish do you have? Were you even wearing safety gear when you looked her right in the eye and asked, "what's for dinner?" You know you had induced the birth of the Destructor just hours before. Are you insane? You peered in to the abyss and asked "what's for dinner?"

Maybe there are multitudes of boring old spineless types and they would simply say "tacos" and you would eat your tacos and then what? Just relax and go to bed? All the time? Every night your home is nothing more than a safe haven where you can relax and let your guard down? Does that really sound like a good full life? Forgive me if I don't understand the lure in such an uneventful existence.

My diabolical family tricks me in to thinking that is exactly the monotonous emptiness they yearn for. I even start to believe that peace and tranquility are our mutual goals. They can keep up the charade for just over a fortnight before inevitably they band together and unleash my beast with in. Its seems half hazard to the untrained eye but in truth it is a complicated alluring dance that has taken years for them to perfect. The chosen words are spoken casually to the ears of my physical body, but they are heard in the darkest region of my hell bound soul. And they know this. But they strike up the band and dance the dance over and over and over. Month after month after month. This leads one to the only obvious conclusion that they like a little excitement. They play with fire. Danger is their middle name.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to cast off the warm and fuzzy ambiance and replace it with a tangible, foreboding, evil presence. I have broken down the choreography step by step so that we can watch them cast this enchanted spell together.

Child 1: Mom!
Me: Hey! What's up?
Child 1: Tomorrow I have to have my green pants.
Child 2: Mom!
Child 1: I'm already talking to mom
Child 2: I thought you were done
Me to Child 2: Just one second
Child 1: I'm not done. I was in the middle of saying something and you interrupted.
Me to Child 1: okay, what is it? You need green pants tomorrow and what else?
Child 1: Nothing else. JUST NEVER MIND!
Me to Child 1: Go find your green pants and I'll get them washed.
Me to Child 2: What did you need?
Child 2: I don't need anything jeez! I just wanted to say hi.
Child 1: I'm still talking!!!
Me and Child 2 to Child 1: What?
Child 1 to Child 2: I'm not talking to you, go away.
Child 2: I don't have to go away, you go away. Mom said to go get your green pants.
Me: Both of you stop. Me to Child 1: Go get your green pants. Me to Child 2: Stop antagonizing. Go clean your room.
Child 3: Mom!
Child 2: I'm not antagonizing! I'm just trying to say Hi and you're yelling at me for no reason.
Child 1: I can't find my green pants that's why I'm telling you. If I had my green pants I wouldn't just be telling you. Hey I need my pants that I have.
Child 3: Mom!
Me to Child 1: Go look for them. Me to Child 2: I'm not yelling but I can't talk right this very second. Me to Child 3: What?
Child 1: I did look for them! I can't find them. That's why I'm telling you.
Child 2: You can't talk to me but you're talking to her and she just walked in. You always talk to her.
Child 3: Mom!
DEEP CALMING BREATH
Me to Child 1: Did you look in all your drawers and your laundry basket. Me to Child 2: Please just stop. Hello to you too. Go clean your room. Me to Child 3: Go clean your room
Child 1: I know they are not in my drawers and I haven't worn them so I know they're not in my laundry basket.
Child 2: My room is clean. Can I paint? Yesterday you said that after school I could use the paints we got for my birthday if I didn't make a mess.
Me to Child 1: You know they're not in your drawer because you looked? Just go look in your drawers and laundry really quick. Me to Child 2: Not right now.
Child 1: I know they're not in there
Child 4: Mom!
Child 2: You always say not right now.
Me to Child 1: just go look. Me to Child 2: Not right now. Me to Child 4: What?
Child 4: Did you know the toilet is flooding and now the carpet in the hall is wet?
Child 3 yelling from outside: I TRIED TO TELL YOU BUT YOU SAID TO GO CLEAN MY ROOM
Child 4: You're not even in your room you're outside
Child 3: I forgot that's what she said
Child 4: you did not forget. you just repeated it
Child 3: I remembered now
Child 1: My green pants are not in my drawer. I told you they weren't
Child 2: When? My birthday was three months ago and I still haven't got to try my present.
DEEP BREATH. DEEP CALMING BREATH.
Child 4: If we don't leave right now I'm going to be late to Cheer practice and I can't miss any.
Child 5: The bathroom floor is all wet.
Me to Child 1: I can not help you right this second but I will make sure you have your pants for tomorrow. Me to Child 2: I cannot have you get paint out right now and if you ask again you go to your room. Me to Child 3: I want you inside and in your room right this second. Do not come back out until it is clean. Me to Child 4: I need to deal with the bathroom and then we will go. Me to Child 5: Go clean your room.
This buys me less that 5 minutes of quiet to try to deal with the flood. I refer to it as an intermission to their symphony of chaos. 
Child 4: I'm now late.
Child 5: Do I have to clean my whole room because I cleaned it yesterday and I know I didn't get any of my stuff out so somebody went in my room.
Me to Child 4: I'm trying to hurry. I can't just leave this.
Me to Child 5: No one messed up your room. No one has been in your room. Go clean.
Child 5: I know someone was in my room because I put my books on my bed and now they're on the floor.
Me to Child 5: Don't you think when you slept in your bed last night your books fell off your bed?
Child 5: *eye roll and stomps away*
Child 4: I'm not allowed to go late
Child 3: There is a lady on your phone
Me to Child 3: What? Who?
Child 3: I don't know. It was about an appointment.
Me to Child 3: Where is my phone?
Child 3 *shrugs and skips away*
Child 4: Mom! I'm LATE! You make me late to everything!
Child 5: I know I didn't get my doll out. I left her on my shelf because she is very special. Someone else messed up my room. Its not fair.
Child 3: *returns with phone* I hung up on her
Child 1: I did not bump him! I was just trying to smell the paint to see if it was the same kind my school has!
Child 2: Mom! She got paint all over the kitchen floor and the wall and the counter. I was putting the lid on and she slammed in to my elbow.
Child 1: I didn't even touch him! I leaned over to look and he screamed at me to get away and got paint all over everything.
Child 5: was it my paint that I got from my friend that I used to go to play with before I started school? Cause that was mine.
Child 4: We have got to leave now or I have to just quit or they'll just kick me out.
Child 3: Did you get my shoe out of the toilet?

I want you to picture a young woman. The kind of young woman one would call classy. Who has grace, and poise. Who possesses a commanding presence when she enters the room. She is dignified and serene. Except right this second she is on all fours mopping up water from the tiled bathroom floor with a look of bewildered defeat. And then right before your eyes she transforms in to something the Brothers Grimm couldn't aptly describe with appropriate enough horror and detail, even armed with two thesaurus's and a sheet of LSD. She has become something Stephen Kings ghoulish nightmares have nightmares about. And now in place of what I say next to these adorable sweet little angels, I shall offer a beloved quote as a summary of what transpired. Please read this quote in the voice of the late great Jean Sheppard.

"He worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium; a master. In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan." - Ralphie, A Christmas Story.

And right in that moment an image kept at all times in the forefront of my mind now reads:
It has been 00 Months 00 Days 00 Hours since mother ripped us a new one.

This "fiasco" and others very similar are played out daily. however 99% of the time it is "uneventful." Interestingly though, once every 28 days or so the fiasco is diabolically coordinated just right so that the crescendo is perfectly timed to align itself with a release of special hormones. AND THEY CLASH LIKE TITANS! This initial epic outburst begins a game for the children and father of this household. A game that will last for the next 3 to 4 days. The game is called "If I so much as cough will she remove my larynx?"

They know this exciting game is over when I sit them down and explain things. Things like, I obviously didn't mean it when I said if I heard one more sound I would pour red ants through a funnel in to their gaping face hole. Where would I even get red ants? I just really wanted to tell you to go to bed in a way that was very clear and would be immediately understood.