Run The Dishwasher Twice - a purloined article

 Note from Pamela:  I did NOT write this.  Yet I find it so thought-provoking that I want to put it here. 

To my followers, if you're ever having a bad day, remember there are no rules, just the ones set by God.  The unspoken ruless existing in your head don't have to be followed.  Read this:

RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE.

"When I was at one of my lowest (mental) points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.

I had therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to ‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to say.

“What are you struggling with?” he asked.

I gestured around me and said “I dunno man. Life.”

Not satisfied with my answer, he said “No, what exactly are you worried about right now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue will be staring at you?”

I knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it.

I wanted to have something more substantial.

Something more profound.

But I didn’t.

So I told him, "Honestly? The dishes. It's stupid, I know, but the more I look at them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and scrub the dishes.”

I felt like an idiot even saying it.

What kind of grown-ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out there with *actual* problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes?

But, my therapist nodded in understanding and then said:

“RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE.”

I began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me.

“Why the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not exist, so stop giving yourself rules.”

It blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express.

That day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and ran it three times.

I felt like I had conquered a dragon.

The next day, I took a shower lying down.

A few days later, I folded my laundry and put it wherever the fuck they fit.

There were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow, and it gave me the freedom to make accomplishments again.

Now that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry.

But, at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an incredibly important lesson:

THERE ARE NO RULES.

RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE!!!"

Author unknown

KAYLEE'S LUNCHTIME HORRORS

 The little thing was explosive and chattering away like an offended monkey.  

She parked her little 8 y.o. body right behind the bus driver, my hubby, and kept up a stream of irratated verbiage.

He says he couldn't hear all of it, there were other sounds -- heater fan, students jabbers -- so he only heard snippets, maybe a third; but enough to piece together Kaylee's lunchtime horrors.

Kaylee usually sits with the girls.  Today she had to sit with the boys.  And Boaz was "di-sgusting".  Yes, the way she said it, you have to put the syllable break right after the "di".

"Boaz was di-sgusting!"

"He took the lid off of his applesauce cup and licked it with his tongue.  Di-sgusting!"

"Then he burped his ABC's!  Di-sgusting!"

The other boys at the table kept saying, "Chug.  Chug.  Chug."  "He chugged his milk and it came out his nose.  Di-sgusting!"

Hubby bus driver suggested to her, "I think he likes you."

Instantly, affronted, "Ew, I hope I never have to sit there again.  Di-sgusting!"

"Just Get A Toy Out Of The Tote!"

"Shoot!"  I can't find it!

I dropped my white framed glasses.  When I retrived them from under the table where I'd been addressing birthday cards, the left lens was missing.  "Shoot!  Now I'm going to have to get down on my hands and knees like a fat fluffy St. Bernard sniffing and nudging snow."  Near-sighted, I am, you know.

"Can't find it!"  I'll wait until DH, darling hubby, comes home to see if he can see it.  Or when I sweep maybe it'll make a chinking sound.

Nevermind. It came to me.  

I've been babysitting Miss Lilly and Master Jacob.  He's only been walking a few weeks but he's a master.  He goes fast, he goes high, he goes low, and he's strong.  He can push, or pull anything.  "Jacob!  Just get a toy out of the tote!  You don't need to pull the whole tote out into the middle of the floor, baby."

Speaking of strong, well I wasn't, I was speaking of his love of clear crystal, but for now I'll speak of strong.  We've lived here since 1987, that makes it....uh...33 years.  When we bought the house it came with a phone jack almost in every room - bedrooms, den, living room, kitchen, and yes, even the bathroom.  You and I know those white square connectors on the wall are for landline phones.  Yet,  I have to explain.  The younger generation will one day hold it up and say, "Name that tool.  Prizes awarded for best guess."

Anyway, a white phone jack had been screwed into the baseboard, beside my computer desk, since the house's creation in 1973.  It survived 6 boys from birth to wi-fi modem; from wrecking Crash Dummy cars, to coverage from flung Tommy Hilfiger t-shirts. 

Today, 2020, almost 50 years later, death and destruction.  Not only did Master Jacob yank that jack off the wall, he drug it 3 feet into the middle of the family room!  "Stro-ong BOY!"  

Remember that one?  "Stro-ong BOY!"  Strong Boy was an animated character in the cartoon Mighty Heroes in the 60's.  Anyway, I digress.

Master Jacob was walking by with tightly pursed lips.  "Ut-oh!"  I went fishing.  Yep, he had a crystal in his mouth.  One of those tear drop light catchers that dangle from lamps.  Evidently, he'd yanked one from the bedroom lamp.  I never did find the little wire that kept it connected to that lamp.  That's another, "Ut-oh!"

Later, instead of stuffing the newest object in his mouth, he silently toddled up to my knees and handed me a clear cap to a spray bottle.  "Sheesh, where'd you get that, little guy?"  Another mystery.  None of my bottles are missing caps.  

So, what?  What?  Do these things come to him at the snap of a finger like Samantha of Bewitched?

And then it came to me.  I didn't have to meditate, I didn't have to seek the Good Lord, I didn't have to ask DH to get on all fours, my memory wasn't recalling either, it just came to me.

He was bright eyed, he was happy, he was talking jibberish, and he was slobbering.  He pouted his lips, he reached into his mouth, he pulled it out, and he handed it to me.  

He handed it to me as if he was giving me a tortilla chip dripping salsa.  I gladly accepted, slobbers and all, "MY LENS!  Jacob!  Where'd you find it?"

One day he's gonna flex his biceps, fists up, and open his mouth to speak.  With a lisp we'll hear, " 'tho-ong BOY!"

Sons Shaking & Shaking Spices

"La cu-ca-ra-cha, La cu-ca-ra-cha!"  You can sing it, "La cu-ca-ra-cha, La cu-ca-ra-cha!", and, picture it.  Here he comes!  At shoulder heightl, he's shaking maracas!  

Short, stout, young, excited, using newly found walking legs he comes stepping around the corner of the kitchen's pony wall happily shaking a pair of spice jars, one in each hand.  Spice jars?  Yes, spice jars.  The peppercorns and mustard seeds make great rattles for one happy little toddler.

This wasn't Master Jacob's first foray into my cupboards.  Earlier he pulled out a couple bottles of vinegar and rolled them this way and that like rolling pins on dough.  I figured he was thirsty 'cause he picked up one and upended it like a bottle of milk.  Shew, still screwed!  He hasn't mastered removing a cap yet!

With a sippy cup of water from GrammyPam, Jacob stayed sitting there patting a vinegar bottle like a pet dog.

This isn't my first repurcussion for switching cabinet contents.  Where Jacob found the spices is where I used to keep pots and pans.  A few years back, I switched them.  Clinton, Jacob's dad, was still living at home and upset at the time.

For many months after, he would complain, "22 years the cereal's been in the pantry!  22 years!"  ROFL.  Even though today he has his own home and family he's just now getting used to my switch.  

This day he looked at his son Jacob, looked at me, and shook his head.  Jacob can shake his spice, Clinton can shake his head, but I'm a mind reader, and I could read his thoughts, ROFL, "22 years!  22 years!"

"Everybody! Maracas high!  Sing it, "La cu-ca-ra-cha, la cu-ca-ra-cha"!

 

Pumpkins, Everyone, Pumpkins! Great!

She must've found a safe place to stand away from the trajectory of the attic ladder because I never hit her!  Not once!  Even though I was throwing pumpkins like giant orange hail from the sky, not one bounced off of her.

Nikki, Ian's girlfriend, was choosing which plastic treat-holding pumpkins she and he wanted for their trek on Halloween day, whether wicked grin, ghostly white, or purple.  

That was day one.

Day two I grew pumpkin cookies.  Add a little baking soda to flour and flavoring and you can swell up cookies nicely in a hot oven.  I counted three and a half dozen, which could've been four, except I kept tasting the batter, yu-um.

They sleep.  And if I park at the mailbox, the dog won't bark and the kids won't hark.  I propped three pumpkins on oldest son's porch steps for each of his kids -- candy, creepy crawlies, and googly eyed headbands they contained.  The family wasn't supposed to discover that the little plastic ghost for the baby was motion detecting.  But they did.  And they played hide and seek.  Hey, do you know what's white, says boo, and runs like the wind?  A plastic ghost gobbled by the family dog!  

On the run, day three done!

Like the great pumpkin, not in girth, thank you, I was delivering pumpkins on the fly.  From the comfort of my Dodge Ram, I am.  Most everyone is on Fall break, even bus drivers.  A co-conspirator is willing John, and I quote, "These taste gr-rea-t!"

What was in store for day four?  Well, we're still growing pumpkins, out of hay bales.  Yep, out of hay bales.  You get the picture, stand a bale in third son's yard, poke in scarecrows on a stick, add a flying witch, and some hollow plastic pumpkins, drop in some pumpkin walnut cookies and you're an evil hay bale pumpkin grower.  Why evil?  Because I added a sign that said "$1 Sale".  Goblins and ghouls and vampires that drool can just knock on his door at all hours for a cheap-y thrill, bwahahahahahaaaaaa.

The other pumpkin growing hay bale sprouted a sign saying "welcome" and was plopped at the bachelor pad, the youngest sons being at work.  John poked in a coat hanger hook, I hung the pumpkin filled with cookies on it, and off we flew, like Linus' great pumpkin!  It took forever for those bachelors to discover those cookies?!  The neighborhood squirrels came and ate the nuts.  The rest of the cookies laid there in the rain water and like tadpoles grew legs and hopped out! 

Day five, leave them behind to go to her behind, not mine!  You got it, cookies in a jack o'lantern gift box were given to cousin -- walnuts, cloves, fat calories, all those!  I didn't aim to add "fat calories".  I didn't read it on the ingredient list, but I'm told by professionals that they are in there.  Doctor to nurse, "Suction!  We need suction!"  

Like Jacob Marley's ghost, Jacob the grandson, stood on his two year old wobbly feet and rattled his chain for all it's worth!  It was plastic, it was gray, it was chunky, it was the best thing in his pumpkin bucket.  When Lilly saw us, pumpkins in hand, she jumped off the couch, "Twick or Tweet!" so excited, then her head went in her pumpkin, "Ew, spider.  It's a spider!"

Weaving a web, I am.  Wringing hands in witchy glee, I'll pinch those plump little cheeks, 

"Children, come to me!" 

"Ahhhhh,"  Lilly squealed and ran around the corner, I chased with a cackle, "A-ha-ha-ha-haaa!"

For Fall break's final day, I'm conjuring my witchy ways and casting my spells.  Lilly's off to find a safe place to hide, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!  "Will she?"

Jeweled Leaves Under Foot

I went to jail.  Yep.  Yes, I did.  Even though it was my birthday weekend, I had to spend time in jail.

It was a beautfiul Sunday in October, crisp and clean air, crunch of jeweled leaves under foot, and the smell of dinner long past.  

The day was coming to a close and so was my birthday weekend.  Still, I had to go to jail!

Ian had kindly offered to buy my meal after church and since I'm not a person who likes to eat out, I opted for food dishes from the deli.  We had broasted chicken, pea salad, potato salad, pasta salad, broccoli salad, Pringles, and John made us a pot of spaghetti to top off the meal, especially for the little ones.

Through miscommunication we ended up with the toddlers Alayna, and Lilly, and kindergartener Jayden so the spaghetti was more their cuisine.  They flanked me on either side "I like broccoli, can I have yours?" said the boy.  "No!  I don't wanna eat," from one girl.  And, "Slur-r-r-rp...." from the other girl as she hung spaghetti in the air on her fork and hovered it over her cavernous mouth to suck it in.  What messes!

Remember...this is my birthday.  LOL.  And, though unusual, it was happy.

It started Saturday with a visit from sis.  She didn't bring me a regular cake, she brought me cheesecake, strawberry cheesecake!  Yum!  There's still some left, you can't have some, I'll eat the rest today, eeeeee.

Actually, Saturday was my birthday, but Rusty and wife had planned a party for Alayna who's birthday is 2 days before mine.  So, we were at their house eating donuts, drinking hot chocolate, taking family photos, and visiting with her side of the family when Spencer said, "Wait."  He hands me a thick loosely wrapped 6 in. square object.  It was a hand made glass trivet of Tybee Island light house!  Beautiful!  A beautiful blue!  I love it!  Such a thoughtful gift.  

Now, what was unusual about that, you're wondering.  Well, this gift "came without ribbons or tag, it came without boxes or bag" but it did have his handwriting on the crumpled wrapping paper.  It read   

"MOM Christmas (fragile)".  "B-day"

Christmas was crossed off and B-day written in it's place!   LOL, now I'm wondering, what am I getting for Christmas?  Huh, huh, huh, that's my next curious question.  

Oh, but you wanna know 'bout jail.

Okay, back to where we were -- at home, after the meal, and one set of parents has arrived.  Kids are running amok, men are in the new garage, one mom is off to town, another mom is nursing a headache on the couch.  

Early, yes, early last week, while it was still warm outside, I set up candy canes in the front yard.  I'm making a Christmas trail.   It winds around the huge tree, around the water feature, up and over the stumpery, and across the balance log.

I sowed grass seed, strew straw, drove stakes in the ground, and slid large plastic candy canes over the stakes.  It's not done.  Still need lights.  But these little kids are out there running amok -- pulling up canes, uncovering the stakes, and using them as swords!    

Parked at the base of the maple tree for the ducks to cozy up to is an oval mirror but little Alayna dances in front of it, LOL, and quickly changes direction to chase ducks.  Then the kids beg to be pushed in the swing so we have to watch for baby Jacob, who's still new to walking, as he nears the swing.  He has a cane, too, how he managed that, I don't know.  He even managed to hook himself once, "Waaaaaa".  GrammyPam to the rescue! 

Oh, yes, I digress.  Going to jail.

Well, I'm in the new garage 'cause baby Jacob heard a loud motor noise and wanted to see.  We toddled over to the open garage door to see his daddy and Grandpa tuning and revving up a chain saw.  Those red screwdrivers looked interesting and they were eye level so Jacob takes one in each hand.  Dadddy laughs but isn't sure someone wobbly on their feet should have a spear!

Here's come Alayna - bouncy, head strong, drama queen.  She pinches a goodly amount of material of my skirt and begins tugging, hard, "Come on, GrammyPam."  

"What do you want?   Where are we going?" are many questions I ask.

And she's pulling hard.  If I were to disconnect, she'd end up on her butt.  "Where are we going?"

She smirks a straight line smile, "To jail."

"To jail???  What are you talking about?  Where's jail?"  And she points to the rock bed between the deck and steps, "There."

"Why am I in jail?"

"You were bad", and she crosses her arms and stands guard.

I think I took too long with baby Jacob in the new garage, I think I was supposed to give her another turn on the swing.   Anyway, I remained in jail until Jayden came and bailed me out.  With a slight pull, my veiny hand in his soft baby hand, I was encouraged to return to their society.

And that was the highlights of my unusual Happy Birthday weekend, in and out of jail, LOL.

Thank you for my birthday wishes.

Thank God for my many blessings, and those toddlers -- those jeweled leaves under foot.

Bat Crossed The Moon, Owl Saw

Bat crossed the moon,

Owl saw with one eye,

Down; flutter & swoop

To Spider he did fly.

“Tis time!  Awake!

It’s All Hallow’s Eve!

We’ve a midnight date

There’s much to achieve!”

“Awake, web weaver,

Stop hanging around.

Time to stir mummies

Slumbering below-ground.”

“Owl!  Give a hoot!

Call the ghosts to float

With moans & groans

Zombies’ll take note!

“Cometh The Master,

The DEVIL, we say,

Through fire & embers

Before break o’ day!”

“Awake!  Arise!

Through flame & smoke

There’s much to do

‘fore Master’s awoke!”