The To-Do List

I had yesterday off from work at Sprout, which is a very rare occurrence and warrants a fun mix of trying to force myself to relax and also attempt to check a few things off of my ever-growing to-do list. I got through a few things (in fact, I’m accomplishing #3 right now!), and yet the list still looks daunting and makes me want to crawl into bed with the crappy book I’m reading and let it put me to sleep like it always does. For nothing other than my need for validation, here is the list, in no particular order:

1. Pick up shoes from the cobbler (I dropped them off over a month ago, but he's always closed when I'm not at work)

2. Sweep entire house

3. Write (in progress!) ((yes this counts!))

4. Mail Evie's letter to her penpal (it's been like 3 weeks, oooooops)

Mail for everybody!!

5. Redeem massage gift certificate (I've, uh, had this thing since November - what nincompoop can't find one damn hour for a free massage?!)

6. Finish writing this year's will

7. Check out sale at Cheese Shop

8. Shave legs (I know. I know. I can't believe it either!)

9. Wake up early enough to call the clinic that takes Medi-Cal, get weird armpit lump checked out

One of these things is not like the other

10. Trim other hedge (I found 10 minutes two weeks ago to trim one of them, but not both)

11. Return neighbor's drink container thingy

12. Buy lightbulbs, hand towels and a new cordless phone for Sprout

13. Replace the 11 burned-out light bulbs at Sprout

14. Find/book tickets for Michigan trip. Try not to punch anything/cry/scream

15. Review list of goals - add/amend/assess

16. Send a Santa Rosa postcard to that kid for her school project - DUE IN MAY!!

17. Finish crappy, typo-filled book I'm reading so I can start something more worthy of precious time consumption

18. Look through photo albums for baby picture of Evie for midwife's retirement party

19. Plan clothing swap in lieu of shopping for new clothes

20. Clean baby chicken poop off of living room floor

I’m going to stop at 20. Rest assured, there are more. Especially considering I didn’t put ‘nap’ in there. Or ‘Take a deep breath’. Or ‘Unclench jaw’. Or even ‘Everything is going to work out just fine’.

It might be time to make a new list.

Many Hands Make Medium-weight Work

Paulie and I have been trying to come up with a functioning chore system for our kids, (read: I grumble about the state of the house and he agrees that I should enlist more help). So far, the results are iffy. I tried just asking people to do things verbally: FAIL! Then I made a chart with rotating chores for a week: FAIL! Most recently I just gave everyone specific tasks to do the entire week long.

I tried to go easiest on those who are the least used to doing (or willing to do) chores, and loaded the rest of us up with the brunt of the rest (read: Jonah and I did most of the chores). That worked okay. 

I won't lie: when I was a kid, I had a shit-ton of chores. I made the mistake at a very young age of asking my mom how the washing machine worked and that was that - after she showed me she said "this can be your job now!" like it was fun or something. From that day forward, I washed, dried, folded and put away the laundry. Allllll of the laundry. The towels, my laundry, my brothers' laundry, visiting guests' laundry, my mother and her husband's laundry. Lots of laundry. 

But it didn't stop there!

Work, Work, Work!

I also got to dust and vacuum the living room, take the garbage out and burn it (country livin' folks!), cook meals, and do bajillions of dishes. Okay, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating there - I didn't do a bajillion dishes. Just six kids and two adults' worth.

Perhaps as a result of this, I've been a little soft with my own kids. They have chores, of course, because as much as I resented my workload as a kid and teenager, I was certainly prepared for real life after I moved out, and I pitied the fool who didn't know how to wash their own damn socks.

So I do believe in the importance of knowing how to do chores and manage a household. But I try to keep the expectations light. And I'm always surprised at how willing my kids are to do chores. 

"Jonah, can you please take out the recycling?" "Sure mom!"

"Evie, it's time to do the dishes." "Okay mama, can I use lots of soap?"

"Jonah, did you put the chickens to bed yet?" "Oop, nope, I'll go do that right now!"

The chicken whisperer

It's kinda...great. I have to vow to myself not to go the route my mother did by just turning all of the chores over to the kids, then not letting them do anything fun or extra-curricular until they finish said all chores. It's pretty easy to find a balance among all of these people. And as long as I can keep convincing them that it's fun, I think we'll be alright.

Lots of soap: check!

Cohabitation

If you haven't already heard (like, maybe you've been hanging out under rocks for a while? Or you just don't pay much attention, perhaps?) Paulie and I moved in together in December. December 15th, to be exact. For all of our fans who pretend not to care about the majorness of major holidays, that is ten days before Christmas. This was a dumb time to move and it was a bit of a whirlwind, but because we and our friends are incredibly amazing and talented people, we totally rocked it. Big time.

Paulie and I make a great team. This is basically due to the fact that I don't nag him about stuff, because I am a patient and loving woman. Also, he just...does stuff that needs to be done, without being asked - what the whaaaaaat?! Yeah, I know. It's kind of incredible.

As for me, I do the dishes. And, I make a concerted effort to not lose my shit when, say, a lone upside-down slipper lays askew near the top step of our front porch for several days, without anyone seeming to notice or care. Or a wadded-up piece of paper towel lays in front of the garbage (as opposed to in it, for my less tidy readers who might not see what the problem is there). We're all still learning about each other's comfort zones and habits, so there's some space for total and complete error in there.

There are obvious advantages to living together. The biggest one so far is knowing where we'll be sleeping on any given night. Knowing where we'll be hosting when we invite people over is handy, too. Gone are the constant emails, texts and phone calls confirming first the plans, then the 'your place or mine', then the 'can you bring over your big pan?' then the 'oh shit I forgot my big pan, I'll have to go back for it, gaaaah!'

Then there's the whole 'oh, things are different now that we're living together' thing. For example, keeping up any level of mystery has gone to complete handbasketed hell. I've seen homeboy pee so many times - not because we're in the bathroom together a whole lot, but because he often forgets to close the door because...doors. I've grown fond of the sound of his sleeping after he's applied his snore-b-gone nose strip - it's adorable! And unfortunately he now knows that sometimes when I'm kind of grumpy, it's not because I'm just tired or PMSing, which were my go-to excuses when we lived separately. Sometimes it's because I'm off my game and haven't pooped in more than a day.

See, this was taken before we lived together.

All in all, living together has been pretty magical. I mean sure, there are many more bonks in the head of that ever-sneaky reality to deal with, but having a really, really great sense of humor, a natural ability to look at the world through uninhibited rosy glasses, and an inherent ability to look the other way just in the nick of time makes it all seem a lot more manageable. And, we're loving it.

"I swear to god if I don't poop soon SOMEONE DIES!"