Everything is Futile

I have always been a pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps kind of girl. When things get tough, I do my best to rise to the challenge. But being eternally optimistic is exceptionally hard when life keeps pelting you in the head with lemons. Sometimes all you can do is embrace this moment and wallow in your self pity for a little bit before you move on.

This last week has been especially trying; we've been on (self-inflicted) house arrest as Knox has been attempting to master the potty. Buttercup started teething and is in the middle of a "I can roll over in my sleep and it is freaking me out!" sleep regression. And to top it off, our whole family has been hit with a summer cold which has turned Dash into a helpless puddle of tears. He gets emotional and borderline dramatic when he is sick (which is an unfortunate quality passed down from his mother.) All of this has made me feel like I've been trapped in a madhouse and instead of making lemonade with all these lemons, I just want to let them pile up and bury me. Because, it doesn't matter what I do; EVERYTHING is futile.

If I clean up the toys, another toynado will strike.
If I feed my children, they'll just get hungry again.
If I do the dishes, we'll make more. (See section on feeding children.)
If I take a shower and put clean clothes on, the baby will spit up on me.
If I bathe the baby and put clean clothes on her, she'll spit up on those too.
If I vacuum, the dog will roll in the brown straw we affectionately call "grass" in the backyard and track it all over the house.
If I make the bed, I'm just going to get back in it later. Sooner rather than later, I hope.
If I finish ALL the laundry, we'll fill an entire basket by the end of the day.
If I break up a fight, there will be another.
If I kindly explain there are better ways to solve our problems, I'll still end up yelling because no one was listening the first time.

I know, I know. This is too shall pass. It's hard and it is absolutely worth doing. While all that is true, I'm tired of trying to do things instead of actually doing things. For once I'd like to be able to check something off my list and feel the joy of accomplishment. But I suppose that is a small part of why I'm here. When I hit the publish button on this post, I will have completed something measurable that cannot be undone.

So thanks for being here to read and commiserate. Thanks for being the reason I can put a single check mark on my to do list. I imagine I'm not the only one waiting for this stage to pass. Tomorrow, when all of this is getting you down, I'll make you some lemonade with all these lemons.

A Sanctuary Bought for a Song

When my husband and I first moved in together we had absolutely no furniture. Not even a bed. After we moved into our apartment, we took our U-Haul over to Ikea and picked up the cheapest bed and couch we possibly could. That night, we came home and assembled Ikea furniture until midnight just so we’d have a place to rest our weary bones after moving all day. Almost eight years, another apartment, two babies and a fixer upper house later, we were still sleeping on our full size Ikea bed. That’s right people. I said FULL SIZE bed. We’ve wanted to upgrade for a while, but that costs money and I can think of a hundred things I’d like to drop a wad of cash on other than a bed. (Do you know how many bottles of wine you can get for that kind of money? I digress…)

As fate would have it, my parents decided to upgrade their bed and offered to give us (and deliver!) their old Tempur-Pedic California King. How could I refuse an offer to have my bed and drink my wine too? In anticipation of our exciting new bed (and by new, I mean 10 year old hand-me-down, but those Tempur-Pedics are good for a lifetime, right?) I started shopping for bedding. Though I might not want to spend a truckload of money on actual bed, I love buying linens. I love a reason to browse the Pottery Barn website even if I’ll never buy anything because their prices make me cry. I could wander through Target looking at home goods for hours because it’s my happy place. I browsed to my little heart’s content until found a duvet from Overstock that made me swoon.

I wanted something that was bright and colorful. (Read, hides stains well.)

I wanted something that incorporated the crazy green dresser we bought off craigslist and painted when we still had time for labors of love that weren’t our children.

And I wanted some new colors, because as much as I love that green dresser, I’m ready for something new and I needed a palette that would match the old me AND inspire the new me.

This set was everything I wanted until I saw the price. $99.00 for a duvet, shams (that will never get used because we hate taking them on and off) and three throw pillows. Don’t get me wrong, I like pretty pillows, but I’m a practical girl. I don’t even make my bed half of the time because I’m just going to get right back in it. Preferably sooner rather than later. The bottom line was that I wasn’t willing to cough up almost $100 for just a duvet, even if it made me swoon.

So I shopped on. I shopped all of my favorite places online and in store, dragging my boys through every linen shop in town. Even my beloved Target didn’t have anything that satisfied both the dreamer and the penny pincher. Becoming desperate, I started looking into sewing my own duvet, but when all was said and done it was still going to cost me around $60. At one point, I seriously considered turning a shower curtain into a duvet because I thought it might be more cost efficient!

And then I stumbled on this at Wal-Mart.

Yep. That is EXACTLY the same duvet set I found on Overstock for almost $40 less. It’s a good thing I took a screenshot of this price, because Wal-Mart has recently increased the price to $109! Since I could barely make a duvet for that price, I ordered it. And then I promptly spent all my savings on some king size pillows.

Did you notice the absurd number of pillows on my bed after I mentioned how unnecessary decorative pillows are? I may have purchased NINE pillows this week. And by may I mean I totally did. Don’t judge. In the end I was pretty satisfied with the overall cost of my makeover, including the pillow binge. Here’s the breakdown:

Duvet Set: $66 (One duvet, two king shams and three throw pillows)

Pillows: $52 (Four king size and two standard)

Sheets: $57 (I picked up two sets of 300 thread count sheets, one from Anna’s Linens ($32) and another from Bed, Bath and Beyond ($25)on super clearance with a 20% off coupon. )

Total cost for my bedding makeover: $175

Could I have gotten a better deal? Probably. Could I be happier? Nope. I read once that your master bedroom should be a sanctuary, an oasis if you will. A place where you can escape your children and pretend like you still have an adult life. Though I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it feels like an oasis in here, I can say that it feels as if grown-ups live here and not just a bunch of monkeys who like to jump on the bed.

This post originally appeared at Mom of the Year. For a less serious look at the world of parenting, meet Meredith.

Self Checkout: It's over.

Dear Self Checkout,

I have so many things I want to say to you. Let's start with, it's not me, it's you. You, with your ever so tempting short lines and false promises of a quick and easy checkout. Each time you lure me in with your flashing green light, I swoop in and am utterly disappointed.

You have baggage issues.
You tell me to place my items in the bagging area, then immediately start shouting unauthorized item in the bagging area. I panic and scan for this unauthorized item that you speak of only to find my monstrous diaper bag has brushed against you. Before I can even scan another item, you start nagging again. This time my son's pinky finger grazed the bag stand.You could clearly see I had three kids when you invited me over, beckoning with your flashing light, so don't try to pretend my kids aren't welcome.

You're rigid and jealous.
I reach for my grapes and realize they don't have a bar code or a sticker to properly identify them; I know this will anger you because you are such a stickler for the rules. Loosen up. Have a little fun once in a while. Grapes are delicious and you make it so hard to buy them. Are you jealous? Because I have been hanging out with those grapes since before you even moved to this neighborhood?
I search in vain for the correct classification (green, non-organic, seedless) until I finally call for assistance. Your attendant rolls her eyes at me as she swipes her card and manually enters my item. I knew this was a mistake. The regret fills my empty shopping bags.

You're needy.
I struggle through the next few items as the chaos of the three children left unattended behind me begins to bubble over. You demand my total and undivided attention during the entire rendezvous. You ask for so much commitment and give so little in return.

You whine; I wine.
As I near the bottom of my bottom of my shopping basket, I pick up the cheap wine I have selected to pair with my mac and cheese and I know that it's over. Your "no alcohol" sign was obscured by the cheerful Happy Birthday balloons that the kids are now pleading for. The sassy attendant returns, this time with double eye rolls, but has mercy on me when the baby coos at her. I'm near tears as I clutch my shopping bags and retreat from the store.

I swear this time it's really over. I'm never coming back. I won't suffer your injustices anymore. Next time, I'll wait as long as necessary for the checker. His smile is nicer anyway and he always offers to help me to my car like a true gentleman.

Ciao,
Alisa