Monthly Archives: March 2012

I may have mentioned a time or two that our cottage is very sweet (read: small).  Our downstairs bathroom is cozy (read: cramped) and efficient (read: you could brush your teeth while you were sitting on the toilet).

I don’t see this as a problem.  In fact, I see it as a blessing.  Less house means less to clean.

And I try to make it as homey as possible.  Clean and Homey.  That’s my goal.

How far would I extend this concept?  Take that cozy and efficient bathroom I mentioned:

My kid’s bought this sign for it as a Christmas gift.

I made the shower curtain. (I make a different one for each season. I mean, when you are sitting on the potty and the shower curtain is so close you could wipe your nose on it, it might as well be interesting to look at.   Heck, if I could find a material with Soduko games on it, I’d make one out of that.)

This season’s curtain is a gold / tan / brown flannel with green accents.  It’s got a “let it snow” theme with snowmen.  I even put jingle bells at the top.

Note the matching valance I made.  No jingle bells on this.  I mean, come on, I don’t want to get too kitschy.

And also note the very cute wooden sled craft on the window. Ties the whole thing together nicely, don’t you agree?

I think it helps the view, which is currently our construction zone/mud pit/future patio.

The kids, being kids, don’t even notice these little details.  It’s ok. I still make a point of it because I figure it is doing something good and warm and fuzzy to their subconscience.  Something down so deep they don’t even know it’s part of what will make them grow into healthy, well-balanced, productive citizens.  This potty room is sure to be one of the rocks in the foundation of their lives.  Yessireee, it’s no less than a blessing, I tell you.

Feng Shui galore.

Little did you know that a shower curtain had that much power.  Well, shower curtains, and cute little embroidered hand towels.

I know, adorable, right?  That bathroom has got LOVE written all over it, I tell you.

But while you can consciously appreciate the effort and purposeful thought that went into all these little details, they apparently can’t, as evidenced by the quickness with which they trash the joint:

***sigh***

They wouldn’t know Feng Shui if it smacked them upside the head.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

My daughter had her End-Of-Basketball Season party last night.  Pre-pizza, all the girls and parents met at the elementary school in Poolesville and battled in a parent-vs-kid Bball game.

Weeks before, my daughter wanted me to play.  I, being the wiser of the two of us, and knowing my own limitations, declined.  She begged. Pathetically.

I am immune to begging.

She groveled impressively.

I am immune to groveling.

And then she said, “Aw, you’re probably right, Mom.  You shouldn’t do it.  You might hurt yourself.”

WHAT?!

I am emphatically not immune to reverse psychology.

So when time came, I rummaged through my dresser to find a pair of shorts that were 1) made for athletics, and 2) fit me.  Or, at least, didn’t hurt me.  It took a few minutes.

Then I had to look for a t-shirt that was 1) Big enough that it wouldn’t roll UP my belly when I bent over and 2) didn’t accentuate my hideous winter pallor.  That took several more minutes.

I didn’t look good, but I wasn’t there to look good.  I was there to gain my ego back from my oldest child.  It’s one thing if I say I’d hurt myself; it’s quite another if she says it.

My Captain came too…as did Grandma! I believe just about all of the parents were there.  Some looked uneasy, at least until they saw me.  Then they relaxed visibly.  They knew no one could look as bad as I did on the court and could be safe in the knowledge that the biggest goon had arrived.

The game started. Kids were pitted against parents, ‘big’ talk was being thrown about recklessly, bets were being placed.

The kids played a good clean game.  The parents had to employ any and all resources at their disposal.  We were picking up kids..sometimes one in each arm.  We were piling on kids.  At one point, I took a boy’s shoes from him.  We were mis-counting the score on purpose.   We dribbled when we felt like it.  And not well.

And they still beat us.

But they will never know it.  (Insert evil cackle here.)

They got the last laugh, though.  I can’t move today.  My knees, hips, crotch, abdomen, shoulders, and eyelashes hurt.  All of me hurts.  Mention a body part.  It hurts.  Mention any part of my psyche, it hurts too.

Need Motrin, Stat.  And lots of it.