10 minutes

I have recently started a habit of vacuuming the house.

Every day.

Now, lest you think I am some kind of neat-freak (you know, not that there's anything wrong with that), the vacuuming is mostly to reduce airborne allergens.

We got birds in April. And we all promptly fell completely in love with them.

In May, the girls got sick, then Mike & I got sick and then we all coughed for well over a month. We finally got everyone to stop with all the coughing after a walking pneumonia diagnosis for the four of us (the well-worn Oprah trope was used frequently as everyone in our immediate family PLUS my mom and stepdad got prescriptions for antibiotics: "YOU get antibiotics and YOU get antibiotics! And YOU! AND YOU! ANTIOBIOTICS FOR EVERYONE!!! WOOOO!") and some oral steroids for the girls.

School ended and everyone was reasonably healthy.

And then Emily started running a fever and complaining of an upset stomach. I was giving her the stinky side-eye, but was waiting to see what would happen. (Gone are the days when I would run her into the pediatrician's office on Fever Day 1, they left when the co-pay went up to $30.) Then, on the night of Lucy's birthday, Emily had a really, really, really, really, REALLY bad asthma attack. So bad, that it landed us in the hospital at 6 am. She came way closer to getting an ambulance ride than I even like to think about now, several weeks and a complete return to health later.

ANYways. Birds. Vacuuming.

Mike also started coughing again when Emily got sick in July and it was around then that Mike and I realized that the coughing might actually be partially related to the birds.

We got the birds, then we got sick, then we got somewhat better, then we got sick again.

I looked up the girls' allergy test results from last summer and sure enough, they both had significant reactions to bird feathers (and presumably their dander). Mike was last allergy tested when he was a teenager, so I haven't even bothered to dig out the results, but we're assuming that he is also allergic to birds.

So! Since we want to keep the birds, something had to be done.

My plan:

• vacuum the house every day.
• empty the vacuum canister into the garbage. every day.
• change the papers in the bird cage, put those in the garbage. every day. 
• empty the garbage. every day. 

I've been doing this for just over a week and we actually are seeing an improvement. Which is nice, so that I don't feel as though my vacuuming efforts are completely wasted. 

A couple of days ago, I decided to time myself while I went through the vacuuming process. Our house is just over 1400 square feet and while I'm not lifting couches and moving stuff every day, I do try to be fairly thorough so that I get all the dog hair and bird feathers up. It took me just over 10 minutes to run the vacuum through all of the rooms of the house, including the kitchen and entry way. 

I knew it wasn't taking me a long time and discovering that it was only 10 minutes was really quite nice. 10 minutes is nothing, in terms of time it takes me to do something. I could vacuum the house FOUR times in the time it takes Mike to get home from work. 

So I have been vacuuming for 10 minutes every morning. And it's been kind of nice. We're enjoying the tidier feel to the house (because toys have to be completely picked up before I vacuum) and we're not getting the dog hair tumble weeds we used to have in the kitchen and dining room. 

And the fact that it seems to be helping is really just the icing on the cake. 

Model patient?

I am struggling to decide what the presence of this thing in my life means.

Near as I can figure, it's one of two things:

• That I am a conscientious patient who has realized the folly of putting her 9 daily medications into a baggie and trusting her ability to remember what each pill looks like, ensuring that she is ingesting the proper ones at the appointed time. 

OR

• I am an 80 year old woman, trapped in a 35 year old's body. 

So far, the evidence points to the latter, not the former. 

Evidence that I am an 80 year old trapped in a 35 year old's body:

1. I cross-stitch. (isn't needlepoint the old lady's hobby?)
2. I get tired and need to go to bed no later than 10 pm.
3. I get tipsy after one small alcoholic drink. And then get tired, see above.
4. I take NINE medicines in a day. 
5. I need a pill organizer to keep all the pills straight. 
6. I get crabby with people when they ring my doorbell. (In my defense, it makes the dog bark because People Are Coming To Kill Us ZOMG and then I have to deal with someone at the door AND the crazy nuts insane animal that is our dog.)

Either way, the presence of the aforementioned pill organizer is one last indication that I'm going to BlogHer in 2 days. I am stupid excited, though I would really be OK if the butterflies in my stomach went away. 

So Long, Farewell

I have reached the piss/get off the pot moment here.

I have too many obligations and not enough time and motivation to meet them all.

I have loved writing this blog and will miss it terribly, but I can never seem to find or make the time to write all the posts whose ideas float through my brain continually. I have had a piece of paper with a post idea on it since the middle of August and have never made the time to sit down and write the damn thing.

I'll see most of you on Facebook. <3 to you all.

Dog Bed Wars

We are watching my parent's dog for a couple of days and it's been interesting 'round here. 

These are the dogs. The black one is ours, his name is Domino. 

The brown one is Juniper, she belongs to my parents. (Lucy, if she weren't in bed, would want me to tell you that Juni is her best friend and she's a moose.)(I called Juni, who is 75 pounds of excited lab, a moose ONE TIME and it has stuck. That is ALL Lucy talks about when she talks about Juniper.)

To go with these 2 dogs, we have a selection of THREE dog beds.






The round one belongs to Juni and the other two are Domino's. He has one in our room and one in the playroom, under my desk.

 But, somehow, both of the dogs have decided that their personal beds aren't good enough. They want the OTHER dog's bed.

And then we have lots of this happening.

And then Domino moons around, all sad and depressed because Juni's sleeping in his bed! How could she?!

And if Domino gets to the coveted under-the-desk bed first? Then I have Juni sitting next to me, stuffing her head under my arm and raising her nose to the ceiling in a not-at-all subtle "You need to start petting me now, please" move. That dog is seriously strong.

Never mind the fact that he immediately steals her bed at night. And also never mind that there are TWO WHOLE OTHER BEDS for him to sleep on. He wants THIS BED.

Nifty Realization

I love to make chocolate chip cookies. And I make them often enough, and have been making them for so long, that I have the recipe for the Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies memorized.

A couple of weeks ago, I started thinking about how the recipe calls for 3/4 cup white sugar and 3/4 cup brown sugar and 2 1/4 cup flour. I always used my 3/4 cup measure for the sugars and then dug out a 1 cup and 1/4 cup measures for the flour.

Until I realized the 3 x 3/4 is 2 1/4.

So, instead of dirtying the 3/4 cup, 1 cup and 1/4 cup measures, now I only use the 3/4 cup for all three.

That's my Thanksgiving gift to you - a way to make chocolate chip cookies with fewer dishes than before.

Enough, Already

I'm not a patient person. I never have been. I try to tamp down my impatience, especially with my kids, but sometimes I just can't help it.

I've been struggling, therefore, with the weather around here. It's been really nice for the past several weeks - middle 50s to 60s, with a couple days that got into the 70s.

And that's great! It really is.

BUT.

Some things are bothering  me.

First, we have a couple of days of nice, warm weather and then two or three days of Ugly.

Do you think the weather could pick one?

Second, it's November and part of what gets me moving into the realm of Holiday Spirit is cooler weather. Weather where I can wear sweaters and long sleeves and cozy socks. Weather where my counsel to the girls about jackets isn't summarily ignored because it's "not really that cold out, Mom."

Third, it's warm-ish during the day, but it can get quite chilly at night. That's great! We even have a heating solution for that! (We bought a pallet of wood pellets that will work in Mike's Fancy New Coal Stove) But there have been nights where it's too warm for the stove, so then we get Sad Mike who can't go play with his new stove, or we have nights where it's almost too cold for just wood pellets and then my feet are cold all night.

Basically, I would like it to pick: Cold or Warm and stay there. I would honestly prefer cold because my brain knows it is November and it can't handle this Warm In November thing.

And all of this flip-flopping between cold and warm has wreaked havoc on my allergies AND given me a cold, so now it's even more personal.

I would like it to be cold, now, please.

Cold enough for the bugs to all die or hibernate or whatever it is they do when it's cold.

Cold enough that all the pollens go away and stay away so that I'm not forever wondering if the sniffles I have are an indoor allergen thing or more of the Just Ragweed Making Your Life Miserable thing. Or worse, a cold starting.

Cold enough that we can have the stove going all the time and get past this On At Night/Off During The Day  baloney.

Cold enough for my kids to realize that underpants and a Snuggie do not appropriate pajamas make. (Though it is pretty darn cute.)

Cold enough that we all start craving warm comfort foods - casseroles and pasta bakes and soup.

Cold enough that my windbreaker isn't sufficient to wear as a jacket and my wool coat is no longer overkill.

I am Whistler's Mother

Lucy is learning a new skill and it might just drive me straight out of my mind.

For my kids, whistling seems to be a pre-Kindergarten skill. Emily learned how to whistle in pre-K and was one of the first girls to master the skill, after several boys figured it out.

Lucy is going to spearhead the whistling development in her class, as she has it well under control now.

The bad news is that she whistles all. the. time.

I know it is a developing skill and that she will (eventually) (please) stop whistling with every breath, but for now, chances are really good that I am going to lose my mind before she has completely mastered whistling.

I was talking on the phone with Mike today and kept wandering away from Lucy and her whistling while we were talking. After a few minutes, Mike started laughing, because he could hear the whistling get closer and then farther away and then closer and then farther away as I walked away and then Lucy tracked me down and then I walked away and Lucy followed.

I am trying, desperately, to not ask her to stop whistling except when I am on the phone, even though it is so incredibly distracting I can barely work.

And then, when Emily gets home, SHE starts in whistling, too. So I have TWO girls whistling tunelessly* at the same time. And I'm forced to bang my head on the desk to get the piercing sound of a little girl whistling out of my head. I never realized how piercing whistling can be.

If you need me, I'll be hiding over here, researching ear plugs.

* Though tuneless whistling is MUCH better than the afternoon that Emily came home whistling 'Pumped Up Kicks'.