Time to clean

I'm going to share something personal with you: I don't like cleaning. Those of you who know me will, I know, be shocked to hear this.

Yet somehow, life worked out such that I am the primary person in charge of maintaining a semblance of order from Sunday, when the work week begins, to Friday, when Viggie has his day off and can whip things into shape so quickly that it makes me sulk because now he's clearly just showing off.

During my time, the house slowly reverts from cleanliness to different state; a state that reflects nature's constant push toward entropy, our ultimate lack of control over the course of our lives, and the beautiful chaos of the universe.

Viggie does not appreciate my philosophical genius.

Although to be fair, it's usually me who starts any fights about it.

Somewhere deep inside, or maybe somewhere off partying on a beach in Hawaii, I have a hint of better nature. This little piece of me occasionally pops up to urge me to Set Goals and Get Organized. Which I sort of do. If I do say so myself, I've managed admirably to meet my current cleanliness goal (namely, Clean Enough So That if Tipat Chalav Finally Calls Social Services on Me (more on that later), They Would Give Me a Second Chance).

In honor of that little spark of non-laziness, and in honor of the long-suffering Viggie, I present this handy chart for figuring out whether your floor, like mine, might need to be cleaned (apologies for the picture separation - I am technically as well as cleaning-ly impaired):

Pop quiz

Guess which of the following D got time out for today:

1. Pushing the laptop onto the floor
2. Flooding the bathroom floor
3. Stealing a third dessert
4. Cutting up Adi's school folders
5. Painting the bookshelf's fingernails



****

The correct answer is 1 & 5.

Don't get me wrong - she did all of those things. It's just that we have to push the red lines on punishable offenses pretty far back with her, or she'd spend a lot more time alone in her bedroom.

In her defense, she only pushed the laptop because she wanted to clean the table (helping!), it wasn't really "flooding" so much as "overenthusiastic showering," it can't really be called stealing when you're 2 and the dessert is within reach, in fact that's probably a form of entrapment, she was trying to improve the folder by giving it a nice fringe, and the bookshelf had been looking sad today and a nice new coat of nail polish will improve anyone's mood.

In my defense, I did take the dessert away. You have to have some lines.

Really happened part 4

Quotes from yesterday:

from N:
Mommy, can you guess what my favorite food is? I'll give you two hints: it's red, and it's a red pepper.

from D:
Right, on Shabbat we're not allowed to step in poop?

Silly things I tried to do today:

reason with a 2-year-old

(It turned out that "don't want" was short for "don't want bathtime to end, ever")

It could be worse

A story I just had to show Viggie:
http://www.kikarhashabat.co.il/%D7%91%D7%92%D7%9C%D7%9C-%D7%92%D7%95%D7%A7-%D7%90%D7%99%D7%99%D7%9E%D7%94-%D7%9C%D7%A7%D7%A4%D7%95%D7%A5-%D7%9E%D7%A7%D7%95%D7%9E%D7%94-3.html

The story, for my English reading readers:

Police were called to an apartment in Petach Tikva by neighbors who heard hysterical screaming. When they knocked on the door of the apartment, the tenant, a woman, refused to open the door, and threatened to jump from the window. This is on the third floor.

Police called in the firefighters, who put up a ladder and climbed up to physically prevent the woman from jumping.

In the meantime, police standing outside the door and talking to the woman figure out the problem: she had been planning to leave the house, when she saw a cockroach in the stairwell. So she ran back in, locked the door, and started screaming.

She told them she'd jump out the window if they didn't kill the cockroach. They actually did find and kill the cockroach, but she didn't believe them, so they took a picture of the dead cockroach with their cell phones and sent her the picture to her cell phone, at which point she agreed to open the door.

All this as reported by Galei Tzahal (the army radio station).

I should feel terrible for the woman involved, and I do, I really do, at least when I'm able to stop smiling. This is such a great story. The police were great, the firefighters were great, the part where cell phone internet access may have saved a life is great, and most great of all is the part where Viggie sees that there are people out there who fear cockroaches even more than I do (I would never involve the police or threaten to jump out the window! I would just call him at work and demand that he come home and squish it.).

Consider Yourself Warned - S - Shoes

If there were any single question you could ask someone to find out if they were a parent, it would be this: are you a parent?

But after that, the next-best question would be: so what do you think of shoes?

Ask adults with no small children in their lives what they think of shoes and you'll get answers ranging from "I love shoes, I have, like, 30 pairs," to "Shoes are an evil dreamed up by corporations to keep us paying for unnecessary footwear."

Ask a parent of small children what they think of shoes, and their eyes will take on a far-away look. "Shoes" they say, with a note of dread in their voice. "What I think of... " And then they will sigh, or perhaps moan.

So what do parents have against shoes? We have nothing against normal, functional adult shoes. The problem is with children's shoes, which are basically a very expensive breed of parasite.

Like all parasites, kids' shoes have a life cycle that is both simple and profoundly disturbing.

It starts in the store. You go in for one thing or another, maybe meaning to buy a single, practical pair of children's shoes, or maybe not intending to buy any at all. But children's shoes, like most predators, have designed features that attract their prey. Like tiny little dragonfly decals... awwww! And OMG, are those froggy slippers?? So cute!! (wait, will they eat the dragonflies?) And even if you think these shoes or these ones are terrible, if you have a small daughter anywhere in range I wouldn't bet money on you making it out without them.

So the shoes get into your house. After they are proudly worn for all of 2.2 seconds, they find their way to the floor, or possibly even the closet. This is where phase 2 of the shoe reproductive cycle will take place. Once the shoes are alone in a safe, dark place, what happens is [WARNING GRUESOME] one of the shoes actually eats its companion. (dramatization at right)

The next day, roughly one minute before your child is scheduled to leave for the bus stop, they will realize that they don't have shoes. So you look for shoes. You just bought a pair, right? They have to be somewhere. And look at all those shoes in the closet, there must be a matching pair in there, right?

This is one thing that math problems always get wrong. You'll have a question like: a closet has four pairs of green shoes, ten pairs of white shoes, and six pairs of red shoes. How many shoes do you need to pull out to get a matched set?

And after so many years in school we're trained to think that if we can just pull 5 or 10 or 37 shoes from the closet, eventually we'll have a pair. But the real answer to the problem is: infinity. Infinity shoes. You could stand in front of that closet pulling out shoes until your hair goes gray and the earth plunges into the sun and your kids move out for college, but none of them will ever form a matched set. Such is the black magic of children's shoes.

But you'll look anyway, because hope springs eternal. Once you search under every surface, you'll have a row of maybe 10 adorable little shoes, none of which comes close to matching any other one. At which point, you'll realize that you have to break down and go shoe shopping again, thus completing the reproductive cycle. The eaten shoe, through its self-sacrifice, has ensured that its species will continue to thrive.

                                                                                     Never forget

It's actually pretty cool, until it's happening to you. Kind of like the rest of nature.

So be warned, un-bechilded ones. And please, please, one of you invent a pair of shoes that more or less stays together. Or just start a barefoot revolution, either way. 

In which I accomplish things

I started work on more important warnings for you all, but was interrupted by one of those things that happens around here on rare occasion: real work.

First of all, I did a major cleaning project this morning. After an hour or so of work, I succeeded in organizing (drumroll please...) the second bathroom (the one with a sink and shower, but no toilet, not the one with the toilet but no sink or shower). The living room, bedroom, other bedroom, computer area, and kitchen remained a terrible mess.

Then I collapsed for a while, because it turns out that "pleasantly doughy" is not the body type most suited to cleaning work.

My cleaning project led to two moments in which I felt pride and embarrassment all at the same time:

1. Viggie comes home.
"Look at my cleaning project!" I said proudly.
He looked at the counter next to me, which was somewhat less covered in junk and dirty dishes than it was when he left in the morning. "Oh!" he said. "It's... very nice! Great work!"
"Look behind you."
"Ohhhhh. Oh, wow!"
(he later insisted that he was genuinely pleased to see my work on the counter, and the sad thing is, he probably wasn't lying)

2. A neighbor comes over.
"Did you do something in this room?" she asked. "It looks different."
"Ummm.... the floor used to be covered with crap, and now it isn't."
"Oh!" *pause* "I like what you did with it!"


Secondly, I went to hear a Member of Knesset speak. If I recall correctly, that brings it up to two MKs I've met, one I spoke to on the phone, and one minister who I almost tripped with my water bottle.

If I'm diagnosed with a terminal illness in the near future, I think that adding more ministers to my "almost tripped with a water bottle" list will be on my bucket list. (Note to the Shin Bet - I said almost tripped. Please don't add me to any of your lists.)

Quote of the day

Quote of the day:

Me: I'm not going to take you to the park with us unless you use the bathroom first.
Child: But Mommy! I already peed in my underwear!