...When You've Got Thora?

or:

Helpful House-cleaning Hints

You need to know that I'm not much of a neat-freak...as long as no one is sticking to the floor or drowning in the mess, I'm pretty happy.  But the house I'm living in is now officially "almost on the market" (love my procrastinating brother in law, I do), and needs to be "showing-worthy" at pretty much anytime.  This condition led to a frantic house cleaning Sunday morning before church, and I'm now trying desperately to keep it clean in case we get another "we'll be there in 45 minutes if that's okay" call this week. 

When we're left to our own devices, the standard slips a little lot, and house cleaning in the Beserker household goes more like this:

For a dirty kitchen floor:

• Put on a pair of socks.  You won't feel the grime anymore, and if you do happen to wander through a puddle of water (quite a frequent happening here, what with all the plants outside that short people inside feel the need to water), you can slide around in the mucky areas for a while and call it mopping.

• Take off your glasses.  Chunks and smears magically disappear.

• Let the baby loose in the kitchen.  She'll scoot around until her rear and socks are covered in the mess, and then you can just take outside and shake her out.

For a messy bathroom:

• Start by giving as many children as possible baths.  Leave the shower curtain open and make no attempt to curtail the splashing.  When bathtime is over, let the children hang out in the bathroom, wrapped in their hoodie towels, until every surface has been brushed up against and wiped off.  Toss towels in the washer.

• Sprinkle Comet in the toilet, then ignore it for a few hours.  The next time someone flushes, the "swirly" action should take care of the biggest mess, and that little sprinkle of blue powder will tell anyone who cares that you at least made an effort.

In the living room:

• Again, a baby is extremely useful.  She can pick up those little bits you didn't want to mess with, and what she doesn't ingest will end up smeared across her clothing, which you can throw into the washer at the end of the day.

• Baskets.  A mess stuffed into a basket somehow looks neater.

And for the entire house, my best hint is to hire a housekeeper.  I've said it before:  you don't actually have to schedule her, you just have to say, "Sorry about the mess...the housekeeper hasn't been in yet this week."

It all happened so subtly that I didn't even see it coming.  I remember buying my very own deodorant/antiperspirant for the first time, standing there in the personal care aisle at WalMart, agonizing over powder fresh or baby powder scents.  There might have been a few more choices available, maybe something like shower fresh, but by and large, most d/ap scents made one's armpits smell like....like one had just stepped out of the shower.

Which, to my mind, is certainly the goal.  I'm sure no company ever even tried to market just played some ball with the boys or this shirt should have been washed last week, much less saw any success.  Funny--I do come across that odor from time to time...but that's a different story.

Anyway, over the years, I began to notice that deodorant scents became more creatively named, and that the line of scents became broader and broader.  First there was the fresh rain/cascading rapids/coastal surf line, and I sort of understood.  After all, those are all scents that evoke a fresh, clean feeling--and again, who doesn't want that?

But as I stood in the personal care aisle at Target last week, I began to wonder just how far this could go.  I was holding two containers of deodorant:  chai vanilla and orchard peach, debating which smelled better, when it hit me that I wasn't sure I wanted my armpits to smell like either.  I had already rejected fresh apple and caramel mocha when I realized that I might pick up the same things on a trip to Albertson's.  I began to ponder what might happen if, on the rare occasion that anyone caught a whiff from my underarms, they might think--perhaps that I had been rubbing tea bags and peaches under there?

Honestly, I just want my deodorant to smell like deodorant--not like rainforests or fruit or drinks that someone might pay $5 for at Starbucks.  I would rather they not smell like food; chances are the stuff that the baby has been smearing on my shirt will take care of that, anyway.  I don't really need a scent to relax or invigorate me--chances are I'm not going to go sniffing around my underarms for that, anyway.  I just really want not to smell like sweat.  Is that really so much to ask?

The kids and I were at Subway last Saturday night when a Prom-going couple came in.  The girl had a white dress, hair all done up, and sparkles in her hair.  The guy had a white tux and they looked very elegant.  After they left, Mayhem leaned into me and said, "Mama!  I think I just saw a princess!"  It was the sweetest thing.  After I explained that the girl wasn't a princess, Mayhem said, "Well, then, she looked like she was getting married."

My bestest friend (apart from Smiddy) is broken and needs the hospital.  I am so sad.  I realized it today when I wanted to take her outside with me and she wouldn't perform correctly...yes, Ross, my Canon is sick.  She tries valiantly to turn on, but all I hear are these little clicking noises, and then I get a black screen wtih an error message.  According to my manual and the Canon webiste (did you know there are two?  one for cameras and one for everything else, and they don't make it easy to figure out which one you're visiting...), I'll have to send her in for evaluation and repair.

And--I didn't even get to take pictures of Mayhem learning to ride her brand-new (to her) bike today.  She was so cute...sparkly pink bike inherited from cousin Ana, sparkly pink helmet with curls pouring out from underneat, brow furled in concentration so she wouldn't take the corner from the driveway to the sidewalk too fast, little cinco de mayo sort of dress on.  And later, skipping barefoot through the grass like a sprite or faery...I love that girl.

Meanwhile, Chaos got in trouble twice today for being mean to his sister.  How can such a sensitive, tender-hearted boy be so mean?  He cried and cried when he had to apologize to her (and she responded with an uncharacteristically sweet "I forgive" and hug), and yet just a few hours later he punched her.  We talked about how his job is to protect and take care of his sisters, and punching didn't fit the job description.  I just hope some of it made it through to his heart.

And Frenzy just may walk yet!  She's 15 1/2 months, and so close!  I have to keep remembering that she lost 3 months to the body cast last summer, so she's really not that far behind, but it is so nice to see her take those first shaky steps.

I love spring.

And in tribute of my sick Canon, here's a few shots from the zoo yesterday...when she was working just perfectly.