Will you be my Valentine?

Some girls dream of diamonds, other girls swoon over the thought of roses for Valentine's Day. I remember in early years of our marriage that giddy anticipation for Feb 14th. I was always curious as to what Daddy Weasley would surprise me with for the year. Would it sparkle? Would it fill the room with a wonderful perfume? It was a dilemma for him having to get something special for this Valentine when my birthday followed the next week. But most years he pulled it off with a big bouquet of flowers. I would fuss and sniff over every bloom.

Fast forward 18 years and 4 kids. Valentine's day is just not the big deal it used to be. The sensible Mom in me does not thrill over expensive flowers. Yes, they are quite pretty, but that's money that could buy a couple days worth of groceries. Or maybe just an hour's worth with the way the twins are eating anything and everything in the kitchen. Jewelry? I still love the sparkle, but again, it's hard to not consider the expense and the household budget. I'm not sure when the crossover was complete  from the "it's all about the frills" to, "you spent what??" but I'm pretty sure it happened with that first "Congratulations, your pregnant" back in 1997.

 Practicality and parenthood can sure make a mess out of romance.With all the worry over money and budgets, the real reason behind Valentine's Day tends to get lost. With a family of six, it is easy to get jaded and see the day as a Hallmark holiday; as a way to get one to spend money in the slump after Christmas.  Practicality and worry have turned me into a Valentine Grinch!

While waiting for Haybug to get out of school this afternoon, my precocious 6 year old offered me his Valentine. In a single act,  Jacks reminded me that Valentine's Day isn't always about store bought gifts; that life shouldn't be ruled by practicality. He didn't offer me an expensive rose from the florist, nor something from the mall. But to him, it was worth all of that and more. Clutched in his tiny hand was a rock. Not just any rock, but one he had searched the grass for carefully. It had to be the right size, the right color, the right shape. (My baby boy unknowingly was getting his first experience at "shopping" for that perfect Valentine's gift).  He offered it to me with a huge grin and a heart full of love.

Have I mentioned that Jacks lives for rocks? His collection is huge and the yard is quickly filling up. For him to give up what I am sure was a prized selection to me was an act of love and self sacrifice.In that simple gift I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes about childhood:

"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."

That simple rock served to remind me that it's not about the cost or the extravagance on Valentine's Day. It is about the simple acts given from the heart. A laugh shared between friends, a kiss from a child, or a text message wishing an "oh so perfect day". Valentine's Day is about the love expressed in a smile, a hug or in the gift of a common, everyday rock.

Happy Valentine's Day from the Auburn Weasleys. Hope your day is full of love and a simple rock or two.

Laundry, how I hate thee.

                                                                      

Anyone that has known me for a minimum of 24 hours will know that out of all the dreaded chores of a Supermom, the one I hate with the most passion, the most distaste, is putting up laundry. Notice I didn't say washing laundry.I actually like the process of washing the clothes. I love sniffing the bottle of Downy like those kids in school that were always sniffing the big, fat, black markers teachers used for poster projects. I love the smell of the clean laundry as I transfer it from the washer. I love snuggling up to the warm towels as I pull them out of the dryer.

But that is where the love fest ends. I HATE the sorting, hanging and finding room in drawers and closets for the clean clothes. Baskets in this house are my friends, an extension of our dressers. The baskets represent the Bermuda Triangle of laundry. Clothes go in the baskets, but they have a hard time coming back out. The kids, bless them, will carry the baskets into their room and then forget the next step in the process of putting clothes away. They will push the basket into a corner, knowing that I won't be looking for it and then live out of the basket for the next week or so.

Unfortunately the kids get tired of digging through the neatly folded piles and resort to wearing the same shirts and pants over and over rather than looking under the top layer for something new and exciting. I really get sick of seeing the same outfits week after week.The twins almost have it down to a predictable daily schedule. Heaven forbid one of the usual suspects is lost in the dirty clothes piles that were sorted but never quite made it into the washer machine. You'd think I ignore the laundry for two days just to punish them. And if by some miracle they pull out a shirt that hasn't been worn in awhile, the others assume I bought something new for one but not all. There is never a dull moment around here, let me tell ya.

Laundry in the Weasley household runs in a vicious cycle. With all the digging into baskets, inadvertently some of the clean clothes get pushed out on to the floor and then trampled on. A shirt or two will be pushed under a bed. In a moment of panic they will use clean laundry to wipe up a spill. Since I don't really keep up with the baskets once they travel to the different rooms, I don't keep up with how much needs washed.It is the kids responsibility to bring me the dirty clothes.When they finally do clear out their rooms the amount of clothes needing washed is always staggering. My only conclusion is that dirty laundry breeds at night when the house is dark and quiet. I know there is no other explanation of how clothes I haven't seen the kids wear end up back in the dirty pile week after week.

 Then there is my family's sick obsession with being squeaky clean. They are not happy with a quick simple shower. Nooo. Long, messy, "lets get water everywhere and clean the floor for mom as we bathe" showers are taken frequently and towels pile up at an alarming rate. (Daddy Weasley alone averages 3 showers a day). We have two linen closets for Pete's sake and most days they are empty as my wallet during the school year.

I'll admit I have a habit of just ignoring it all; I would rather do ANYTHING other than laundry. Cleaning out the fridge, scrubbing around the toilet in the boys' bathroom, dusting knickknacks....yep, I will jump on those chores in a heartbeat. But laundry?? Forget it. It's a never ending battle, so whats the use?

Then the piles of dirty clothes start taking over the laundry area off the kitchen and I have fears of losing a dachshund or two in an avalanche. That's when I go on a major washing spree. Soon the couch in the living room becomes a staging center for all things clean. Baskets are finally emptied so they can be refilled and we start over once more.

I will admit I have entertained the idea of joining a nudist colony when the dirty laundry is at epic proportions. I bet they save thousands a year on laundry detergent alone! Then reality sets in and I know with the miserable winter we have experienced I could never resort to the ways of Adam and Eve. I enjoy my sweatshirts way too much on a cold and raw day. What we would save on detergent would have to go to sunscreen with a SPF of 1000 because we all border on albino in this family.  And honestly, once the kids are past a certain age its really not all that cute to see them streak through the house, so would I really want to see them in all their naked glory day after day? I think not.

 I am pretty proud of myself this week though. I have about three more piles and I will be caught up with the wash for a day or two. Clothes were actually hung up and put away last night with a minimum of fuss. I might actually be able to get all the bedding changed and washed in one day this weekend rather that stretching it out over several days. I bet I could stay on top of the laundry now that everything is caught up........

Hmm, I better slow down on sniffing the Downy, I think I am getting delusions of grandeur.

How did February get here already?

Waste of makeup, waste of effort...that seemed to be the theme for several days in the first month of the New Year. January 2011 wasted no time to wreak havoc and make itself scarce. Like a 2 year old bent on destruction, January stormed in, passed around the flu and stomach virus, entertained us with ridiculously complex research projects, subjected born and raised Southerners to too many bone chilling days and then went about it's merry way.

I am still dealing with the aftermath. The house is more of a disaster area than usual. Between me getting sick and kids being stuck in doors for days on end the house is just this side of unlivable. But through all the muck and dirty clothes I can see a silver lining in the fact that the kids seem to realize that I have thrown in the towel and declared housework a lost cause. They have been overly helpful lately. Could be the cabin fever setting in, or maybe I am just getting better at bribery.

And here we are starting February.New month, new attitude? Maybe. If we can keep the germ warfare to a minimum, get some organization back, and maybe, just maybe, clean out some of the clutter that has accumulated but serves no purpose but to gather dust. I so hope February will be a much better month....

And it should be, seeing how this month we will celebrate my last birthday that will ever be acknowledged. I will turn 39 this year...wow, it still amazes me to say that. Thirty. Nine. Hmmm. At 39, my Mom had her youngest (moi) in 7th grade.My oldest brother was in his second year of college, my middle brother was a Junior in high school. Here I am three weeks (give or take) from 39 with my oldest two in 7th grade, a 5th grader that looks older than she has a right to, and a kindergartner that thinks he rules the universe.  No wonder I am so tired, I really should have started having kids at a younger age.

 For weeks now I have been obsessing about my upcoming birthday. It really shouldn't phase me and it seems silly that I am tormented over the whole thing. I have never really stopped and thought about my age before. In my minds eye I am still the 20 year old that married the love of her life. I don't see myself getting older, but that might be because I tend to avoid mirrors like a plague. I don't focus and obsess about the wrinkles and the grey hair that seem to appear over night because those are just a part of adulthood. Birthdays come and go, and they really haven't made a difference in my attitude. Birthdays, after all, are just another day in the year once you pass the big milestones of 16, 18, 21.

Until now.

There is something about turning 39, being on just this side of 40, that is a bit intimidating. 40 has always seemed so far way, a mythical number that I would never actually turn. Old people are 40 and ding dang it, I am not old! I still enjoy Disney cartoons, mooning over certain movie stars, and collecting Barbies. I still get a kick out of coloring with Jacks, laughing over my collection of Calvin and Hobbes with the twins, and fussing over American Girl dolls with Haybug. I can be quite immature, silly and unreasonable to the point that a 3 year old would gape in awe. How can I be in the homestretch of 40?

I will not accept it, nor will I acknowledge it. As of February 23, I am officially 39 and holding. No more birthdays. That's it. I am through.

Childish? Yes, and that's my point exactly. If I can still throw temper tantrums , I can not be staring down 40. It's not possible; I am not ready to be a mature, responsible, stuck in my ways adult!! If I willingly accept 40, before you know it I 'll be looking for the early bird dinner specials and trying to bribe my way into that 5% senior discount at Kroger on Wednesdays.

Not quite ready for the old folks home here. If you catch me around town on the 23rd or send birthday wishes on Facebook, just remember this is my last official birthday celebration. Lets do it up big and grand, okay? Forever young is the theme this year. Cash and ridiculously expensive gifts are, as always, welcomed. But even more preferred are the hugs, cards and birthday wishes from friends and loved ones, and the sticky sweet kisses of a 6 year old.

40? No way. Not me buddy. 39 and holding....that's me.