New Parody Video!! "Everything Smells Awful"

This new parody video is about the smells.  Oh, the smells!!  Moms, you know what I'm talking about.  This one has a surprise ending that you may find pretty unbelievable - our 8 year old sure thought it was.  (p.s. It's an AWESOME surprise.)  ENJOY!!

"Everything Smells Awful"

(p.p.s.  Aren't my kids the cutest???  I'm so obsessed with those stinkers.)

Flashback

It took us two years to finally realize we could (and should) store stuff in our attic. Now, whenever I can get my rear in gear, I'll pack up a couple tubs of junk and leave them on the landing for Marc to throw up there. (I've never actually been up there myself-small, dark, musty spaces weird me out.)

My latest project has been organizing the closets in Erich's room, better referred to as the old attic. After packing numerous tubs of baby clothes, I reached two forgotten boxes on the top shelf with my name on them. My theory is that they got there when my mom drove down from Wisconsin after Erich was born. I don't remember seeing them or putting them up there, but then again I was on a lot of Percoset back then...

I realized these were memorabilia boxes encompassing my middle through high school years. Sweet!! Naturally, I took a break from organizing and indulged in this unexpected treat. Right away though, I found something a little, um, "sweeter" than I'd expected. Tucked under the lid of the first box was a bottle of Royale Deluxe Chambord Liqueur! The bottle was pretty dusty and sure, I had some wild times in my youth, but I certainly didn't remember this keepsake! You had better believe I have my suspicions, though. (Um, did you forget about something, little brother?? We'll chat later!)

This was truly a blast from the past, complete with diaries, pictures, cards, yearbooks, awards, trophies, art projects and bulging bag of notes folded into every geometrical shape possible. I got quite the kick out of it all. I had love notes in there from a guy I refused to date until I was 16, and journal entries about how much I "loved" the guy I secretly dated when I was 15. I know, I was quite the heartbreaker. I even got emotional when I found a printed copy of a virtual "Happy Hanukkah" bouquet my best friend Dave sent me saying "Did I make you smile? If so you should put this on your list of things that make you smile." Apparently I was making a list.. I wonder what happened to that?

I made a crazy chair in art class my senior year that was symbolic of the dueling good/bad angel on each shoulder. My good/bad angels were represented by Oscar the Grouch in a black can and Elmo in a flower pot (I had something of an obsession with Elmo for about a year); they were attached to each "shoulder" of the chair and each half of the chair was painted and "decorated" to match (interpretation: glued on flowers and garbage). A lot of people didn't "get" my art, but I was really proud of it so I saved the Oscar and Elmo. Erich had a blast playing with them.

Then there was the journal entry I wrote about how my friend and I stole our teacher's AOL password (because my parents wouldn't give me theirs) and chatted with a bunch of guys, and one kept emailing us. I was convinced that we'd get busted because the emails took a few days to delete; now was that true or was I on crack?

There was so much more, but I decided to pack things up and postpone the rest of the flashback a little longer. At least it was nice to reconnect with the old me and see how I've grown. I'm proud of myself. I did a great job of documenting the shy, skinny, four-eyed, headgear wearing brace-face I was and the myriad of emotions that came with finding myself, making choices, and puberty in general. And although I still cringe when I remember it all, there are a ton of valuable resources in that box to help me deal with my own daughters' (because we'll have at least one if not more, Marc!) awkward adolescent stages. I'm hoping that by then I'll be able to completely shake off any embarrassment about who I was and just laugh about it. Because I think I turned out pretty good.

Erich Nesting

Apparently E was very dissatisfied with the way I organized the pantry. I'm not complaining, though. This kept him busy for about half an hour.

And after all that work, this is how he finally decided it should look:

Welcome to the Monkey House

I'm seriously considering changing the title of my blog from The Salad Days to The Monkey House. I immediately clung to this expression when I heard Tim Gunn say it to Chris on Project Runway. After an entire season of examining Chris's wacky creations, Tim made the greatest analogy when Chris presented to him garments that used human hair as fringe. He told Chris in a very Tim Gunn way that only Tim Gunn could pull off, that he had been living in the monkey house for too long. His analogy goes something like this: So when you first walk into the monkey house at the zoo, what do you do? You cover your nose and think, "Dang this place stinks!" Then, after 15 minutes or so you start to think, "Well, I guess this isn't so bad." And then, after about 45 minutes you don't even notice it anymore. However, the place never stopped smelling like sh**; you just stopped smelling it.

If you're living in the monkey house, it means you that you no longer notice the mess all around you. If you stay there too long, then you begin to enjoy it or to make it your own. Abandon all hope if crap starts flying across the room.

I feel a lot of days like I'm living in my own monkey house. We spend a lot of time running around the house screeching and climbing the furniture naked. Besides that however, I realize that when the tasks get overwhelming, the blinders turn on. I let dog hair pile up and papers sit on the counters for weeks, my socks never match my outfit and aside from applying makeup on the drive to church (to which we are always late), I am seriously lacking any beauty regimen. I could go on and on about how often I (don't) shower, but I don't want to shatter too many positive assumptions people have made about me. Instead, rest assured that Erich gets a bath, clean clothes, a massage, and weird, organic health food every day.. while I sit in my own filth eating Peanut Butter Crunch.

Thankfully, not every day is a "monkey house" day. That is why I would never title my blog to reflect so. I certainly wouldn't want to embrace a lower standard of living than I have now! But life is an uphill battle to find balance, so I'll keep my scooper in hand and start shoveling that poo out the window. Into the yard- where it might actually do some good.

Not a “Housewife”: a “Woman on Vacation”

So am I the world’s most undependable blogger or what? At least you can’t say I didn’t warn you all I would take another hiatus someday… Suddenly, though I feel the need to express myself more, and I’m pretty sure it’s a direct result of recently switching my day job from a full-time Rubber to a full-time Mudder. (Hey, it almost rhymes.)

I love being home. I have a theory that some women need to spend most of their time around the home and some need to spend most of it doing anything else. My sister and I are perfect examples of this. She’s home with her 3 month old and losing her mind. She loves one on one time with her little boy but the down time is killing her. She actually said to me: “I mean, how many more drawers can I organize before losing my mind?!” I told her to get a dog or write a blog. She decided she’ll try to start a business.

On the other hand, I have every minute of my day planned to maximize my home time. This does NOT mean I’m lazy, People. I still work Saturdays - to keep life interesting and the hotel discounts coming – I’m taking a 5 credit German class, and I keep up on chores and errands. (Okay, okay, so I called a maid. But I do run the errands.) I just love to be at home. I leave for class at the last possible second and come home right after. I run with the dog so he’ll sleep and cuddle with me while I do my homework. I run errands with Erich while he naps so I can let him crawl around my feet while I clean. I fold laundry in front of the TV because I want to watch TV curled on the couch without feeling guilty (so what if it takes twice as long :P). And best of all, I get to see and catch up with friends. I can go out to lunch, chat online, pop over to the neighbors, make phone calls, etc. I didn’t notice how anti-social I used to be while I was working. My worn out line was: “Oh, I can’t, I have to work.” Not anymore! And although I do plan on going back to work or school again, it may be from home and will certainly be on my own terms.. because this freedom deal is addictive. *

*Of course, behind every woman with freedom is a man without it, so this post is dedicated to my Sugar Daddy. Ich liebe dich, Husband, esq.