Perhaps I should've been a dog.

Today's news headline reads:

"Helmsley's Dog Gets $12 Million in Will"
By Associated Press

Now, dogs are supposed to be man's best friend but doggone it, either "The Queen of Mean" was really a man, or she didn't get the memo that diamonds are a girl's best friend!! No matter, whatever the case, I've been married twice and if there's one thing I've learned along the way, dogs definetly get the better end of the stick. Dogs don't have to pick up after the man, don't have to cook his dinner nor wash his clothes. And when master comes home at 3am drunk as a skunk, doggie dear doesn't have to sleep with him.

Dogs are man's companion, sometimes they have to work but the majority of the time those canine chums love their "master" unconditionally, no matter how they themselves are being treated. The man also lucks out in that Fido can't nag him to death nor would he cost his man a huge alimony check if the whole deal went sour.

hmmm now what was it I wanted to be again??

until next time.....

Of being aptly named....

Kitty, that's my nickname. My father wanted to name me after a favorite aunt, Mary-Katherine Fitzsimmons, known affectionately as "Kitty". She was an old irish spinster who lived here in Vermont. Knowing "Kitty" wasn't a proper name the name Catherine was decided yet I was called Kitty from day one. It's a sweet name, and quite fitting, no not because I sport whiskers and have a tail. Rather it's the demeanor of a cat that I have. I have the spirit of a cat! How could Dad have known?

If life were to be the way I'd like it, I'd wake up in the morning with a good stretch, wash my face, have a little breakfast, wander and find the perfect sunspot to have an early morning nap. Get up an hour or so later, inspect my bowl for anything new and interesting. Wander off upstairs and find the next sunspot and laaaaayyy out and stretch, do a bit of preening and then drift blissfully back off to sleep. Some time later I'd sit up, bathe, wander downstairs for a snack, go outside wander the porch, find a comfy chair, curl up and feign sleep while really listen to the birds and peek out through small slits and make sure the mailman doesn't disturb me. I'd then make a leisurely stroll through the flowers and sidewalk, aimlessly wandering but not too far, dinner isn't that far off. Then I'd make my way back home, acting like I've had such a hard day and indulge in that dinner, a meat and gravy delight...

I then manage to hang about the kitchen in case there's any treats headed my way and to at least make the appearance that I'm interested in being part of the family. Then as evening approaches I would lay claim to ever dust bunny in the house. Once my family had gone off to bed I'd make sure no string was left untouched, I would dust the furniture with my nimble body, I'd chase imaginary mice, honing my skill as a fierce hunter, a tiger. Upon the crash of some object to the floor I'll scurry off, even spin out on a throw rug, so as to not be caught as the culprit. My night antics take on a whole new meaning in the moonlight. Draperies need my attention, I rake them and smooth them, leaving my scent behind so that no other creature dare enter my den.

As dawn approaches I start to wind down, feeling that my duties are now done, time to drift off into a heady doze.....until I hear my breakfast being served once more. Sss...t...re...t....c...hhhh, doze a bit more and then get ready for another exhausting day.

What's in your purse?

As the saying goes, you can tell a lot about a person by what they have in their purse/handbag. This thought crossed my mind today while rifeling through my pocketbook looking for the baby advil. Here's what's in my bag:

1. mouldy sock that the baby's bottle had leaked on ages ago and it sat and turned all green :P

2. wallet busting from too many receipts, too little money

3. cell phone that's off because I forgot about it and it ran out of power and powered down.

4. zip-lock bag with one dose of baby advil

5. old used decrepid tissue

6. long envelope full of coupons, most of which are probabaly expired...

7. another long envelope with two children's immunization records all ready for school

8. a key, to what it goes to, I haven't a clue

9. a broken earring from one of my girls

10. a trial size package of Nivea

11. lip balm, left open, caked with dirt :P

12. checkbook

13. tax bill I have to go deliver to the bank as they pay that through escrowed funds

14. a relief of abuse order that's outdated yet in its nice ziplock bag

15. a little girl's hairbrush

16. a dolly's hairbrush

17. immunization information sheets

18. permission slip for boy scouts

19. spare diaper

20. cloth diaper/wipe clothe extraordinaire

The conclusion that can be drawn from this is, yep my life is clutter-full and yes, everyone and his cousin drops things into this catch-all and no matter how much I clean it, it'll return to that state of confusion in record-time. You can also deduct that it's organized chaos, yes it's a mess but I know where everything is. Lastly, it stands as a witness that I will get to everything, in its own time.

caio

If only hitting a bouncy ball with the ceiling fan were an Olympic Sport...

My kids would be Gold Medal winners. If there were a trophy for the most things you can stuff down inside the recesses of the sofa, it would be on my mantle, we'd be the defending champs! If I were given a penny for every time I've had to snake the toilet...I'd have a nice retirement account. If awards were handed out for every time I have to make a made dash to thrown on my bra before answering the door, I'd have many.

But.... none of these precious medals adorn my mantle, heck I don't have a mantle and if I did the kids would be swinging off of it and it would've broken off the wall, many a curtain rod stand testiment of that.

What I am awarded with, though, are six very active children, all very happy, healthy and full of it!! Every day they are renewed with energy, not a single one of them has any major affliction. My youngest is seen as handicapped, he has Down Syndrome, but he's not. He is my ambassador of good will, he's my gold medal of honor, he's my hero. Each child, in their own way, delivers something to the experience of motherhood that I cherish, I may not like that my daughter's artistic talents are displayed all over the newly sheetrocked wall...but then, one day that'll be painted over and her work will be but a distant memory. I may not enjoy my two pre-teens attitudes and search for independance BUT this means I'm doing an pretty ok job, they need to think on their own, they need to exert themselves...I just have to keep taking Zoloft....

In the Olympics of Mothorhood I have been given so many rewards and though many of them are evident only in my quickly greying hair they are priceless and cherished way beyond any earthly medal. I am a Mom.

My clutter-ful life

It's late August, back-to-school time! It's a time when kids think they need a whole new wardrobe or they won't be cool...even if we're talking the second grade! I'm the Mom of six children ages 2, 4, 6, 10, 12 and 13 and I'm at midlife so our life is a combination VERY busy and a VERY tired Mom!

So it's that time again, sort out the "don't fits" and the "can't stand its" and shop on EBay for items more coveted. It's time to bring clothes to resale outlets or good will or, if they're good enough, sell on EBay. Ahhh the techno age.

The thing is, with six kids, this is an on-going task, I'm ALWAYS somewhere in this process ALL the time and my front room looks like I never ever clean..it's because it's always in this state of confusion. To make matters worse, everyone thinks that because I have six kids, I must not be able to afford clothes. So lo-and-behold, I step out for an hour or two and invariably there'll be a bag of clothes left on the front porch. Don't get me wrong, I love a good bargain, but man, sometimes I get shoes I wouldn't let a dog chew and clothes too ratty to dust with. I'm totally serious! Do we look THAT bad? It's just like when I was a kid, growing up on the farm, everyone and his uncle thought farmers need cats for mousing and that a farm can always feed twelve more cats by virtue of the amount of milk on hand. Same with having a lot of children, surely we could use the clothes, no matter how bad they are! Inconspicuously dropping off a bag or two at my house is a lot easier than loading them into the car and heading to the Salvation Army OR heaven-forbid, asking first!

One time a friend of my eldest drops by and I hear everyone say their hellos to him so I thought he must've forgotten my son was gone to his Dad's house and so he left. After I resurrected myself from the soap and the pots and pans I see he brought over 3 trashbags full of clothes. It was a nice gesture however two of my kids had already torn the bags open looking for goodies and strewn the clothes high and low because they weren't for them. To make matters worse they were size 7 and size 8 women's clothes and well..I haven't been a 7 or 8 since like 1969. ahem..so... Since his mom is my friend I called her up and thanked her and she said she didn't even know what was in the bags, she had just told her son to bring them to our house figuring I'd just take them to Salvation Army if I didn't want them. See how easy it is? Leave em at my house and >>I'LL<<> deal with it! After all ...I have nothing else to do ;)