Sacrifice

Sugar Bear (after seeing the following leftover piece of King Cake): Mama Bear! Der's one more piece of King's pie left. And I will have it.

The piece she actually received:
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After discussing Mardi Gras and Lent with Brother Bear, he began the process of deciding what he would give up for Lent. The list (in order):

• Wii (After realizing it would be forty LONG days without the Wii, he promptly turned this down)
• Sleeping with Lovie (blanket), Wolfie (stuffed wolf), and Shatto (stuffed cow) (After realizing he was breaking his Mama Bear's heart, he chose against this)
• Homework (After realizing that wasn't the sacrifice he deemed it to be, he moved on)
• Playing with Legos (After realizing he would be bereft without his precious legos, he kept thinking)

And the winner?

Sugary drinks. While he doesn't really get a lot of sugary drinks in our house (thus, it's not a huge sacrifice), we embrace and support his desire to participate in the process.

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Here's to walking the path to the Cross and remembering the sacrifice together with each of you. May the path fill you with the hope, peace and grace that is Jesus Christ.

Conversations

Mama Bear: Sugar Bear, it's raining and very cold outside. Please choose something to wear that is appropriate for the cold and the rain.

Sugar Bear:

Mama Bear: .....

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Mama Bear: You look beautiful Sugar Bear!

Sugar Bear: NO, MAMA! I LOOK GAWWWJUSSS.

Mama Bear: .....

Mommy Dearest

Lest you think it's all, "NO MORE WIRE HANGERS" around here, I thought I'd post a reality check:

See? I am no domestic goddess. Other than a working laundry system and some pre-made PB&Js, I'm pretty much a mess (although, please note the folded laundry in the basket on the couch).

Just keeping it real.

Taking Sides

Have you ever been faced with taking sides? Sure you have! Everyone has! Today on Facebook, I'm discussing the old adage, "there are two sides to every story." Click here to read more.

Sandwich Love

Back for the second (and final) installment of All Things Domestic? I'm hoping the build up didn't ruin it for you.

First and foremost, I did not come up with this idea myself. I'll give credit where credit is due. My friend Emily told me about it and as soon as she did, I realized it would make a huge difference for me.

But first, the front story: I have a classic bell curve when it comes to my productivity each day. I start out veeeeery slowly about 6:40 a.m. (exactly 20 minutes later than I plan. Every. Single. Day.) I am in NO WAY a morning bear. Well, actually, I am a bear in the mornings. Literally. I can't form sentences until about 7:00 a.m., and critical thinking skills don't set in until about 7:40 a.m. (which, incidentally, coincides exactly with the time that I have to start hustling Brother Bear out of the door). If I could change one thing about myself? I'd want to be a morning person. Really, I'd love to be one of those early-rising-productive-before-the-sun-rises kind of Mama Bears. But, alas. I'm not.

By about 9:45-10:00 in the morning, my productivity picks up. By 11:00 a.m. I'm kicking backside and taking names. By 1:00 p.m., most things are accomplished and I can slow down a bit, and by 3:00 p.m., I'm hit by the great train of cub pick up, homework, activities, play dates and dinner prep. By the time dinner is on the table at 6:00 - 6:30 p.m., My critical thinking skills are again at an all time low. By 8:30 p.m., I'm mush-for-brains, and by 10:30 p.m. I'm asleep with a book my Kindle in my hand (when, oh WHEN, did I become a Memaw? Next up, glasses on a chain and a "patio dress").

My productivity curve flies directly in the face of my desire to be efficient with my cubs' lunch prep. One would think making a cub's (or multiple cub's lunches) would be simple. Yes, if I were making it at 11:00 a.m. But here's an idea of what lunch prep looks like at the times I've tried it:

Lunch prep the night before (somewhere between 9:00 p.m. - 10:30 p.m.) - Get peanut butter out of pantry. Walk to beverage fridge and get juice. Realize I need lunch box to make lunch. Retrieve lunch box. Go to pantry to get peanut butter. Realize that it's sitting on counter. Get bread from fridge. Return to fridge for jelly. Get distracted by question from Papa Bear. Go to pantry to get peanut butter. Curse my memory. Spread peanut butter on bread. Return peanut butter to pantry. Get yogurt from freezer. Realize I forgot to put jelly on bread. Spread jelly on bread. Spend 5 minutes figuring out which fruit, chips, dessert combination I served in previous day's lunch. Create a non-used-the-day-before combination. Write semi-witty/loving note (or, picture for Sugar Bear). Zip up bags, put in fridge (Or, worse, accidentally leave on counter overnight). Total time elapsed: +/- 20 minutes.

Lunch prep the morning of (somewhere between 6:40 a.m. - 7:40 a.m.) - Stand in kitchen looking around in a futile attempt to locate pantry. Pour cup of coffee. Stare at empty lunch box and try to remember what it was I was supposed to be doing. Guzzle coffee. Retrieve bread from fridge. Stare at bread willing it to miraculously jump out of bag and dance itself into a sandwich. Pour another cup of coffee. Go back to bed. Total time elapsed: +/- 1 hour.

You can see why, when my friend offered me a simple tip to help increase my lunch making productivity, I was ALL IN.

Here's her MAGIC TIP.

Seriously. I tried it this weekend. Saturday while Papa Bear and the kids were playing, I slapped together 10 sandwiches, wrapped 'em up and stuck 'em in the freezer. The night before, I threw in the juice, chips, dessert, fruit, yogurt and then grabbed a sandwich and threw it in too. Total time elapsed: +/- 3 minutes.

I can't say scientifically WHY it increased my lunch making efficiency so much. BUT I KNOW IT DID.

So very simple! For those of you with nut allergy issues, you'll see the alternate tip my bearfriend suggests. I think you could also change it to a ham or turkey sandwich (without the cheese? I hear it doesn't freeze well...never tried it). My kids ONLY eat PB&J. Sigh.

So there you go. You are welcome.

That now completes my lengthy series on domesticity. We shall return to our regularly scheduled programing after this brief message from our sponsors: Jiffy Peanut Butter & Ginko Supplements (ha ha ha. You know that's a joke, right? No one sponsors this bloggy.)

Rockin' your world

If you are back today for my second (last) domestic tip, my apologies. You will not get it today. My bearfriend who taught me the tip is featuring it on her blog tomorrow, and I refuse to steal her thunder. So....never fear. Your lunch world will be rocked. But you'll have to wait until tomorrow. I'll link up to her blog and tell you my personal thoughts about it too.

Until then, I hate to promise a post and not deliver. I saw this yesterday and was TOTALLY freaked out by it. I felt it was my obligation to freak y'all out too. This, too will rock your world. Trust me.

Click here.

Enjoy. Or, run screaming from the computer. Whichever you choose.

Laundry Love

I am not a domestic goddess. I am not crafty. I can cook, but not bake. I pay someone to clean my house. Instead of meeting Papa Bear at the door in full make up with a mixed drink in my hand, I'm unshowered, wearing workout clothes, and desperately clutching my OWN glass of wine (I strictly follow the "put your OWN oxygen mask on first" philosophy). This is one of the many reasons this blog has never been a place to come for all tips domestic.

However, today that changes. This post is a direct result of a Facebook dialogue between friends. Apparently, my laundry system has changed one of my friend's life (who said Facebook was all bad?). There has been a request for further explanation of my system. Thus, this post.

For those of you who hate laundry, I hope this post makes you hate it a wee bit less. For those of you who already have your own system, yawn and move on! I've never claimed to be an expert at anything domestic...

My laundry "system" was born out of my extreme distaste for Laundry Day. Oh...you know what I'm talking about. The day you assign to getting the family laundry done. The day you move eight different loads from the washer, to the dryer, and then to your couch....where you intend to fold them, really, you do. But the sheer mass of clothing overwhelms you. So you either leave them there on the couch picking out what you need from the pile, or you move them to baskets where they wrinkle to the point that you are forced to re wash them or, gasp, iron.

This is what I did. Or, attempted to do. What ended up happening was I'd stay up until midnight trying to fold everything or I'd leave it in a wrinkled mess. Either way, I found myself grumpy and constantly feeling like laundry was taking me over.

So I decided to change things up. No more Laundry Day. Now it's Laundry Days. Literally. Every day. Wait...don't click away just yet!! Stick with me. I promise it's BETTER not worse!

Indeed, now I do Laundry basically every day. But, instead of doing ALL the Laundry in ONE day, I do SOME LAUNDRY every day. It's the whole "How do you eat an elephant?" mentality. One bite at a time.

I looked at my family's laundry loads, and then broke it down by days. This is what I came up with (might be TOTALLY different for your household):

Monday - Bear Cubs

Tuesday - Mama & Papa Bear

Wednesday - Workout Clothes & Delicates

Thursday - catch up day

Friday - Sheets & Towels (full confession: the cleaning lady does these)

Saturday - cleaning rags & towels

Sunday - Workout Clothes

The only "rule" I imposed on myself was this: each day's load had to be washed, folded, and put away by the end of the day. Sounds daunting at first, but when it's one little basket worth of laundry (instead of eight heaping baskets), it is really TOTALLY manageable!

So, for example, on Monday morning, I throw the cub's laundry in the wash, and then the dryer. If I have time during the day, I'll fold it. If not, as soon as Papa Bear starts bathing the kids, I sit down and fold the clothes. And, most days, I follow through on my rule of putting the laundry away. I'll admit, if I get behind on anything, it's the putting the clothes away part. But, at least the clothes are folded...right?

Again, I've found this method keeps me from spending a whole day washing and folding and getting behind. But, I've also found that it helps in other ways too. Most importantly, I'm not instantly behind when surprise events like, say, barfing cubs pop up. Because of the system, the machines aren't tied up, and I can throw in a quick load of dirty sheets one day and not get behind.

There are few other things that I do to stay on top of laundry as well. However, they might cross the line from organized into OCD. Those of you that know me know....that's a very fine line for me... But here's what they are:

• Stain fighting: each bedroom (plus the laundry room) has a stain fighter spray (you could just as easily use a stick). Any clothes that are stained get sprayed when the come off of the cub's/bear's body before they go into the hamper. That way, I don't forget to treat (remembering to treat is NOT my strong suit) and this gives time to treat the stain before washing.
• Pre-sorting: Papa Bear and I invested in one of those 3 bin laundry hampers. Instead of dropping all our clothes in one hamper, and then me having to sort the clothes later, we sort them into their loads (lights, darks, delicates) as we take the clothes off. This saves not only time, but my sanity, as I'm not great at sorting either.
• Spreadsheet: Okay. This is where it crosses the line from organized to OCD. The first step is admitting the problem, right? And y'all know how I like a good spreadsheet! Basically, I have the entire laundry schedule printed out on a spreadsheet and taped on the cabinet above the washer. I have the day of the week, the load scheduled for such day, and the directions (what cycle, how much detergent, dryer cycle...etc). My idea behind this was, should I ever become incapacitated, the laundry would still get done. And when I became un-incapacitated, I wouldn't have 18 loads of laundry to do. A Mama Bear can dream, can't she? It's basically just become fodder for OCD jokes. And I'm okay with that.

So, that's my system. Do you like it? Do you have a better system? Questions? Would love to hear what you think.

Be looking for another tip tomorrow. It is one I was taught recently that has changed our lives in another way. I'll I'm going to say is: be prepared to have your lunch world rocked.

The True Measure of a Mama Bear's Love

Most of you know I have 2 cubs. But I really have three. I'm mentioned my first cub occasionally on this blog (here, here, and - oh yeah, here). Seems he doesn't get a lot of good press on this blog!

So the furriest cub in the house celebrated his 12th birthday in January (best guess since he's was a stray with no papers). TWELVE. Do you know the average lifespan for his breed? DON'T ASK. I get weepy every time I think about it (unless, of course, it's when I'm scooping his poo. Then it's aWHOLE different story).

We've been noticing recently that his arthritis has gotten much worse. But yesterday was just awful. I called him and he didn't come. When I went into the room, he was scooting across our brick floors trying to get his hind quarters up. He just couldn't do it. I had to lift him up myself.

Ugh.

So I took our furry cub to the doctor today. And this is where I learned that I REALLY MUST LOVE THAT DURN CANINE.

The doctor prescribed a plan of action that involved attacking the problem from multiple angles.

Angle 1: PHARMACEUTICALS - They had been suggested before, but at such a drastic level that we would have had to make some serious budget cuts. And I do mean SERIOUS. This time, the recommended dosage is easier to swallow. For both of us (har!)

Angle 2: SUPPLEMENTS: Did you know that canines can take the same supplements as us? Neither did I. In conjunction with the pharmaceuticals, our beloved furry cub is to now take:

1) 1500 mg/ day of Glucosamine

2) 2000 mg/day of Omega-3
3) One half a tablet/day of Ocuvite (this wasn't for his arthritis....but what the heck!)

For those of you that are interested in counting, that's approximately 6.5 pills per day. I think I'm going to invest in a daily pill box. FOR MY DOG.

So far, I'm on the same page as the vet. While I'm not real keen on shelling out the bucks for the meds, I've come to terms with the fact that this is the responsibility that comes with pet ownership. (Ahhh..how I love being a grown up)

But then the doctor threw in the final angle....

Angle 3: WEIGHT MANAGEMENT - Just like it does in their human counterparts, weight makes canine arthritis worse. So, the doc suggested our furry cub lose a hefty amount of his heft. (And, yes, I do find the irony in now owning a pet with weight issues...) While I might not have agreed with the doc on how much my furry cub needed to lose, I do certainly agree that weight loss will make him feel better. But then the doc lined out exactly HOW to get my furry cub to lose his root-beer belly:

• Cut his food by 1/3 (easy enough)
• replace missing food with 1 CAN OF GREEN BEANS.

For those of you who don't spend a lot of time at my den, this doesn't seem like a big deal. However, for the rest of you that have been "blessed" by my canine's supernatural emission skills, you KNOW that this is just a recipe for disaster. Seriously, if there were a category at the AKC's Dog Show for Best Tooter, we'd be rich pet owners right now. I've known this furry cub to clear a room in milliseconds flat.

But, yet, after loading up my cart with natural supplements, I found myself in the canned vegetables aisle searching for the cheapest green beans available (Great Value: 68 cents - fyi).

Why?

Because, despite what some may think, I love that stinky, furry cub.

So, don't be surprised if you see a story soon on the local news: LOCAL FAMILY DIES IN APPARENT NOXIOUS FUMES EVENT! LONE SURVIVOR VERY OLD YET AMAZINGLY SVELTE AND AGILE CANINE!

Candle suggestions anyone?

Signs

Sign that she's mine:

Upon turning on the light in her room in an attempt to wake her up, she responded, "Oh..I'm twying..I'm twying...I'm twying to wake up my eyes. Mama, turn out the light...it's too bwight for my eyes to wake up." When I turned out the light per her request she responded, "Dere. Dats bettuh."

Sign that she's his:

Her freakishly mad puzzle skills.

Sign that she's the child of aliens:

While pulling the tiniest piece of meat from her mouth (from her required 3 bites of that evening's poison soup), she says, "Mama! I TOLD you, I DON'T LIKE BACON!"

DNA is a curious, curious thing.

I kid you not...

I opened my mailbox today and found this little gem waiting for me:

Less than twenty-four hours after escaping near death-by-sports-undergarment (if you haven't ready yesterday's post...now's a good time to get caught up). I was rendered speechless BY THE SHEER AWESOMENESS of this note. It brought a tear to my eye, and a huge guffaw to my belly.

If said local running store didn't already have a loyal customer in me, they CERTAINLY have one now.

Seriously. Is this not the best?

The Devil is in the Details

I recently received a gift card to the local running store, so I stopped by today to do a little shopping.

Since I am in desperate need of new...um...appropriate running undergarments, I headed straight to that section. Said undergarments come in two-letter options like, for example: H/I, J/K, or L/M/N/O/P. Rest assured, every female bear past puberty and finished with childbearing is relatively familiar with what letter category they fall in. In keeping with my example above (and to save a wee bit of my dignity...) let's say I'm pretty darn sure I fall into the H/I category, and keep moving, 'k?

So, I pull the first H/I undergarment I see off the rack and head to the changing room. I try to pull it over my head and realize there is no way on God's green earth that thing is making it over my elbows, much less my head, shoulders, and...well...you know.

Hmm. That's weird? Maybe the sizing is different (they are made in a foreign land with wee little people, ya know)? I guess I'll go up to the J/K size, then?

Emboldened by this new, interesting size development, I throw all my clothes back on, and sashay back to the undergarment rack where I then pick up the first J/K undergarment I see on the rack and sashay back to the dressing room. I then proceed to try on this undergarment, certain that it will do the trick.

I successfully managed to get this one over my elbows, shoulders and then such. But not without a lot of....grunting. I looked in the mirror and thought that perhaps the undergarment hadn't landed exactly right the first time because I was seeing WAY more bulges than I thought appropriate. So I wriggled, twisted, stuffed, and grunted a little more until I felt certain everything was in its correct place. And yet, the bulging still persisted. I also noticed that I was having a more difficult time than usual breathing.

Hmm..The label did say "high impact." I wonder if it's tighter because of that? I'm not sure I'll need to test this thing with the "jump-up-and-down" testing method. I'm pretty sure no motion is allowed in this sucker. Nope. Not even breathing. Oh dear...the room....is....starting...to go....dark. Ah! I've gotta get this thing OFF OF ME!!!!

Panicked by my need for oxygen, I started to claw away in an attempt to extricate myself from the undergarment of death. No go. I realized the lack of oxygen was making me stressed, so I calmed myself down and tried again. Nada. I bent over and wriggled. I stood up and jiggled. I crossed my arms and tugged. I even tried the hokey pokey. Nothin'.

Oh, Dear Jesus. Please don't let me be caught in this thing! Please, please, please, don't make me have to call that twelve year old anorexic skinny running store employee back here to help me. It's not going to happen. I'll stay in here until this place closes down. Seriously, help a fluffy bear out, would ya? The oxygen depravation is getting to me. I'm starting to see the light. Oh, please, for the love of all things holy, do not let me get stuck in this undergarment forever and be forced to die here and my family have to bear the shame of their Mama Bear dying in the dressing room of a running store. PLEASE GET ME OUTTA THIS THING!!!!

It was time to go MacGyver on things. So while inhaling what precious little oxygen I could get, I threw one arm over my shoulder and grabbed the elbow of that arm with my other hand. I then pushed down on that elbow with all my might, and was able to grasp the back edge of the undergarment. I then pulled with more might than one should (considering the garment was not yet purchased and cost more than a Papa Murphy's dinner for my entire family) and grunted with the force of a weightlifter. This allowed me to free one shoulder blade. I stood firm and repeated the exercise on the other side and freed the second shoulder blade. I then bent over, threw my arms over my back and, on the second try, grasped the tiniest edge of the undergarment with the tips of my fingers and yanked on that sucker with the last bit of life I had in me. When it successfully came flying over my head I swear I heard angels singing. I SWEAR IT!

Well now. I'm glad that's over! Someone needs to tell these folks that the sizing is WAAAY off on these! I'm lucky I didn't die in here. All alone. In my skivvies and a too-tight running undergarment. The horror. Certainly someone has told them about this problem??

I reveled in the oxygen euphoria for a moment and then put on all my clothing, grabbed the undergarment, and marched myself up to the front to give the twelve year old anorexic skinny running store employee a big chunk of my mind.

Excuse me, m'am. But, I just tried on these 2 undergarments, and there is definitely something wrong with the sizing on these. I mean, I KNOW I'm a size H/I, but I couldn't even get that one over my head. So I went up a size to the J/K which, let's be honest, is really pushing the boundaries of reality, and pretty much got stuck in it for the last 10 minutes. Are you certain these are labeled right???

The twelve year old anorexic skinny running store employee was kind enough to take me back to the rack of undergarments in question. She then asked me what I thought was a very weird question. She said, "Well, what size do you need?"

Uh. I just told you this. H/I is really my go-to size.

"No. I mean, what size. You see here? There's a size for each letter. Extra Small H/I, Small H/I, Medium H/I, and Large H/I and so on. What size were you trying on?"

Mumble. Mumble...looks more closely at undergarment tag....mumble..seems I tried on extra small...mumbles....sigh.

So, heed this warning CyberBears. READ THOSE LABELS CAREFULLY. You can truly never be too careful these days. Else you find yourself dead in a running store dressing room.

Or worse, living to tell the story to the entire internets while icing your dislocated shoulder and broken rib and holding your brand new size LARGE H/I undergarment.

Under the weather

So, Cyberbears, what have you been doing this lovely holiday weekend?

Me? Well, a little bit of this:

And this:

A whole lot of this:
Some of this:
And gobs of this:

Brother Bear came down with the flu but, thanks to the miracle that is Tamiflu, has turned the corner. Sugar Bear is a snotty as can be and I fear Mr. Flu may claim his next victim soon.

Here's to modern medicine, the invention of Lysol, and the TLC only a Mama Bear (okay..or Papa Bear) can offer.

Prayers of the People

As a layperson, I am often challenged by the thought of praying out loud with others. My prayer journey has mostly been a private one and switching it to a public journey has presented many opportunities for growth. Yesterday, I found myself at another crossroads regarding prayer. Click here to read more.

Auld Lang Syne

Happy New Year's Cyberbears! I'm ready to tackle 2012 together with y'all. Did you set any New Year's Resolutions? This year, I'm looking at New Year's Resolutions in a new way. Click here to read more.

Glad to share another year with each of you. Here's to 2012 and all it offers!