Saturday, August 29, 2009


This is Domo. Probably, this is how I looked to my family today. I bit off more than I could chew in the amount of time I’d allotted and the result was an exasperated MotherWife. I should always remember the words of my Grandma Girard*: “Times Ten.” Two simple words that sum up almost every project I start. Just figure out how much time you need then multiply it by ten.

You see I had this fabulous idea. The day before yesterday I had a newly minted teenager and it occurred to me that he ought to, whether he liked it or not, have a room of his own. I was going to move Josh out and Michael in. While I was at it, I’d scour everything top to bottom, clean out closets, pull out clothes that no longer fit, exterminate the dust bunnies, organize drawers and get Josh situated with the little boys in the big room (otherwise known as The Master Bedroom We No Longer Have and Now We Sleep In The Den). This would have been an excellent idea in June. Maybe even July. But a few days before school starts? Overly ambitious is an understatement.

Thanks to Styx and Mr. Roboto, we all know “domo arigato” means “thank you very much” (at least we THINK that’s what we’re yelling when we crank it up). So, in the spirit of Thank You Very Much I’m going to start my She’s in The House “Domo Award” for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Chilling Out Tiff. Today’s Domo goes to Mr. She’s in the House, my husband person. Today Michael took the kids and did the big Cash N Carry trip, leaving me in relative peace to work at full speed. He had a lot to do today but put it aside to help me. Cue the thunderous applause!

So I’ve got Michael Jr. moved into his own room. It will be interesting (no it won’t) to see if the kid can keep his own space neat. He’s had this convenient excuse a long time: “It’s not my fault! The boys keep making a mess!” I can’t deny it; they do. But I’m pretty sure they’re not tossing his dirty clothes on the ground and leaving his Nerf guns for me to trip over. Who knows, maybe they are.

It was kind of eye opening for me to go through the big room they all shared and figure out what was Michael’s. I pulled his books out, took down his artwork, gathered his souvenirs, puzzles, and awards and put them all together. It’s all done and looking at it I see that I actually do have a teenager. I wonder if I’ll be any good at this Mom-of-Teenager thing. I hope so; I’ll be getting a new one every few years for awhile. I’d write LOL (no I wouldn’t) but I’m definitely not LOLing.

*Though not my biological grandmother, Marian Girard served in this capacity for most of my young life.

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  1. (Sigh) How I heart you! You continually make my day! That picture is worth a thousand words!
    OH, PS find me at church manana (That's Spanish if you didn't know) I have some questions for you! :)

  2. It's nice to be hearted! And oooh so ominous! Mañana it is!


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