Quirky is as Quirky does

Before my days of Mommyhood, I was told that when that day arrived, I was going to have to let go of some things. I would not be able to stay on top of everyone's birthday, much less plan everyone's parties, and I would not be able to keep my house as clean as I would like.

And my friends like to give me a hard time, because my house, after two children, is still "clean." It does no good to argue with them, as they are convinced my house is "clean."

I disagree heartily with them because, you see, before I had children, I mopped my floors every Saturday. Since I had my first child, my floors get mopped about every 6 months. The bathrooms get cleaned every other week if they're lucky.

My house is not "clean."

My house is, however, very neat.

Yes, I confess, I am a neat freak.

My obsession, you see, is order. Not necessarily cleanliness (although that is just the icing on the cake for me).

Order is my quirk.

or·der [awr-der] –noun a condition in which each thing is properly disposed with reference to other things and to its purpose; methodical or harmonious arrangement: You must try to give order to your life.

And that, my friends, is the definition of Mama. Trying to give order to [her] life.

I'm not quite sure if this is a temperament thing, or if my parents totally screwed me up as a child and this is the result. But I HAVE TO have order or I am a complete basket case.

A while back we had a little shindig at our house with several couples and their respective broods. When the evening was over, the little children scampered around, "cleaning up", and then their parents watched me go behind and organize the toys behind them. When they left, I was literally sitting on the floor in front of the toy box, organizing the toys. Because everything has its place, you know.

And I will be so brave as to tell you that I do this several times a day, but at least twice. At nap time and bed time. I cannot sit or sleep with toys scattered around the playroom, much less the rest of the house.

I confided in a friend one day that the sheep was missing from the Little People farm, and it was driving me crazy. Did we lose it? Did someone steal it? Who would do such a thing? Don't they know that the rest of the farm animals need that poor sheep? My friend, God bless her, just giggled and said, "Really??" (That sheep did turn up again, so you can all breathe a huge sigh of relief on that one.)

I tell you all this so that you can get a clear picture of the agony I've been going through the past few days since THREE toys have gone missing! I mean....can you imagine?

Oddly enough, two of the missing parts are from Little People sets. That right there tells me there's something afoot.

She's been missing since Christmas morning and goes by the name "Tiana." May be traveling with a "Prince Naveen." If you see either of these individuals, please contact Mama immediately.

The angel went missing on Christmas evening. The shepherds are still out in the fields waiting on [her] to appear.

The little yellow life ring went missing the day after Christmas. Sarah Lynn won't get into the water without it.

So being the nutcase that I am, I spent the day looking for these items and making phone calls in an attempt to track them down. 'Cause they're somewhere, people. And I'm not gonna rest until I find them. Literally.

So there it is. That's my quirk. There are many others, but that is probably the most profound.

I love talking about quirks, because it seems like everyone has one. Well mostly everyone. I do have one friend who really couldn't come up with anything any of the rest of us would confirm to be a bonafide quirk. Maybe her quirk is being normal. Which is really abnormal. Hence, the quirk.

My friend, Tara, has a 45-minute bedtime routine, which includes flossing twice.

My friend, Julie, won't let you dry your hands on paper towels at her house. You have to use a kitchen towel. Because using the paper towels is wasteful.

My friend, Jodie, traces words onto her sheets with her fingers while she's in bed.  Not sure if she does this when dozing off or waking up, but that's pretty quirky -- wouldn't you say?  And the most bizarre thing about that is that I do that, too.  I mean...what are the odds of THAT???

I love to find out about people's quirks.  It just really gives you a glimpse into who they really are.  Because it's a little weird, it's not something they share with everyone.  A true friend knows their friends' quirks.

Will you share yours with me?

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree

I've become a little irritated by the apparent conspiracy against me to make me question whether or not I have any genetic link to the children I have bore.  borne.  whatever. 

Everywhere we go, people feel the need to inform me that my children look "exactly" like Handy Daddy, and I'm starting to feel how some men must feel when someone's giving them that questioning look...you know...the look that says "are you SURE those are your children?" 

First of all, my children don't even look alike.  So, how can they both look "exactly" like their father.  I will admit, The Bug does look more like her father.  But she does have most of my features.  She just has Handy Daddy's brow, and that seems to do the trick of making her look like Handy Daddy.

But, Tootsie...that girl looks like her Mama. 

We dress alike.

 

We sleep alike.

You will notice at least three bottles lined up on the headboard of the bed.  How thirsty did I get in the middle of the night?  Lord have mercy!

I noticed that the crib rails are the exact match to the rails on the headboard of the bed I'm sleeping in above.  Weird!

We laugh alike, too.

We even look alike at play.



Try to ignore the fact that I'm barefoot and in only a diaper as I stroll amongst the rusted gas cans and chicken wire.  I'm from the country -- that's how we roll.




And that's how Tootsie rolls.

Don't get me wrong -- it's not that I don't want them to look like Handy Daddy.  And it's not about my own vanity.  It's just that I suffered to produce these children.  I just want to see some of myself in them.  And I do.

Although the Bug looks a little more like Handy Daddy, she has Mama's temperament all the way.  There's no question that if she took the "which Friends character are you" quiz (if such a quiz even exists), she would be a Monica.

And Tootsie doesn't seem to have Mama's temperament so much.  But she looks just like me.  I actually see my mother when I look at her.

What frustrates me is that no one else seems to see it.  And they constantly remind me that they don't see it.

So should I just start carrying around my baby pictures so that people will believe that these are, in fact, my children?  Because carrying around DNA results...well....that'd just be crazy.

Undah dah Sea

Okay, just so ya'll know, Tootsie is quite the little character, too.  I know I blog about the Bug alot, but that's not because Tootsie doesn't have any good material.  It's just that there's not much dialogue when it comes to Tootsie.  But, no doubt, that's coming.

In case you were wondering, and I'm sure you all have been pondering this for some time now, my favorite Disney Princess is Ariel.  I think it's because that's the movie that came out when I was a kid, but you can't argue the fact that it's a great movie all-around.  I mean, Sebastian alone could carry the show with that funny accent of his. 

Anywho...

In case you need a little refresher (and you definitely will to have any idea what Tootsie is singing), I give you this:

And here's Tootsie belting it out...

I just pray she's more obedient than Ariel was.

Just sayin'.