the sara ochs blog

Each night we tuck our babies into their beds, and each night they pop back out like little prairie dogs. It is inevitable. It is unavoidable. I know that Super Nanny 911 would argue that it can be stopped, but I am not her and she is not me (and we is not thee - somebody stop me).

The reasons vary with each child. Caroline always has to go potty. Even though she has gone to the bathroom literally seconds before we tuck her in. We let her go because it is easier to let her pretend to go potty than to recover from a total meltdown if we do not let her. Sometimes she changes things up and says that she is hot and wants to change her jammies. Or sometimes she needs socks or needs to take socks off. Sometimes her blanket is crooked and needs to be smoothed out. She likes variety.

Anderson has to blow his nose, or needs an allergy pill, or wants to check on us, or has to take Sullivan to go potty. He is a man of many excuses.

Sullivan talks to Anderson or gets Anderson to take him to the bathroom. Sullivan rarely actually gets out of his bed, but he makes Anderson do his dirty work for him. Not that he takes advantage of his position as the baby of the family or anything.

Last night was a whole new reason. Anderson pulled a loose tooth out after we tucked him in (his third - third tooth and third tuck in for the night). We rejoiced in his greatness and bravery and gave him a paper towel to stop the bleeding. We decided to show Caroline the tooth since we knew she was still awake. After the hoorah was complete it was time to get tucked in…again.

I put Caroline back in her bed and kissed her goodnight. And that is when she pulled out the big guns. She told me that she had not gone to sleep yet because she was crying. I asked her what made her cry and her answer was that she was crying because she just loved me so much. Crying because she loved me so much! My heart turned to total mush! So we hugged and kissed and said “I love you” to each other a million times.

I do not know what prompted Caroline to say what she said last night, but I do know that when she gets out of bed tonight I will be a little more patient and understanding. But just a little…babies do eventually have to go to sleep. Even if they love their mama so much that it makes them cry.

I have made hundreds of dollars in profit from having garage sales over the past several years. Hundreds of dollars. You can imagine that we have gone through innumerable baby and toddler toys, mountains of outgrown clothes, and literal tons of household items. That was my previous experience with garage sales. But yesterday changed all that. Yesterday I WENT to garage sales and discovered a “new” kind of awesomeness.

I know loads of people that have found mind blowing treasures at garage sales, but for some reason I never experienced it for myself. Until now. (cue maniacal laughter) I want to be THAT person that buys an armoire for $35 or a wool coat for $2. After my experience with Goodwill I was more than a little discouraged with the whole thrifting way of life, but I knew better than to give up completely. I needed to recruit expert help. And I found it in the form of my step mama. She don’t play when it comes to garage sales. She scoured Craig’s List and the newspaper and printed out an itinerary and color coded maps. She had me at hello.

We met for coffee at seven on Saturday morning and headed out to find our treasures. The thrill of the hunt was exhilarating. Now, don’t get me wrong, we saw a lot of junk and some things that should have just been thrown away. But buried beneath some undesirables were some great bargains. I had no specific items that I was looking for, so everything had a chance to find a new home with me.

Here are the items I found and bought yesterday: - seven picture frames for $7 - seven storage containers for $6 - one tablecloth (to be used for sewing projects) for $1 - a Little Tykes basketball goal for $5 - two costume princess dresses for $2 - two Mega Blocks cars for 50 cents - a case with 15 Bakugans for $1 - a sweater for $1 - a wool blazer for two dollars! a dream realized! - a kick trash retro green lamp for $8 - a miniature backpack for 50 cents - a wooden Christmas decoration for $1

I came. I shopped. I conquered.

So I recognize that the whole garage sale thing could potentially get out of hand and that a bargain hunter could easily become a hoarder unless certain precautions are taken. (precautions against run on sentences excluded) So here are my self imposed precautions: I will limit myself to garage sale shopping just once a month. I will take only a certain amount of dollars. I will plan the outing carefully and print maps. I will drink copious amounts of coffee before, during, and after the garage sale experience. I will be awesome.

So get out there. Try a garage sale for yourself. Look through other people’s stuff and make up stories about them and their lives. Feel rich because you have a wad of dollar bills in your wallet. Drink coffee and be awesome at bargain shopping. And think of me giving you two thumbs up while you’re at it. That in itself is a treasure worth having!

The mister has often told me that I am slow when it comes to completing some tasks. I admit that it is true. I would not consider myself a slow poke, necessarily, but if certain chores were a race, then the mister would win eighty percent of the time. And who could deal with that. I would have to buy him trophies and my hands would hurt from all the clapping for him. Too much. I think I have shared that I am a little bitty tiny bit OCD and perhaps just a sliver of a smidge of a perfectionist. I think this is what slows me down. If I get in my head an idea of how something should be or look or work then I CANNOT STOP UNTIL IT WORKS OR LOOKS THE WAY I WANT IT TO. I think it really is a sickness. I mean it, y’all. So this self diagnosis of household chores ADD just compounds the issue. Allow me to explain. Say, for example, that I am cleaning the bathroom and then I notice that the shower curtain shrank the last time I washed it. Then I remember that I have an extra shower curtain in the linen closet so I change the shower curtain in the bathroom. Then I am dissatisfied with how the current wall decor looks with the “new” shower curtain and I start to scope out the house for pictures that could be moved from their current location into the bathroom. So I find two pictures that would look great with the shower curtain and I hang them on the walls and admire the awesomeness for a minute. But then the hallway that I took the pictures from is now empty and looks lonely and sad. But then I remember some printed scripture verses that were given to us but are currently rolled up and inside the computer desk drawer. So I go look at those verses and measure them and try to figure how to hang these in the hallway. I also try to think of creative ways to personalize the six 16 by 20 frames that I will need to actually hang those verses. Then I calculate that buying six larger frames will get super expensive and get a little discouraged. The verses get rolled back up and put back in the desk drawer. Then I walk back down the hallway and see the discarded pictures that had previously been very happy on the bathroom walls. I pick them up to put them away but then decide to walk through the house holding them in case inspiration strikes. Then I move some things around in the living room. Then I hang one of the pictures in the other bathroom. Then I realize that almost an hour has passed and THE BATHROOM STILL HAS NOT BEEN CLEANED. And then I weep a little and drink some coffee and curse the fact that large picture frames are expensive. Because if frames were cheaper none of this would have happened. But of course that was all hypothetical. Because if it had actually happened then I would be officially diagnosed with OCD-ADD and that would be terrible. Terrible because the only cure for this imaginary illness is coffee and getting the mister to massage my head when I sit next to him on the couch. Wait. That’s an awesome illness to have. Get me some coffee! I feel an “episode” coming on!

You accidentally pass gas ONCE in the car and suddenly you are the “worst mama in the world.” Just two nights ago I was told I was the best mama ever for giving the babies grapes as dessert. Look at me now. The worst and grossest mama alive in the world. It’s true what they say, the fall from the top is the hardest.

My hair is inexplicably big and undeniably awesome right now. Sadly, it will be wasted because it is now bedtime. Why does great hair happen when it is least appreciated?

Yesterday we took the crew to the redneck Mecca of Wild Adventures and what an adventure it was. The mister found an all inclusive (as it were) package that provided admission, a meal from select “restaurants” inside the park, and arm bands for UNLIMITED DRINKS. The drinks had me at hello. I love drinks. I love fountain beverages and having the ability to go to any kiosk or restaurant anywhere in the park and ask for a “free” drink was a dream come true. I am a smidge tight with money and I would have never allowed for that many drinks to be consumed in an eight hour span if not for those glorious arm bands. Seriously, I think I drank my weight in Diet Coke yesterday. It. Was. Fabulous. The Buster man was a little on the short side for most of the rides and his legs tired out about halfway through the day. Caroline was tall enough for the majority of the rides, but was the most picky about what she was willing to try. For example, she DESPISED the rides that splashed any amount of water on her but LOVED the Yo-Yo which nearly gave me a heart attack. Anderson was tall enough for all the rides, but quickly realized he is not a roller coaster man. I think his exact words were “I was so freaked out I almost felt throw up come out of my mouth.” Well spoken, little man, well spoken. If the highlight of the day was the unlimited drinks, the low light was changing into my swimsuit in the van in the parking lot. We knew our babies had a finite amount of walking and we needed to walk smart, not far, so the obvious choice was changing in the car. It was about three hundred degrees in the van and the anxiety of a parking lot Peeping Tom increased the heat index to sauna like levels. Anyway. I did it and at least now I know that I can change in the car if the situation calls for it, but I hope it never comes to that ever again. All in all it was a great kick off to spring break. We walked about ten miles and drank gallons of fountain beverages. The mister and I did agree that we are about four years away from taking a trip to Disney World. Sullivan needs time to grow and increase his endurance. We also need time to collect more DVDs to make the trip possible. Wild Adventures is a mini Disney and we had a great time on a mini vacation. I am sure we will squeeze more “uh-bentures” into this week off school and work. I can only hope that Diet Coke will be involved. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Remember that time I said that I had become a dumpster diver and that I had given a door a new lease on life? You should. It was on Tuesday. Well, I had grand plans of creating an architectural design element slash kick trash photo frame for our sunroom. I wanted to sand it to remove the old paint. I (and by “I” I of course mean the mister) wanted to hang it horizontally so that the fifteen panes of glass could become fifteen photo frames. I planned to frame some family photos, some artwork from the babies, and perhaps some decorative fabric for a little extra flair. But none of that will ever happen.

All the exertion of making sure the coast was clear so no one would witness my first dive before I stepped out of the car, the folding down of the back seats of the van, the asking my six year old for help because I was not strong enough to lift a door alone, the 100 reminders to “please do not bang on the glass or touch the metal hardware for the love of all that is good and holy” that were gently spoken from the driver’s seat of the van to the angelic passengers in the backseat on the ride home, the pollen that was caked on my pants and hands and hair, ALL of that was wasted. Would you like to know why this whole would be craft ended before it began? The answer, in a word, is TERMITES. The door is INFESTED with creepy crawly termites.

Thank the Lord we kept the door in the garage and not in our house. I was so sad when the mister yelled out that THE DOOR IS COVERED, NO SCRATCH THAT, SWARMING IN TERMITES. My first dumpster dive ended in sadness, but it did teach me a good lesson. That being, if that some one throws something away there could very well be a legitimate reason. A reason like termites.

This was a craft fail, but I will persevere. I will dive again. Just you wait.

When I was younger I often wondered why my parents did certain things. Usually because it offended my sense of order and gave me an OCD flare up. Examples will be provided and explained. 

Example one: I used to love to watch my mama put on her makeup. It all seemed so magical and I wondered how she could remember what order to put the products on and if she ever forgot what the pencil thing was for or if she ever accidentally put lipstick on her eyes. You know, usual kid stuff. Anyway. I loved to watch her apply makeup but was always bothered by the fact that she never put her lipstick on until we got in the car. Lipstick was ALWAYS applied en route to our destination, but never at home. It bothered me. I thought it was the final touch and the entire makeup process seemed incomplete and interrupted without the lipstick.

Now I understand. Lipstick is the least difficult to apply. I can do it without even looking at a mirror. Maybe I am just awesome and no one else, not even my own mama can do this, but I doubt it. I think I know the real reason. Everything else HAS to be done before anyone leaves the house. Getting dressed, brushing teeth, making sure bags or purses have all the vital contents, eating. Lipstick falls far down on the list. Don’t get me wrong. Lipstick can make or break a person, but it requires FAR less attention than making sure all your children have shoes and that morning breath has been eradicated. 

I am my mama. I put lipstick, well gloss, on in the car. Never at home. I am such a mom like that. 

Example two: My dad wore the same velour bathrobe for approximately one hundred years. He might still have it. If he does, it needs to be replaced. (birthday present idea!) It was black with burgundy, navy, and hunter green vertical stripes. The robe had a belt, of course, but my daddy never EVER put the belt through the belt loops. He always wore it around his waist which was about four inches lower than the belt loops. I thought that was terrible, horrible, and no good. Belts belonged in loops, not just willy nilly wherever you wanted them.

I get it now. My dad has a long torso. Guess what? I do too. I realized this after I pulled the whole belt-under-the-loops look last week. I hang my bathrobe on the back of our bathroom door. The boys have discovered it and often use the belt for boy games. You know, tying each other up, dragging furniture, making zip lines for tiny soldiers. The usual. Anyway. Awhile back I found the abandoned belt far far from where it belonged inside the belt loops of my bathrobe on the back of the bathroom door. I picked the belt up and quickly tossed it on the hook with the robe, but did not thread the belt through the loops. The next time I put on my robe I tied the belt WITHOUT realizing that it was about four inches lower than normal. It felt more comfortable and I might not have even changed it despite the old man look I was sporting. 

Y’all. I am my dad too. The next time you see me without lipgloss and with my bathrobe belt tied under the loops, just smile and wave and hand me a crossword puzzle and some warm socks. Thank you, kindly.