Gross Randomness



My girls hid about 70 eggs on Saturday. I think we found 60. I'm hoping those last ten are the plastic kind.  The last thing I need is a rotting egg hidden in a couch or a corner somewhere.

In a house with so many kids, the gross factor can get out of hand. It doesn't help that I'm a lousy housekeeper.  It also doesn't help that boys under the age of, oh, 20, can't seem to hit a target that's as big as a toilet seat. No, wait, they can hit the seat, just not the hole in the middle of it.

I swore to them last week that I was never buying crackers again. It doesn't matter how many times I tell them, the Cheezits always end up in a heap on the family room floor.  I need to train the dog to eat Cheezits. I don't know why he doesn't.  He'll eat some really disgusting stuff. And we won't mention some of the things he licks.

We were sitting tonight and watching Amazing Race.  I was cheering for the border patrol guys when I got a whiff. Oh, man. What in the world? No, it wasn't a stray Easter egg. It was a pair of shoes. Boy shoes.  If our country needs a new chemical weapon, I could donate my son's shoes. No way the Taliban could live in their caves with a pair of our tennies.

I'm very lucky that my husband is so handy. He can fix most things around the house. Like the shower drain. My daughter's hair is about 20 inches long. Do you know what happens when that kind of hair is washed? It doesn't take long for the drain to slow.  Then, the Handy Man has to go in and clean it out. He usually asks if I want to see the clog. Blech. No. My imagination is sufficient, thank you very much.


If I ever make the big bucks, I won't hire a housekeeper. (I'd be so embarrassed.) But, I might hire someone to empty the garbage.  Seriously, no one else seems to care.  They will pile on wrappers and milk jugs and empty Cup-o-Soups.  If they took a little of the energy it takes to try and balance the garbage and used it to actually take it outside, my life would be so much easier.

I thought once I got past the dirty diaper and spitting up phase of my life, things would get less gross. So very wrong.

(photos courtesy of morguefile.com)

Comments

  1. Masked MomApril 9, 2012 at 6:08 AM

    I have often said that a more squeamish woman would've been driven mad in my house of horrors. You have more contributors to the grossness than me, so you definitely have my sympathy. ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleApril 9, 2012 at 8:46 AM

      You made it out alive, though, so I have hope.

      Delete
  2. MarianneApril 9, 2012 at 6:11 AM

    The Gross Factor is beyond anything I could have imagined pre-kids. Totally feel your pain.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleApril 9, 2012 at 8:45 AM

      And we thought potty training would make it better. There should be 'aim training' along with it.

      Delete
  3. JudyApril 9, 2012 at 8:04 AM

    You crack me up, Jewels. And it doesn't get a whole lot better AFTER the age of 20, for some of em :) And Yes! Border Patrol all the way!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleApril 9, 2012 at 8:44 AM

      I'm just hoping after 21 they'll be out of the house. Maybe?

      Delete
  4. Sarah@The Best StuffApril 9, 2012 at 8:06 AM

    Oh my goodness....I laughed so hard!! Because this sounds way to much like my house! Balancing the garbage in the can rather than take it out...yep!! Drives me nuts! Bryan is constantly having to clean out the shower drain in the master bath because of my hair. He jokes around about the Sasquatch he found living in the drain...
    Luckily I have mostly girls in my household...which means that thought the toilets get gross it's more from the fact that I HATE to clean bathrooms and wait far to long in-between scrubbings, rather than boys who can't aim.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleApril 9, 2012 at 8:43 AM

      My husband has commented on our shower drain, I tell him that's the price he pays for wanting me with long hair.

      Delete
  5. Misha GerrickApril 9, 2012 at 8:10 AM

    Yeah... we suddenly have two twenty-year-old boys in the house (and yes, they are still boys). It's like the gross factor grows exponentially every day. :-/

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleApril 9, 2012 at 8:43 AM

      I guess the solution is to marry them off and let their wives deal with them.

      Delete
  6. Sarah@The Best StuffApril 9, 2012 at 8:10 AM

    P.S. Apparently I am way too tired. At least twice in my comment I used "to" when I should've used "too." And a "thought" that should be a "though." (How embarrassing....)

    ReplyDelete
  7. KimApril 10, 2012 at 2:19 AM

    I know it's not very nice...but I can't stop laughing....only because I totally know how you feel and it's nice that someone else goes through what I do....

    ReplyDelete
  8. The PervistApril 10, 2012 at 7:26 AM

    It's like you live my life!!!! Great post! Have fun with the rest of the A to Z Challenge!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Are you one of the three? Stand up and be counted!

Popular posts from this blog

Illusive Peace

Image
Her house is stifling.  The fan above her clicks a rhythm and she lays as still as she can, hoping for relief. She pushes herself up, forcing movement that reverberates in her head. Walking through the rooms, she checks windows, praying for the breath of a breeze. She loves this house. Here she nursed and nurtured her babies.  The walls show signs of life-- fingerprints and smudges.  Smiling faces, captured and framed, adorn the walls. But, the walls are closing in and she retreats to the sanctuary of her room.  The thoughts are pressing, intensifying the pain in her head.  She tries with all her might to force them out. You're not welcome here . Still, they come. Persistent, they are. The fan beats in time with the judgements- ' not e-nough, not e-nough, not e-nough'.   She puts out the welcome mat, hoping for sleep.  Instead, she cries, curled into herself. But, the day is like any other, demanding, not to be ignored.  Amazing how you can function when you&#
Read more

Caps and Gowns-- Endings and Beginnings

Image
Friday found me in a large auditorium.  Purple seats with no leg room or padding.  The Handy Man was at my side, my daughters and parents down the row. This is the day we'd waited for.  This was the moment that spurred on our flurry of make-up days and long nights of study. And, yet, it seemed sad, to have it all end.  How could the time have gone so quickly?  I watched as Jacob made  his way into the hall and found his seat in a sea of silver caps and gowns. He didn't look around, there was no triumphant fist-pump as he entered. Suddenly, I saw my child in a different light.  No longer was he the loud and boisterous boy whose laughter carries through the floors and walls of our home.  He wasn't the confident Scout, who leads songs and skits without abandon.  Here, he was 'school-Jacob', shy and unsure.  In a crowd of over 500, he has a  handful of friends.  The images he's painted for me- lonely school lunchtimes and sitting alone- came crashing in.
Read more