I’m here but not *here*

Writing? Who has time for that?!

*raised hand*

You guys. Life is insanity.

Soooooo much happening in a teeny tiny amount of time.

Buuuuuuuut

I am making attempts to post stuff on Instagram over at littlechickenbees.

If you’d like to keep up with the insanity, that is where I’ll be. For the time being, my brain can only manage sharing small snippets of information in square form.

(How’s that for alliteration on a Saturday?)

See you there!!

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the grapetastrophy

Some of you may have been around for the $20 watermelon….or maybe you forgot about the $20 watermelon.

Either way, I'll wait for you to refresh your memory or make a new one. It's important to have this background knowledge.

Ready?

Here we go.

Apparently, history repeats itself in the produce department. We like to find the things that are ridiculously expensive without realizing it until after we make it through the checkout.

And by that point, knowing how Tim refuses to be shamed by fruit, it's too late.

I partially blame this particular expenditure on doing the GET IT AND GET OUT mad dash that was grocery shopping on Saturday. We were dealing with a baby who wanted to graze any and all items within reach, edible or not, and a child who wanted to be in charge of the grocery list and got upset if we didn't go line by line down the list versus in order of what each aisle had.

I tried to explain how it would not be efficient to go back and forth, up and down the same aisles over and over again, but I don't think it really sank in. At all.

Why, you ask? Well, I was talking to Kellan AND Tim at the same time about completely different things, so instead of giving an important, coherent lesson, it sounded more like, "We need to get all of the things…DID YOU GET THE BREAD?….all of the things in one aisle without having to…YES TWO LOAVES….without having to go back and….ALSO GRAB SOME MILK….forth…MILK? THE HAPPY COW KIND…I know the list isn't in order….YES A WHOLE GALLON….I didn't have time to put it in order….Kellan did you check off bread and milk??

I usually organize the list by aisle but we made one on the fly *as* we drove to the store from a park. I realized we were close to Whole Foods and made a split second decision to go as we drove out of the parking lot.

Looking back, we probably made a whole bunch of errors that led to this expenditure, but hey. That's how we roll. Sometimes. Most of the time….goodbyeeeeee type a trying to take over.

Anyway, Kellan wanted to be in charge of checking things off the list and Hunter wanted to be held and sample anything, whether we put we put it in the cart or not. Kid eats everything. All the time. By the time we left it looked like Hunter had gone into battle with a buffet table and lost…handily.

So, anyhow, the entire time we are grocery shopping my brain is in four places at once and really I cannot ever concentrate fully on one thing. I walk around feeling hectic. I don't know any other way to describe it. I actually feel hectic. Like a swirling dervish of questions and items and what was I doings.

After we filled our cart with mostly things not even on the list (which Kellan protested and then added to the list because details are important, people), I left Tim to handle the checking out on his own. I decided I was getting a smoothie because I was starving.

Kellan spent this time running back and forth between the two of us (straight shot, visible the whole time) to relay information.

Mommy is getting a smoothie.

Daddy asked what size smoothie.

Twelve ounces.

What's in this bag?

Cookies.

Apparently an hour long hike wasn't enough to wear him out.

By the time we got everybody and everything strapped into the car, we sat in the front seats and just stared at each other like what even just happened? Did we even buy anything on the list?

Tim then started going down the receipt to see what all of the "high ticket" items were. Apparently he didn't get to watch the register during checkout, so this was his way of doing it…albeit after the fact.

"What was $10.81??"

He traced his finger along the dotted lines ……what is this……GRAPES?

We bought $10.81 worth of GRAPES???

How many packages of grapes did we buy??

I looked at him all, "One."

This was too much information…or maybe too little information, for Tim.

Why on earth were they ten dollars??? What kind of grapes are ten dollars???

They were organic?

(Apparently that's my go to excuse for expensive produce)

Tim stuffed the receipt in the cup holder all, "These $10 grapes are right on par with that $20 watermelon."

In its defense, it was a really good watermelon….

He kept going under his breath all, "They better be really fantastic grapes for $10. TEN DOLLARS. For grapes!"

And he left it at that until we got home and I tried a few of the grapes.

I looked at him and smiled and said, "These are really good grapes! Totally worth the $10!"

(Because they actually really were)

Tim looks at me dead in the eye and says, "I better not see one. single. grape. in the trash. Not a one!"

Produce: 2
Tim: 0

bagged meat

We made taco salad for dinner the other night.

I know. So boring.

Except I need to know if what I am about to say is just a me thing or if it's generally accepted as GROSS.

We are still living that temporary apartment life and we are starting to run out of things because you don't stockpile when you're going to have to move it all over again.

I am referencing things like glass containers to store food.

I am all about reducing plastic use here, people.

Except we still have ziplock bags – which are 100% plastic – because I haven't yet found a way to not have those. How do you do it? Please share the wisdom of your ways.

Anyhow. Tacos.

All of our (as in three) glass containers to store food were being used. All of the bowls were dirty.

There was thismuch taco meat leftover. Juuuuust too much to be able to eat the last few bites and call it a day.

But there was nothing to put it in.

So says me.

Tim grabs a ziplock bag and is all, "Here, use this!"

And I looked at him like are you serious?

He was definitely serious.

While he scooped it up from the pan and dropped it in the bag he was all, "Are you going to eat this? You're going to eat this, right?"

And he was saying "this" like you'd ask anyone if they'd eat leftovers from a meal that was just so amazingly delicious.

Ummm….do I have to answer?

Maybe? (Read: never)

*gag*

Here is where I get caught up.

Meat doesn't go in bags.

Sandwiches.

Grapes.

Doritos.

Pizza slices.

Carrot sticks.

Even a half eaten hamburger.

All of those things I can see in a bag.

But loose meat?!?!

Bagged. Ground. Loose. Meat.

And let's take it a step further because really there is always an end game:

You want me to open a bag of loose ground meat and pour it.

We are now pouring bagged meat onto a tortilla. Into a bowl. Wherever it's supposed to go, it's going to get there in such a fashion that is akin to liquid coming out of a jug….

I just…I can't.

I can a lot of things but this is one area I just cannot.

I'll have you know that the bag of meat is still sitting in the refrigerator. Probably conforming to whatever shape it has been squished into.

Really none of what I am saying is heading in a direction that ends well.

So let's just leave it at that.

The cold, squished, loose ground meat is never getting eaten.

(I probably just crossed the line with that)

weighing consequences

One small child alone in a room is never a good idea.

FYI.

*except*

Sometimes you have to weigh the consequences of above statement to make sure the other child gets a taped slate and commercial audition done that requires a very quiet background.

Note to future self: if you truly have a completely quiet background, you're doing it wrong. Or something is wrong. Mischief is being managed.

After Kellan finished up a pretty good take, he was all, "We should check on Hunter!"

Instead of heeding his internal Hunter Alert System I was all, I know but we only have so many minutes of silence.

And then I actually heard the words coming out of my mouth and I jumped up and ran out of the room like a firecracker had just been lit under my nether regions.

Except Kellan beat me out and I hear him laughing and saying OH NO! at the same time.

Obviously I start filming, like any good parent would do.

And so I walk out and here is Hunter.

He Who Has Crashed The Plant.

This is a picture from the video (hence poor quality) and in the video I was all, "Huuuuuunterrrrr……whaaaaaat haaaaaapened?……."

And every time I asked he'd look away from the camera all, "….doh dee doh doh….nothing to see here….la dee dah dah…."

And he knew!

He's only eight months old!

He already knows the system!

I am in so much trouble!

This is not a random, happenstance occurrence.

Oh no.

This child bucks the system every chance he gets.

Literally this blog is going to turn into You Won't Believe What Happened Today.

Thankfully my safety patrol was the firstborn.

something from nothing

I want to write something funny but really I'm too tired for funny.

Apartment life with intermittent Sasquatch upstairs tromping around until the wee hours (what even are they doing?? These apartments aren't that big. How much walking and forgetting what you walked over for and walking back and raiding the refrigerator and whatever else is happening doing up there??) along with an almost eight month old who is going through some things like probably teething and trying to figure out how to sit down after pulling up on every single thing within reach leads to no sleep.

When Kellan was this age I read about how babies will literally roll over and put themselves into a crawling position in their sleep because their brains cannot stop making the body do all the things, even whilst unconscious, until they master the task.

With Kellan I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And it never happened.

Not once.

He woke up and practiced every letter sound there is, over and over and over, but there was never any of that crazy getting up to try and crawl away.

So, the other night when Hunter was totally zonked and out of nowhere rolled himself over and got into a crawling position and then started trying to pull up on me to stand all with his eyes closed, I was like ohhhhhhhhhhhh. So this is what they're talking about.

Yah. That was quite the surprise for ye olde mom over here.

I mean during the day Hunter will get himself standing, holding onto whatever, and then after a bit he will start crying because HOW DO I SIT DOWN???

He falls, pretty much. Not the slightest bit graceful. I guess the letting go and also getting into a sitting position is pretty technical if you actually think about all the steps you need to take.

I think that's what we're working on which is resulting in terrible naps and fitful night sleep.

Coffee me.

ALSO I'm basically one million percent mom + errand runner + chef + teacher + scheduler + house cleaner + whatever else it is I do all day because Tim + new job = crazy hours and incessant phone interruptions every day of the week.

It's difficult for everybody.

I appreciate all of his hard work to allow us to live the way we do where I can stay home, but that comes with sacrifices.

And so now I apparently just did something that made the font smaller and I have no idea how I am too tired lazy to fix it so FYI. I'm sure it'll fix itself after I publish it. Or it won't and we'll all be reading the small print from here on out (haha…punny).

I'm supposed to be making dinner, now.

Guess I better jump on that task because hangry is a condition every single one of us has and it's zero percent fun to have three people getting upset about nothing and a baby crying at everything because all any of us want to do is EAT but we are all too delirious with hunger to actually see that that is the issue and instead start blaming each other for ridiculous indiscretions that aren't even real.

the keeping room

I'm not sure if it's where we are living or the type of houses we are looking at or if I've just been living under a rock, but *apparently* the cool new (but not really because you'll see) thing to have in your house is a keeping room.

One of the first houses we looked at when we moved was a sell by owner type of deal. When we went to see the house, the entire family was there to show us every. little. thing. to try to explain why it was such an awesome place to live.

I appreciate the effort but I'd like to decide that for myself, since I'm the one who will be living here, now.

When we made it to the kitchen (because every room had a chapter of information to digest), the husband showed us this area off the kitchen and was all, "This is a keeping room. I had no idea what that was until we started selling this house. It was a room where they used to put pies to keep them warm."

He was really proud of this fact. He wanted everyone to know how amazing it was that they had a room that was supposed to be used to keep pies warm.

And so I'm looking into this room that had a full sized table and chairs and nice windows and I'm thinking, "What a colossal waste of space for a pie. Who even makes enough pie to fill this space? And even if one does make that much pie, it's probably only on Thanksgiving and even then you wouldn't want to use that whole space for pie. I can think of plenty things that need space during Thanksgiving and none of them are pies."

A keeping room.

What is even happening here?

Keeping rooms and movie rooms and full kitchens in the basement.

That has been the running theme during our house hunting.

Full on projector, giant screen, surround sound speaker system, mood lighting, recliner chairs. The whole bit.

And kitchens.

Two full kitchens in the house.

That's entirely too much work for me and another colossal waste of space.

One kitchen is enough.

Apparently the reason for all of this basement renovation is for the mother-in-law.

If you ask me, this upgrade to the mother-in-law suite has gotten way out of control to the point no one even sees her anymore because she's so busy in her full sized kitchen and movie room and separate garage entrance.

Everybody knows that the whole point of a mother-in-law is childcare. So why are we trying to take that away? What are we thinking? We're only punishing ourselves.

While we are on the topic of punishment, since when is it imperative for every bedroom to have their own full bathroom?

I had to share a bathroom with three boys until my mom made one for me downstairs when I was in high school. And even then everybody used it.

But now we all have our own bathrooms, complete with that many more toilets and showers and sinks to scrub.

Wow….have I gone waaaaay off course.

Keeping rooms.

It allllllllllll started with keeping rooms.

And turns out, they're not even for pies (a little FYI history link for you).

What a farce.

(But really we are probably buying a house with a keeping room and I have no idea how to decorate it. That's really what I wanted to say but that obviously never happened)

missed the turn, he did

We still haven't found a house.

Well, wait. Wait wait wait WAIT.

Let me rephrase.

We found one house that we absolutely LOVED and put a contract on it and then they decided they didn't want to sell it anymore.

We found another house that got all the way through inspection and then failed the radon piece of it in a big way. Nix that one.

We found another one and they don't want to sell it for a reasonable price and apparently are trying to make $150,000 (yes, I put the correct number of zeroes) off the sale of said house from what they bought it for a few years ago.

We ain't payin' for no college, unless it's our own kids, yo.

So. Off we go again today to see five more houses. Yesterday we saw two inside and drove by four more to see if we liked the neighborhood enough to explore more in depth.

We didn't, FYI.

Tim's company thinks we are being picky and are looking for a "dream" home and we are just like no. All we are trying to find is one that doesn't have holes down to the wood in the carpet, backs to a huge retention pond with a gate that has a door leading right into it in their backyard for small children to fall in, a door on the second story that leads directly to the hospital with a broken neck because they didn't want to upgrade to a deck option so when you open the door, there is nothing but a rickety wooden "gate" to keep you from taking a 15 foot drop to the ground below (why they didn't just put a window there is beyond me), wallpaper and paint in the darkest most awful colors….I mean we aren't going to be living here for lots of years. Only a few years.

And because we know we will be moving, we want a house we don't have to fix for 50% of the time we will live in it and only have 50% of the time to enjoy it. And then have to worry if we will get our money back out so we have money to put down on wherever we end up next. It's a vicious cycle and we know how to play the game and really, Tim's company, you should be more helpful.

It doesn't make it any easier that we are currently in a sellers market. So now, all these people are looking at their house through rose colored glasses thinking it's worth $150,000 more than it was five years ago.

(One hundred and fifty. thousand. dollars. I still cannot get over that.)

Capiche?

Anyway.

This morning while Tim was making pancakes and Kellan and Hunter were playing and I was drinking coffee, probably, I said what I have apparently been saying every time we are about to go see a house. Something exactly along the lines of, "I really hope we like one of these so we can put a contract on it and be done!"

Right after those words came out of my mouth Tim was like stop! You're jinxing us!

I was like what? No I'm not. That's ridiculous.

I told him I didn't believe in those sorts of things until he reminded me of all the old wives tales I made him do to try and get knocked up last year.

(Whatever. It worked.)

He saw that I knew he was right and so he looked at me like, "mmmmhmmmm you know you do."

Okay, fine. We all believe in those things.

Even if we don't want to admit it.

My favorite number is two and I prefer living in a house with an even address number.

THERE. I SAID IT.

Moving on.

Tim: "We need to try and mix it up a little."

As in, stop saying how much I hope we like one of the houses.

So I looked at him and deadpanned, "I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO GO DO THIS TODAY."

Tim's brain immediately goes into solve it mode. "I'll just go or you can go and I'll stay…."

I looked at him, waiting for him to catch on and he just looked back at me like what??? I'm trying to solve the problem! You don't want to go so just one of us can instead……..

Mix it up you said.

Change the words you said.

Missed the joke, you did.

And Tim, who is not one to like the fact that he missed out on a joke, was like, "You sounded so serious! It was so real! And whooooshhhhh! There was a left turn and I wasn't on it!"

For the rest of breakfast I was given the Actor of the Year award and Tim's brain was a broken record because he couldn't believe he could set up a joke so perfectly and then one second later, miss the bus.

Beep beep.