Many many bloggers are taking part in Project 365 right now, taking lovely daily photos of their surroundings to impress the world.

I love getting a viewpoint of their daily life, whether it be their walk to work, or their kids.

Unfortunately you won’t see any daily photos from me anytime soon, but last night, after a stressful day which began by spilling a whole packet of couscous grains onto the kitchen floor, I felt relaxed enough to document a typical evening.

After seeing the results,

I think you will agree,

that Project 365 is not for me.

So, here goes:

Dinner Prep. The Fates are trying to tell me something. Probably that I am not meant to have a clean floor.

Moving on. Pre-dinner drinks to take away the stress of the endless sweeping:

First thought? I wish the beer companies would stop trying to be witty. That is not the slightest bit funny.

Oh…

I don’t think it says “p*ss off”. They actually want me to pry off the top.

I may need glasses.

The Daddy idly browses a magazine. Wonders if this homely looking specimen would agree to be our "au pair".

If you don’t get this, check out the photos on Great Au Pair, and count the number of applicants you would trust with your husband.

I promise, you have that many fingers.

It would be lovely to have an au pair though, because of this:

In the meantime there has been a lot of noise going on. No panic, it was just the kids trashing the upstairs lounge. So that's OK then.

Next, I try to distract myself from the mess by focusing on the cat. Or mostly, not focusing on the cat. To be fair, he is not a willing participant.

Smile, Fiji! I said smile, not sniff...

OK. Keep still animal, we’ll try one more time, OK?

Gee, thanks. Very attractive.

Whew. Dinner’s over, the kids are in bed, time for some peace and quiet.

Except, there’s a strange noise coming from the lounge.

It looks like we have an escapee…

...and he found himself a new toy.

Perfect end to a perfect evening.

Don’t you think?

It started sometime around Christmas, I’m not sure exactly.

The Wictor started waking up in the night again. Probably a stage.

At first, I would take him back to bed. And then, one night as he crawled in with me, I was too tired to do anything about it. Doing nothing became easy. I would wake up briefly to him getting under the covers and cuddling up, and that was that.

As it became a habit, I started not even noticing any more. I started sleeping through.

Most mornings now I wake up to find him stretched out, snoring, beside me.

And I have no recollection of how he got there.

But that is not the problem. The problem is this:

This morning I woke up to find there were four of us in the bed.

When Baby Sister woke up, I asked her:

“Baby Sister, how did you end up in my bed last night? ”

Her eyes gleamed. She was still in awe at her lucky break. And she replied:

“Mommy, I woke up in the middle of the night and came down to give you a kiss. Then you leaned over and pulled me in!”.

My new years resolution: I will no longer let the king size duvet cover beat me.

But if the king size duvet cover should win, I will not let it make me cry.

If by chance I do cry, I will not let my children see.

Because I know, that if they grow up believing that they can insert a king size duvet into a king size duvet cover then they will totally be able to do it.

And then I can get them onto bed changing duty.

******************************

And now for something completely different:

Here are a few of the things my children have made recently. The kind of triumphs which give me hope and confidence and prevent the whole duvet cover thing from keeping me awake at night:

A Pile of Leaves.

And then a Mess of Leaves.

Yet Another Gingerbread House.

(apologies for the poor quality photo. It was dark that day)

A Ugaglaon Wood (Congratulations Award) - try it with a Texan drawl and it starts to make a little more sense.

But only a little bit.

An Alphabet Crown. Yet another Very Useful Product from T-Bot Industries.

Inspired by Hero of the Rails, this is Niro of the Rails. Constructed of cardboard and what looks like a whole roll of clear parcel tape. Sigh. This is how my children keep me poor.

Oh, and here are some of the projects I didn’t show you. Be thankful. Be very thankful:

Happily, Baby Sister and The Wictor started back at school yesterday, so I will no longer have to virtually live at the office supply store. Although being at school does not prevent Baby Sister from using paper, and I still have to find places to proudly display all she brings home. I presume her liberal and enthusiastic use of A3 sized sheets is the reason behind the local elementary’s renewed fundraising efforts. So, indirectly - I am still paying.

The Wictor is also no longer tracking bucket loads of dead leaves into the house, but only because the trees are bare. Not that we would want to be out there anyhow, given that we have arctic winds and the promise of 4 consecutive nights of frosts. My team of furnaces is having trouble keeping up, although they make a valiant effort. And suck all the moisture out of the air in the process. I wonder if a cicada feels like this just before he sheds his hard dry shell. I am jealous. I want a new skin.

But otherwise fine. You may get more sense out of me when my friend the Sun makes his return.

Happy New Year!

Last night I once more forgot I was wearing my slippery socks, which led to me falling down the stairs. Don’t worry, I wasn’t hurt - at least, no more than usual.

But I did think it would be nice to take a warm bath afterwards, in the hopes of getting some of the feeling back in my left shoulder. Also, to warm up. The temperatures around here haven’t improved much. The T-Bot is predicting another Ice Age and I quite understand why.

I probably hadn’t taken a real honest to goodness bath for over a year but thanks to my family-in-law (thank you!) I was very lucky in the bath salts, soaps and body lotions department this birthday. A long, scented soak seemed very appealing.

And the long, scented soak proved to be all it promised. I didn’t even get bored as I usually do. Next Christmas can someone please send me one of those bath pillows so I can just sleep in the tub…

Feeling very pleased with myself I got out, dried myself, and took a deep sniff of my new scented hand lotion. Unfortunately, as I inhaled, somehow I managed to squeeze the bottle.

No idea how that happened, but the experience was second only to the time I had got the giggles while drinking a beer, and it all came pouring out my nose. And wouldn’t stop. It was very embarrassing. People were present.

Fortunately no people were present for this event, unless you count the cat. But the inside of my right nostril must now be very soft, supple and appealing. If anybody would care to look.

Random Photo:

The T-Bot as “Pierce”. Thought his sister wouldn’t recognize him that way. Strangely, she saw right through this brilliant disguise.

***

Random Clothing Fact:

Baby Sister begged me for Christmas socks. So when I came across a pair at the supermarket, I threw them in the cart. Except when I got them home I discovered they were an adult size 9-11.

I am now the proud owner of a pair of classy Ho! Ho! Ho! socks. And my feet, by the way are a size 7.

***

Random Excuse:

In the Wictor’s world, everything hops.

The ornament hops all by itself from the Christmas tree and shatters.

The T-Bot’s favorite toy hops into The Wictors room.

The plate full of food hops into his lap.

The leaf of the plant mysteriously detaches itself and hops down to a new adventure on the lounge floor.

Oh, and Number 2 hops from the toilet all over the bathroom floor. Hoppity Hoppity Hop.

***

Random Roleplay:

“Curious George, I have cancelled Christmas. Do not celebrate. Do not share it with anybody. Do not get ready. Somebody will be keeping an eye on you so if you do something about Christmas she will tell me about it and I will put you in jail. “

(Baby Sister - and we haven’t even seen A Christmas Carol this year…)

***

Random Conversation:

The Mommy: ... well she cut my hair OK the last few times, who knows what happened here, I am going to have to wear it in a ponytail for months or wear a cap or something, I mean just look at it…”

The Daddy: You need to go to a latino hairdresser. All the latina girls in town have good hair.

The Mommy: I have never seen any. You have been watching too much Cuidado Con El Angel. I have never noticed anybody in real life with amazing hair.

The Daddy: There are. Tons of them.You should see them. Woof.

The Mommy: Well for gods sake, you need to stop one of them and ask her who’s her hairdresser!

The Daddy: Yes of course, I should just stop one of them.

The Mommy: Why not? You should!

The Daddy: OK. I’ll stop one of them.

I’ll say who’s your hairdresser? My wife needs her hair cut and she doesn’t understand me.

Alert! Alert!

Zaburbs have moved to Condition Orange! Severe Weather Conditions are forecast for Friday, and school may be shortened, or even canceled.

Tell me what is better than a White Christmas? A White Christmas, early, with no school.

Yes folks, up to 1 inch of snow should be falling on us by this time tomorrow. How I wish now that I had given in to the temptation to stock up on hats and gloves from the Target $1 section.

Which brings me to something very much related. Does the whole of America give a simple hoodie the very warm and fluffy sounding monniker “Jacket” ? Or is it just Texas? My children have this type of jacket but that is all they got. Also, no hats or gloves.

One girl-scoutish thing I did do though. I got the furnace checked this fall, for the first time ever. I thought the price was a bit steep but better safe than sorry, after all these things do spew out noxious gases at will if left unchecked. Then, when the technician ascended to the attic to check the thing he announced that the furnace had multiplied. Or invited its friend to the party or something. Our furnace was now two.

And the maintenance bill also. Ouch.

I am smiling about it now though. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Serious Explanation About Crossing The Road, as Imparted Seriously to My Children, in a Very Serious Fashion :

(abridged version):

“Once, when I was a little girl, Grandpa was crossing the road and he didn’t look properly for traffic. A car ran him over and he fell on the road and had blood coming out of his head! He was very hurt and had to go to hospital. This is why you must always look carefully for cars when you cross the road. I don’t want you to get hurt and end up in hospital.Or worse.”

“Why was he crossing the road, Mommy?”

“Um… well actually we were on a road trip and he was crossing the road to go peepee behind some bushes”.

What My Children Have Retained:

Three Year Old: (Deep, gruff voice) “Hello, I am Granpa! I like to go peepee in the bushes!”

Seven Year Old: “Why Did Granpa Cross the Road? To go peepee in the bushes!”

(Cue mass hysteria)

So I have been called out by a surprising number of people for my long blogging absence. Actually, I have been posting, over at Century Finds. And running a non-stop personal blog commentary in my head, not that it does much good swirling around in there. Oh, and also DIY. I wish I could stop doing DIY but it is kind of an obsession. Right now I want to coat everything in brightly colored Rustoleum, and fix the leaky faucets (not difficult, unless you need to turn the water off at the mains and are just not strong enough).

Also, The Wictor turned three and started channeling Johnathan Adler. He demanded I paint his room orange. And yes, echoes of the dining room, after three weeks I am about halfway through.

But mostly, it takes a lot to try and expand a fledgling retail business in the current environment, while maneuvering to keep three young children from killing each other from boredom or frying their brains with a TV screen. I have to admit I just can’t keep up with the all the demands and something has to give.

I am sure it will all straighten out sometime, like oh when that yellow bus restarts its regular runs through the neighborhood… In the meantime, for your amusement and entertainment, here is a list of all the things which have broken around here in the last few weeks.

The downstairs air conditioning unit (compressor)

My car (battery harness which sounds very impressive but is actually two skinny $300 cables which in turn fried the battery.)

Big toe on my left foot (via a full gallon of apple juice)

Washers on five faucets

The sprinkler system (Just add horses)

The DVD player

My relations with my web hosting company

The freezer is making a whining noise too, and when I googled “my freezer is making a whining noise” the general opinion seemed to be “get a new freezer”. So goodbye, holiday on the French Riviera.

Looking at that list, I should be depressed. But how can I be sad when I spend my days with such fascinating individuals?

For the last few days Baby Sister and I have been discussing Death. As you may know I am fairly superstitious so I am not at all comfortable with this. I am probably also breaking every parenting rule in the book.  I did try to cheat by playing the reincarnation card, which worked for a short while (she decided she would come back as a unicorn) but she is way too clever for me.

At least now we have established that Baby Sister would not enjoy being cremated. And:

“Mommy, when there is no more room in the cemetery, do they dig the dead people out?”

My answer: “Dig them out? Oh, where did you hear that sweetheart? Do you want nutella on your toast?” .

Yes, I lie to my children sometimes. By default. If it buys me an extra hours peace…

And now, The Wictor. He is really coming into his own. Apart from managing his bedroom interior design project, The Wictor appears to enjoy fashion.

And he has perfected this seasons Maison Wictor look:

Or would this be his new signature style?

And just to prove I didn’t decorate him while he was asleep, here is another:

Forget Johnathan Adler, he may be the next Grayson Perry.

(Why so many photos of The Wictor? Because he turns out to also be a real media wh*re. He wants his photo taken … like … all the time. )

Meanwhile, The T-Bot has been conducting psychological experiments on the cat. It turns out Fiji either has ADHD or is terribly indecisive, because he refused to point his nose in the right direction twice. Yes, no, yes, no, and he wouldn’t cooperate even for treats. Or maybe he is in control here and is just messing with the T-Bot’s mind.

The T-Bot gave up on the animal in the end. He has been keeping himself busy this summer with Legos, science experiments, and jewelry design.

Also, his already overactive imagination has gone into overdrive. I made a little montage of all the friends he has invited to stay, all at the same time. They are all sleeping in the T-Bot’s room and eating me out of house and home. They come down in the morning, pushing and squabbling and expect me to make space around the breakfast table. Chowder especially does not get on with Chomper (possibly not pictured, because I can’t tell those dinosaurs apart)  and the T-Bot is worried that having Bumblebee around might attract stray Decepticons, which quite frankly makes me worry too

I asked the T-Bot to make them go away, but he says they like it here.

So now do you see why I haven’t had time to post?

My grandmother was a seamstress. Actually she was Parisian-trained and could cut a pattern freehand.

(At one time she employed ten other women to do the actual sewing of the seams for her. In these times she would be called a “Businesswoman”. But those were the days when men were men and womens’ efforts didn’t really count. So, a seamstress).

We left for the other side of the world when I was six. Before we went, she only had time to teach me how to sew on a button.

My favorite casual shorts. They have been like this for a year.

I wear plenty of long t-shirts, and sometimes band-aids on my fingers.

I know my grandmother would be proud. But not of my efforts in the button fixing department.

Here is a little word to the wise:

Let’s just say you move into a new (to you) house and you love it except that the paint colors are all wrong (and half the major appliances old and about to stop working but let’s skip that part for now).

Now let’s imagine that you can’t wait to start repainting so you indulge in a little DIY. If you do this, DO NOT, whatever you do, decide to paint the dining room a bright, cheery yellow. Especially don’t do this if the dining room is open to every other room in the house.

Because if you do, when the time comes to repaint the rest of your open plan house, you will find that you have to match EVERY OTHER PAINT COLOR downstairs to BRIGHT YELLOW.

I promise, you will. And puh-please do not try and tell me that yellow matches everything, because it doesn’t. At least, it might do if you have a modern house, where anything you slap up on the walls will look highly funky and probably end up (sob sob) in the pages of Dwell. But those of us with mock-georgian piles complete with crown moldings and details everywhere have to pay a little more attention, especially if we chose the house partially for those details in the first place.

Next, when your husband, who you love very much, tells you he wants ALL BRIGHT COLORS, do not spend two precious days trying to oblige him. You will - I repeat - WILL find yourself rocking and babbling over the fan deck while holding great fistfuls of your own hair.

(Just believe me when I say that our chosen bright colors put next to each other make the whole house look like a nursery. Which, in effect, it is, but let us pretend a little, OK?)

Another thing: do NOT, under any circumstances, hold a last minute group consultation with your friends who all live in beautifully curated houses that look like they stole them out of a Pottery Barn catalog. Unless, of course, you are willing to paint over your bright yellow, forgo your bright green, and settle for living in a Pottery Barn Catalog.

A look, which, by the way, I LOVE. It’s just not us.

Another NOT GOOD IDEA: In a fit of pique caused by said friends agreeing that there is no solution but to paint your double-height entrance way CREAM (the color of a decades worth of rental houses - a color you swore you would never grace your walls again), you should not waste an afternoon trying to find exactly the right shade of GRAY. Because at this point your significant other will arrive home, shrug and say “you mean all gray like the inside of a dungeon?”. And you will suddenly realize that he is right.

Oh, and another word to the wise : do all this color research BEFORE you call in the painters and agree on a starting date IN FOUR DAYS TIME.

I am sure nobody noticed that I was away. But that is where I have been. Oh, and my final color scheme?

Some bright colors. And CREAM.

Job done. The painters arrive tomorrow. I am off to pack for the asylum.