No matter how many hampers I place in the bedroom, the bathroom or even the hallway will result in clothes being placed inside the hamper. Sure the clothes get close to the hamper. They get to the back of the chair, the foot of the bed , and my personal favorite, on the floor right next to the hamper. But very rarely do they make it inside the hamper.
I would like to present to you three ideas I’m considering to battle what I like to call Hungry Hamper syndrome.
Neodymium Hampers – This is a hamper made of a very strong type of magnet. I would then sew metal bits into all the seams of the clothes so that when the clothes are taken off and placed anywhere near the hamper. The magnetic force will automatically pull the clothing inside.
Cyclone Floors – This would consist in retrofitting the entire upstairs with vents in the floors that run on sensors. The vent sensors would activate anytime something weighing less than two pounds hits the floor and cause a powerful gust of air that will lift the clothing right off the floor.
Fructose Fashion– My though here is that if I just make or buy clothing that is made up of some type of sugar then it will just dissolve nightly in the shower eliminating the need for a hamper all together.
My three year old has realized that sleeping is just a big waste of time when there is never ending Caillou on Netflix. This has made bed time very challenging. Last night she refused to put her pajamas on so I decided to “pick my battles” and let her sleep in her T shirt and shorts. This morning, I was running late (as usual) and of course she just wouldn’t wake up. I finally thought to myself, she’s technically dressed so what if it’s the same thing she wore yesterday? Although I still felt kind guilty that I wouldn’t be changing her my stress level dropped as I now didn’t have to fight her and would probably be able to leave the house in ten minutes or so.
I scooped her up and brought her downstairs, I sat her down at the table as I had picked up some pancakes from McDonalds ( she loves pancakes) on my way back from the gym. I stepped away for a moment and then heard her saying “mama open..mama open” I looked over and she was waiving the packet of maple syrup over head asking me to open it. But guess what? It was already open and seeping out the sides, down her arm, her shirt and her shorts. AUGHH!
Needless to say, she not only required a change of clothes but a complete wipe down with a wet towel. You don’t realize how sticky that stuff is until you are trying to remove it and trying to catch the train to work at the same time.
I was just laying there this morning thinking. I was thinking about how misunderstood I am. Women will come into the room and get on top of me, they rarely look pleased to see me and as a matter of fact they usually look down and twist their face in unspeakable ways.
Don’t shoot the messenger, I say. My job is to tell you how much you weigh. I was not created to tell you how beautiful you are or to measure your self worth. Heck! I can’t even tell if you’re healthy or not. All I can tell you is how much you weigh. Nothing less nothing more.
Let me give you an example. My favorite gym goer came in this morning, I have been seeing a lot of her lately and for the most part she’s just been passing me by hurrying to classes and home. Today she came in a bit earlier than usual and I could see her eyeing me. She finally approached and I was happy because I could feel that I was going to give her good news, she wasn’t going to make a twisted face and in turn she was going to speak highly of me all day. She took of her shoes and stepped on. My needle started to rise, and rise it actually rose 5 pounds more than it had last time she was on. “Shit!” I thought and sure enough there was that twisted face, the disappointment, The hatred in her eyes and of course the cursing aimed directly at me.
She stepped off, stomped her shoes back on and stormed off. I’m pretty sure I could still here her cursing out the door. I wish I could have told her that perhaps she’d gained some muscle or that she was retaining water or that her heart is healthier than it has ever been but alas I could not. So I just lay there waiting. Waiting for the next woman, who is looking for me to give her something more than just her weight. But please understand your weight is all I have to give.
How could you betray me like that? I have been working my a@$! off and you tell me I’ve gained five pounds? Seriously? I wasn’t expecting a miracle but no change would have been better than a 5 pound increase! You’re lucky you are owned by my gym, because if you were mine I would have picked you up and thrown you across the room and watched as your parts scattered across the room. As a matter of fact I fantasized about just that today. Maybe I could have even taken you out to the parking lost and driven over you with my car. Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again!
“MOM! We have a problem”
I ran upstairs to find my son pointing at the toilet. “Oh dear Lord, please please please let that toilet bowl be empty” I thought to myself. I slowly crept closer to the toilet and looked inside. There, submerged in the water was a red Hot Wheels car. “Sowy mama” my three year old was confessing.
“I gotta go, I gotta go..” my son was starting to dance.
We are down to just the one toilet at our house bescause the powder room is being renovated so I needed to get the car out NOW. I had the bright idea that I could scoop the car out with the toilet brush, you’re probably shaking your head because you know exactly what happed next. I pushed the car farther down the toilet.
“I gotta go…I gotta go now” the dance was becoming a little more elaborate with some hopping from foot to foot.
“Go get my rubber gloves” I barked at my other son.
” I gotta go mom, I gotta go now mom, you don’t understand . I GOTTA GO!
“I can’t find the gloves!” Comes a voice from downstairs. “I gotta go!” Says my dancing son. “You’re going to have to go in there you know” said the voice in my head.
I took a deep breath, bent over and reached in. Way in. I felt the car, pulled it out quickly and threw it into the sink.
“Get out..get out..” my son was saying. But I had to wash my hands. And wash them again and again and again and again and again and again………
You know who I blame this gross experience on? My husband. If the powder room was finished I could have just waited for him to scoop it out.
I’m going to make this one short and sweet because sometimes pictures say a thousand words.
I try to stay away from sugary drinks but I gave in when I saw this:
Turns out there are 150 Calories in this can. I drank it and it was pretty good. I even thought that maybe 150 calories was not too bad.
Then I went to the gym and set the treadmill to the fat burning program. 25 minutes into my level 7 incline walk I was sweating and even huffing and puffing a bit. I checked the calories burned and I saw this:
Little did I know that when I wrote Floor Mats and Coffee that the saga wouldn’t end there. Saturday started off pretty normal, I woke up and my daughter was in bed with us ( I don’t know how she got there). It was just after 8:00am which meant I had slept in (hooray!! this rarely happens) but I had just enough time to get ready and make it to a 9:00am class at the gym. The day was off to a great start.
I managed to leave the house without too much drama from my kids. Usually when I go to the gym they gather around me like I was going off to war. They line up for hugs and kisses, the hugs are so tight you’d think they knew something I didn’t, there’s some “why do you have to go” No mama please don’t go” and lots of “when are you getting back?”. Today I got some kisses , some hugs and even one “have fun”. This was going to be a guilty free drive to the gym.
Then just as I was about to make a right into the parking lot, I got pulled over. I can not believe how nervous I got. I had never been pulled over before but the way my heart was racing and my hands were shaking you would think I had a dead body in the back.
The cop approached my car and asked my for my driver’s license. I handed it to him, he took a quick look and then asked for my insurance. This is where the plot thickens.
I was positive that the insurance papers were in the owner’s manual that was located just under the passenger seat. I reached over and under but I couldn’t feel it. I pulled out some napkins, a water bottle and a hairbrush and a drink tray. I felt around again. Nothing. I explained to the cop that I had to walk over to the other side of the car as I couldn’t reach from where I was. I got out of the car and walked over to the other side. When I got there the door was locked. I had forgotten to unlock the doors before I got out. I had to walk back to the driver’s side, unlocked the doors and then walk back to the passenger side. Did I mention that the cop was right behind me the whole time and that I was in a busy intersection of both cars and pedestrians!
I decided to open the back passenger door since I hadn’t been able to reach it through the front , I thought I’d have better luck through the back. My hand went in. Out came a Dora hat, and a straw but no insurance. I know it had to be in there somewhere so I explained to the cop that maybe it was under the back passenger seat, to which he replied “are you sure you have insurance” I could have just said yes, but instead I told him that of course I had insurance, that I regularly had my three kids of the car, how Irresponsible it would be to drive without insurance, that it was my first time getting pulled over… and then I dove right back into the car to keep looking.
To make a long story short, after pulling out several DVD cases, a sticker book and several articles of clothing I found it! Well sort of. I found the slip for the one that had just expired in May. I think the cop had enough of waiting and watching while I pulled my car apart like a narcotics dog and said that he would just contact the insurance company based on the info I had. At the end of it all, I ended up with a $110 dollar ticket for driving with expired plates. They expired three weeks ago. Three weeks and I get a ticket?? There should be some kind of grace period based on the number of children you have how long your commute is and even how big your pile of laundry is. I spared the cop my philosophy and said thank you as I took the ticket because I know that the ticket he could have given me for not having my insurance with me would have been a lot worse.
The worst part of all of this, is that the state of my car is an ongoing argument between my husband and I. Mr. LibertyDee is constantly on me about cleaning out my car but he rarely drives the kids anywhere and he has a no eating in the car rule and a “if you bring it into the car you take it out of the car” rule. I have always had the “I just need the kids to get into the car” rule. and the stop hitting each other” rule and the ” please stop asking me to look at something” rule. But I have to say, after this particular incident I’m going to have to clean out the car. Here is his reaction when I told him what had happened. I’m in blue, he’s in yellow but you could have probably figured that out.
I have a 45 minute train ride into work every morning and another 45 minute ride every afternoon to get home. For any of you who commute using any form of public transportation, you can attest to the fact that the daily commute is an excellent opportunity to people watch.
I have been watching my fellow commuters quite a bit lately and have found that although they come in all shapes, sizes and colours that they all fall into one of the 4 categories I have outlined below:
These are the most disliked of the commuter group. The yappers travel in pairs and share private and personal information about themselves and others for all of their fellow commuters to hear. The worst one I overheard has to be the one where I woman was speaking very loudly to her friend about how the guy she had met in her virtual world was going to leave his family for her and that they were actually getting “married” in their virtual world over the weekend. I have to say I kind of felt sorry for her but having to listen to that crap for 45 minutes made me want to jump from the moving train.
Although this one looks obvious, you should know that this makes up about 50% of the commuter population and they are divided into 5 sub groups;
More on each of these in a separate post
This is the largest growing population on the train. You will know who they are by the way they will be holding their phone or tablet in one hand while with the other hand, their index finger glides over the screen in a “glide…glide…tap…tap…”motion over and over again.
Every so often they will exhale, lower the phone to lap level and look around. I have been able to deduce that at this point they have either lost a life or passed a level.
The reader group also has subcategories.
Old School Readers carry their hard cover books in special “book bags”
The Cutting Edge readers carry their Kindles and Kobos in their purse or briefcase
The Media Buffs read only the newspapers and magazines and will carry them in their hand.
Why is that? Why is it that people are comfortable carrying newspapers and magazines in their hand or under their arm but not books? Anyway, The Readers’ overall behaviour can be compared to that of the gamer as they are completely consumed in the bubble they have created for themselves. The big difference however is that since there are no lifes to be lost or levels to pass, the reader will very seldom put the book down to look around.
So what group do I fall into? I’m a snooper. I don’t know how many of us are out there because we are not as obvious. As the snooper, I am listening to the yappers conversation, I know what level the gamer is stuck on and know that that cute book cover you have with all the pretty flowers is not there to protect your book but instead hide the fact that you are reading 50 Shades of Grey, again.
I don’t believe anyone can MAKE you do anything. You always have a choice, especially when it comes to the things you eat. Sometimes, however, those choices are made more difficult by your enviroment.
I have actually gained weight at work in the 2 years I have been back from maternity leave and I think I have finally figured out why!
Here are the top 10 reasons my job is making me fat:
10. When we kick off a new project, we have cake
9. When someone is getting married, we have cake
8. When someone retires, we have cake
7. When someone has a work anniversary, we have cake
6. When the corporation wins an award, we have cake
5. When someone has a baby, we have cake
4. When a project ends, we have cake
3. When there is a department meeting, we have cake
2.When someone leaves the team, we have cake
1. Because I work in HR which is dominated by women and we will make any excuse to eat cake!
Anyone else find they are in a similar work enviroment?