Iridescent Bubbles

Tuesday morning I looked at the clock when I got up, knowing the day ahead would be busy. I felt a little panicked. It had been a long weekend with the children home and my house displayed it. I started in the kitchen. I emptied the clean dishes from the dishwasher and put them away. The counters had raspberry jam and bread crumbs, a small puddle of spilled milk and a coloring book with crayons scattered around.

The bedroom had an unmade bed, half the covers on the floor, the rest full of lumps and wrinkles. On the floor were dirty socks, a pair of jeans, a sweater and papers left over from homework from the week before. In the corner I saw a stacked pile of folded clothes slightly toppled. Clothes I had washed dried and place on the dresser of my daughter's room for her to put away.

I sighed. The bathroom didn't look much better. Wet towels dangling precariously from a hook, smeared toothpaste on the counter and sink, an empty toilet paper roll and more dirty socks. The mirror was smeared with handprints.

My son's rooms were even worse. In one you could barely see the floor, in another piles were everywhere. Books, papers, clothes clean and dirty, broken pencils, empty wrappers and an assortment of miss-matched legos.

It was the beginning of a new week, how could my house already be in such disarray? Saturday had barely passed, the day when our family was supposed to do major cleaning, which everyone had assured me they had.

The laundry basket was overflowing, bills needed to be paid, and garbage cans emptied and taken outside. I went in to my closet to find a sweater and looked around it with dismay, even it needed cleaning. It was 10 a.m. in the morning and I already felt tired and discouraged, my physical energy drained from worrying, how could I possibly get everything done.

I knew I needed to just pick a room and start. None of them were extensively dirty, just cluttered and a bit disorganized, but it frustrated me. Why did I always have to be the one to keep my house in order when everyone else kept messing it up?

The phone rang, somebody needed me for something. I glanced around the house again inwardly shuddering, telling myself I wasn't making the grade. I had twenty-four hours in my day like everyone else, why did it never seem enough? Everyday there was something I didn't get done that I wanted, too. It was frustrating.

That afternoon I spent an hour playing with my grandson. Part of the time we blew bubbles. Iridescent balls of different sizes, floating in the air lit my grandson's face with excitement and wonder. His laughter echoed around my troubled heart.

He wasn't worried about whether or not I'd vacuumed the living room floor or scrubbed away the ring around the tub. It didn't matter to him there were shoes in an annoying pile by the front door or crumbs under my kitchen table. His face lit with joy when I blew on a small wand from a bottle, a bottle that cost less than a dollar from the store.

My worries faded away. For a few minutes time seemed to stop. All that mattered was the smile on a little boy's face and his giggling laughter that warmed my heart. Why do we tell ourselves we don't have time for the little things in life? How do we not?

Laughter lightens life

I went to the library with my seven-year-old daughter yesterday after school was out and checked out a book called "How to Remodel Your Man". I started reading it last night while my husband and boys were watching the latest Indiana Jones movie in the same room. I couldn't stop laughing. They weren't too impressed and kept adjusting the volume louder on the TV.

I haven't laughed that hard for a long time--it was wonderful. The worries and issues that had been weighing on my mind were pushed to the background. I felt re-newed, energized, and just plain happy. My concerns hadn't changed even the smallest fraction, however just by having a good laugh and time to relax I was gaining new insight on how to face them. How easy it is to forget to enjoy some of the simple pleasures in life. I was glad to be reminded, laughter lightens life!

Here is an excerpt from the book; enjoy!

Preparing a meal with a man's help:

Woman Tasks:

Plan the meal. Purchase the food. Set the table. Wash the vegetables. Slice and chop the vegetables and put them in the salad bowl.Peel the potatoes. Boil the potatoes. Slice th potatoes and saute them in butter. Whip butter, milk, and flour into a white sauce. Place potatoes in pan, layered with white sauce and cheese. Sprinkle breadcrumbs and garlic powder on top of the potatoes. Bake the scalloped potatoes. Time the potatoes so as to be ready when the steaks are.

Man Task:

Grill the steaks.

After the meal ask the man to help with the dishes, and he'll be indignant. "What?"
he'll demand. "But I cooked dinner!"

To a man housework is something he helps with, not something he usually does. Furthermore, he usually feels that the most assistance he can provide is in the area of supervision, rather than in an area a woman might find actually helpful, like work. Men see the household as a corporation-they are the CEOs with command authority and executive perks, and women are the executive perks. Men feel most productive when they are standing around watching a woman work and providing observations with the delightful statement, "You know what you should do..."

Tip:

Woman:(trying to rearrange the refrigerator so the leftovers will be good for something besides compost) This doesn't fit.

Man: You know what you should do...

Woman:(interrupting) No, why don't you show me?

Man: Well, um...

Try this a few times and the man will learn to keep his mouth shut. Also keep in mind that housework doesn't sound very masculine to him. Subtly change your
vocabulary, identifying the tasks you want him to undertake as trash disposal engineering or managing his spouse. Also play to his masculine nature with statements like this:

"Would you mind vacuuming the house? I think the sweeper is about to explode!"

"I'm terrified of the laundry, would you fold it?"

"Could you do the dishes? I think the garbage disposal is really a ravenous creature named Gork from the planet Quork!" (If you use this one, make sure the silverware are put away first.)

Don't worry if these statements make you sound, well, completely deranged. Most men will fall for them anyway. Helping women in distress is what men do; it makes us hold in our stomachs and stand with our capes flapping in the breeze.


(How to Remodel a Man, by W. Bruce Cameron, pgs. 20-21)