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The Only Advise A Mom Needs . . .

And I’m not going to build up to it or create suspense. I’m just going to tell you right now:

Don’t, just don’t ever say anything positive involving your kids -unless you want things to go really wrong. It never works. Optimism is a crazy concept that often leads to drama. There, you have it!

Remember last time you said “Touch wood, my kids have never had any serious accident” and that same day, your ten year old fell off his bike and broke an arm? “Touch wood” doesn’t work. “Touch wood” is total baloney. Doesn’t matter if you eat the wood, it cannot override the curse against optimistic moms.

How about the time when you said, “We have been lucky this winter, nobody got sick” and the next day, your three kids were in bed with the flu?

Every time I go to my doctor, he asks me, “So, how is the family? Everybody okay?” I never answer “Yes”. I know better. He’s just trying to get business. Because if I go, “Yeah, everyone’s great”, then shabam! We are all in his office for the next three weeks.

We can’t blame the kids. It’s not their doing. As much as they like winding us up and pushing our buttons, I don’t think they go around breaking limbs and catching virus just to drive us insane. Babies aren’t immune to it either. For example,  if you say, “I’m so happy my 12 week old baby sleeps through the night now!”, prepare a gallon of coffee, because you won’t be sleeping for a while . . .

In case you are an incorrigible optimist and think that you can use the same curse to jinx bad situations into good ones -in a reverse psychology type of twist, don’t bother. It doesn’t work. I tried it on my child who doesn’t like school. I thought if I admit to it when asked, it’s gonna jinx it and he’ll love school. Or at least just agree to go, which would have been a good result.  Instead, now my three kids refuse to get out of bed during the week. So well done me!

Just so you know, you would be wise to never say anything positive about your pets either. Pets are like kids, except they care even less. I was so proud after my cat understood the whole litter business that I blogged about it. Since that day, I have been wiping pee off the floor for well over a year now. The little monster does her business right next to her litter. It’s like she read my blog and thought, “I’ll show you, silly…”.

As for the dog, don’t even get me started! He rewarded my bragging about his clever mind by stepping on a half destroyed deck full of rusty nails, falling through, getting stuck and relying on me to pull his 100 pounds off to safety. Which I managed to do, I don’t know how. Once I got him out of his sticky situation, he ran straight back on the deck and did the exact same stupid stunt.

So let me just make this very clear: don’t ever say anything positive about kids or pets. It will come back and bite you in the butt. My only question is, what’s the story with husbands?

dog

Dog and kid, plotting . . .

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Cats Have No Heart. . . Literally

Don’t get the wrong impression about me. I love animals. All of them. Well, almost. I don’t like mosquitoes, but who does? I don’t like little buzzy things that land in my food either. They never used to bother me until I saw this TV show about flies: When they land in your food, they puke in it. The idea is that they’re supposed to eat their vomit back before they fly away to puke into somebody else’s meal. Except, when you waive them out of your plate, you don’t know at what stage of their hopping-eating-puking process they are. Wait too long and they’ll puke in your plate, but waive them away too early and they won’t have finished eating their vomit. So with that, I never eat outside anymore, and neither will you! I’m not too keen on little crawling things either. Or big for that matter.

Generally speaking, anything small creeps me out because they always spook me. Anything big scares the living daylights out of me. Other than that, I LOVE animals, they just have to be middle size, not flying, not crawling, and obvious about when they are finished eating their vomit back. So it leaves me with dogs and cats. I have one of each.

I am a dog lover, although admittedly, the dogs I love the most are the ones that don’t live in my house. The mess, the smell, the dirty paws, grrr. But I love mine so much I put up with it.

I am not a great cat lover, mostly because my cat hates me so I feel a little scorned. I could never work out why Athena doesn’t like me. I am nice to her, I feed her, I sit on the floor and try to play with her. That’s more than my kids can say! Despite that, she couldn’t care less. Admittedly, she despises everybody in the house more than she despises me. I am the one she hates the least, so that’s a compliment I guess.

Still, I couldn’t understand why my cat has such a heart of stone. Well, now I know! I came across a picture of the dog’s anatomy and one of the cat’s one. Here is the dog,

dog

You can clearly see his organs, everything in there. It’s gross but it’s science, people!

 

 

 

 

Now, here is the anatomy of a cat…

cat

 

See! No heart.  Nothing. Just bones, claws and piercing eyes.

 

I knew there was something more to this than just not liking me.

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Where’s The Cat?

. . . is a question you hear about twenty times a day in my house. Our cat is scared of her own shadow, so she gets freaked out by anything and is in constant camouflage mode. And boy is she good at hiding!

So regularly, when we have not seen her for a few hours, and she hasn’t been heard destroying the rug, or clawing the furniture, one of us wonders, “Where’s the cat?” No point looking under the sofas or in the closets, these are way too obvious for our imaginative four legged friend to even consider. We usually have to stretch our imagination quite a bit and turn every single pile of sheets and towels upside down, check every window ledge behind the curtains, every toy box. And in most cases, we can’t even find her.

So to get her out of wherever she is, we resort to bribe: we fill a bowl of food, plant ourselves in the middle of the hallway and shake the food until she comes out. Usually, within a jiffy.

Last Saturday, we had an early start of the day. We are retiling our shower so the workers came early to cement the floor and walls of the shower. I let them get on with their thing as I slowly started my waking-up process: first, have a coffee, then have another one. Then a third one Finally, open both eyes. By the time I was ready to interact with the tilers, it was lunch time and they were almost done.

“Have you seen my cat?”, I asked them as they were cleaning up and getting ready to leave.

“No. No cat here.”

I tried to call the cat, but no luck there either. I don’t even know why I bother with that phase as my cat listens to nothing and no one so of course, she’s not gonna come when I call her. I searched the house, but no luck there either. I filled her bowl with food and shook it for a while. Still no cat. Mmm, this started to look a little worrying.

I walked around the house, calling the crazy cat and shaking the food. But try as I might, she wouldn’t come out of her hiding place. I got so frustrated I decided to give up and wait until she was too hungry to ignore me any longer.

As I went back upstairs to carry on with my day, I heard a faint noise. Where was this coming from? The bathroom. Interesting, it’s not like there are many places you can hide in there. “Athena? Pussy cat? You in here”

“Meoww” 

Definitely, very faint. I looked around but couldn’t see her. I started to think I was going mad. But then, I finally clicked. My clever, clever cat was hiding inside the wall of the shower, that three guys had just spent four hours replastering and cementing, and whatever it is that a wall needs before it gets tiled.

At least I had the answer to the question, “Where is the cat?” Well, the cat is trapped inside a wall that has just been resealed less than half an hour ago.

Next question, “How do we get the cat out?” Easy to answer that one: grab a hammer and damage the work that has just been completed. Then look for a new tiler as this one is definitely not coming back to crazy land.

Next, “Do cats really have nine lives?” If yes, not to worry, we just leave the cat there and she’ll come back as an ant. These freeloaders are definitely able to sneak from behind the wall so that would solve the problem.

Okay, but then I’ll have to answer “How do I explain to the kids that the cat is trapped behind the wall and I’m just waiting for her to come back as an ant”. That could be tricky. . . All right, let’s get the hammer . . .

I am glad to report that the cats made a full recovery. See for yourself . . . IMG_5035

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The Hidden Genius of Dr Seuss

Everybody knows Dr Seuss is a genius. I never met anyone who disagrees with that. His talents are plenty.

The moral of each story tackles deep topics with such ease. What better way to teach kids not to be afraid of one another’s differences than writing a story about a strange looking animal and a pair of empty pants?

He has invented a wide range of vocabulary that only makes you wonder, “Why are these words not in the dictionary?” I swear, sometimes it really feels like I do have a wocket in my pocket.

He has taken learning to a whole new level: counting by competing, using your feet to teach opposites. What kids doesn’t want to do that?

He has given poetry a kid-friendly face,

“And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance

You’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants”

His illustrations are simple yet amazingly detailed. His characters are weird looking “things” with even weirder names that you can only love. Their only downside is having to put up with a few years of conversations with your kids, to the tune of,

“Mom, why can’t I have a crumple-horn web-footed green-bearded schlottz for a pet?

– Because they don’t exist.

– Yes they do! It’s in the book. Look!”

I could go on and on about how much I love Dr Seuss’s work. Despite the fact that he is spreading the strange idea of pant eating plants in French forests. I never used to go in French forests though, so it might very well be true.

But, I have to say, the one thing I admire and respect this person the most for, is this: he has invented THE device of the future for moms. NO ONE has ever come close to understanding mothers the way he did. NO ONE. If only someone could bother making his genius machine, life would never be the same . . .

For copyright purposes, I cannot show you the illustration I am talking about, so I will have a go at creating my own version of Dr Seuss’s genius (did I say that already?) idea:

dr seuss

All you do is drive the thing while drinking the coffee that IT MADE for you. I told you, it’s out of this world.

 

 

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Seven signs That Today’s Just Not A Good Day . . .

Do you ever wake up with the feeling that today is going to be a bad day, and are proven right within five minutes of stepping out of bed?

I do. I think I have a skill for smelling a c$@p day in my sleep. Not sure how I can use that newfound super power yet, but it’s a super power nonetheless.

The other day, I woke up, and somehow I knew I should stay in bed and let the next twelve hours pass. Tomorrow could only be better. But I didn’t follow my instinct and the following events unfolded:

  1. The cat was mad at me because I didn’t get up early enough to feed her – lazy me, I only rolled out of bed at 6am! That part is not different from any other morning, but what was a little original on that day, is that the furry monster had clawed my brand new Belgium linen covered bench. How did she know the fabric was so expensive is baffling me, but she knew. I could see it in her evil eyes that were saying, “That will teach you to buy Belgian linen covered anything”
  2. The same cat had peed next to her litter, because who knows? She’s just obnoxious and horrible so she can do that.
  3. Meanwhile, the dog had been busy searching through the trash can that someone must have left a tinsy bit open. He had emptied the entire content on the floor and dragged whatever he could to his crate, leaving a long trail of tomato soup and yogurt stains on the floor and rug.
  4. The coffee machine refused to work. I could have coffee if I wanted to, but in a powder form, with a spoon.
  5. As the school bus pulled in front of my house, my son was in his underwear, with no socks, trousers or shirt. He did have one shoe on though, so high five for effort! Because I couldn’t have coffee, I was completely numb to the situation, “Sure, honey, you can go to school like that, no one will notice”
  6. When I drove the other kids to school, I reversed into a trash can outside and drove all the way to school with trash attached to my rear bumper.
  7. After a long traumatic two hours of getting the kids kinda ready and at school – even though it might not have been the right school, I went upstairs for a well-deserved shower, where my lovely cat had left a nice present for me, in the form of a pile of puke. I was so fed up with that vile four legged devil! I called her to give her a piece of my mind. But she just turned around, lifted her tail to show me her butt, and went on to her next mischief . . .

At this point, frankly, even if the coffee machine had decided to make my coffee and deliver it to me, in bed, with a nice brunch tray, even if the invoices had decided to pay themselves, house to auto clean and kids to handle one another, nothing could bring a smile on my face. I was just done.

Maybe when I feel a day like this coming, I should not get out of bed anymore until somebody else steps into pee, puke, and dirty yogurt. Although I’m not even sure anybody else notices around here . . .

cat1 Evil cat, wanting to kill me

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The Culture of Cruelty

Do you know who the sandman is? The Sandman is a mythical character who brings good dreams by sprinkling magical sand onto the eyes of children while they sleep at night. Yes, you read that right: “good dreams” is in the same sentence as “sprinkling sand in children’s eyes”. Apparently, the sandman comes from Europe. Of course, he does…

Well, let me tell you this: I am from France. And I have never heard of the sandman! And boy am I glad too! I mean, seriously, throwing sand in kids’ eyes? Are you kidding me?? It’s horrible!! And calling it “sprinkling” instead of “throwing” does not make it any cuter!

And what the heck is magic sand? Sand does not scratch your cornea? Here in the US, magic sand is the one that never dries and stays together. So sprinkle that in your eyes, sandman, and tell me how you sleep!

I don’t understand why this … person, character, whatever you want to call it (the one who throws sand in kids’ eyes) is supposed to come from Europe. I will admit that in my home country, we have some horrible nursery rhymes about animals being stolen, or people “disappearing”. And although not much is left to the imagination, and there is rarely a happy ending, at least, the horrible news is often delivered with a cheerful tune. Like when Madame Michelle loses her cat, and the neighbor admits that he kidnapped little kitty and wants a ransom. Madame Michelle offers a kiss for payment and he tells her to bugger off, he will sell her cat (true, real nursery… I apologize on behalf of France…). Mister Lustucru, the neighbor then sings to her, “Hey Madame Michelle, I will sell your cat for a bunny. Lalalalala, lalalala deridera et tralalala!!” I mean, you feel sorry for the cat, but you can only love the song with such a happy melody! (side note: if you happen to live next to someone called Mr Lustucru, start packing, the hint is in the name…)

But the sandman is at a whole new level of horror: Imagine a monster, made out of sand, crawling in your room and throwing sand in your eyes… Did you ever get any sand in your eyes? Or even just dust? Man! It really, really hurts!! I don’t think anyone falls asleep after they get sand in their eyes. They scream, for sure. They cry as well. But sleep?! Not in the sandman’s wildest dreams… And EVEN IF, after all the screaming and crying, kids eventually fall asleep from complete exhaustion, do you really think they will have good dreams? Right after a shapeless, scary monster came in their room out of nowhere and threw a bag of sand at their face? They won’t sleep properly for the next fifty years…

Whoever created the sandman must have had something against the beach, kids, or kids on the beach, I am not sure. Just writing about “him” makes my eyes itch…

I asked my kids to draw the sandsandmanman without googling it, and this is what they came up with…. I did say, “Can you draw what comes to your head when I say the word, “Sandman” and make it scary, please so my blog makes some sense”. I did not realize it might have been opposite day – which became a lot clearer after asking the kids to do their homework, be quiet, and get ready for bed. But in any case, I am not being fooled by the smiley face, the cute little hat and the casual-cool-dude attitude. So don’t bother selling me your good dreams, sandman, coz I ain’t buying any…

 

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Pets Who Talk…

I often wonder, if pets could talk, what would they tell us? But I think it is fair to say that most animals are perfectly able to express themselves without the use of human language. At least, when I look at my lot, I know exactly what’s going on in their head, and what would come out of their mouth if they could articulate words.  Which would be really freaky, and disturbing! Especially talking fish…

Speaking of fish, mine have fairly limited conversation skills. It goes something like, “Whatever, dude…” From the time I come to feed them in the morning, to when I switch their lamp off for the night. That’s all they say, “Whatever, dude…” Man! Fish are so boring you can’t even have a chat with them…

My dog, Pepper is great. He has so many stuff to talk about. First, when I come downstairs in the morning, he looks at me and his eyes say, “Nope, I was not sleeping on the sofa! Not me. Must have been the cat…” Even though the sofa is still warm, his hair is all over the cushion and the smell of dog is unavoidable… I am just wondering, does he think I am stupid?  Mmmm, better watch your mouth, Pepper…

Then he gets all excited because he wants to go outside. I can hear him ask, “Oh come on! Come in the garden with me and throw a stick or something! It will be fun!” Not a chance in the world, pal, I have not even had a coffee yet. When he comes back in, he sits quietly next to his bowl and waits until someone notices his miserable look, “I am very hungry. Can somebody feed me please?” I am sure Pepper would be very polite if he could speak. He just looks like that kind of well mannered dog… It is no wonder, he comes from a very posh lineage of blue blood. Had he not been adopted by us, he would probably drink his cup of tea with this pinky raised. I mean, his real last name is Sir Gallahad, not Pepper Nicoll, so yeah…. RESPECT!!!

Once he is finished with his food, he sits next to his bowl again, with the same starving look, just in case someone did not notice that he has already eaten and decides to feed him twice. He rarely gets away with it, but on occasions he does get two servings so that’s all well worth it.

I don’t have a camera but I know that when I take the kids to school, he spends his entire time trying to open the trash can – and succeeds on occasions, leaving a horrible mess on the floor. Sir Gallahad, rolling in the trash? Really? What would your ancestors say? Tsk, tsk, tsk…

He always looks terribly shocked when I tell him off for being a bad dog. The kitchen floor is covered with litter, he is the only one in the house, and still he does not understand how I guessed it was him. He definitely thinks I am totally stupid…

Then for the rest of the day, he either sleeps if he is by himself (probably on that same sofa that he is not allowed to climb on), or he sits on me with a look that says, “Give me a hug!”

When we go to bed, he looks at us from the bottom of the stairs, “Don’t worry, I won’t sleep on the sofa” and goes off to do exactly that within one minute. That’s Pepper. Nice, polite, calm. Total liar, but polite.

The cat is the opposite: in my face, rude, completely hysterical and far too honest for her own good..

At 6am sharp, she jumps on my head, with her back arched, her eyes wide open like she is going to eat me with them, and she claws my hair.  “FEED ME! FEED ME! FEED ME! NOW!!!!! HUNGRY! FEED ME!!” her face screams… And she won’t stop until I get up. When I eventually roll out of bed, she races in zigzags in front of me, like she is trying to trip me off, still chanting, “COME ON! FEED ME! FASTER!!!”. I usually don’t even have the time to put food in her bowl that she is pushing my hand out of the way with her nose so she can eat.

If I ever try to step out of the room to start my day, she jumps in front of me and claws my leg, “STAY HERE! STAY!! I AM NOT FINISHED. STAY!!” Yeah, sure, sweet little cat! I really don’t have anything better to do than watch you eat and swear at me between two mouthfuls, at 6am. Seriously! So I just ignore her and walk off. Which I shouldn’t do because that little deceiving mini-monster on four legs knows everything about revenge. If I don’t stay with her, I usually find a “puddle” next to her litter. Yes. That’s what she does. She pees NEXT to her litter, just to show me who’s the boss here. I swear, she is better at mind games than all of us put together…

When she is done with her evil morning deeds, she hides somewhere and every time somebody comes upstairs, she goes wild, “Who’s there? What d’you want? Get out of here!” If it just happens to be me, she goes on my favorite, most expensive chair and starts ripping the fabric off with her dinosaur claws. She looks straight into my eyes, “You can’t stop me!! See, I do whatever I want HA!” And she is right! There is nothing I can do to stop her. One day, I chased her off the chair so she went to attack my most valuable carpet. Athena knows her expensive furniture from the cheap stuff, you’ve got to give her that…

Not once does she look like she has anything nice to say! I bet you she probably swears as well, and for that reason, it’s probably best she can’t speak. That cat needs go be taught some manners, seriously!

And as I am wrapping up this post, I just noticed that she was sitting right next to me. I am afraid she might have read the content of this blog. Look at her saying, “You will be sorry for this, lady, you just wait and see…”

cat1

 

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Today is so gross!

Life can get boring. I AM NOT COMPLAINING!! I love boring! I live for boring, I crave uneventful days and having nothing to do. That’s my sole ambition in life: sit down and do nothing coz there is bugger all to do! So I am not going to complain about boring mornings. But you gotta admit, there isn’t much excitement to expect out of packing lunch, getting grumpy kids out of bed, fixing breakfast, shouting for shoes / coats / backpacks to find a taker, dragging kids into car and driving to school. Day in. Day out.

And although I am still not complaining – I swear, I am not!, some super powerful force must have misread that I was bored, and gave me a morning to remember…

It all started when I got up and felt something slushy under my feet. As I have not plugged the coffee machine next to my bed yet – but this is a very dear project of mine, I did not bother checking the floor and flopped half asleep down the stairs, leaving a trail of foot-shaped slimy prints behind me. Still on autopilot, I opened the house door to let my dog out. Surprisingly, the dog was in his basket and did not budge. Mmm, maybe he could do with a coffee as well… I don’t know about him but I surely needed to get some caffeine pumping in my system. So I made myself a nice cup and sat down to drink it, looking at my half asleep dog. As my body slowly started to wake up, I kept looking at my pet, thinking, “Something’s funny with him today”. Old guy was lying there, staring at me. He looked a little funny with his holes in his ears, like he could be wearing earrings… WHAT???? WHAT ARE THESE HOLES? OH MY GOD!! THE DOG HAS HOLES IN EACH EAR. AND OH MY!! HE IS COVERED IN BLOOD. OKAY, OKAY, OKAY, SOMETHING IS WRONG!!!

It took me a full five minutes before I spotted the holes, the blood and the generally strange feeling that something was off. Well, that surely woke me up better than any coffee. As I approached the basket, I realized that aside from the holes, the dog’s face was not bleeding. So that blood could not be his. And then, my brain neurons connected with yesterday’s memory of a groundhog lazing on our lawn. “Bloody dog had a fight with the groundhog!”

So I grabbed my shoes and started searching the garden frantically for an injured or dead groundhog. I surely did not want the kids to grab it, hug and kiss it and nurse it back to health. Better if I found it first. But no luck! Nothing. No groundhog in the garden. By then, I started to get angry with my dog for being, well, a dog! In the past, he had brought me rabbits, birds, anything that he could catch, and dropped them at my feet, waiting for his reward (which he received in the form of shouting and “get in your basket” angry look). But a groundhog, that was a first! Seriously, what was next? A deer in the kitchen? As I was making my way back to the house I started to panic, thinking there might be an injured groundhog roaming in my house. Well, yes there was! and I “ran” into it, all right! But as I screamed and shouted and totally freaked out, the thing did not move. Because it was no more. By then, I was furious at my dog for not only bringing an animal in the house, but killing it.

At least the mystery of the dog’s ears was solved…

As a responsible and composed adult who can think on her feet, I then dialed animal control to come and help with cleaning the mess. I did not want to touch that thing, dead or alive.

“I have a groundhog in my house, it’s an emergency. Please help!”

“OKay, calm down, Ma’am. Is it dead or alive?”

“Dead. I think. I don’t know. Please come”

“Then it’s not an emergency, you can take care of it yourself. Have a good day.”

WHAAATTTT!!!

It’s okay, it’s okay, I am a composed and responsible adult, whatever that means . So I did the only thing I knew: I screamed for my husband to come and “take care of it”. This was not exactly the kind of breakfast he expected, but he decided to get on with it to put an end to my hysteria. As he was “handling the package” and I was keeping at a safe distance of five miles, he shouted at me,

“OKay, I have some kind of bad news?”

How worse could it get? I did not understand.

“What is it?”

“Well, there is only half a groundhog here. The… erm… back part is missing!”

Ewwwww, so now we were searching for groundhog legs, somewhere in the house.

We did not find it. Chances are, the dog ate them for breakfast. But we did find out something: the stuff I had stepped into when I got up and dragged across the entire house floor was…. Cat puke.

And this blog is WHY I don’t want any more pets EVER.

Sorry, I cannot put a picture. Anything to do with this blog would be too gross…

 

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Efficiency 101: three life-changing golden tips

If you have been following my blog, you know that up until then, I have always been a little overwhelmed, late for everything, and generally pretty clueless. If you have not been following my blog, you missed out on an opportunity to feel great about yourself. But too late!!!! That was the old me. Now IN COMES THE NEW ME: organized, efficient, and such an expert that I am even going to give you some advice! I can hear the skeptics among my readers thinking, “How did she become such an expert overnight?”. Well, I would like to think that there was an organized-me trapped inside the body of an all-over-the-place mother. And now, she -the super tidy me, has been freed to express herself. Of course, I could also be suffering from a sudden case of full-of-myselfness, but that also makes good material for blogs, so who cares?

ANYWAY! Let’s just say that for whatever reason, I have discovered that I can be very very good at being efficient and it has changed my life… well, not quite yet, but I live in hope. So here are my three easy-to-follow tips that will help you save time and energy… But yet again, probably not!

Tip one: don’t listen to anything I say. I had these big plans to accomplish a million stuff a day now that all my kids are at school. However, getting dressed before lunchtime is still proving a challenge…. I think I might have been looking at this “getting ready in the morning” business completely from the wrong angle. Seeing many of you wearing clothes in the morning, I always thought it was a reasonably achievable target. But now I am starting to wonder, so I’ll just put the question out there, “are you sleeping with your clothes on?”

Tip two: Do not set up your office two floors away from where everything else is: bathroom, kitchen, trail of papers that you have left lying around for the past ten years. Because you’ll spend your day going up and down the stairs – good for exercising, but lousy for achieving anything.

My office is in my attic. I spent a lot of money and energy converting the space just so I could “hide away from everybody”. Well, I think I am just going to have to let everybody use the attic so I can work everywhere else… Because I must be doing one hundred trips a day up and down these stairs, and I am done!! So yesterday, I decided I was going to think this through: before I went up there in my dungeon, I piled up everything I needed:

computer – check

invoices – check

paper for the printer – check

paperwork for my books – check but note to self: why did I decide to store these in a binder??!!

coffee – check. Other note to self: this looks dangerous, Nadege, DON’T DO IT!

And up I went! Well, not only did I drink the most expensive coffee in the world – 900 dollars to be precise and now I need a new computer, but of course, I had also forgotten half of the invoices, and a pen (what kind of a person does not have a pen in an office? A disorganized one…). So I went back downstairs. Then up again. Then the phone rang. Argh…. ran downstairs to pick it up just as it hung up! Went back upstairs with the phone, but without my cell. Ran downstairs to get my cell. Where the heck is it? Searched the house like crazy, which implied a few more going up and down, only to find it where it ALWAYS is: in my handbag. Went back up, but guessed what? I had taken my pen downstairs to look for my phone (don’t ask…) and forgot it there, so ran down again. Grabbed the pen, but left the phone…. you get the picture. By the time I had gathered everything upstairs, I did not even want to sit at that bloody desk anymore, I was so frustrated! So my advice is to establish your office in the middle of the kitchen where everything is within a few steps…

Tip three: don’t have a cat. Cats are vicious. They are trained to climb over the neat pile of papers you have arranged by order of importance, or whatever freak piles you do to make yourself feel better. They stand bang in the middle of all these little piles and they WAG THEIR TAIL, until there is only one big lump of trash on the floor. They also invade your space without a care in the world. When my cat is not standing on my keyboard “typing”, this is where you can find her.

cat

And don’t you dare try and move her if you value your clothes and skin…

Dogs aren’t so bad. But if you insist on working two floors up, make sure the animal does not need to do some business in the middle of your very productive day.

When you look at it closely, being efficient is near impossible. Of course, there is always the possibility of giving up and live a blissful life of mess, being late, and ruled by cats…

 

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Blogcation seven: people who live in glasshouses…

I still cringe at the memory…

People who live in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones. If you have read my first volume,  you know that this is my husband’s favorite expression. At home, we are still debating about what it really means;

– Don’t do to others what you don’t want others to do to you – the mature explanation

– Nobody’s perfect, not even you. So don’t be too judgmental – another mature explanation

– If you criticize somebody, make sure they don’t know you act the same – a more practical view…

So for the purpose of this post, let’s see what Google says about it: “You should not criticize other people for having the same faults that you yourself have”.

OK, so now that we have settled this, let me tell you my little kid story.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my little girl to paint a cat. NOT A REAL CAT!!! Calm down! She went with her BFF who decided to paint a cat too.

My daughter’s friend decided to paint her cat yellow, with thick, black stripes.

cat

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not a bad choice, really. Tigers are cat, so it was a fairly realistic choice. But the whole time, my otherwise sweet little girl kept saying, “A yellow cat?! Really??!! Yellow cats don’t exist!!!! That looks silly!!” Over, and over. It was a little embarrassing, and definitely very rude. I was mortified! The BFF’s dad was a good sport and kept smiling at my obnoxious child. But I was beside myself. I kept giving my daughter THE LOOK (the one that means “Will you just shut up!”), but she just did not care and carried on the abuse.

And let me tell you, not that I approve of her behavior, but I think it takes a looot of guts to comment on the weirdness of her BFF’s cat, when hers looks like that:

cat1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Obviously, she does not see anything wrong with a purple, green and pink cat. But a yellow one?! really?!! Seriosuly?!!! COME ON!!!!