35 things

Taking a cue from a number of stories I've read over the past year, I decided to spend my 35th birthday doing kind things.  What a noble idea, and if I felt it a wonderful success I wouldn't be sharing this, instead I would be secreting my kindnesses and feeling all warm and fuzzy about my morning of good deeds.

It was a simple idea to start with.  The kids and I pulled 35 items from the pantry to take to the Mustard Seed food bank.  Once I looked at what we pulled out I realized that we could give more and it wouldn't matter.  So we overran the 35 item count by quite a bit.

Then I thought about the things Dan and I had talked about getting rid of over the weekend, and how we needed to pare down.  So I called the Pregnancy Crisis Center and asked what they needed and what they would take.  The kids and I pulled out 35 things to donate.  We ended up with quite a bit more, once you count the toys each child added to the bags, and all the other items that I looked at and wondered why I was keeping them.  They didn't get passed on, as they were either packed or added to the gear between moves and babies (I didn't get rid of the collective stuff, in case the collective is reading ;) ).  This was our first stop on our journey this morning.  The people at the center were so appreciative, and all I could think was "Geez, its just stuff-- stuff taking up space and yet they are so thrilled with all of it, even the 60 boppy pillows that drive me nuts."  (60 may be an exaggeration...)  I felt kind of hollow.

Our next stop was the Mustard Seed to drop off the canned goods.  We emptied everything into boxes and the gentleman who helped us wished me a happy birthday. I felt like I should be the one carrying the heavy boxes into the building as I looked into his worn, leathery face--you could see a much harder life etched in every wrinkle.  The Mustard Seed employs people who might not otherwise have any opportunity to work, and many who are disadvantaged due to circumstances that seem insurmountable.    A few cans of food is nothing when you think about it.  It certainly didn't feel like it was enough when I looked at the people who were digging through the give-away bin.

The kids wondered what our next stop would be on this bizarre morning.  We drove over to the pet store and bought milkbones and tennis balls.  They couldn't figure out what I would buy something for Bandit that he can't eat.  Our ancient dog is allergic to corn (if you think corn and its derivatives are in nearly all processed human food try buying corn-free dog food sometime).  Then we went to the party store for balloons.

Our next stop took a bit longer when you consider all of the road construction in Twin Falls, but we did make it to the animal shelter where we donated the pet items.  The kids and I looked at the dogs and cats for a few minutes and then left.  Scared little pups, giant dog whining, so heartbreaking, by this point I just wanted to be done with the day and to come home.  It was too much.

The kids asked for one final stop--to go to Dan's office.  There, we gave balloons to some of Dan's coworkers.  It was there that the full disappointment of the morning hit me as I listened to my children whine about the selection in the candy dish.  In the van, on the way home, I fully realized that this whole morning was stupid and self-serving.  It certainly wasn't about helping others, or doing acts of kindness.  It wasn't about serving others or putting them first, as much as I thought it would be.  The fact is, its one lame, lousy day out of the 365 days.  Why did I need an event or special date to do something kind?  Why hadn't I gone through the closet and given those baby things away before?  Why don't I take canned goods in every week?  Heck, its not even out of my way to do it--the church has a place set aside where they'll take food donations to the food bank.  Its one half-assed attempt to teach my kids to be better people and realizing that this lesson didn't sink in anymore than any other lesson.  Perhaps, I should have asked for big gifts and had great expectations of the day.  I didn't. 

 Its just another day in my life, and I'm left feeling disappointed and empty by it. 

This is going to make me crazy, isn't it?

I should start a list of unusual potty incidents, or maybe I shouldn't, but I can't help myself.  It all stems from The Boy peeing in the fridge.  Seriously!  WHY the fridge?  Why, why, why?!  Oh, because he wanted a piece of bread and it was easier to pee while standing in the fridge then it was to run to the bathroom.  I'm 75% tempted to put a locking gate across the spanse between the counter and the wall.  My own laziness is what is stopping me.  First, the idea of finding the gate, fixing it and then finding a lock, followed by the idea of having to unlock the dang thing every single time I went into the kitchen deters me.  Not to mention, The Boy would just climb over the counters and pee in the drawers as he climbs down them into the kitchen proper.  So, I guess, I hope that he limits his kitchen accidents to the pantry, the floor and the fridge?  ACK.  There is not enough bleach in this house to deal with this problem.

Some days are better--yesterday was better in the realm of potty training.  But still, his sister was playing with her hair in the bathroom, door locked shut and The Boy hadn't enough time to change courses and go clear to the other end of the house to potty.  If his sister were 15, I might understand a bit better, but she is FIVE.  There are so many twitch-worthy things about the whole situation.  The day before, the kids discovered the secret pocket on the little boy underpants.  [insert heavy sigh here]  The oldest told the Boy that the pocket was for his pee.  So he peed, expecting the pocket to catch it. 

Yesterday, ignoring the whole hair/locked door incident, I was picking out the new furniture that will be my reward for surviving the infancy and diaperdom of 3 children.  Today, I'm apologizing to the 17-year-old cast-offs that approximate the function of furniture.

Things that irritate me

No one calls my house number to talk to me anymore.  That doesn't really bother me, I've long gotten over my need to talk on the phone for hours on end.  Instead, the people who call my number call for the neighbors, or relatives or what I can only believe are random people who once listed my phone number on a credit application.  I find this absolutely, amazingly obnoxious.  Yet, I usually answer the phone when these people call, so that I can politely let them know that I don't know my neighbors, I don't talk to my relations, and seriously, I've had this phone number for the past 2 years.  Its not my fault that your files aren't updated, and I have no freaking clue who you are talking about!

I do not understand why on earth people think its ever acceptable to be rude to the person that they've inconvenienced with their phone call.  I pay my bills.  I'm not the bad guy here.  I don't know my neighbor's first or last names, and I don't know if they even have a phone of their own, but if they aren't answering your calls... that really isn't my problem.  My problem is some schmuck who thinks I live in my neighbor's back pocket and that I know their lives.  I don't.  I don't want to.  Just like those random relatives... I don't know their business either.  Its not like they send me a financial statement with the occasional Christmas card.  Again, I don't even know where these people work, or what their zip code is, why are you calling me??

I don't want to take a survey at 9:00 pm. 

I don't donate money to random causes over the phone, and I don't really care if my lack of donating over the phone means the terrorists have won. 

Perhaps this all falls under the general heading of "people suck."