On laundry and Housekeeping.

One of the most asked questions Bert and I get when people see us with six children (aside from the usual RUDE/nosey/annoying ones) is "How do you stay on top of ALL THAT LAUNDRY?"
Short answer: I don't. And, I would like to point out that asking Bert this question is like asking me to solve a linear equation.  He has no clue because as far as he's concerned, a magic laundry fairy appears and puts clean underwear in his drawer, or (keeping it real) in the laundry pile at the foot of our bed.  Which I'm actually just fine with, since the few times he's attempted to do the laundry resulted in shrunken sweaters and whites dyed a strange shade of pink.  In no way do I claim to be an expert, but I have finally found my groove, and have a pretty good handle on the laundry for the most part.  I do realize by posting this, I will inevitably become horribly ill with a stomach bug or another round of the flu, and the laundry pile will reach mountainous heights in a matter of three days.  (But by typing that sentence, I'm hoping to have jinxed my jinx.)  So, here we go...

BIG MOMMA'S LAUNDRY and HOUSEKEEPING 101

1.  Join a nudist colony.
Just kidding.  Between the streaking that goes on here, and still having to wipe some of their bottoms, I see enough nekkid hineys as is. But, we do have a serious "NO midday wardrobe changes" rule, unless there is an accident that left you soaked.  This mostly helps in the winter months when layers are worn by all eight of us, doubling the loads compared to summer. 

2.  Bigger is Better. 
At least when it comes to washer/dryer sets.  Last Spring, my Mom (Aka: Cookie) scored a great deal on an LG- XL front load washer and dryer set, and gifted me with it. The day it was delivered was like a thousand Christmases all rolled into one. 
 I've read lots of reviews from people who detest front loaders due to the mildew smell.  To avoid that, I've simply left my door open when it's not in use, and especially over night.  "But Holly, I don't have room to leave the door open in my house." Me neither. We have a laundry CLOSET, not a room, and it's located right next to the garage door, so it's a high traffic area. If we're home and not going in and out, I leave it open.  Before I go to bed, I open it back up too.  Which is something I always did with my top loader as well, because that's just what Cookie taught me.  I also make sure and only use HE detergent.  Almost a year in, and I can honestly say I've never noticed any kind of mildewy smell.  My baby sister has had one for years, and she also practices the "open-door policy," and said she's never noticed a funky smell either.  I puffy heart love my washer and dryer.  It can wash an entire bedding set, without getting off balance, and in this house that's something done almost daily.  (I could cut liquids off at noon, and there will still be a wet bed or two the next day. Sigh.) So if you're in the market for a new set, I highly recommend you find your own Cookie and have her buy you this set. 

 

3.  Lower your expectations. 
This applies to all things housekeeping. Now, how ever low you just lowered your expectations-- take it down another two to three notches.  I consider the day a success if at bedtime each child is told "I love you" and they're all wearing (semi) clean underwear.   There is no reason for the house to be spotless or for their clothes to be ironed.  The house will be trashed in a matter of hours and their clothes will be wrinkled in less time than that.  Something my Daddy told us many times over the years, "It's not the clothes that make the kid, it's the kid that makes the clothes." Slightly (completely) wrinkled or not, kids are adorable because of who they are, not how they are dressed.  If ironing their clothes is stressing you out, stop doing it.  I'm proud to say my children think our iron is a tool used only for crafting projects.  I also quit ironing Bert's clothes many years ago.  His arms aren't broken, and last time I checked, you don't need to be a Certified Public Accountant to operate an iron, though if you did, he would have that license as well.  Another great thing about my dryer is the steam function, which takes the wrinkles out. Granted, Bert couldn't care less about wrinkles, which is why half the time he shows up practicing the "It's not the clothes that make the kid" rule as well. 

4.  Accept help as often as you can.
Why is it so hard for us as women to accept help? If you're feeling overwhelmed and don't have it in your budget to hire outside help, be it babysitting or a professional house cleaner (Read: MEEEEE) try doing a kid swap with a good friend.  Offer to take her kids to the park while she cleans one morning a week, and switch kids out another day so you can do the same. Also, include the ENTIRE family when assigning chores.  Husbands are more than capable of sweeping, dusting and mopping. Most of the time, he just needs to be asked.  I've also learned over the years that the kids are able to do much more than I realized when it comes to cleaning.  My kids think taking a baby wipe to the bathroom counters is fun and sometimes fight over who gets to do it.  No, it's not perfect, but it gets done.  (See #3) But, if your OCD is still gnawing at you and causing you to stress, you could always invest in a large dog kennel...

5.  Take it one day at a time. 
Some days even that's too overwhelming and you may find it necessary to take it only an hour at a time.  And hey, that's okay.  The best advice I was ever given was to take a deep breath and focus on what's most important right then.  Some times that focus needs to be shifted to cuddling on the couch and reading a story, even if the kitchen wreaks of dirty dishes and last night's dinner is still on the table.  Other times, cuddling needs to wait because the laundry can't be avoided any longer.   As long as your children feel safe and loved, you're doing a great job.  They won't remember how  high the laundry was always piled or the crushed cheerios stuck between their toes. They definitely won't remember eating spaghetti oh's three nights in a row.  They probably won't even remember you telling them to pose in that specific corner of the house because it's the clean corner and you planned to put the photo on Instagram.  But they will always remember how they FELT, and feeling loved and appreciated isn't something you can make up for once they're grown and things slow down. 


I hope you found my light-hearted tips to be helpful today.  I just see so many moms who daily beat themselves up over not being as "perfect" as the women they see on Pinterest.  I say, if you're home isn't perfect, you've always got a friend in me.
 Love and hugs, Big Momma

Umm, hi.

My name is Holly. Once upon a time I blogged here on a regular basis.  And then I stopped.  I had a sixth kid, caught a horrible case of writer's block, and an even worse case of post-partum depression.  Then, back in the fall, I finally felt like myself again and tried to make a "come back." That lasted all of three posts.  I kept telling myself I needed to update the pics in the side bar first, and have something worth writing. Not that my kids aren't worth writing about, but we've reached an age where I'm struggling with what's appropriate and trying not to embarrass them.  Although, most the time I feel like turnabout is fair play, since in the last decade I have been a mother, these children have made it their mission to embarrass me on every public outing.  Still, I miss blogging.  I miss the friends I've made here and the connections with all of you who take the time to read about our zany life.  I've continued following most of you as well, though I've been a horribly lazy commenter.  In my defense, it's a pain to do from my phone, and that's where I read most of the time. All of this long boring (I'm even boring myself here, sorry about that) paragraph to say... Posts may seem a bit jumbled for a while.  I'm embracing my ADD and the fact that the pics in my sidebar are outdated (except for the Bitty Princess') and going with it.  Random post introduced... and here we go....

 

 

The Bitty Princess' birthday is the day after Christmas.  Worst birthday to have, poor child. When I was pregnant with her, I was so afraid she would come Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  I was thrilled she stayed put and came the day after.  Until I realized the only thing worse than sharing your birthday with Jesus is how exhausted everyone is the day after and no one feels like celebrating you.  Including yourself.  Pretty sure as she gets older we'll celebrate her half birthday and have a party then, and just have cupcakes with family on the actual date.  Bless it. 



We've had quite a bit of drama lately.  And while my siblings may disagree, drama is not something I enjoy, unless it's watching Her Highness on stage.  Lightning nearly lost his eye while hiking in the woods at my parents' house.  (The sparkler he's pictured with below has absolutely nothing to do with his eye's near death experience. It's just a cute pic of Lightning.) He bent down while holding a "hiking stick" and gouged himself, causing multiple lacerations to his left eye, and possible permanent damage to his eyesight.  A trip to Children's Hospital ER and follow up visits to an ophthalmologist, and that kid has nearly met his deductible for 2014 already.  Thanks to the Affordable (snicker) Healthcare Act,  we get to enjoy a higher family deductible AND a higher premium.  Good times.  And then a few days ago, The Bitty Princess fell off my bed and we thought she'd broken her leg.  A trip to the pediatrician, then the orthopedic office, six x-rays and 12 hours later, we learned she was fine and had no broken bones.  So very thankful she was okay, but I'm pretty sure I  heard our wallets' sobbing later that evening. 

This kid right here... I have no words.  Those lips, y'all.  Gah! And the things he tells me... "Momma, yer pwetty and bootiful and I lub you and when I growed up I'm gonna marry you and take you to da sthore and buy you new shoesth all da time.  And get you sthome new earringsth." He's my baby boy.  And while I love all my children equally, I love them all so differently.  And well, this kid right here has my number and he knows it.  He's going through a terrible stuttering phase right now too.  And as painful as it is to listen to him say, "Mmmmmm MOM, can can can can I g-g-g-g-go outside?' it also adds an element of adorableness to him that I can't quite put into words.  I know, I know.. he's going to end up living in my basement and playing video games while I make excuses for him like, "He's holding out for a management position..." but I can't help it. 

I really can't say enough about how much fun it is to have a big family.  Maybe it's because I don't know life any other way.  I am the middle of five children myself, so having six wasn't much of a stretch for me.  But I will say this.. If you're on the fence at all about having another one, no matter what size your family is now, DO IT.  More noise, more laundry, more crying, more money?? Well, yeah, there's that.  BUT, more love, more fun, more hugs, more kisses, more memories.  Completely beats out all the other reasons not to have MORE children.  And no, this is not an announcement of any kind.  I have absolutely no plans of birthing any more children.  Six was the magic number to share with this uterus and wreak havoc on my body.  I'm just trying to encourage more of you to join the whacky world of BIG family life.  Come on in, the water's fine. 

 Unrelated to any pictures, yet a few thoughts in my brain that I'd like to add... I'm completely OVER winter.  I'm currently obsessed with Hey Ocean's "Big Blue Wave." And trying to get back in shape in your mid 30's is depressing. 

 

My stinker pots expect lunch soon, so I'll close this for now.  Hopefully I'll see you all again in less than three months this time.  Sticky hugs and sloppy kisses, Big Momma

Ode to Diet Coke

An ode to you, oh diet Coke, 

Which I have sworn off of often. 

Sleek, crisp, calorie-free,

Though science says you're killing me, yet you do it softly. 

Unlike that of all the noise I face daily. 

You judge me not. 

You pick me up, most days around 2pm. 

Nothing artificial about that kinda sweetness. 

And today, diet Coke, when I forgot you in the freezer, you proved yet again, you are a loyal friend. 

No bursting had you done, though you were nearly a frozen one. 

Now so slushy, a perfected sip I take.

Ahhhhhhhh.  

My sanity thanks you. 

Popping Tags, Hudson Storm Style

A quick little jam session to get your Monday morning going...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWUhL97pj_A&sns=em

 Why can't I get that to imbed and show a pic of the clip like it's supposed to do with videos?? As you can see, I'm still completely compooter illiterate.  Uggh.  Anyways... Just click the link.

Happy Monday! I won't lie.. Now that I have four kids in school, Monday is almost as good as Friday to me. The noise level goes down 400%.  So, may your Monday be as quiet and (hopefully) peaceful as mine! (I'm raising my coffee mug in a toast to you, sweet friends.)

Love, Big Momma and The Tag Popping Monkeys 

Whimsical Beds, Platinum Edition

The Hudson children have never been huge advocates of sleep.
When I was pregnant with Flash Flood, I wrote this post: Whimsical Beds, A Game Played Just Like Musical Chairs.  The Storm still enjoys this bedtime game, but now it goes a little more like this....

 7:45: From the couch, look up from Candy Crush/Facebook/other mindless distraction you've rewarded yourself with, in effort to tune out whatever obnoxious Disney show is on at the moment.  State in matter of fact tone, "Time for bed. Go potty and brush teeth."

7:50: Look up again to realize no one budged.  Say in teacher voice, "You have approximately three seconds to move your behinds to the bathroom... 3-2..."

7:59: Finally put ipad down and use booming Drill Sergeant voice, "I SAID, GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH, USE THE POTTY, AND GET IN YOUR BEDS!!  Why do I have to practically light my hair on fire to get a response out of you children??! Tomorrow night there will be NO TV, NO electronics, NO FUN of any kind if you don't GO RIGHT NOW!!"
Watch everyone scramble to the bathroom sink.  Remind them to actually use the toothpaste this time.

8:10: Get off couch and shoo the stragglers towards their beds.  Tuck each kid in his/her own bed, prayers and kisses included.

8:23:  Tell each child no less than 12 times, "The kitchen is CLOSED. No, you won't starve before morning.  You should have eaten more at dinner. FINE. Grab a couple of carrots and get back in the bed... What do you mean you forgot to potty?? Go to the bathroom, get a sip of water, get back in the bed. GOODNIGHT."

8:30: Carry chubby toddler to your bed.  (Ahem. Which is also her bed.) Hand 20 month old her bottle of milk. (I muttered those sentences while looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with you.) Lay next to her in the dark, making mental lists of all the things you forgot to do today. Let chubby 20 month old pinch your arm flab while she falls asleep.  Plan to sneak out of the bed, but decide you're too tired and.... Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

10:47: Wake up to television blaring ESPN.  Shuffle into living room, turn tv down, throw blanket on husband, who is snoring on the couch.  Check to see if all the doors are locked.  Move 3 year old from the couch with husband, back to his bed.Check on other kids. Remember you left clothes in the wash, move them to dryer.  Play Candy Crush/Facebook/other mindless distraction on your phone for the next 27 minutes because you're now wide awake. But still too tired to be productive. Eventually doze off.

 11:31: 7 year old starts a dry, hacking cough.  Sit up and listen for him to stop.  Take him a cup of water and wake him, prop pillows underneath his head and pray its not the beginning of croup. Shuffle back to bed, pass out.

Midnight:  Hear husband fumbling around in kitchen.Then hear sounds of cereal being poured.  Roll eyes, doze off.

12:34: Chubby 20 month old cries out for no apparent reason.  Feel around for passie in the dark.  Hear it hit the head board, as you knock it to the floor.  Hold out arm in hopes she'll be soothed by squeezing your arm flab instead.  Pray her strange habit isn't the early sign of a serial killer, as you both fall back to sleep.

1:11: Feel 3 year old trying to climb into bed, clumsily, since he has his blankie, set of matchbox cars, and a creepy porcelain clown your sweet neighbor gave him from her thrift store pile she was planning to donate.  Beg three year old to please go back to his own bed, and do so quietly, so not to wake his baby sister.  3 year old begins crying for milk, and insists on making room for ALL his crap. Hand off sippy cup, while tucking the blankie, cars and scary clown (face down, to avoid it's sad eyes suddenly glowing red, as it makes plans to murder you in your sleep) into your spot.  Move to couch.

2:23: Hear sweet 10 year old daughter say, "Momma, sorry to wake you up, but my eczema is super itchy.  We forgot my cream again. Can you put some on my arms and legs?" Coat itchy tween in expensive steroid cream. Make mental note to call doc in the morning to get a refill on the prescription. Fall asleep the second your head hits pillow, while simultaneously deleting mental note from memory.

3:18: Wake up. On your own. No rhyme or reason.  WIDE AWAKE.  Consider punching yourself in the face. What in the world is your problem?? Flip through channels and nearly order one of everything on each infomercial you see.  Decide you need to stick to Full House reruns when the Chillow begins to look appealing. 



4:45: Hear 5 year old digging in the laundry for dry pajama pants.  Hear him plummeting through linen closet for a quilt. Feel same boy wiggle his way onto the couch where you're trying to sleep, even though there are two vacant ones in the same room. Threaten to move him to the dogs' bed outside if he doesn't get still and go to sleep.

5:57: Hear 8 year old son walking around the house in search of the ipad.  (This of course only happens on the weekends.  Because on school days I have to drag him out of the bed.) Use the hoarse whisper version of the drill sergeant's voice to remind him it's SATURDAY and if he wakes anyone else up, there will be serious consequences. 

6:22: Wake up to 20 month old's pitter pattering as she looks for you. "MOMMA! MOMMA! I wanna hold you... I wanna milk baba... I wanna watch Gabba Gabba!... MOMMA! MOMMA! I WANNA HOLD YOU!!!!"

6:23: Stare blankly at coffee pot, and plead with it to brew faster.

6:36: Break up a fight, pour three bowls of cereal, and consider crawling back in bed. Wake up husband and give briefing of his Saturday schedule which includes a karate belt test, play rehearsal, and three birthday parties, two of which are overlapping.

8:05: Put your big girl panties on, grab second cup of coffee, and hit the ground running. You're already late.

Oh, the places you will go, indeed.

 When I wrote that last post, over a year and a half ago, I never intended for that to be my farewell to this blog, my quiet space on the internet, where I've logged many hours recording our (not so) quiet lives.  And yet, I think deep down, I must have known it would be.  So very much has happened over the past nineteen months, and I have missed using this outlet, this journal of sorts, this community shared with all of you.  So, nineteen months later, and in the middle of the night, I'm happy to say, I'm back.  In more ways than one. 

First, I feel the need to reintroduce you to our Storm...

 (From left to right..) Flash Flood (3 1/2) Thunder (8) Hail (almost 6!) Her Highness (TEN!?!) Bitty Princess (20 months) and Lightning (7). I asked them to take one group picture at the beach and this was the best I got.  Just typical.

 Quick shout out to The Meteorologist, who is still an amazing Daddy, and best at predicting and tolerating our Storm's patterns.  He's a hard worker, that guy right there, and I'm so very blessed to have him in my life.

Her Highness made it to DOUBLE DIGITS this year, my number one girl, now a full fledged TWEEN.  I blinked and she was suddenly too cool for me.  Wait, that's not true.  She was born too cool for me. Her Highness is still a fabulous lil' momma in training, and works hard to keep The Storm in line, and keep my sanity in tact.  Can't imagine what I would do without her.  She's a fifth grader this year, and is big into our children's community theater, which tickles me.

 And since this little munchkin never got much air time, here is the Bitty Princess... The calm AFTER our Storm, our sweet baby girl.  The Bitty Princess fits right in, just as we imagined she would.  She rules the roost most days, squawking at her big brothers, mimicking her big sister, who is mostly mimicking me... "GET DOWN.... NO NO NO!... COME HERE WIGHT NOW!" are phrases she bossily throws around.  The child is a stinker pot, who causes her own trouble too.  She makes the cutest identical book end, with her bossy big sissy. It's been fun having baby dolls back in the mix of legos and Tonka trucks, although the Bitty Princess certainly isn't afraid to toss a baby in the back of a Tonka truck, completely covered in dirt. 

 She's our sweet, little GRAND FINALE.  No, I'm serious this time.  Bert and I talked about having kids during our first ever phone conversation. The night he called to ask me out on our first date, we talked nearly three hours.  That was back before texting, and the phone I was using had a cord, something my children will most likely never know of.  During that conversation he told me all about his five year old brother, and how much fun he had with him, and that he knew he wanted to have a house full of kids some day.  I came from a big family, and always knew I wanted at least three, maybe four.  So from the beginning of US, we knew children would be in our future.  But that's where that conversation ended.  We never had the numbers talk until we had the Bitty Princess.  It was then we decided two would be plenty. 

"But, what would we do without them all?" we usually laugh, as we shake our heads in disbelief over the latest destruction caused by our Storm. And they are just that... our perfectly imperfect Storm.

Thunder, is now a THIRD GRADER, which I still find myself telling people is the grade Her Highness is in. It's all starting to run together...  The homework folders, the projects, the spelling tests... Her Highness always acts extremely offended by my mistake, and corrects me immediately, "NO, I'm in FIFTH GRADE, Momma.  THUNDER is in THIRD grade." followed by a loud sigh and eye rolling, which if considered a talent, Her Highness could be the National Champion.

Thunder loves watching football with his Daddy, and trying to make conversation about the players and how the coaches could have handled games differently.  He's still one of my sweeter natured boys, always been more of a lover, not a fighter. He's a wonderful big brother to this brood, and he still likes to cuddle with his ol' Momma while watching movies. He gives the best hugs.  Something I hope he never grows out of. 

Lightning is a first grader, and is loving his second year of school as much as he did his first.  He's a natural friend maker, which is no surprise... Middle children always make the best friends, because we know how to get along with everybody.  :) Lightning, while our most reserved child at home, has surprised us with reports from his teachers saying he's quite the ladies' man at school, and is also outgoing and talkative. I think maybe he just can't get a word in at home, so he lets it all out away from us.  He's got a big heart, that kid.  Makes this momma proud. 

Hail started Kindergarten this year.  And it's going about how we expected... Many mornings he's not too fond of school, and protests from under his covers, "I don't NEED to go anymore.  I already know everything!" Some mornings he hops right up, and gets himself ready, no fuss.  You just never know which side of the bed he'll wake up on.  Hail is still our little monkey, climbing, cartwheeling, rolling, running.... Today, he was given a pedometer at school, and was tickled silly when he realized it would even record cartwheels. So, he did as many cartwheels as he could before he got too dizzy.  He's a stinker pot, and has been since birth.  Truly his Daddy's mini me, in looks and personality. 

And then there's Flash Flood, who is still home with me full time.  I'm thoroughly enjoying having only two at home during the day, and Flash thoroughly enjoys being head honcho too.  He can usually be found with a pile of matchbox cars and his blankie, pretending there is a police chase or that he's a fireman saving people from a burning building.  His full lips and big chocolate eyes get him out of more trouble than I'd like to admit.  He still speaks with a slight lisp, which owns me, except when those full lips and adorable lisp are screaming, "I STHAID I NEED STHOME MIIIIIIIILLLLLLK!!!" Flash Flood loves to compliment others, and will often say, "You's pwetty and bootiful. And I lub your neckalace." That kid, that kid.

And me... I turned 33 this year.  My house is still messy, I still live in denial that I have to cook dinner daily, and I still hold the title for Most Unorganized Mom on the Planet.  This year I battled depression, temper-tantruming children, and a fruit fly infestation. I also moved my best friend/soul sister 847 miles across the country, which I still can't talk about without choking up. All of which I plan to write more about, soon.  Because I'm back.  Ready to find my voice again.  And to journal our family's zany antics, since I don't scrapbook, and my poor two youngest babies won't have any memories in writing. Bless it.

 I've missed you, old blog.

Oh, the places you will go...

In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday this week, here's a picture of my favorite "Things" 1-6.

"You're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So... Get on your way!"
~Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go!