HNY

I hope 2012 was kind to you, and that 2013 brings many blessings.

I've been reflecting a lot on what I want out of the next year. Mostly, I want very banal things: to spend more time doing what I enjoy, be a better mother, make a bit more money, lose a bit of weight (alright, I'd really like to lose rather a lot of weight, but I'll be happy with losing a bit at this point). I want to actually sleep through the night. I want to stop the batshit insanity of eating food that makes me sick just because it's tasty. I want to keep the house much tidier, and I want spend more time on creative pursuits. (Oh, it is to laugh.)

I'm taking myself offline for a few weeks. God knows that won't affect my posting schedule much, but I am hoping to come back with a clearer sense of purpose... or at least a clean house.

Today

I haven't forgotten about this blog, nor its literally tens of readers. (Hi, guys! How's it going?)

Rather, I have been paralyzed with uncertainty. What is Fifties in the Future? What does it mean? How can I possibly post when I haven't even come close to my housekeeping goals? How can I post when my life is more like I Love Lucy (assuming Lucy were swamped with children and pets, suffering from domestic ennui, and not getting anywhere like enough sleep), and less like Leave it to Beaver?

Then it hit me.

This is my blog. I can post whatever I damn well want.

Shocking, right?

With that in mind, what is Fifties in the Future? Oh, I am so glad you asked, because I'm about to tell you.

Fifties in the Future is where lofty housekeeping goals collide with sleep deprivation. It's where nearly Great Depression-levels of thrift hold hands with disposable sandwich bags. It's where I can obsess about gluten in only the way a celiac parent can, and dream about French pastry. It's where I'm allowed to bribe myself with chocolate for the housework (I just finished a square earned for hitting inbox zero with the dishes), and post tips on how to butcher a whole hog leg on your kitchen counter.

It's a place for me to be me, in all my messy and imperfect glory.

So holla, everyone. I am The Housewife. Welcome to Fifties in the Future.

Can Scarce Believe It, or Day 54

It would appear that if you fail to regularly update your blog, people stop reading. I'd feign amazement, but doing so would be so disingenuous that I don't think anyone could suspend their disbelief. Still, can you believe that shit? My mind is blown.

To recap the last few weeks:

• My house ain't clean, not even by the most generous standards
• Miriam turned 5. I would love to show you photos, but the files were corrupted coming off the camera
• Likewise, I'd love to show you photographic evidence of Elise returning to school, and Miriam starting same, but see the point above about file corruption
• Sam has a tentative diagnosis of celiac disease, pending further testing when he is old enough for it to actually be effective -- this has had a rather deleterious effect on our ability to eat out, which is not a sorrow for our wallets or my waistline
• Sam and Ginny are at this very moment dancing to Queen, and I would love to video record it for you, but they have a hit or miss approach to clothing themselves... and today is an emphatic miss

Friday wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

 Enjoy the weekend, punks.

A Case of the Mondays, or Day 32

Let's hit the ground running, because I have about a million things to do today, and I'm honestly still all kinds of cranked-up from yesterday.

So hey, have you joined our Facebook community yet? Because if you haven't, there's really no excuse for that sort of behaviour. It's like reading this blog, but in smaller, crankier bites. Who wouldn't want that?

Daily tally of fail

Note: These are the things I actually managed to accomplish

1.  Make and serve breakfast
2. Clean up breakfast
3. Review the menu for the current day and the next and compare it to what’s currently available in the home. Make note of anything that needs to be prepared ahead of time or shopping that needs to get done
4. Begin long-advance preparations for dinner (such as making dessert)
5. Wipe down kitchen work surfaces
6. Sweep or mop the kitchen floor
7. Have a quick lunch
8. Prepare a special dish for dinner
9. Serve dinner

You see number 7 up there? Have a quick lunch. That's where my day went to hell.

First of all, what kind of noob thinks "Hey, the kids are playing quietly upstairs - now is the perfect time to grab a quick lunch"?!?!?!?!?!? That should have been pinging me every parental alarm. But no, I decided to sit down with some nosh and a book.

Even when Ginny came up to me to announce "Sam made a puddle", I didn't feel concern. I just thought he'd taken his diaper off and peed on the floor.

Imagine my surprise when I found the bathroom sink running, and an inch of water on the bathroom floor.

Dramatic recreation

Chore of the day
Nowai. Didn't even go there. Fuck all got deep cleaned, although I did take the time to learn how to replaster a ceiling, because the water damage in our dining room is breathtaking.

Some reflections on the day
Children are evil. That is all.

A Tan and Sandy Silence, or Days 10 - 31

You see what I did there, with the John D. MacDonald reference? Anybody? No? Moving on, then...

Not shown: My indignation that the Wikipedia entry for this book is a mere 3 sentences long.

We've had three quiet weeks here, haven't we? Of course, my life off the blog hasn't been quiet. Notable highlights from the last 21 days include spending a week at the cottage, and helping one of my best friends get married. Well, I say "help", but what I really mean is "show up and not cock up the extremely low expectations she had of me as her bridesmaid." I'd like to think I managed it. She's still talking to me, so that's got to be a good sign, right? Right.

The downside to all this fun is that the house is about as awful now as it was when I started the 50s in the Future project last month. If I want to brightside this development, I could argue that this gives me an opportunity to greater hone my housewifery skills. Huzzah? Then again, I could just as easily argue that this is a festering crap pile of suck and responsibility, which would also be true.

Welcome to Day One: Redux.

Catching Up, or Day Nine

Happy birthday, Ginny Bev!

That's what we said on Sunday.

Cap'in Ameyiga! He's her favourite Avenger.

By the end of Sunday, I was actively angry at how messy my house was. My house, that I had worked hard on all week. But it was to remain messy, because on Monday I had to take this guy:

In a shocking move, Sam came out in favour of cake

and this girl:

Be glad I didn't use the photo of you licking your hot dog

to various medical appointments. So housework was not a happening thing yesterday, because I was barely home.

And now I'm alternating between frustration and despondency over getting yet more insalubrious news regarding the baby's health. You would think I would be used to it by now, but I'm not. So the house isn't getting cleaned especially well today, either.

I'm also starting the process of packing a family of six and a dog for a week at the cottage, so I'm not going to be focusing much on the deep cleaning this week, either. Because man, that's a lot of packing. And laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.

See you tomorrow!

Screw you, Saturday, or Day Six

You see this shit? I haven't done any of this shit today. Well, I made coffee. That's about it.

It turns out that Saturday wasn't a great day for tying up loose ends, and the only preparation for tomorrow's dinner I've made have been buying groceries.

I rather unvintagely slept in until after 10am, and then we ran errands as a family. We went to the dollar store five and dime, and did our shopping at big grocery store chains marketing, in our 21 year old Toyota Previa Buick Century. I was bitchy and hormonal bright and gay, and the children were psychotic demonspawn quiet and well-mannered.

I will begin some long-advance preparations for tomorrow's dinner, though. Tomorrow is Ginny's 3rd birthday, and she has requested a cake that looks like a watermelon. Huzzah! Watermelon cake!