The consignment game also known as WE OWN TOO MUCH SHIT

This weekend I sold some stuff in a local community consignment sale.  Everybody prices their stuff, tags it, and drags it to a local sports complex.  For three (or more) days, people pick through your stuff and decide whether your price matches their budget.  Whether your taste matches their taste.  Whether your junk is their treasure.  


My take was 70% minus a $10 publicity fee, which means I came home with $127.  When I had my in-home pre-consignment sale, I made about $66.  So almost $200 total.  My goal is to make enough consigning to buy the kids' clothes and shoes for the next season.  


When I consign I price my stuff really cheap.  I have two reasons for doing this.  One, as a shopper, I will not spend more than $2.50 or so on a consigned single clothing item.  Two, as a seller, I just want the shit outta my house so I am willing to get a couple bucks out of it than have it linger in my closets.  


Given than this is my modus operandi, my panties get in a twist when I see clothing items, like a single shirt, with a tag for $10 and NO DISCOUNT.  I rarely spend $10 on a brand spanking new clothing item for my kids.  Why would I spend that much on a used item?  


Tonight when I went to pick up my check, there were tons of people carrying out giant bins of unsold clothing, and I thought, "These are the folks who overprice and don't discount."  They have their own reasons for pricing as they do, but it was a pain in the ass lugging my crap up there.  I sure as shit don't want to lug it all home.  


It is kinda sad, but I am already looking forward to the August consignment sales since I will be getting rid of a lot of the big baby items--the bumbo seat, the swing, the bouncy seat, the floor playmat, the baby bathtub, one of our 3 strollers.  


I sold 93 items this weekend.  So 93 fewer things in my house.  But there is still entirely too much crap in my house.  


Going through all this clutter has made me think a lot about death and what happens to a person's stuff when he/she dies.  Whenever I'm pricing my stuff, I try to think about its uselessness to me in the big scheme of things.  A part of me might think it "should" be worth $10, but the truth is that it is worth far, far less than that.  My mother always says she never had any luck selling stuff in yard sales, but I think it's because she has a heightened sense of value, as in she thinks her stuff is more valuable than it is.  



Whodathunk consigning would be an exercise in existentialism?

Let's see. Where did I put that patience???

I admit that 3 kids has totally thrown me over the edge.  Made me Little Miss Crabby Pants.  None of them has a lick of patience, which means when I am needed by one, I am needed by all.  And my patience can't handle it.  

Since the kids have zapped up all of my reserves, and I never get an extended period of time away from them or any kind of good sleep with which to restore my depleted reserves, the rest of the world has to deal with the grouch.  

And by the rest of the world, I primarily mean my husband, but also my mother.  

This morning, D got breakfast for N and G.  At one point, he said to me something on the order of....

"I get G his food, and then I get N some more to drink, and then I get G a little bit more food.  And then I sit down to eat my food, but by the time I sit down G needs more to drink.  And so while I'm up getting that, N asks for something else."

I think my reply was something along these lines...

"Well that NEVER happens to me (see that sarcasm dripping down the walls?).  Why the hell do you think I am so frustrated within 3 minutes of crawling out of bed?"

Rather than commiserate at our shared frustrations, I just get grumpy.  

Last week, we had the grandparents over for dinner to celebrate N's birthday.  I ordered Buca Di Bepo---apple/gorgonzola salad, quatro al forno and lasagna.  My mother must have asked me 18 times what the pasta dishes were in the quatro al forno.  Ok, maybe just twice, but at the end of the day (and that day was busy after 2 trips to the dentist and taking snacks to N's school) I don't have the patience for questions.  I didn't make it so I didn't know.  Nor did I care.  I just wanted to get some food in my gut and get a nice little buzz off the wine as quickly as possible.  

I certainly don't like being Grumpy Betty, but between the needs of 3 little people, breastfeeding 8 times a day, and interrupted sleep, plus keeping up with the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the bill-paying, I really don't have the energy to withhold my tongue from some sharp retorts.  

An attempt to be healthier

In general I think I'm fairly healthy.  Sure, I have allergies and take shots.  Sure I take my Lexapro and see a shrink every 4 months.  Sure I had gestational diabetes while preggo with my daughter.  But otherwise, thankfully, my health has been alright.

For the last few years, D's company has had a wellness program for employees whereby the employees who sign up take a health assessment (blood work, questionnaire) and get cheaper premiums.  This year, they opened it up to employee's spouses.

So yesterday morning, I trekked to D's work to have my blood pressure taken, blood drawn and my girth measured.

My blood pressure was 103/73.
My Body Mass Index is 21.4.
My waist circumference is 30.

Considering I'm not quite 5 months postpartum, I think that is pretty good.
But I know I can do better, if for no other reason than to encourage my kids to live healthier.

Now I'm not gonna give up ice cream or chocolate or pizza or wine or my once-a-year steak.   I'm just going to try better to eat more fruits and veggies, whole grains.  The same stuff I do now, just moreso.  Be more conscientious of what I'm eating.  Prior to having M, I was doing a much better job of fixing healthier food, but having a new baby in the house necessitated faster food options (not fast food, but not made from scratch food either).

I am looking forward to warmer weather so we can reinstitute our family walks, which is one of my favorite family traditions.  Most every evening we go for a walk in our neighborhood as a family, and it is so nice.  D and I actually get a chance to talk, since N and G run ahead chasing each other.  And we see neighbors or things about our neighborhood that we don't always notice when we're driving through.

My next-door neighbor and I are going halfsies in a community garden program, whereby we receive a weekly produce delivery.  I am so excited about this.  It is something I have wanted to do for a long time.  Both my dad and D's papaw have gardens but this program offers a wider array of produce than what they grow every year.  It will be nice, fun and a challenge to use up Swiss chard, beets, lemon balm, heirloom tomatoes and more.

How can these people possibly be having sex?

Today, while waiting in line at the Disney Store, I began a conversation with an obviously pregnant woman who said she is due in May.  She also said she had 2 other kids at home---ages 3 and 14 months.  I generally feel like Superwoman until I meet someone like her, who's 3 children are much, much closer in age than mine.

Whenever I meet women with numerous very, very closely spaced kids. I always, always want to ask the following question which is:  How in the holy hell did you have the desire and/or energy to have sex when your babies were under a year old????

Because I am perfectly content to be in a celibate marriage at the moment.  Hubby is not into it because he is scared that I'll get pregnant again.  I am not into it because....drumroll, please....

1. My breasts are getting plenty of action all day long.

2. My breasts are getting plenty of action all night long too.

3. Said nighttime action interrupts sleep, which makes me have no energy to have sex.

4. Did you know nursing hormones dampen a woman's sex drive?

5. Did you know that caring for 2 little boys all day long, and a 6-year-old from late afternoon on, also plays a role in low sex drive?  As in, I feel too exhausted, smelly and frumpy to want to have sex?

So in addition to preventing ovulation, breastfeeding zaps my energy, meets all my needs for physical comfort, and produces hormones that make arousal darn near impossible.  

Which makes me think that the women I meet who get pregnant with Irish twins or with babies only slightly more than 1 year apart, do not breastfeed.  Because not breastfeeding makes one menstruate really soon after birth, like even six weeks after delivery.  I didn't menstruate with N until she was 11 months old, and with G it was 13 months until Aunt Flo visited.  Who knows how long I'll go with M?

Of course, these women could just be anomalies who genuinely do like sex OR they are nice to their husbands and do it just because their dudes want to.  Thankfully, I am not in those categories.

The things that boy says

Ok, so I really love the developmental stage between 16-36 months.  Kids this age are just so cute.  Everything is new and exciting, and they truly say the funniest things.  Here's some of what G has been saying:

1. G cannot say the "Gr" sound.  So when he says his name it sounds like he's saying a drawn-out, Southern version of "damn," as in "Day-yum."  At N's birthday party on Sunday, when Mr. Bill asked around the circle for kids to say their names, G pointed to his chest and yelled loudly, "I Day-yum."

2. I guess due to the excitement of N's party on Sunday (and a newly runny nose), G fought taking a nap.  So on Monday, I thought I'd have him lay with me on my bed.  He was all squirrelly, flopping around like a fish.  I told him to stop talking so we could go to sleep.  He was quiet and still for all of 37 seconds before he said, "Mommy, I not talkin'."  Way to keep it shut, buddy!

3. Whenever we pass the Golden Arches, he says, "There's Old McDonald."

Crap in her bookbag

Ok, not actual crap, but I had to write a post about all the junk I found in N's bookbag.

Here's the one and only thing that needs to be in her bookbag:

And here's everything else I found:

6 stuffed and/or plastic animals

2 ponytail holders, 2 barrettes and a headband

4 pens (only one of which belongs to N) and 1 stubby pencil

2 pink shoelaces (not from N's shoes) and some multi-colored string

A wad of tissue, 5 Valentine cards (none of which were N's), 2 rubber bands, a chapstick, a thank you card from a friend, a tongue depressor that used to look like a reindeer, a crystal thing attached to wire, a tiny Bratz-looking doll without feet and a plastic heart thingie, the purpose of which I do not know.  

She is either destined for life on the show Hoarder or a MacGyver in the making.

Ain't Miss Behavin'?

No. Miss ain't behavin.
Short version:  Tonight I had my oldest and dearest friend and her boyfriend over for dinner.  N acted like a complete ass.  End of story.

Long version:  Tonight I had my oldest and dearest friend and her boyfriend over for dinner.  As usual when anyone comes to our home who doesn't live here, my kids went a little ape-shit when K and D arrived----bouncing around, being noisy.  You'd think we'd never had a guest in our home.  N was particularly irritating, standing in between me and K so that I had to ask her repeatedly to sit back so I could see them to chat.

N asked if we could listen to her new Alvin & the Chipmunks cds, and I told her we could during dinner.  Quietly--as background music.  She got frustrated because the music was too low, and the adults kept talking (how dare we?).  She started shushing us.  So I got her the portable cd player and let her listen to the headset.  She was ok for awhile.

After we finished eating, N wanted to do a show, so I told her she could dance to one song for K and D and then we'd be moving back into the living room.  She selected "Single Ladies," and both she and G wrestled/danced to it.  As promised, the adults moved into the living room.

N stayed in the dining room sulking.  D talked to her.  I talked to her.  Eventually I had to haul her ass upstairs because she was taking a rude tone, saying things like, "Nobody's coming to watch my show."

Eventually she settled down, but I felt like planting my foot straight up her butt for being an jerk in front of guests.

It drives me batty that she thinks everyone who comes into our home is coming with the sole purpose of giving attention to her.

I know some of this expectation is because for almost 4 years, virtually anyone who did come into our home gave her oodles of attention.  She got very used to receiving undivided adoration.  She had a hard time getting half as much attention when G was born.  Now that she is only getting a third, since M's birth, it makes her come unglued.

I also suspect tiredness played a role.  We have had a crazy-busy week with lots of excitement outside the norm.  She had Girl Scouts on Wednesday night, her birthday dinner with gifts on Thursday, the winter festival at her school last night, and then guests over tonight.  Plus, tomorrow morning is her friend birthday party.

D and I have had to start having "talks" with N before we see Mamaw because she gets her panties in a twist when Mamaw attempts to give any kind of attention to G and M.  N has a hard time sharing her Mamaw (and her Nana, for that matter) with anyone else.  Apparently, she also has a hard time sharing K too.

These talks usually help prevent minimize Veruca Salt behavior.  Wish we would have had the wherewithal to have one tonight prior to our guests arrival.