1. My mother-in-law is coming for a visit “in October.” That’s as specific as she’s been.
2. She has taken the entire month of October off from work. She did tell us that much.
3. I’ve been hyperventilating ever since.
4. She says she is planning to drive to see us. A drive from her house to ours would be two days for mad crazy college-student types who could take turns driving, or three days for an adult who wanted to eat and pee and sleep as well as drive.
5. In the past, she has said that she doesn’t think a visit under 2 weeks is “worth the plane ticket.” I shudder to think what length visit is “worth” six days round-trip of driving, hotels, gas, and meals out.
6. She says she is planning to stay in a hotel while she’s here.
7. It is my firm, unwavering belief that she said the hotel thing under the assumption that we would say, “Oh, don’t be silly, of course you’ll stay with us.”
8. That’s what we said last time.
9. Paul says we’re not saying it this time.
10. Later I brought it up again to Paul, and he said, “We are NOT asking her to stay with us, are you crazy?”
11. This hotel thing has thus been decided by her and by him, but who do you suspect will get blamed for it? That’s what I think, too.
12. The nearest hotel is a 20-minute drive from our house, and it’s $145 per night for the cheapest room. That’s $2,030 if she stays her usual two weeks. There’s also a motel 1 minute away, and it’s the kind of place that has people sitting in lawn chairs in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer at 8:00 in the morning as children wait for the bus nearby. I don’t know how much it costs. It seems like if I call and ask how much a room is, they might say, “By the night or by the hour?”
13. I think it’s really likely she’ll show up here with no reservations made and then wait until about 10:00 at night to say, “Oh, what’s a good hotel around here?” If she does that, I’m recommending the scuzzy place.
14. One reason I haven’t mentioned this hotel thing before is that I don’t think she actually WILL stay in a hotel. I think she will work it so that she will “have to” stay with us. So I don’t want to get all familiar and relaxed with the hotel idea.
15. My parents gave me a gift certificate for cleaning services back when the twins were born, and I’m finally going to use it. I need to arrange this, and for all I know it could be too late already. But I don’t want to set it up until I know when she’ll be here, so I can have the house cleaned the day before.
16. What kind of nutjob doesn’t tell people when she’s coming? Obviously we need to KNOW.
17. Several times last month and this month she said she’d tell us as soon as she knew what her plans were. So I’d feel like an idiot asking. Paul says, “She said she’d tell us when she knew. So she must not know.”
18. She SHOULD know by now.
19. It is seriously fruitcakey if she hasn’t made plans.
20. It’s also seriously fruitcakey if she has made plans but hasn’t told us.
21. Oh god, do you think she hasn’t told us because she plans to come for the entire month?
22. Let’s not think about that. Let’s not even THINK about that. Let’s think about the calm blue ocean instead. Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.
23. Does she realize it’s only one week until October? I CERTAINLY REALIZE IT.
24. Is this a SURPRISE visit or something?
25. BEEZUS CRIBBONS. It is not unreasonable for me to want to know when I am having houseguests. For the love of pete! (See how I am toning down my language? If I used the big guns now, what would I use when she’s actually HERE?)
26. I keep thinking I’ll just email her. I’ll say, “October is a week away now–do you know when you’re planning to be here?” But whenever I’ve asked her a question, I’ve ended up sorry. She uses it as an opportunity to tell me what to do, or she gives me another information-free response, or she doesn’t respond at all.
27. In Paul’s family, secrets are power.
28. Have I mentioned he didn’t introduce me to his family until after we were married?
29. He made it seem like purely a logistical issue, but now I think he was smart as well as handsome.
30. He’s also a lucky son-of-a-bitch I didn’t have the marriage annulled after I met his parents.
31. Do you like how this list came out to 31, just like the number of days in October? Also, October 31st is Halloween! Ooooo, SCARY!

Laundry

Lunch

Dishes

Hat

The title of this post was “So Discouraged,” but that was before my HCI (Hot Coffee Injection) and now I am more like, “Hey, let’s do laundry! and bake brownies! and have an autumnal soup for lunch! and let’s think of something fun for The Virtual Avon Party–like, I wonder if I could do a little giftie (lip balm?) for the first five orders?” I’ve been emailing LeAnna all morning. She is probably getting very, very sorry she ever told me about this Avon thing.

When not under the influence of coffee (note to self: buy larger coffee pot), I’ve been feeling whiny and stressy. The one time I went on psychiatric medication, it was a few weeks before a mother-in-law visit, just like this. I didn’t realize it was the stress of the impending visit–I thought I was just suddenly unable to cope with life.

So many things “need” to be done before she gets here. I think about what actually ought to be done (clean bathroom, hide birth control and journals, put away usual dishes), but before long I’m thinking the only way to start is by getting rid of fully half of what we own, since otherwise there is too much clutter for me to work on the cleaning.

And that may be completely true about the clutter, but it’s not going to happen before she gets here, and I need to face that. The water stains on the ceiling are not going to get painted. The WALLS are not going to get painted. The thirty layers of clutter are going to be moved to other locations, but not disposed of. The house will still be our house, and that is absolutely fine and reasonable. I’m working on an “If you don’t like it, bite me” attitude, so far with little success. (How come “Be yourself” only applies if you’re The Cultural Ideal? Hand-wringing, neuroses-packed, under-medicated over-thinkers should be able to be themselves too!)

The day before yesterday, I began freaking out in earnest. I kept wanting to tackle some of the big messy areas, but even after one single project (I cleaned out the children’s craft cupboard–way to prioritize!), I felt like I was way behind on my usual skimpy housework. Laundry: teetering! Litter box: in violation of health codes! Bathroom: smelling like pee!

And other projects continue to accumulate. I overdid it at The Children’s Place (I haven’t told you about the online order I placed after my success at the store), and I need to lay everything out and see what I’m keeping and what I’m taking back. Elizabeth’s shoes are too small and her jeans are too short, so I need to dig out the next sizes. The rechargeable batteries for my digital camera are crap, or else the recharger is broken, and in either case I need to handle that so I can take more than ten photos before the batteries give out. The minivan needs an oil change.

How to fit in the Extra Pre-Mother-in-Law-Visit Cleaning when I can’t even keep up with the regular stuff? And I know, I should be all, “Who cares what she thinks?,” but I’m just NOT. (I think the people who say they don’t care what other people think DO care what other people think: they want them to think they don’t care what other people think.)

Anyway. Once I get overwhelmed like this, my natural inclination is to huddle in my recliner, keening and throwing candy wrappers on the floor. At the very time I should be springing into action because there is so much to do, that is when, perversely, I can’t face doing a single thing. Each thing I attempt to do seems like the least important or the least manageable, or it feels like something else has to be done in order to make it possible to do this other thing, or I feel like I can’t possible do it until I have a System, ideally with Matching Containers and a new house to put them in.

The only way to face this state of mind is to pick anything–ANYTHING–that seems doable, and do it. Thus the craft cupboard. My mother-in-law is unlikely to be affected by the state of the craft cupboard, but having it cleaned up is still better than NOT having it cleaned up. And it made me feel like I was making progress.

Yesterday I did the front hall closet. Again, not as high up the priority list as, say, chiseling dust off the bookshelves. But I did it, and having it done is better than NOT having it done. (I spent the twins’ entire naptime doing it, so it BETTER be better than not.) I also scooped the litter box and got out Elizabeth’s bigger jeans. And this morning when Elizabeth woke me at 5:00, I used the opportunity to order more camera batteries. Is each task like pulling out my own teeth? Yes. But each one makes me feel a little better than I felt when I had all of it still to do.

Also: worse. Because I’m still stressed, and I’m getting increasingly tired, and I didn’t exercise yesterday even though I was supposed to. I wanted to tell myself that cleaning out the closet qualified as exercise, but even I’M not falling for that one.

Okay! *brisk clap-clap* Feedback on Avon has been positive, and I’m gearing up to place my order. Anonymous mentioned that an Avon seller’s first few orders get them the most commission, so my thought is that we’d have the greatest impact if we all ordered during the same couple of early-on ordering periods. Lee says she’s supposed to submit her orders every 2 weeks, and the next one is due by September 25th–let’s say Monday the 24th, just to be sure. And if you miss that one, the next deadline is October 9th (8th to be sure). Operation Buy Avon From Lee–COMMENCE! (First act of business: better name for operation.)

Here is the web site: http://leannawilson.avonrepresentative.com/

If you go there and place an order, you can have it shipped to you for $3 flat-rate (use coupon code SHIP3), which is an especially good deal if you are ordering lots of heavy bottles of shampoo or bubble bath.

Here’s what I did: from the site’s home page (which is where the link above brings you), I clicked “shop.” Then in the left-hand menu, about two-thirds of the way down, I clicked “Promotions.” That brings you to a big picture, and a hard-to-see pull-down menu below the picture. The pull-down menu contains a bunch of good deals–choose one and then click the hard-to-see box that says “Go.” For example, people were saying nice things about the “Anew” line, and right now it’s buy one and get the second one for $5. And since some of the Anew stuff is already on sale (like, the Skin Optimizer is $10 down from $22–I don’t know what optimized skin would be like, but SIGN ME UP), things get even cheaper.

The promotions change each 2-week ordering period, I think, so if you don’t see anything you want this time, maybe the October 9th deadline will be better. In fact, LAST week, when I obviously SHOULD have ordered, the perfumes were “buy one for $15, or two for $6 each.” So, actually literally less money to order two. But I missed it because I was dithering on a second choice, trying to decide solely based on the written description if I wanted Summer White or Be Kissable. (The first choice was Soft Musk, which I wore in high school and might hate now but wanted to try again anyway.) Oh, here’s a similar example this week: the Avon Solution skincare things are 2 for $9.99. So you can buy ONE for $12.50, or you can have TWO for $9.99. Hmm, TOUGH CHOICE.

Those of you who were all happy about Avon bubble bath will be glad to see it is on sale 2 for $9.99 in the 24 oz size, or 4 for $15 in the 16 oz size. –Hey, look at me, hawking Avon! Picture me presenting a sparkling bottle on one open palm. I’m gesturing to it! I’m smiling! My teeth are doing that “ding!” sound as they gleam! I’m serving small clever snacks!

After you browse languidly through the specials, you can click on “makeup” and you’ll get a fresh menu on the left that will include “makeup specials” and there are more deals there. Repeat with skincare, bath & body, etc. Those don’t include all the specials, though, for some reason: when I then clicked on “eyes,” I found specials that weren’t with the other make-up specials. Basically you have to look at every single thing, is what I’m trying to say here.

Here are some of the things I’m thinking of getting (I tried to link, but the links didn’t go to Lee’s site specifically, and there was a “find a representative!” button):

The Skin Optimizer

The Soft Musk I might not like anymore but sure liked back in high school. (Can I be remembering that I had the coordinating deodorant? Surely not!)

From the “any 3 for $5” page (four whole items to choose from! go nuts!), I’m thinking of getting 1 Avon Basics Vita Moist Face Cream, 1 Avon Basics Hand Cream in Silicone Glove, and 1 Foot Works Bonus Size Therapeutic Cracked Heel Relief Cream. I don’t even have cracked heels (not that you asked–thanks for CARING), but that sounds nice for the feeties.

Avon Basics Care Deeply with Aloe Lip Balm

Beyond Color Plumping Lip Color SPF 15 with Double the Retinol (ooo, DOUBLE the retinol!), in Sienna and in Twig (“Twig”? Yes, thank you, I would like my lips to resemble a small dry BRANCH).

Beyond Color Plumping Lip Conditioner SPF 15 with Double the Retinol, in colorless (24% more lip plumping!)

Dew Kiss Lip Dew (but dewn’t)

Moisture Therapy Intensive Moisturizing Lip Treatment (I love lip balm)

Instant Manicure Dry Nail Enamel Strips, in Reddy To Go (what? that’s not slutty)

Ultra Color Rich Lipstick Sheer Spring Shades, in Sheer Sangria

Healthy Boost Skintrition Moisture Lotion (if they had to invent a word, it’s GOT to be good!)

Speed Dry Nail Enamel, in Delicata

Heavenly Soft Eyeshadow Trio, in Plum and in Nude.

This is getting lame. I think I’ll stop.

Here is something I didn’t order: “body yogurt.” Gross! It’s probably wonderful, but doesn’t it sound disgusting?

Remember if you order to use SHIP3 to get $3 flat-rate shipping! Also, tell me what you order, because I am going back and forth on EVERYTHING and may want to copy you.

My mother came this morning to take all three housechildren for a few hours. How many seconds do you think elapsed between the time her car pulled out of the driveway and the time I was tearing into a pint of Dove Butter Pecan Pleasure? I don’t know exactly; it was all one smooth movement, from waving goodbye to digging with a spoon.

********

I would like to own Better Dishes, and since my mother-in-law is visiting soon, the timing is good to buy them now. To be better than our usual dishes, all the new dishes would need to do is match: my current dishes are a “one of this, two of that” assortment because I have a commitment problem combined with a butterfingers problem, and any set where the plates match the bowls and/or each other is going to be an upgrade. However, as I was browsing I awarded sets extra points if they were dishes I thought most people would think of as “good dishes”: more expensive, more dramatic, more breakable than what you’d use every day.

I looked at Walllmart and at Target, and I also looked at Amazon.com. The dishes I bought were at Amazon: service for four was $50 down from $200 (Swistle + clearance = TRULUV4EVA), and they’re a type I’ve always liked when I’ve seen similar kinds in antique stores. They’re English; they look fancy-pants to me; they’re blue and that’s my mother-in-law’s favorite color. I like them, I’ll be excited to use them–but I don’t mind them living in a box in the basement most of the time. They are the perfect “good dishes.”

Are you prepared to evaluate–and to agree with me, I hope, since they are already ordered? Here is a picture:

(image from Amazon.com)

And you can also go visit them at their Amazon.com home. Here are the points on which to evaluate them:

1) Are they “the good dishes“?

The Children’s Place is having one of their good sales. Did I basically walk into a TCP store, hand over my wallet, and say “ONE OF EACH FROM THE TODDLER GIRL SECTION KTHANX!!!” Yes, I did. And now I am planning to place an additional order online (their shipping is $5 flat-rate; flat-rate shipping makes me h-a-double-p-y), to get a few things that were out of stock in Elizabeth’s size at the store today.

A little TCP color terminology first, so we all know what we’re talking about:

flora = dark pink
mud = brown
rubble = brown
winter white = not quite white-white
fern = green
robin = medium blue

(Best TCP color name ever, in my opinion, was “cupcake” for a yellow-cake-mix yellow.)

I bought the lace-trimmed long-sleeved bodysuit in flora and winter white.

(image from childrensplace.com)

I bought the appliqued raglan tee in flora, fern, and robin. I tried to choose just one, or even narrow it down to just two, but couldn’t. Part of it was because I was disappointed that many other long-sleeved shirts were out of stock in the size I was looking for. (Because, duh, we are going into long-sleeve weather right this minute.) Part of it is that these shirts are even cuter in person: they have the girly-girly-tough-girl look of a flower tattoo.

(image from childrensplace.com)

I bought the graphic tee (short sleeves, for next year) in…um…I don’t want to tell you how many different ones I bought. As I said above, I was still miffed about missing out on long sleeves. Several of the ones I bought weren’t on the web site anymore, so I couldn’t get pictures of them anyway, even if I were willing to admit how many I bought. Here are a few (I also got the little sister shirt, since it’s equally true):

(image from childrensplace.com)

I bought the belted cord cargo pants in fern, flora, and rubble. They have cute floral embroidery on the pocket.

(image from childrensplace.com)

The prairie twirl skirt in flora:

(image from childrensplace.com)

The yoga skort in flora (I wanted it in mud, but it was sold out):

(image from childrensplace.com)

And I wanted so, so much more! And I will place an online order for some of it! And then have to go back to the store for additional things I found online while ordering the “some of it,” but were out of stock online! And then perhaps will find more previously unnoticed things in the store and will have to place another order online!

I also remembered the new boy in my life, and bought Henry a shirt:

(image from childrensplace.com)

I also bought Henry a hat that is so astoundingly cute on him, I will have to provide you later with photographic evidence–but he is sleeping right now so you will have to take my word for it. I didn’t even like the hat (I don’t like it now, looking at it off the baby again), but I let my mom put it on him just for fun, and then I paid full price for it. I’ll just wait a moment and let that sink in: FULL. PRICE. Here it is, the sporty cord hat that wrung full retail from Swistle:

(image from childrensplace.com)

Oh, dear, did some of you have to scroll past ALLLLLLLLL those baby clothes to get to the earrings? Here they are, finally. I bought six–SIX–pairs at Target, all on 75% off–so, like, $2-something or $3-something or $4-something per pair.

The upper left and upper center are so far my top favorites; I almost always like hoop styles best of all. The upper right are great, too. The lower left are a little more dangley than is wise, but I like them anyway. The lower center are going on the gift shelf because the stud part of the earring sticks out too far for my poor unattached earlobe, so the stud points down at an angle. The lower right I haven’t tried on yet, but I thought they were so pretty. Most beautiful of all: the stacked red-orange clearance stickers, a siren song to so many of us.

Find any great deals lately? Hello, hello? Oh, I see, you’ve gone to TCP and Target. Okay bye! Write when you get back!

When I asked if you thought it was crazy that I wanted to buy separate dishes for my mother-in-law’s visit, I admit I was hoping for “no.” In fact, I was worried that someone might not only say yes, but recommend a specific medication. And yet, every single time someone did in fact say yes it was crazy, I laughed with delight. Actual audible laughter, not just LOL laughter. Or maybe this kind of laughing is called “cackling.”

I also laughed at those of you who took it up a level, and now I am a little more in love with all of you and wish I had married YOU instead. Lori D. thinks the dishes should be not only separate but also ugly and chipped. Tessie thinks I should incorporate a subliminal message into the glaze. (Tessie suggests “There’s no place like home.” I’m thinking, “Go home, you crazy old bat.”) Marie Green and Shoeaddict remind me to use old sheets so I can throw them away (or burn them? do I hear any votes for burning?) after she leaves. Nikki thinks I should give my mother-in-law paper plates while the rest of us use fine china (and then I could burn the plates out in the backyards afterwards, while she watches from inside). T with Honey brings up excellent points about using Lysol sprays and Clorox wipes when sharing a bathroom with such a person. I like the way she thinks, and I already have some of that antimicrobial Febreeze for the furniture. Caley wins first place for suggesting I buy an entirely separate HOUSE to live in while my mother-in-law visits.

Jess (and now we have more than one Jess, so this is Du Wax Loolu Jess…or Jess Loolu…or Jess Du Wax…) wonders if I worry that my mother-in-law will find this blog. YES I DO KENT. In fact, often after I do a mother-in-law vent, I take the post down after a few days. I realize it’s still “out there” on the Internet, but it makes me feel like it isn’t. I mean, imagine how doomed I could be. And this kind of thing happens all the time. She wouldn’t even have to be looking for me, she could just be thinking, “Hm, I don’t want to bother Swistle for her Chocolate-Crusted Pumpkin Cheesecake recipe, since I’ve already asked for it twice and then lost it twice. I’ll just Google it!” And then she Googles “Chocolate-Crusted Pumpkin Cheesecake,” and oh HERE it is! And look, the person who posted it has twins too, just like my daughter-in-law! Huh! And what are the odds that all her other children are born in the same years as my grandchildren? Huh! –This could easily, easily happen. So I always decide not to discuss her ANY! MORE!–but then before I know it, I’m doing it again.

JMC brings up an excellent point about the children commenting on the new dishes; I’d been thinking that what I should do is buy the dishes as soon as possible so they’re familiar by then. CAQuincy thinks that in a pinch I could also get away with blushing prettily and saying we bought the new dishes specially for grandma’s visit. Way to work the truth, Carrie. Tina points out that even if I can easily incorporate the dishes into the household for this visit, I have a long-term problem if I want to keep bringing them out for future visits. Good point. I think we’d better refer to these as “the good dishes,” don’t you?

Kristin H. and Karly and Devan and Samantha Jo Campen and Nowheymama want to know Paul’s thoughts on the dishes idea. I haven’t yet exactly mentioned it to Paul. And since Paul is a conflict-avoider, I thought what I might do is just buy the dishes and have them in the cupboard already when he comes home from work, and hope he’ll guess what’s up and decide not to ask. He sees why she drives me crazy; what he doesn’t understand is why I can’t ignore her like he does. Sorry, charlie, you get what you married.

Omaha Mama wants to know why I don’t ASK her when she’s coming. It’s because she is WILY, and JUST as I am thinking of asking for information, she says something like, “I’m still figuring out the dates! I’ll let you know when it’s settled!” Then more weeks go by, and JUST as I’m thinking that ANY REASONABLE PERSON would have told us by now, she throws us another crumb: “I’m still trying to arrange things with someone else I’m visiting, but I’ll let you know soon!” Paul’s family values secrecy for the sake of secrecy. When I see this trait emerge in Paul, I get out the biiiiiiiiiiiig iron skillet and whack-a-mole it right down again.

Shelly Overlook wants to know if this is a literal contamination issue (i.e., is my mother-in-law GRODY) or if it’s more of a mental contamination (i.e., is my mother-in-law a crazy old bat). It’s the crazy old bat thing. She is intensely critical and bossy, and she has reached her 60s without ever realizing that people can do things different ways without one of them being “an idiot” or “crazy.” She follows me everywhere I go, including pulling up a chair and sitting behind me if I go to my computer. She says unanswerable things–the kind that, if I answer, I look like an oversensitive weirdo who has to argue about every little unimportant thing. She asks if I think William’s speech impediment is because he grew up hearing Rob’s (William does not have a speech impediment; Rob had an articulation delay). She expects me to cook her breakfast while she stands next to me at the stove, telling me what to do differently (numbers of mornings I went along with this: 1). She sits in a chair all day “helping” me by saying things like, “Swistle! The baby’s crying!” and “Swistle! You missed a spot!” She tells us stories about other women who don’t take care of themselves and who don’t care how they look and who wear jeans every day and who can’t keep house and who can’t cook and who don’t properly care for their guests.

Carmen apparently has the same mother-in-law, since hers snoops too. Mine wants to know what sizes we wear, to give her some details about “other people” for her next discussion of people who shouldn’t be so out of shape in their 30s, and to see if I color my hair, and to see if I waste money on brand-names, and to see if I buy too far ahead (her opinion: “yes”), and to see how I stack my towels (her opinion: “interesting!”). Also, she prides herself on how little she packs–and this means she only brings enough clothes for a few days, so she has to have a way to do her laundry sneakily with ours, so she practically rips the clothes off our bodies to make laundry she can “help” with and peek at the tags. Other things she prides herself on: how early she gets up; how quickly she can shower; how she doesn’t need coffee; how clean she keeps her house; how little weight she gained while pregnant; how cheaply she can knit a sweater just like the one that sells for a ridiculous price in a store; how she told the salesclerk so.

Okay, enough about her. I need to be able to go to sleep tonight. And I’m sure while she’s here I’ll need to vent about her, and then you can vote on whether she’s actually as annoying as I think she is or not. Katie is predicting an implosion, and I wonder every single time she visits if this will be the time I actually do implode. Each time, I make it to the last day of her visit, gasping and panting and not QUITE holding the large chopping knife. But each time it is a closer call.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I have a little Contamination Issue. That is, if I handle raw meat, even through plastic, what I’d really like to do afterward is hit a switch that would lightly spray the entire kitchen, including me, with bleach. Except that wouldn’t be quite thorough enough, because it wouldn’t reach under my fingernails, inside the trash can where the meat wrapper is, the undersides of the cabinets where meaty air molecules may have drifted, etc.

Well, big deal, a lot of people have issues with raw meat–and with all the news stories on e coli this and salmonella that, it’s hardly surprising that some of us have gotten overly yicked out.

Less common is that I feel the same way about my mother-in-law. After she visits, I don’t like to sit in the chair she sat in, use the dishes she used, touch surfaces she touched. While she’s on her way to the airport, I’m busy using products that contain abrasives and/or antibacterials and/or bleach. The effect lingers: two years after a visit during which she happened to use one plate more than any other, I still feel woogy about that plate. I’ve never used it. It makes me think of her every time I see it.

This is too bad, because I liked that plate. I like ALL my dishes, which are a “buy one here, two there” mixed set. So what I was thinking is that I would box them all up during her visit “sometime next month” (two weeks until October and she still hasn’t said when in October she’ll be here, or for how long), and instead use a set of dishes I would purchase to use only during her visits. Not expensive dishes, just one of those $25-50 service-for-four (the kids eat off plastic dishes so we don’t need more than that) boxed sets. I saw a set of black dishes at Wal*yick*mart, on clearance for $11.50; my mom thought the symbolism of the black made them the best choice.

But before I get carried away with dish symbolism, what I want to know is this: Does this plan sound a little…crazy to you? (If your mother-in-law is “an awesome lady!!” and “pretty much my second mom!!,” you may need to imagine someone else using your dishes.)

1) In the nearly 6 weeks since I started taking it, I’ve gone up 13 pounds. I realize these results aren’t typical–because if they were, no one would take the mini-Pill. When I researched it, I found that although many places said weight gain was not verified as a side-effect, many places also said that the chemical in the mini-Pill can cause water retention and also cause increased appetite. (Hi! How is that not weight gain?) One site assured me that the increased appetite would go away when the Pill was stopped. Oh, yes? And will the weight go, too, or do I get to keep that as a souvenir?

The weight feels weird. It feels puffy, soft. This doesn’t feel like the kind of weight I gain when I eat too much (brownies, what?), and I’ve had plenty of experience with that kind of weight.

2) Statistically, theoretically, scientifically, the mini-Pill is about as effective as the Pill–especially if you are good about taking it at the same time each day, which I am. Anecdotally, the mini-Pill is nowhere near as effective. And if you get pregnant while taking it, there’s an increased risk of birth defects. That makes me uneasy.

3) There is some question in pharmaceutical circles about whether the mini-Pill might lose some of its effectiveness on women who weigh more than 150 pounds. Something to worry about when I should be sleeping.

4) There is no evidence in decades of data that the teeny bit of medication in the breastmilk negatively affects the baby. I fret about it anyway.

5) If I got pregnant, Paul might think I deliberately failed to take the Pill. He knows I want another baby, and he knows I know he’s unlikely to go with that. I can tell him a million times that I would never trick him into having another baby, but I worry a part of him might not believe me.

6) I think that since he’s the one who doesn’t want another baby, he should be the one primarily responsible for the birth control, or at least for half of it.

7) Also, even though I do want another baby, I don’t want another baby yet.

8) And was I just imagining that I was sweating more? Because gross.

9) Ever since my friend’s OB recommended it to her, I’ve been taking a vitamin C tablet after sex to prevent UTIs–even though apparently my friend’s OB is the only one who’s ever heard of this. And, I read a long time ago that vitamin C can interfere with the effectiveness of the Pill. I don’t even know if this is true, but I have carefully stored this possibly-false information all these years. All this is the long way to say that I’ve worried that I am taking vitamin C at exactly the wrong moment for the mini-Pill to do its job. [Edited: I’ve looked this up online, and now believe the whole “vitamin C makes the Pill less effective” thing was an untrue adolescent rumor, which I cleverly put into Permanent Memory Storage. I did find stuff that said you shouldn’t take more than 100 mg vitamin C per day while on the Pill, and/or that you should take more, because the vitamin C increases estrogen and turns the Pill higher-dose, which can cause problems and/or help, depending on the situation. But I’m tired of researching now.]

All these things contributed to the decision, and I stopped taking it at the end of last week. But! If I go off it and my weight issues continue, I may go back on it. I had reasons 2-7 and 9 before I went on it, and I still went on it. It was the weight thing that…um. You know. Tipped the scale.

Speaking of which, in the 36 hours after my last pill dose wore off, I dropped 5 pounds. I was glad to see that, because I was getting pretty crabby when I would complain and people would say, “Oh, actually it’s a myth that the mini-Pill causes weight gain.” The auto-translator in my brain informs me that that means, “Nope, it’s all you, Fattykins. Why not try laying off the brownies?”

So, now what? Now the birth control decision gets to be made all over again. This time the decision is condoms and spermicide, even though I hate both for many, many reasons. The good news: 12 condoms and 10 spermicide applicators together cost the same as a month of the mini-Pill, and I can assure anyone who could possibly want assurance about such a thing that we will be saving money, if you get my gist. Especially after a trip to the store with two 2-year-olds and a 3-month-old. That is enough birth control for two months right there.

Damn it, if I keep doing this Pilates floor stuff, I’ll have to vacuum, and am I not suffering enough already? I hate to vacuum–HATE IT–and I can’t tell you the last time I did it. Actually, now that I think about it, I can tell you: I bought the vacuum cleaner in October 2005 before my mother-in-law came for a visit, and I used it once and then chucked it in a closet. I use a dustbuster for spot-vacuuming, and that’s it.

Some of you are appalled, I can see it from here. You’re picturing snowdrifts of pet hair and hillocks of Cheerios. But I swear it isn’t like that. I read blogs by people who say they vacuum every day or every other day, and I wonder–are your vacuum cleaners possibly sneaking out at night to litter your floors with tidbits, just so they (the vacuum cleaners) won’t be out of a job? or because they’re lonely for your company?

Or, perhaps your eyesight is better than mine. I’m telling you, the floors look worse every day for a week, and then they don’t get much worse than that. Periodically I go around with the dustbuster and vacuum the edges of the room where things accumulate, and the centers where the Cheerios are. That’s good enough.

But today, with my sweaty palms on the carpet, I felt differently about the whole issue. I don’t know why anyone buys lint rollers, when a sweaty palm will attract every cat hair and cracker crumb in the entire house. Seriously, vacuum cleaner salespeople could take me with them door to door and have me do Pilates/yoga on people’s carpets to horrify them with how much stuff their current vacuums leave behind.

After I finished half an hour of the DVD (I didn’t do the entire thing because I didn’t want to, and because my hands were grossing me out), I crept downstairs to hunt the vacuum cleaner. It’s been allowed to run wild in our house for two years now–could it still be domesticated? I brought it upstairs cautiously. Several minutes later, I located the cord, which was secreted in the creature’s hide, and pulled it out. I plugged the cord in. I warned the twins, who were looking in astonishment at this foreign tableau: “Don’t worry: this is a ‘vacuum cleaner’! It’s going to make a loud sound, but it’s okay! It…’cleans the floors’!”

I figured out that the line inside a circle must mean on/off, but not until after mistakenly pressing the cord-retract button. I turned on the vacuum cleaner–and wooo, look at me, I’m vacuuming, just like a housewife! Wooo! Forward and back and forward and back and SMILE and forward and LOOK HAPPY and back!

And gradually I remembered all the reasons I hate to vacuum. I run out of cord, or I get tangled up in it, or the vacuum cleaner does. The floor is too covered in furniture to be vacuumed. There is too much crap scattered around, and periodically I hear a “clink clink!” that probably means I’ve vacuumed up something important. The handle is too short (no, I am not “too tall,” it is too short), so I have to stoop, and my back starts hurting. The little attachments keep popping off the handle and keep popping off the handle and keep popping off the handle until I want to cry. The canister gets caught on something, and when I yank on it to free it, the cord comes out. And as soon as I start, the “change bag” light comes on–even if I have just changed the bag. Goddamned vacuum cleaner. Hate you.

Anyway. I did the living room carpet, and the living room hardwood. I did the kitchen linoleum and the little kitchen throw rug. I did the hall hardwood, but then I stopped because I ran out of cord, and when I went to plug it in somewhere else, I was overcome with despair at the thought of doing even one! more! minute! of vacuuming. Besides, I didn’t want to go too far on what is after all only our second date.

Now I’m all skittish about the floors. After the twins’ lunch, I was carrying Edward down the hall for his nap and I noticed he was shedding crumbs off his shirt and I was all, “Noooooooooooooooo!” and whipping out the dustbuster to get every last one off my clean, clean floor. I think this is the problem with regular housework: if you do it, you get into a constant struggle to keep it done. The best it can be is right after you do it, and every other minute of your life you’re aware of it looking not-best. Whereas if you don’t do it, it always looks pretty much the same and you’re free to concentrate on other things, such as baking brownies or watching episodes of Angel.