The Not So Molly Mormon- Installment 1

This is old writing. I have a renewed sense of journaling after seeing my friends awesomely bound blog book that she put together for her family, so I completely apologize if anyone is reading this. Lol. I write for my sister. She is the perfect fan. She pumps me up, makes me feel funny for a few minutes and then doesn't expect me to do anything more. When stupid things happen in my life- I jot it down and email it to her. The following are a few of those post. Love you Melissa- Maybe my kids will read this one day after I'm gone and thank you. You are the reason I write. Written August 23, 2012 "A Day in the Life of a Not So Molly Mormon" Installment 1 I had a choice when I woke up this morning. Clean my house before my Young Women's Presidency Meeting or attempt to make my very first batch of homemade laundry detergent- of which is supposed to earn me some highly significant savings-. I chose the laundry detergent. My house is not one of those cute little thrifty houses with only a couple of toys scattered about the floor and blankets laid over the back of the couch looking a smidge too wrinkly. There are dirty diapers from my seven week old, fourth child. There are masses of funk dried to the floor that I'm afraid to ask what are.There are two day old sorted clothes piled up on my couch and coffee table... to say the least- my house is not even close to being that harmonious haven of love and cleanliness I have always longingly envisioned. Still- savings is savings, which is how I justified the fifteen dollars in supplies I bought and the superior procrastinatory evasion skills I have developed to keep myself from cleaning. I set my stove up. A large used stock pot I bought for five dollars off Craigslist. A Dollar Tree cheese grater. Some dollar fifty Irish Spring Soap Bars (a three pack of course) and my moldy Pampered Chef spoon that could truly benefit from stirring a few dozen boxes of Borax. I labeled them all in my red permanent marker, I grated my soap into my large tried and true pot (tried by another family and truly banged up) poured in my water and started my wait for the soap to dissolve so I could pour in the other two ingredients which I had perfectly pre-measured into an old cottage cheese container my husband had lovingly rolled his eyes at me keeping the night before. The first two things I noticed was that the pan let off a hearty aroma of chicken stock that my Irish Spring was having a hard time competing with, and that my red marker was dissolving into smudges all over my hands and possibly leaving a red tinge to my newly concocted cleaning solution. As I thought through this new development my ideal of my perfect detergent making experience was slightly shattered upon the thoughts that my clothes might smell like chicken and look like they'd been washed with a new pair of superman underwear- but I pressed forward, urging myself to stay positive and just finish the recipe before I ruled out such a fantastic chance to save money. I followed the directions to a "T". When it was time to boil everything together I was quite satisfied with the progress I was making, deciding, since I was doing so well, to venture into the blissful world of multitasking and do my dishes while I was waiting for the well documented "coagulation". I turned, peacefully loading the dishwasher, basking in my productivity for several contented moments when I heard a sizzle, like water boiling over a pan of potatoes, and turned, expecting to see a light froth of water spilling ever so slightly from the pot. Instead, I turned to suds- mounds of suds, suds galore, chicken- flavored- suds, erupting from the top of the pan, spilling into the stove top, spilling onto the floor, pooling in massive bubbly puddles waiting for me to get my wits about me and pull them from the stove. I finally did so- pausing in a short sort of accepting disbelief, giving myself a free pass on a long sigh before talking my suddenly bright eyed two year old out of trying to take a bubble bath in them... I have to ask myself, does this kind of thing happen to everybody- or is it just me? On the up side- my stove has never looked cleaner... Until next time, The Not So Molly Mormon