Leather Cleaning?

Last night as I sunk into my retro, err, vintage green leather arm chair for some good ol' Winter Olympics, I noticed something that about unglued me.

Pen marks on the arm of the chair.

If it would have been on my ugly oak table, I wouldn't have cared. I've ruined that thing myself with scorch marks a time or two. But it wasn't. It's my beloved, comfortable, coveted-for-years green chair.

I haven't tried anything yet. I need some time to cool off and think through my strategy. I've got some saddle soap in the cleaning cupboard. I'll try an internet search. But I was wondering if anyone has had successful personal experience with this same issue?

Early Risin'

I think Owen must have a built-in Mommy sensor. Somehow he is able to tell when I get up in the morning. It doesn't matter if I use an alarm or not, if I tiptoe or softly shuffle, if I leave all lights off, if I forego coffee because of the noise from the bean grinder and if I don't use the toaster oven because of its loud DING!! I think he reads my mind.

Don't get me wrong--I love my kids and I like being around them, mostly. But usually the first thing I want to do in the morning is to eat a quiet bowl of cereal and have a great cup of coffee. Ideally I would read my Bible, plan my day and maybe even get dressed and start on my work while my kids would sleep peacefully on.

This morning I thought it was going to happen--The Morning I Get a Lot of Work Done Before the Kids Awake. I fed Jack, then put him down to play. I poured my plain shredded wheat with a few grape-nuts on top--yep, I'm a mixer. My Bible fell open to 2 John, the command to love others. Three bites in, I heard a pitter-patter of little feet and a perky "Hi, Mom!" And can I say it? I can say it. My annoyance meter sky-rocketed.

I fed him breakfast in the basement while I did computer work. He didn't eat well. He said his tummy hurt. He whined for milk in a straw cup. He interrupted me multiple times. He fiddled with the computer speaker. He needed to go #2. He washed his hands and played with the water so violently it soaked his face and shirt and the floor. Then he was placed firmly on a couch with a stack of books and a time limit, which was semi-successful.

So...what's a good way to handle mornings for a momma who ain't a mornin' person at all?

Help Wanted

So what's your best advice on getting a song out of your head?

Go ahead, serve it up, steaming hot.