Four years ago this morning I kissed my father goodbye for the last time.
He had been diagnosed with bladder cancer in September and took his final breath on December 3, 2010.
The world has not been the same since.
We all know that our parents are supposed to die before us. In fact, anytime someone loses a child the saying is, "You're not supposed to bury your children." It's a natural order of things to let the parents go first.
That being said, it doesn't make the loss any easier.
Dad was one of the healthiest guys I've ever known. He quit smoking in the '70s, rarely drank to excess, ate well and was not the least bit overweight. What he did suffer from was a genetic predisposition to cancer. Men in our family all get prostate cancer. Dad did but beat it with radioactive seeding. According to the oncologist, it probably wasn't even necessary but dad said that he didn't like living each day with the knowledge that he had cancer in him.
In the end it didn't matter.
Some people just draw a short straw the day they were conceived. You can't argue with DNA.
After his biopsy confirmed the bladder cancer in September. He was scheduled for surgery in October to have his bladder removed and was trained on how to empty the "bag" that he would be wearing for the rest of his life.
Surgery came and went...the doctor opened him and closed him back up.
In the couple of weeks from the biopsy to surgery, the cancer had grown at lightning speed, breeching the bladder walls and taking over the lower part of his abdomen. There was nothing more that could be done.
He opted for palliative radiation in hopes that it would buy him a little more time but even that wouldn't do much to extend his life or the quality of what he had left.
The family and our friends rallied. We did everything we could to make what time he had left as good as it could be. From coordinating volunteer drivers to radiation and taking dad for his last sail.
Dad, who was a Quaker, turned to his friends and our pastor for spiritual guidance. His belief in God was deep but something he didn't force on others. Over the years we'd had some great conversations about God and spirituality and prior to passing he confided in me that he was concerned about the afterlife as he, "hadn't always been nice to people."
That was the most amazing thing about him.
Even as he lay in bed slowly surrendering to the cancer, his concern was not just about himself but about anyone he might have wronged.
I told him that I highly doubted that if God was willing to forgive those who had done something as heinous as murder, that He would be more than willing to forgive a man who would have yelled at someone because his passion ran high!
Dad was a passionate guy.
If he really believed in something you'd be best to just get out of his way or better yet give him a hand because he's going to draft you to help him anyway. He was instrumental in rescuing a yacht club from near bankruptcy. By the time he stepped down as Commodore the club was in the black, had expanded to put in an in-ground pool, started a sailing school and was holding regular regattas. Mom worked at his side and the club became the family annex. If you came to visit you could pretty much count on working.
Dad's passion easily translated to enthusiasm and you couldn't help but get involved. If you didn't believe in what he was doing he'd be the first to point out that you were wrong and he was known for having a temper and voice to go with it.
One of our friends loved the fact that he could get into a very spirited debate with my dad and when it was over, belly up to the bar and have a beer together. He was not a grudge holder.
He had a great sense of humor but a horrible memory. I could tell him the same joke every year and he'd laugh as if it were the first time he'd heard it.
I loved his laugh.
While he could be a really serious guy at times, he didn't take himself seriously.
Over the years we'd teased him about looking like Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther movies and referring to him as Chuckles. One Thanksgiving his sisters teased about attempting a comb-over because he hadn't had time to get his hair cut before the holidays.
He took all of it in stride and would even laugh with us (but did get his hair cut the next day.)
I think that's the thing I miss most...his laugh.
While my boys can look at his picture and know who he is, they will never know his laugh. He would have loved to play with them and I would have loved to have heard him laugh at their antics.
There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss him and I'm not alone. His impact on those around him was astounding! Which is both a blessing and a curse.
While we were all enriched by his presence but we all suffered when he passed. Fortunately, we were left with lots of great memories and stories to share.
While he is no longer here to laugh with us, I take solace in the fact that to this day I can still hear his laughter which makes me smile and warms my heart.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Friday, October 17, 2014
STOP! Leave It On!
In the grand scheme of things having a child remove his diaper is not a horrible offense. It hasn't happened when they are poopie (yet) but of course there is still time.
One evening both boys needed new diapers and I was changing the Stuntman while the Engineer wandered around the first floor. He walked into the playroom held out his hand to his father and I and said, "poop."
AAAAAAACK!
OMG!
OMG!
OH! MY! GAWD!!!
Despite the fact that his pants were still on his hand was covered with the contents of his diaper, which was indeed poop.
Fortunately the kids are old enough now that we don't have to worry about them falling off the changing table. I left the Stuntman on the table, grabbed some wipes and cleaned his hand while hubby held it firmly away from anything that might require sanitizing.
It was weird though. Having poop contact my hand while changing a diaper never bothers me. This, however, sort of freaked me out.
Hubby was totally freaked out and headed toward panic.
It's been nearly two years of non-stop diaper changing and while he no longer gags when changing diapers he still gets easily frazzled.
Well, he gets easily frazzled anyway. Throw some poop into the mix and he heads toward berserk!
Tonight I had a cake to finish and I asked him if he thought he could handle bathing the boys while I worked. I mean, why not right?
I do it.
While working away in the kitchen I could hear the most amazing level of commotion going on upstairs including the unmistakable sound of at least one small child racing around the second floor.
Hmmmm... they were supposed to be in the tub.
At least they are still laughing.
Before long I am summoned to the second floor.
We've hit frazzled.
Seems that while dad was trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman, the Engineer decided to climb into the rocking recliner in the bedroom and release the contents of his bladder and then announced, "Pee pee!"
I hear hubby, "Oh no you didn't, oh no, you did! Honey! I need you up here he just peed in the recliner! You need to bring up some towels."
"The towels are in the linen closet next to you." I replied, desperately trying to hide the fact that I was laughing.
I finished what I was doing and ascended the stairs to find hubby STILL trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman and the Engineer, now empty, is racing around his bedroom enjoying the freedom that comes with being diaperless.
I grabbed the towels out of the closet, the Clorox wipes, headed into the bedroom and closed the door so I could clean without anyone trying to "help."
The pandemonium that went on on the other side of the door had me laughing so hard I was nearly crying.
The four funniest words I think I've ever heard were exclaimed by my hubby as I heard him yell, "STOP! Leave it on!" followed by the unmistakable sound of the tab on a diaper being pulled open and the Engineer releasing what could only be described as a victory scream.
I doubled over and my eyes filled with tears as I desperately tried not to laugh out loud.
I walked out into the hallway where the now once again naked child is racing around, hubby has bypassed frazzled and barreled right into berserk! I take one look at him and do what any loving wife would do and burst out laughing!
One evening both boys needed new diapers and I was changing the Stuntman while the Engineer wandered around the first floor. He walked into the playroom held out his hand to his father and I and said, "poop."
AAAAAAACK!
OMG!
OMG!
OH! MY! GAWD!!!
Despite the fact that his pants were still on his hand was covered with the contents of his diaper, which was indeed poop.
Fortunately the kids are old enough now that we don't have to worry about them falling off the changing table. I left the Stuntman on the table, grabbed some wipes and cleaned his hand while hubby held it firmly away from anything that might require sanitizing.
It was weird though. Having poop contact my hand while changing a diaper never bothers me. This, however, sort of freaked me out.
Hubby was totally freaked out and headed toward panic.
It's been nearly two years of non-stop diaper changing and while he no longer gags when changing diapers he still gets easily frazzled.
Well, he gets easily frazzled anyway. Throw some poop into the mix and he heads toward berserk!
Tonight I had a cake to finish and I asked him if he thought he could handle bathing the boys while I worked. I mean, why not right?
I do it.
While working away in the kitchen I could hear the most amazing level of commotion going on upstairs including the unmistakable sound of at least one small child racing around the second floor.
Hmmmm... they were supposed to be in the tub.
At least they are still laughing.
Before long I am summoned to the second floor.
We've hit frazzled.
Seems that while dad was trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman, the Engineer decided to climb into the rocking recliner in the bedroom and release the contents of his bladder and then announced, "Pee pee!"
I hear hubby, "Oh no you didn't, oh no, you did! Honey! I need you up here he just peed in the recliner! You need to bring up some towels."
"The towels are in the linen closet next to you." I replied, desperately trying to hide the fact that I was laughing.
I finished what I was doing and ascended the stairs to find hubby STILL trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman and the Engineer, now empty, is racing around his bedroom enjoying the freedom that comes with being diaperless.
I grabbed the towels out of the closet, the Clorox wipes, headed into the bedroom and closed the door so I could clean without anyone trying to "help."
The pandemonium that went on on the other side of the door had me laughing so hard I was nearly crying.
The four funniest words I think I've ever heard were exclaimed by my hubby as I heard him yell, "STOP! Leave it on!" followed by the unmistakable sound of the tab on a diaper being pulled open and the Engineer releasing what could only be described as a victory scream.
I doubled over and my eyes filled with tears as I desperately tried not to laugh out loud.
I walked out into the hallway where the now once again naked child is racing around, hubby has bypassed frazzled and barreled right into berserk! I take one look at him and do what any loving wife would do and burst out laughing!
Friday, September 26, 2014
Right Side Out
Holy crap what a summer that was!
I set a new record for orders with my business, managed to keep the house relatively clean and even took a family vacation.
The importance of vacations, whether you travel or do the "staycation" thing just can't be emphasized enough. We were all pretty well strung out and desperately in need of time away from everything that had become our life.
So the first week of August we packed the car with the double stroller, double pack-n-plays and a couple of coolers of food, suitcases, toys, etc. and ventured out to my sister-in-law's boyfriend's house at the beach. The drive there was completely uneventful and perfectly timed, by you-know-who, to coincide with the twins' nap time.
Upon arrival we emptied the contents of the car, changed diapers - on the kids ;) - and began the sweep thru the house to move all breakable and valuable items above four feet. We were fairly successful with the exception of the Ficus tree that had these wonderful smooth rocks in the bottom of it. Beautiful yes but I spent the next five days in fear of one of those beautiful rocks being launched thru the sliding glass door.
The kids, having slept very well, and in a new exciting house were completely wired.
Haywire would actually be a much more accurate description.
Hubby is a really laid back kind of guy who is not the least controlling when it comes to the kids. Not that he allows bad behavior but was much less concerned about the concept of a rock thru a window or a child falling down the four steps to the back lawn.
While sitting and chatting over beers with his nephew, the Engineer knocked over hubby's beer and before he could get to it, it emptied nearly all of it's contents through the back deck. He was much less calm and I was suddenly transported to a frat house as hubby yelled, "Dude!" and the Engineer yelled, "Dude!" right back.
It seems that the Stuntman and the Engineer had switched roles for the week and I was a little out of sorts trying to wrap my brain around that idea. Fortunately, we had my SIL on hand to help out. She was completely amazing and my in-laws even came down for a day or two.
We took complete advantage of the extra hands and had our third date since the boys came into our lives. The sushi was amazing and we even took a walk on the beach while devouring some really yummy ice cream and holding hands.
Funny how the things that used to be important have changed.
I no longer need the shiny stuff that will eventually sit in my jewelry box. What I treasure most now are the calm moments where we can just lean into each other, not speaking but saying volumes about how much we love one another.
Priceless.
We fell into a wonderful pattern of slow mornings followed by a swim in the pool or a trip to the beach, nap time and another trip to the beach or back to the pool.
Naps are totally underrated!
While the boys napped hubby and I zonked out on the back deck under the awning in wonderfully cool breezes each day.
We had our own bedroom as did the boys. The two rooms were connected by a bathroom arrangement that had a sink and toilet on one end and a sink on the other with the tub/shower in the middle. The shower had one of those hand held shower head things with a hose that you could use just as a shower head or pull down and use as a handheld. It was a great arrangement and the boys like to be able to play with the shower head during bath times or just run back and forth between the rooms.
We've recently started the potting training phase of being parents. I'm a little perplexed as how to do this with twins as what one wants so does the other. It's not easy to strip (they like to take their pants off completely) two kids simultaneously and get them onto potties while keeping track of bodily fluids.
Hubby, in a rare show of machismo, doesn't like the idea of them sitting down to pee and decided that it would be good to have them stand on their training potties (they have lids) to pee into the toilet. In an effort to encourage them to do this, he doesn't close the door when peeing so they can see how it's "supposed" to be done. Yeah right...
At bath time he undresses the boys on the downstairs changing table and sends them up the stairs naked. They come into the bathroom climb up onto the kid potty and try to pee...sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Sometimes they try so hard they poop instead...isn't this fun!
Anyway...
As we were packing to leave the beach, hubby was peeing when I hear one of the boys say, "hose." I giggled and said, "No sweetie, that's daddy's willy." Hubby replied with a laugh, "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm pretty sure he was talking about the shower head."
Oops! HA!
The boys get more and more verbal every day and we constantly have to work on watching what we say.
Hubby seems lost on the the whole spell it out thing.
Multiple times now, after I've gone thru the trouble of spelling out something that I don't want them to hear like Jello, pudding or Fruit (they love the Welch's fruit bites) he has said what I dutifully have spelled out.
He thinks it's funny. At that point they're his to deal with.
Hubby's dishwasher usage has improved slightly, but he is still very challenged in the the department of laundry. He was the kind of guy who just threw it all in without even separating the lights from the darks, trying to get him to turn the boys clothes right-side-out has been a frustrating challenge.
I have no less than six loads of laundry to do each week. Most of the time it's not a huge deal but when the boys shirts are inside out I can't see what needs to be pretreated and I have to stop what I'm doing, turn them right-side-out and then pretreat.
Knit picky? Maybe...but she who does the laundry makes the rules.
One or two are not a big deal but depending on the day, the activity level and type they may go thru as many as three shirts in a day. Times two and that can be six shirts in a day and that adds up very quickly.
They are no longer at the age where we have to worry about them rolling off the changing table. Pulling off the shirts, turning it right-side-out and dropping it in the laundry takes a nano second.
The other night I picked up the clothes from next to the changing table to throw down the stairs and saw that the boys' shirts were inside out. I walked into the kitchen, handed each of the shirts to hubby and waited while he turned them right-side-out.
He laughed...I did not.
I set a new record for orders with my business, managed to keep the house relatively clean and even took a family vacation.
The importance of vacations, whether you travel or do the "staycation" thing just can't be emphasized enough. We were all pretty well strung out and desperately in need of time away from everything that had become our life.
So the first week of August we packed the car with the double stroller, double pack-n-plays and a couple of coolers of food, suitcases, toys, etc. and ventured out to my sister-in-law's boyfriend's house at the beach. The drive there was completely uneventful and perfectly timed, by you-know-who, to coincide with the twins' nap time.
Upon arrival we emptied the contents of the car, changed diapers - on the kids ;) - and began the sweep thru the house to move all breakable and valuable items above four feet. We were fairly successful with the exception of the Ficus tree that had these wonderful smooth rocks in the bottom of it. Beautiful yes but I spent the next five days in fear of one of those beautiful rocks being launched thru the sliding glass door.
The kids, having slept very well, and in a new exciting house were completely wired.
Haywire would actually be a much more accurate description.
Hubby is a really laid back kind of guy who is not the least controlling when it comes to the kids. Not that he allows bad behavior but was much less concerned about the concept of a rock thru a window or a child falling down the four steps to the back lawn.
While sitting and chatting over beers with his nephew, the Engineer knocked over hubby's beer and before he could get to it, it emptied nearly all of it's contents through the back deck. He was much less calm and I was suddenly transported to a frat house as hubby yelled, "Dude!" and the Engineer yelled, "Dude!" right back.
It seems that the Stuntman and the Engineer had switched roles for the week and I was a little out of sorts trying to wrap my brain around that idea. Fortunately, we had my SIL on hand to help out. She was completely amazing and my in-laws even came down for a day or two.
We took complete advantage of the extra hands and had our third date since the boys came into our lives. The sushi was amazing and we even took a walk on the beach while devouring some really yummy ice cream and holding hands.
Funny how the things that used to be important have changed.
I no longer need the shiny stuff that will eventually sit in my jewelry box. What I treasure most now are the calm moments where we can just lean into each other, not speaking but saying volumes about how much we love one another.
Priceless.
We fell into a wonderful pattern of slow mornings followed by a swim in the pool or a trip to the beach, nap time and another trip to the beach or back to the pool.
Naps are totally underrated!
While the boys napped hubby and I zonked out on the back deck under the awning in wonderfully cool breezes each day.
We had our own bedroom as did the boys. The two rooms were connected by a bathroom arrangement that had a sink and toilet on one end and a sink on the other with the tub/shower in the middle. The shower had one of those hand held shower head things with a hose that you could use just as a shower head or pull down and use as a handheld. It was a great arrangement and the boys like to be able to play with the shower head during bath times or just run back and forth between the rooms.
We've recently started the potting training phase of being parents. I'm a little perplexed as how to do this with twins as what one wants so does the other. It's not easy to strip (they like to take their pants off completely) two kids simultaneously and get them onto potties while keeping track of bodily fluids.
Hubby, in a rare show of machismo, doesn't like the idea of them sitting down to pee and decided that it would be good to have them stand on their training potties (they have lids) to pee into the toilet. In an effort to encourage them to do this, he doesn't close the door when peeing so they can see how it's "supposed" to be done. Yeah right...
At bath time he undresses the boys on the downstairs changing table and sends them up the stairs naked. They come into the bathroom climb up onto the kid potty and try to pee...sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Sometimes they try so hard they poop instead...isn't this fun!
Anyway...
As we were packing to leave the beach, hubby was peeing when I hear one of the boys say, "hose." I giggled and said, "No sweetie, that's daddy's willy." Hubby replied with a laugh, "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm pretty sure he was talking about the shower head."
Oops! HA!
The boys get more and more verbal every day and we constantly have to work on watching what we say.
Hubby seems lost on the the whole spell it out thing.
Multiple times now, after I've gone thru the trouble of spelling out something that I don't want them to hear like Jello, pudding or Fruit (they love the Welch's fruit bites) he has said what I dutifully have spelled out.
He thinks it's funny. At that point they're his to deal with.
Hubby's dishwasher usage has improved slightly, but he is still very challenged in the the department of laundry. He was the kind of guy who just threw it all in without even separating the lights from the darks, trying to get him to turn the boys clothes right-side-out has been a frustrating challenge.
I have no less than six loads of laundry to do each week. Most of the time it's not a huge deal but when the boys shirts are inside out I can't see what needs to be pretreated and I have to stop what I'm doing, turn them right-side-out and then pretreat.
Knit picky? Maybe...but she who does the laundry makes the rules.
One or two are not a big deal but depending on the day, the activity level and type they may go thru as many as three shirts in a day. Times two and that can be six shirts in a day and that adds up very quickly.
They are no longer at the age where we have to worry about them rolling off the changing table. Pulling off the shirts, turning it right-side-out and dropping it in the laundry takes a nano second.
The other night I picked up the clothes from next to the changing table to throw down the stairs and saw that the boys' shirts were inside out. I walked into the kitchen, handed each of the shirts to hubby and waited while he turned them right-side-out.
He laughed...I did not.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
If The Customer Service Sucks, Don't Spend Your Money On Their Products
Almost two years to the date that we purchased our Samsung microwave it stopped heating food. Everything else worked just fine. I followed the directions in the owners manual to reset and test to confirm that it was the magnetron (the part that heats) and then called Samsung to find out what I had to do to have the only part that was now still under warranty replaced.
That was December 2013.
Fast forward to today and I am now the proud owner of a Whirlpool microwave and will tell you that even if it's the lowest price on the face of the earth or even the only product of it's kind. If it's made by Samsung, DO. NOT. WASTE. YOUR. MONEY!!!
JUST DON'T
For eight months they have given me the run around. I have wasted countless hours on hold and dealt with some of the most incompetent customer service representatives on the face of the earth.
First they announced that I was out of warranty...I knew this.
Then they announced that if it was the magnetron it was covered...I also knew this.
Then they offered to sign me up for an extended service plan...cool.
Oops...no certified Samsung repair shops...ANYWHERE near here.
Then they transferred me to a Customer Service Agent who told me that I needed to take it to a Samsung certified repair shop. But wait...
Then they told me they would have to have someone call me within 1-2 days. It was approximately 1.5 WEEKS before I heard from anyone.
When someone finally did call me back they told me that 1. The machine was out of factory warranty but that the magnetron was still covered 2. I had to take it to a Samsung repair shop. They they put me on hold to look up said repair shop only to come back and tell me that one doesn't exist. I told them that I knew that and reminded them that I told them that when we first started the call.
I was then informed that our diagnosis of the magnetron had to be confirmed by a repair shop before they could do anything.
I asked why my hubby, who works on multi-million dollar equipment for a living, could do the diagnosis and was told that he wasn't certified by Samsung. I then pointed out that there was no one near us who was. They said that it had to be a repair shop, any repair shop. So I said, "What your telling me is that you will take a diagnosis from any Joe Blow about our microwave except from my husband despite his qualifications." They said yes.
They gave me a ticket number to reference and said that when I had the diagnosis to call back.
Approximately 48 hours later, before I could even find a repair shop, I got an email telling me that since they had not heard from me they were closing the ticket and I would have to start over when I was ready.
This went on for months.
They would give me the run around and then close out my ticket before I had the time to take the action they told me I had to take.
The repair shop that we took the machine to told me that they cancelled their Certified Affiliation with Samsung because they were so difficult to work with.
No kidding?!
A month ago I spoke to someone in Executive Customer Relations and was told that they were going to do a pro-rated buy back of my machine since it had been such a "cluster" trying to get things taken care of. They would need the receipt to show what I paid and would then cut me a check.
Finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
Could I find this receipt? Nope. Of course I could find it until I needed it and then POOF it was gone!
I called Sears and they mailed me a copy of the original invoice.
In the meantime, I received an email from Samsung stating that since they had not received my receipt and were going to be closing my ticket.
WTF????
I received the receipt from Sears and called Samsung to find out where I send it and was given the choice of text messaging or Email. I took the information for both and immediately sent the receipt via text. Three days later when I had heard nothing back I sent another copy back via email.
I received a voicemail and email from the customer service team informing me that they had received the receipt and that it was out of factory warranty but that the magnetron was still covered and I had to take it to a Samsung Certified Repair Center.
Holy Crap!!! Are you freakin serious?! WTF did I do in my lifetime to deserve to deal with this level of incompetence?!
I called, waited more than 30 minutes just to speak with someone and when I finally got someone on the phone, guess what they said? Yup! You're right... The machine was out of warranty but the magnetron was still covered and I needed to take it to a Samsung Certified Repair Center.
O! M! G!
After a lengthy conversation with someone, who should never have been hired to have a job that requires verbal communication, I was transferred to the Executive Customer Relations where I held for at least another 15 minutes while being forced to listen to a pre-recorded message about how wonderful Samsung is. Yeah right.
After finally getting a human I was informed that the other human who told me that I would receive a pro-rated buyback was wrong, translation lying and/or incompetent, and they wouldn't be doing that since the machine was no longer under warranty. I pointed out that they only reason the machine didn't work was because of the only part that was still under warranty and was told that that didn't matter and after wasting two hours of my life on the phone, there was nothing she could do to help me and there was no one else I could speak to since she was in the Executive Customer Relations department and was as high up the chain as I could go.
So in essence, eight months, countless phone calls and countless hours later Samsung has basically told me to F-off and they don't care whether or not I am a happy or disgruntled customer.
Samsung is like the abusive domestic partner who will punch you in the face, not apologize and then tell you they don't care all while trying to make you feel like you did something wrong.
So, if you want to feel like an abused piece of crap go ahead, by all means buy a Samsung.
If however, you prefer to be able to trust what you've purchased, stay away from them...far away from them. There are lots and lots of appliance companies out there. Samsung neither wants nor needs your business. They are not willing to stand by their products so you shouldn't give them your hard earned money.
I will NEVER, EVER, EVER own anything that says Samsung on it again as long as I live. AND, I will be more than happy to tell everyone I know how crappy their product was and how terribly I was treated by their grossly incompetent Customer Service Department.
If you know me, you know I mean it.
That was December 2013.
Fast forward to today and I am now the proud owner of a Whirlpool microwave and will tell you that even if it's the lowest price on the face of the earth or even the only product of it's kind. If it's made by Samsung, DO. NOT. WASTE. YOUR. MONEY!!!
JUST DON'T
For eight months they have given me the run around. I have wasted countless hours on hold and dealt with some of the most incompetent customer service representatives on the face of the earth.
First they announced that I was out of warranty...I knew this.
Then they announced that if it was the magnetron it was covered...I also knew this.
Then they offered to sign me up for an extended service plan...cool.
Oops...no certified Samsung repair shops...ANYWHERE near here.
Then they transferred me to a Customer Service Agent who told me that I needed to take it to a Samsung certified repair shop. But wait...
Then they told me they would have to have someone call me within 1-2 days. It was approximately 1.5 WEEKS before I heard from anyone.
When someone finally did call me back they told me that 1. The machine was out of factory warranty but that the magnetron was still covered 2. I had to take it to a Samsung repair shop. They they put me on hold to look up said repair shop only to come back and tell me that one doesn't exist. I told them that I knew that and reminded them that I told them that when we first started the call.
I was then informed that our diagnosis of the magnetron had to be confirmed by a repair shop before they could do anything.
I asked why my hubby, who works on multi-million dollar equipment for a living, could do the diagnosis and was told that he wasn't certified by Samsung. I then pointed out that there was no one near us who was. They said that it had to be a repair shop, any repair shop. So I said, "What your telling me is that you will take a diagnosis from any Joe Blow about our microwave except from my husband despite his qualifications." They said yes.
They gave me a ticket number to reference and said that when I had the diagnosis to call back.
Approximately 48 hours later, before I could even find a repair shop, I got an email telling me that since they had not heard from me they were closing the ticket and I would have to start over when I was ready.
This went on for months.
They would give me the run around and then close out my ticket before I had the time to take the action they told me I had to take.
The repair shop that we took the machine to told me that they cancelled their Certified Affiliation with Samsung because they were so difficult to work with.
No kidding?!
A month ago I spoke to someone in Executive Customer Relations and was told that they were going to do a pro-rated buy back of my machine since it had been such a "cluster" trying to get things taken care of. They would need the receipt to show what I paid and would then cut me a check.
Finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
Could I find this receipt? Nope. Of course I could find it until I needed it and then POOF it was gone!
I called Sears and they mailed me a copy of the original invoice.
In the meantime, I received an email from Samsung stating that since they had not received my receipt and were going to be closing my ticket.
WTF????
I received the receipt from Sears and called Samsung to find out where I send it and was given the choice of text messaging or Email. I took the information for both and immediately sent the receipt via text. Three days later when I had heard nothing back I sent another copy back via email.
I received a voicemail and email from the customer service team informing me that they had received the receipt and that it was out of factory warranty but that the magnetron was still covered and I had to take it to a Samsung Certified Repair Center.
Holy Crap!!! Are you freakin serious?! WTF did I do in my lifetime to deserve to deal with this level of incompetence?!
I called, waited more than 30 minutes just to speak with someone and when I finally got someone on the phone, guess what they said? Yup! You're right... The machine was out of warranty but the magnetron was still covered and I needed to take it to a Samsung Certified Repair Center.
O! M! G!
After a lengthy conversation with someone, who should never have been hired to have a job that requires verbal communication, I was transferred to the Executive Customer Relations where I held for at least another 15 minutes while being forced to listen to a pre-recorded message about how wonderful Samsung is. Yeah right.
After finally getting a human I was informed that the other human who told me that I would receive a pro-rated buyback was wrong, translation lying and/or incompetent, and they wouldn't be doing that since the machine was no longer under warranty. I pointed out that they only reason the machine didn't work was because of the only part that was still under warranty and was told that that didn't matter and after wasting two hours of my life on the phone, there was nothing she could do to help me and there was no one else I could speak to since she was in the Executive Customer Relations department and was as high up the chain as I could go.
So in essence, eight months, countless phone calls and countless hours later Samsung has basically told me to F-off and they don't care whether or not I am a happy or disgruntled customer.
Samsung is like the abusive domestic partner who will punch you in the face, not apologize and then tell you they don't care all while trying to make you feel like you did something wrong.
So, if you want to feel like an abused piece of crap go ahead, by all means buy a Samsung.
If however, you prefer to be able to trust what you've purchased, stay away from them...far away from them. There are lots and lots of appliance companies out there. Samsung neither wants nor needs your business. They are not willing to stand by their products so you shouldn't give them your hard earned money.
I will NEVER, EVER, EVER own anything that says Samsung on it again as long as I live. AND, I will be more than happy to tell everyone I know how crappy their product was and how terribly I was treated by their grossly incompetent Customer Service Department.
If you know me, you know I mean it.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Powerless
Seems that this is the week for loss.
I recently posted about a former friend's father passing and now we have lost one of the greatest funny men and actors of all time: Robin Williams.
I remember when he took the world by storm on Mork & Mindy. Being a child of the 80s, I also remember watching countless comedy specials with him in them and even bought one of his albums!
I sat in the theater at the end of Dead Poets' Society with tears streaming down my face completely numbed and awed that the man who had made me laugh could act so brilliantly that he could also make me cry while simultaneously wanting to run out and take the world by storm.
Carpe Diem!
I too try to seize the day but it's not always possible because I too have depression.
I have battled it for years.
Most of the time I win but there are times that all I want to do is go to sleep and never wake up.
People who do not have or who have never been exposed to depression think that it's something you can control with sheer will.
They are wrong.
There are many types and severities of depression but few if any can be dealt with by physical exercise, a clean house, change of attitude or any other suggestion from someone who means well but is clueless.
This may come as a surprise to some, but I have been on antidepressants since May of 1999.
I originally began taking them as a means to help quit smoking. Once done, I stopped taking them, and sank into a depression that rendered me nearly helpless.
I began to cry...and couldn't stop.
My (then) husband got me to the doctor and I started on the antidepressants in earnest.
The only time I've been off them was while I was going through IVF to get pregnant. Which by the way made a miserable pregnancy even worse.
I know that I need them. I know that I'm better with them. I know that having to take them has nothing to do with who I am morally.
So why do I still hiccup when the topic comes up?
Because not everyone does.
People still think you can work off depression.
The only way that works is if you are unemployed and depressed as a result. If you get a job, yes you will feel better but that's situational depression and not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the chemical kind.
People still think that depression is "all in your head."
Well yes, but it's a synapse thing and nothing like what they think it is.
When the demon roars it's head I can feel the weight and gloom envelope me like a nasty, wet, woolen blanket that I can do nothing to keep from coming into contact with.
I am powerless to stop it.
It will bear down and stay until it dries out and I can push it off.
I am not weak and I don't do pity parties.
Depression has nothing to do with strength and "positive thinking."
Most days are very manageable. But then there are others...
My father passed away in December of 2010. In January, despite taking my daily dose of antidepressant, I had slipped into a depression where I started to cry and couldn't stop. It was lunchtime and I was behind the wheel of the car.
No knowing what else to do I started driving toward my doctor's office.
They were closed for lunch so I called a friend who stayed on the phone with me until the office opened.
Once I was able to get through to my doctor's office she got on the phone with me and stayed there until I walked into the office building.
There was nothing that day that triggered it. There was nothing I could have done to stop it. All I knew was that my doctor could help and my friend fights the beast too and would understand my panic.
I'd been down this road before.
I was terrified.
There is much talk about depression now that Robin Williams has committed suicide and I hope and pray that the conversation will last more than the standard 72 hours that most people seem to think is appropriate.
If we believe social media Robin is now "free" and "at peace." I'm not really sure about that.
Social media and religion also lead us to believe that our loved ones who have passed are "watching over us" and "always with us."
If that is the case and Robin is indeed "watching over" his family, I have no doubt that he is not at peace as he watches his family endure their pain as a result of his taking his own life.
There is no peace for anyone.
Suicide begets suicide.
Those who are "thinking about it" or that "have a plan" can easily be swayed to exercise that plan if they believe that their answers lie in their own death.
I ask that everyone be careful to not romanticize death or to act as if it's the answer.
It's not.
Be responsible and be proactive.
Don't wait for your friends or loved ones to call you. They won't.
Call them. Make sure they know you love them. That they are important to you. That they matter.
We'd all rather hear those things while we are alive than have it said as a eulogy.
I recently posted about a former friend's father passing and now we have lost one of the greatest funny men and actors of all time: Robin Williams.
I remember when he took the world by storm on Mork & Mindy. Being a child of the 80s, I also remember watching countless comedy specials with him in them and even bought one of his albums!
I sat in the theater at the end of Dead Poets' Society with tears streaming down my face completely numbed and awed that the man who had made me laugh could act so brilliantly that he could also make me cry while simultaneously wanting to run out and take the world by storm.
Carpe Diem!
I too try to seize the day but it's not always possible because I too have depression.
I have battled it for years.
Most of the time I win but there are times that all I want to do is go to sleep and never wake up.
People who do not have or who have never been exposed to depression think that it's something you can control with sheer will.
They are wrong.
There are many types and severities of depression but few if any can be dealt with by physical exercise, a clean house, change of attitude or any other suggestion from someone who means well but is clueless.
This may come as a surprise to some, but I have been on antidepressants since May of 1999.
I originally began taking them as a means to help quit smoking. Once done, I stopped taking them, and sank into a depression that rendered me nearly helpless.
I began to cry...and couldn't stop.
My (then) husband got me to the doctor and I started on the antidepressants in earnest.
The only time I've been off them was while I was going through IVF to get pregnant. Which by the way made a miserable pregnancy even worse.
I know that I need them. I know that I'm better with them. I know that having to take them has nothing to do with who I am morally.
So why do I still hiccup when the topic comes up?
Because not everyone does.
People still think you can work off depression.
The only way that works is if you are unemployed and depressed as a result. If you get a job, yes you will feel better but that's situational depression and not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the chemical kind.
People still think that depression is "all in your head."
Well yes, but it's a synapse thing and nothing like what they think it is.
When the demon roars it's head I can feel the weight and gloom envelope me like a nasty, wet, woolen blanket that I can do nothing to keep from coming into contact with.
I am powerless to stop it.
It will bear down and stay until it dries out and I can push it off.
I am not weak and I don't do pity parties.
Depression has nothing to do with strength and "positive thinking."
Most days are very manageable. But then there are others...
My father passed away in December of 2010. In January, despite taking my daily dose of antidepressant, I had slipped into a depression where I started to cry and couldn't stop. It was lunchtime and I was behind the wheel of the car.
No knowing what else to do I started driving toward my doctor's office.
They were closed for lunch so I called a friend who stayed on the phone with me until the office opened.
Once I was able to get through to my doctor's office she got on the phone with me and stayed there until I walked into the office building.
There was nothing that day that triggered it. There was nothing I could have done to stop it. All I knew was that my doctor could help and my friend fights the beast too and would understand my panic.
I'd been down this road before.
I was terrified.
There is much talk about depression now that Robin Williams has committed suicide and I hope and pray that the conversation will last more than the standard 72 hours that most people seem to think is appropriate.
If we believe social media Robin is now "free" and "at peace." I'm not really sure about that.
Social media and religion also lead us to believe that our loved ones who have passed are "watching over us" and "always with us."
If that is the case and Robin is indeed "watching over" his family, I have no doubt that he is not at peace as he watches his family endure their pain as a result of his taking his own life.
There is no peace for anyone.
Suicide begets suicide.
Those who are "thinking about it" or that "have a plan" can easily be swayed to exercise that plan if they believe that their answers lie in their own death.
I ask that everyone be careful to not romanticize death or to act as if it's the answer.
It's not.
Be responsible and be proactive.
Don't wait for your friends or loved ones to call you. They won't.
Call them. Make sure they know you love them. That they are important to you. That they matter.
We'd all rather hear those things while we are alive than have it said as a eulogy.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Loss
I recently learned that a former friend has lost his father, a man that I also knew and remember with great fondness.
I know that everyone eventually dies and yet that knowledge does little, if anything, to quell the sadness that has washed over me.
The loss for the family is great as he was a really great guy.
Anytime I hear of someone losing their father the pain returns. I can fully empathize with that person's loss as I have "been there, done that."
In fact, there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my dad.
Yes, I know that he "is with me all the time," blah, blah, blah...
Nice thought but it's just not the same as hearing him laugh.
I miss him.
I really, really miss him.
Some days the pain is nearly crippling. Other days it's just a dull throb but the pain always seems to be there always rearing up when something triggers it.
Today it was the loss of a former US F-Class Rifle Team member. We shot together in South Africa in 2005. We shot together on teams in Canada. We were teammates, competitors and friends.
He made me laugh.
His loss takes just a little bit of laughter out of my life.
May he rest in peace and may his family find comfort in the thought that his passing through the heavenly gates has restored him to health.
I know that everyone eventually dies and yet that knowledge does little, if anything, to quell the sadness that has washed over me.
The loss for the family is great as he was a really great guy.
Anytime I hear of someone losing their father the pain returns. I can fully empathize with that person's loss as I have "been there, done that."
In fact, there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my dad.
Yes, I know that he "is with me all the time," blah, blah, blah...
Nice thought but it's just not the same as hearing him laugh.
I miss him.
I really, really miss him.
Some days the pain is nearly crippling. Other days it's just a dull throb but the pain always seems to be there always rearing up when something triggers it.
Today it was the loss of a former US F-Class Rifle Team member. We shot together in South Africa in 2005. We shot together on teams in Canada. We were teammates, competitors and friends.
He made me laugh.
His loss takes just a little bit of laughter out of my life.
May he rest in peace and may his family find comfort in the thought that his passing through the heavenly gates has restored him to health.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Pee Pee
For the first time in nearly two years I have the house completely to myself.
Hubby and the boys are at his nephew's graduation/bon voyage to college party. They won't be home for a while.
I'm at a complete loss as to what to do with myself.
Of course I'm doing laundry. Duh!
I could read a book, knit, surf the web, troll Facebook...whatever I want but I have no idea what I want.
I'm restless and fidgety.
I want to write but without all the background noise to filter out I can't concentrate and my mind is racing. Thoughts come and go like lightning bugs in the dark and I can seem to zero in on any particular topic.
So much has gone on lately and time seems to speed up.
I blinked and the boys went from one to almost 21 months.
They are adorable and funny.
They repeat everything...and I mean EVERYTHING!!!
All of a sudden the words "crap" and "damn" have taken on greater meaning and my use of them has been curbed...considerably.
We are attempting the potting training part of child-rearing.
Right now it's more of a "thing" than actual training. We'll get there eventually but for now "pee pee" is just something that they like to say.
Until they are in the bathtub.
Then they like to pee in the cup that we use to rinse their hair. We have tried to have them pee on the potty before they get into the tub but they hold it until they get in the tub and then pee in the cup.
The Stuntman will repeatedly pee in the cup. He has enough control to grab the cup and hold it in the right place to make the attempt.
The other night after repeatedly attempting to no avail he looked up at me and declared, "empty."
Smart kid!
Bath time is a particular favorite of ours.
Hubby usually strips the kids while I go upstairs to run the bath. Once naked and given the "all clear" he opens the gate and lets them climb up.
The other night after undressing one and while undressing another, the first came over and peed on hubby's foot.
He yelled.
The culprit sprinted through the house buck naked giggling and screaming the entire time.
I laughed.
How can you not laugh?
Hubby and the boys are at his nephew's graduation/bon voyage to college party. They won't be home for a while.
I'm at a complete loss as to what to do with myself.
Of course I'm doing laundry. Duh!
I could read a book, knit, surf the web, troll Facebook...whatever I want but I have no idea what I want.
I'm restless and fidgety.
I want to write but without all the background noise to filter out I can't concentrate and my mind is racing. Thoughts come and go like lightning bugs in the dark and I can seem to zero in on any particular topic.
So much has gone on lately and time seems to speed up.
I blinked and the boys went from one to almost 21 months.
They are adorable and funny.
They repeat everything...and I mean EVERYTHING!!!
All of a sudden the words "crap" and "damn" have taken on greater meaning and my use of them has been curbed...considerably.
We are attempting the potting training part of child-rearing.
Right now it's more of a "thing" than actual training. We'll get there eventually but for now "pee pee" is just something that they like to say.
Until they are in the bathtub.
Then they like to pee in the cup that we use to rinse their hair. We have tried to have them pee on the potty before they get into the tub but they hold it until they get in the tub and then pee in the cup.
The Stuntman will repeatedly pee in the cup. He has enough control to grab the cup and hold it in the right place to make the attempt.
The other night after repeatedly attempting to no avail he looked up at me and declared, "empty."
Smart kid!
Bath time is a particular favorite of ours.
Hubby usually strips the kids while I go upstairs to run the bath. Once naked and given the "all clear" he opens the gate and lets them climb up.
The other night after undressing one and while undressing another, the first came over and peed on hubby's foot.
He yelled.
The culprit sprinted through the house buck naked giggling and screaming the entire time.
I laughed.
How can you not laugh?
Monday, June 23, 2014
King Swirly and Parent Fails
The last month passed at lightning speed. I blinked...It's June 23!
How the hell did that happen?!
In addition to being the mother of 19-month-old twins, I am the owner and designer of a cake business, co-owner of an outdoor living business and I work part-time on the weekends for Dyson.
To sum it up, I work seven days a week.
I took the day off for Mother's day, Father's day and another day that as of this moment I can't remember. All I know is that I didn't have to wake up to the alarm clock.
I love all of my jobs.
Of course, most days, being a mom is the best of them all but I'd be lying if I said that getting out of the house on the weekends is a really nice break. The downside of that is I don't get much time with my hubby. I am, however, old enough and wise enough, to know that life will not be this frantic forever and something will slow down...eventually.
Here's a basic breakdown of my days. Roll out of bed at 7:30 (if I lucky and get to sleep that late), get the kids up and dressed, read email while kids eat breakfast. Bake or decorate cakes while kids play, feed kids lunch at 11:30 - respond to more email and/or post pics of my work to Facebook, free children from high chairs and let them play (aka fight) by themselves. Between 1 & 1:30 the kids go down for naps. I clean up the crap that they have strewn about the house, run the Dyson (I'm not just an employee) if I need to, shower, dry and style hair (tell me again why I want long hair) and get back to working on cake.
The boys usually sleep until about 3pm and once they are up my time is completely devoted to them unless I have one of the sitters here. If I have a sitter, I work on cake and then start dinner prep.
Depending on hubby's work schedule he arrives home anytime between 5:30 and 9:00 pm.
The late nights really suck!
Depending on my schedule, I either go to bed once the boys are in bed or I work. I often find myself up until 1 or 2 a.m. As tough as it can be on me the next day, I have to say that I love the quiet.
The day after late nights aren't usually bad but last night was a tough one.
I got to bed around 1 a.m. but the stuntman woke up screaming at 4:30. I grabbed him and put him in bed with us where he proceeded to kick and flail basically beating the crap out of me until I finally gave up and got up at about 6:30.
They are down for naps so, now that the toys are picked up and I've started the same load of laundry for the third time, I'm writing.
I love to write; I just don't have lots of time to devote to it.
We've had so many wonderful little experiences since I last wrote a post that there is no way I could ever fill you in on all of them - besides I know we had them...just don't ask me what they are...my brain is fried.
We've had some rather comical parent fails that I would like to share to prevent others from making the same mistake....
Do not refer to peas as "little balls." We did and the end result was a kitchen floor covered with "little balls" because well, what do you do with a ball? That's right...you THROW it! Their obsession with balls seems to be waning so we might try the peas again soon.
While reading the book Goodnight Gorilla I foolishly suggested that the boys refer to the armadillo in the story as a "dillo" because they could not pronounce armadillo. This resulted in my boys shouting DILDO every time we get to that page. Yes, this is in fact hysterical and they are so cute when they say it, but everyone knows that children at this age are little parrots. I can only imagine what people must think we talk about around our children whenever they feel compelled to shout "Dildo!" at the top of their lungs.
Referring to my hubby's daily beer as "Daddy's bah" was probably not the best idea either. They drink from bottles so daddy's must be the same right?
Not so much.
The other night I heard the Stuntman coughing in the kitchen. I rounded the corner to find him standing next to the table with the longneck bottle in hand, a pretty disgusted look on his face, basically gagging from the taste of the contents of "daddy's bah."
Oops!
Father's day was both good and bad.
Hubby loved our present but I was sick as a dog!
After a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, the Stuntman picked the blueberries out of them and left the pancake behind, I went back to bed.
I was awaked by hubby saying, "You guys stay here, I'll be right back." Followed by an unending chorus of "COW, COW, COW, COW, COW, COW..." (you get the point).
I dragged myself to the bathroom window to see what the commotion was and discovered hubby walking across the back lawn (the south 40 as we call it) with a cow tethered by an old piece of line from hubby's sailing days.
We live behind an Amish farm.
The calf was teething and chewed thru the fence. The cow is his mother.
Hubby got a hold of her and walked her home.
For a moment I thought I was at a 4H fair.
As I began to climb back into bed I heard the door to the powder room downstairs open. I threw on my sweatpants as fast as I could and raced downstairs to find that the Engineer had dunked Moo Moo in the toilet.
Moo Moo is a black and white bunny that was given to the boys for Easter. The stuntman won't go to bed without him. There is another Moo Moo that is brown and white that belongs to the Engineer but he is not as attached to his Moo Moo.
Moo Moo is the same color as the cows...in case you were questioning our sons' intelligence.
After disinfecting the bathroom and hall floors I rinsed out Moo Moo and put him on the back porch to dry in the sun, hoping that he'd be dry enough for nap time.
Fortunately, it worked!
Nap time is the easiest part of the day. .
I prepare the bottles and put them in the "magic box" (aka microwave) and when it beeps the boys meet me at the bottom of the stairs. As they climb to the top I always ask if they can go close mommy's bathroom door, which is nothing more than an incentive to climb the stairs. Once at the top I go into their room and place a bottle on each of the cribs, then retrieve the children. In the 12 steps that it took me to put down the bottles and come back the Engineer had managed to not only dunk Moo Moo in my toilet but had given him a King Swirly!
What is a King Swirly you ask? It's when the bully of the school would put another kid's head in the toilet and flush.
Thank goodness the Engineer held onto Moo Moo...things could have been so much worse.
I threw Moo Moo in the tub, put both of the boys to bed, gave the Stuntman the Engineer's Moo Moo, closed the door and went back to bed.
The rest of the day went fairly well and we had a wonderful time with my in-laws celebrating Father's Day.
I don't normally make New Year's Resolutions but this year I did and the fact that I had done nothing about it had been bothering me for months.
I am a pile maker and like my mom, I have Flat Surface Disease (FSD). If I am not sure what to do with something, I do nothing and just let it stack up.
Having children has exacerbated my FSD as it takes time to deal with the piles. When the piles get to big or start to fall over, I move them to the office. The piles were taking over and I was living in fear of the producers of Hoarders showing up at my front door.
My resolution was to clean the office.
I had a cancellation in my cake business last week so Friday, which is usually hell day for me was very, very calm. I had the kids with the sitter/mother's helper and then turned them over to daddy when he arrived home and stayed in the office until it was finished.
How the hell did that happen?!
In addition to being the mother of 19-month-old twins, I am the owner and designer of a cake business, co-owner of an outdoor living business and I work part-time on the weekends for Dyson.
To sum it up, I work seven days a week.
I took the day off for Mother's day, Father's day and another day that as of this moment I can't remember. All I know is that I didn't have to wake up to the alarm clock.
I love all of my jobs.
Of course, most days, being a mom is the best of them all but I'd be lying if I said that getting out of the house on the weekends is a really nice break. The downside of that is I don't get much time with my hubby. I am, however, old enough and wise enough, to know that life will not be this frantic forever and something will slow down...eventually.
Here's a basic breakdown of my days. Roll out of bed at 7:30 (if I lucky and get to sleep that late), get the kids up and dressed, read email while kids eat breakfast. Bake or decorate cakes while kids play, feed kids lunch at 11:30 - respond to more email and/or post pics of my work to Facebook, free children from high chairs and let them play (aka fight) by themselves. Between 1 & 1:30 the kids go down for naps. I clean up the crap that they have strewn about the house, run the Dyson (I'm not just an employee) if I need to, shower, dry and style hair (tell me again why I want long hair) and get back to working on cake.
The boys usually sleep until about 3pm and once they are up my time is completely devoted to them unless I have one of the sitters here. If I have a sitter, I work on cake and then start dinner prep.
Depending on hubby's work schedule he arrives home anytime between 5:30 and 9:00 pm.
The late nights really suck!
Depending on my schedule, I either go to bed once the boys are in bed or I work. I often find myself up until 1 or 2 a.m. As tough as it can be on me the next day, I have to say that I love the quiet.
The day after late nights aren't usually bad but last night was a tough one.
I got to bed around 1 a.m. but the stuntman woke up screaming at 4:30. I grabbed him and put him in bed with us where he proceeded to kick and flail basically beating the crap out of me until I finally gave up and got up at about 6:30.
They are down for naps so, now that the toys are picked up and I've started the same load of laundry for the third time, I'm writing.
I love to write; I just don't have lots of time to devote to it.
We've had so many wonderful little experiences since I last wrote a post that there is no way I could ever fill you in on all of them - besides I know we had them...just don't ask me what they are...my brain is fried.
We've had some rather comical parent fails that I would like to share to prevent others from making the same mistake....
Do not refer to peas as "little balls." We did and the end result was a kitchen floor covered with "little balls" because well, what do you do with a ball? That's right...you THROW it! Their obsession with balls seems to be waning so we might try the peas again soon.
While reading the book Goodnight Gorilla I foolishly suggested that the boys refer to the armadillo in the story as a "dillo" because they could not pronounce armadillo. This resulted in my boys shouting DILDO every time we get to that page. Yes, this is in fact hysterical and they are so cute when they say it, but everyone knows that children at this age are little parrots. I can only imagine what people must think we talk about around our children whenever they feel compelled to shout "Dildo!" at the top of their lungs.
Referring to my hubby's daily beer as "Daddy's bah" was probably not the best idea either. They drink from bottles so daddy's must be the same right?
Not so much.
The other night I heard the Stuntman coughing in the kitchen. I rounded the corner to find him standing next to the table with the longneck bottle in hand, a pretty disgusted look on his face, basically gagging from the taste of the contents of "daddy's bah."
Oops!
Father's day was both good and bad.
Hubby loved our present but I was sick as a dog!
After a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, the Stuntman picked the blueberries out of them and left the pancake behind, I went back to bed.
I was awaked by hubby saying, "You guys stay here, I'll be right back." Followed by an unending chorus of "COW, COW, COW, COW, COW, COW..." (you get the point).
I dragged myself to the bathroom window to see what the commotion was and discovered hubby walking across the back lawn (the south 40 as we call it) with a cow tethered by an old piece of line from hubby's sailing days.
We live behind an Amish farm.
The calf was teething and chewed thru the fence. The cow is his mother.
Hubby got a hold of her and walked her home.
For a moment I thought I was at a 4H fair.
As I began to climb back into bed I heard the door to the powder room downstairs open. I threw on my sweatpants as fast as I could and raced downstairs to find that the Engineer had dunked Moo Moo in the toilet.
Moo Moo is a black and white bunny that was given to the boys for Easter. The stuntman won't go to bed without him. There is another Moo Moo that is brown and white that belongs to the Engineer but he is not as attached to his Moo Moo.
Moo Moo is the same color as the cows...in case you were questioning our sons' intelligence.
After disinfecting the bathroom and hall floors I rinsed out Moo Moo and put him on the back porch to dry in the sun, hoping that he'd be dry enough for nap time.
Fortunately, it worked!
Nap time is the easiest part of the day. .
I prepare the bottles and put them in the "magic box" (aka microwave) and when it beeps the boys meet me at the bottom of the stairs. As they climb to the top I always ask if they can go close mommy's bathroom door, which is nothing more than an incentive to climb the stairs. Once at the top I go into their room and place a bottle on each of the cribs, then retrieve the children. In the 12 steps that it took me to put down the bottles and come back the Engineer had managed to not only dunk Moo Moo in my toilet but had given him a King Swirly!
What is a King Swirly you ask? It's when the bully of the school would put another kid's head in the toilet and flush.
Thank goodness the Engineer held onto Moo Moo...things could have been so much worse.
I threw Moo Moo in the tub, put both of the boys to bed, gave the Stuntman the Engineer's Moo Moo, closed the door and went back to bed.
The rest of the day went fairly well and we had a wonderful time with my in-laws celebrating Father's Day.
I don't normally make New Year's Resolutions but this year I did and the fact that I had done nothing about it had been bothering me for months.
I am a pile maker and like my mom, I have Flat Surface Disease (FSD). If I am not sure what to do with something, I do nothing and just let it stack up.
Having children has exacerbated my FSD as it takes time to deal with the piles. When the piles get to big or start to fall over, I move them to the office. The piles were taking over and I was living in fear of the producers of Hoarders showing up at my front door.
My resolution was to clean the office.
I had a cancellation in my cake business last week so Friday, which is usually hell day for me was very, very calm. I had the kids with the sitter/mother's helper and then turned them over to daddy when he arrived home and stayed in the office until it was finished.
This was what it looked like before I started.
It took hours and three trips to empty the office trashcan before it was finished but here is the end result:
Ta Da!
Now all I have to do is lock the door and it will never get messy again.
I wonder if there is a 12-Step Program for FSD?
Friday, May 16, 2014
Thanks Hubby
I wake to music playing softly in the background, a cup of steaming coffee is on my nightstand and my husband is reciting my spa schedule for the day...
That is my dream.
The reality is that we woke up before the kids, I waited while my hubby made the coffee (he hadn't set up the pot the night before) and we had a few moments of snuggling before the kids woke up and the day went into insanity mode.
Once the boys were awake and we'd finished our coffee we headed downstairs where the boys presented me with a mylar Mother's Day balloon, that they then proceeded to fight over. I received two cards, one from the boys and one from hubby.
Both were mushy and made me cry.
In addition to the balloon and the cards was a small wrapped box that held a beautiful necklace with a pendant in the shape of a heart filled with crystals and a smaller heart that was engraved with the word "mom."
Heaven!
As young girls we dream of many things.
Unicorns, white castles, beasts that turn into princes, a knight in shining armor, our wedding day, our dress and being a mommy.
I am no exception.
I dreamt of all of those things, and a few others that shall remain nameless, and just knew that I was going to fall in love with mister perfect and have a bunch of kids...pretty sure I can blame Disney and the Brady Bunch for such dreams...
I fell in love and got married...a couple of times.
Fortunately I finally did find Mr. Right and we have this wonderful little family of four - thank you Lord for boys and not girls.
Mr. Right actually found me...I wasn't looking. So I did finally get it right but as a friend of mine so aptly stated, "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut eventually."
It's wonderful most of the time.
Yeah we have those moments where you just want to lock your kid in a closet and go sit on the porch with a nice hot cup of coffee but for the most part things are great.
My hubby works insanely hard. His job is nuts and this time of year is the worst. He is in the pool industry. The commercial side of it. This is the time of year where everyone needs everything done to get their outdoor pools ready for the masses on Memorial Day weekend. I'm lucky if he's home by 8.
My day's are lightly less insane but only because I do much, much less driving than he does. After we get up in the morning I try to have my coffee while the kids have their morning bottles. Often they like to run around upstairs and play with stuff in our closet.
Last week I actually managed to get in the shower early and, as I was getting dressed, the Stuntman looked at me, patted his head and said, "hat." Thanks hubby!
I wonder how old they'll be before they stop calling bras, hats?
As the kids get older they are learning their body parts: ears, eyes, toes...If you ask them where boogers come from they will point to their noses. Thanks hubby!
I'm so proud.
I really am proud though. You can ask them for a book by the title or subject matter and they can bring it to you.
I might just be a puffed up mommy but I find that to be astounding considering that they just turned 18 months!
If they want to go out they will bring you not one but a matched pair of shoes, they know words like jacket, bucket and turtle. Their vocabulary is growing as fast as they are and we have to be ever vigilant to keep it "clean" around here.
As hard as we try, it's just so easy to get frustrated and let a "dammit" slip out.
I can completely understand why some kids often believe that their first name is actually dammit.
With hubby working so hard he is perpetually exhausted. With that comes his ability to fall asleep instantly.
I hate that he can fall asleep so quickly and am jealous that I can't.
No matter what I do, I do not fall asleep right away.
I can be exhausted to the point of tears streaming down my cheeks and I do not fall asleep right away.
In the evening I take the Stuntman upstairs and hubby stays on the sofa with the Engineer. I put the Stuntman to bed after he's finished his bottle and then let hubby know, via text message, that he can bring the Engineer up...
Then I go downstairs and wake up hubby to let him know that the Stuntman is in bed.
I ask hubby to set up the coffee pot and I take the Engineer up and put him to bed.
After I set up the coffee pot and wake up hubby we go to bed...I am now so wired that sleeping is not an option at all, but I get into bed anyway.
One night last week hubby was snoring so loudly that the windows were rattling and I get downstairs and find the Engineer wide awake and bouncing around on both him and the sofa.
Hubby was clueless.
I gathered the Engineer up, took him up to the rocker in the bedroom and after I got him back to sleep went back downstairs to set up the coffee pot and woke up the hubby.
He said something about trees...
Yeah, we have no idea either!
That is my dream.
The reality is that we woke up before the kids, I waited while my hubby made the coffee (he hadn't set up the pot the night before) and we had a few moments of snuggling before the kids woke up and the day went into insanity mode.
Once the boys were awake and we'd finished our coffee we headed downstairs where the boys presented me with a mylar Mother's Day balloon, that they then proceeded to fight over. I received two cards, one from the boys and one from hubby.
Both were mushy and made me cry.
In addition to the balloon and the cards was a small wrapped box that held a beautiful necklace with a pendant in the shape of a heart filled with crystals and a smaller heart that was engraved with the word "mom."
Heaven!
As young girls we dream of many things.
Unicorns, white castles, beasts that turn into princes, a knight in shining armor, our wedding day, our dress and being a mommy.
I am no exception.
I dreamt of all of those things, and a few others that shall remain nameless, and just knew that I was going to fall in love with mister perfect and have a bunch of kids...pretty sure I can blame Disney and the Brady Bunch for such dreams...
I fell in love and got married...a couple of times.
Fortunately I finally did find Mr. Right and we have this wonderful little family of four - thank you Lord for boys and not girls.
Mr. Right actually found me...I wasn't looking. So I did finally get it right but as a friend of mine so aptly stated, "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut eventually."
It's wonderful most of the time.
Yeah we have those moments where you just want to lock your kid in a closet and go sit on the porch with a nice hot cup of coffee but for the most part things are great.
My hubby works insanely hard. His job is nuts and this time of year is the worst. He is in the pool industry. The commercial side of it. This is the time of year where everyone needs everything done to get their outdoor pools ready for the masses on Memorial Day weekend. I'm lucky if he's home by 8.
My day's are lightly less insane but only because I do much, much less driving than he does. After we get up in the morning I try to have my coffee while the kids have their morning bottles. Often they like to run around upstairs and play with stuff in our closet.
Last week I actually managed to get in the shower early and, as I was getting dressed, the Stuntman looked at me, patted his head and said, "hat." Thanks hubby!
I wonder how old they'll be before they stop calling bras, hats?
As the kids get older they are learning their body parts: ears, eyes, toes...If you ask them where boogers come from they will point to their noses. Thanks hubby!
I'm so proud.
I really am proud though. You can ask them for a book by the title or subject matter and they can bring it to you.
I might just be a puffed up mommy but I find that to be astounding considering that they just turned 18 months!
If they want to go out they will bring you not one but a matched pair of shoes, they know words like jacket, bucket and turtle. Their vocabulary is growing as fast as they are and we have to be ever vigilant to keep it "clean" around here.
As hard as we try, it's just so easy to get frustrated and let a "dammit" slip out.
I can completely understand why some kids often believe that their first name is actually dammit.
With hubby working so hard he is perpetually exhausted. With that comes his ability to fall asleep instantly.
I hate that he can fall asleep so quickly and am jealous that I can't.
No matter what I do, I do not fall asleep right away.
I can be exhausted to the point of tears streaming down my cheeks and I do not fall asleep right away.
In the evening I take the Stuntman upstairs and hubby stays on the sofa with the Engineer. I put the Stuntman to bed after he's finished his bottle and then let hubby know, via text message, that he can bring the Engineer up...
Then I go downstairs and wake up hubby to let him know that the Stuntman is in bed.
I ask hubby to set up the coffee pot and I take the Engineer up and put him to bed.
After I set up the coffee pot and wake up hubby we go to bed...I am now so wired that sleeping is not an option at all, but I get into bed anyway.
One night last week hubby was snoring so loudly that the windows were rattling and I get downstairs and find the Engineer wide awake and bouncing around on both him and the sofa.
Hubby was clueless.
I gathered the Engineer up, took him up to the rocker in the bedroom and after I got him back to sleep went back downstairs to set up the coffee pot and woke up the hubby.
He said something about trees...
Yeah, we have no idea either!
Thursday, April 17, 2014
We Have A Revolt!
The boys favorite place to be is outside. They love to run around in the grass and especially love to follow daddy around the yard "helping" him with different projects.
There are times that I just can't stop what I'm doing and run around the yard with them and, with the weather the way that it's been, I also don't want to be outside!
Hubby discovered a work around for this on rainy days or days when I am too busy to be able to drop what I am doing and go outside. We open the inside door to the garage (with the big door closed) and let them come and go as they wish. They love this and it keeps them occupied for long periods of time.
We've moved all of the dangerous gardening tools to the shed and put the other harmful stuff up where they cannot reach it, etc. Can't baby-proof 100% but we've moved the obvious stuff.
I told my mom that we let them play in the garage and she immediately replied, "Well, I hope you're not letting them play with the tools!"
Really???
I'm not sure if it was because I was exhausted or just tired of these types of "well-meaning" comments, I replied in a rather sarcastic, snippy manor, "You mean I should take the hacksaw away from them? We were going to let them practice trimming the hedges by lopping off their fingers with the pinking shears. Guess we should stop them..."
Yeah...this is what I deal with.
I love my mom to pieces but her constant diatribe of ridiculous comments can really get under my skin sometimes.
I have a home-based cake business and am often up until 2am working a cakes for delivery. There are plenty of days that I am exhausted but have to be up because of the boys. When the exhaustion factor has taken over my fuse gets very short. Not so much for the babies but more so for stupidity!
On those days in particular I avoid Walmart...Just no patience for that sect of society.
The boys are usually a source of amusement for me but some days they leave me at my whit's end...this would be one of those days...
They have figured out how to open the powder room door and usually do so yelling, "BOO!" at whomever is sitting on the potty. This initial introduction is then followed by the shouting of the word pee-pee more times that you can imagine any creature uttering a word. It was cute the first couple of times, now it's just annoying.
When I am not looking they like to open the door and play with the toilet brush - yuck! or remove the toilet paper and roll it around on the floor. I get absolutely nothing accomplished because my time is spent moving them from the door to a toy hoping to divert their attention. As of right now there is a five gallon bucket of spackle topped with a three gallon bucket of ceiling paint in front of the door to keep them out of the room.
Needless to say my productivity is non-existent today.
My eyesight has gotten worse over the years which is a good thing in a sense...it's heightened my hearing which is much needed since I can't see around corners without stopping whatever I am doing...Hence the reason I work until 2am.
I have come to know the sound of certain toys, the door to their bookcase, the cabinet they play in etc. It's the silence and the odd noises that get my attention. On of the noises that I'm sure I'll never tire of is that of my husband struggling to control the boys.
We usually bathe the boys every other night, unless they are really dirty from helping daddy in the gardens. The other night after bath time and after putting them into diapers I went back into the bathroom to drain the tub and rinse the ring of boy funk down the drain. As I was finishing up I heard, "Uh, no, no, NO!!! We have a revolt, we have a revolt!!!"
When I walked into the boys' room the Engineer was standing in the middle of the floor completely naked - diaper nowhere to be found - poking himself in the penis and giggling. Meanwhile hubby has the Stuntman in his lap - sort of - desperately trying to reattach the diaper that he had removed.
The Stuntman was across one of hubby's legs and doing the 'crocodile roll' trying to prevent the re-application of the diaper. He was moving so fast that he appeared to have grown another set of arms and legs.
Hubby looked like he was trying to put a diaper on a spinning octopus.
Both were making lots of noise but neither was coherent because they were laughing so hard.
Evidently the boys had worked together to remove their diapers.
The Engineer slowly pealed the tabs back on his diaper, across the room from daddy, who could not get there in time to prevent said removal and just as the Engineer was successful hubby turned to see Stuntman remove his diaper "Chippendale" style and fling it across the room - Please God do not let this be a premonition of future employment!
This, no doubt, will not be the last time they successfully remove their diapers and fling them across the room...I just pray that the next time they will be as clean as they were this time.
There are times that I just can't stop what I'm doing and run around the yard with them and, with the weather the way that it's been, I also don't want to be outside!
Hubby discovered a work around for this on rainy days or days when I am too busy to be able to drop what I am doing and go outside. We open the inside door to the garage (with the big door closed) and let them come and go as they wish. They love this and it keeps them occupied for long periods of time.
We've moved all of the dangerous gardening tools to the shed and put the other harmful stuff up where they cannot reach it, etc. Can't baby-proof 100% but we've moved the obvious stuff.
I told my mom that we let them play in the garage and she immediately replied, "Well, I hope you're not letting them play with the tools!"
Really???
I'm not sure if it was because I was exhausted or just tired of these types of "well-meaning" comments, I replied in a rather sarcastic, snippy manor, "You mean I should take the hacksaw away from them? We were going to let them practice trimming the hedges by lopping off their fingers with the pinking shears. Guess we should stop them..."
Yeah...this is what I deal with.
I love my mom to pieces but her constant diatribe of ridiculous comments can really get under my skin sometimes.
I have a home-based cake business and am often up until 2am working a cakes for delivery. There are plenty of days that I am exhausted but have to be up because of the boys. When the exhaustion factor has taken over my fuse gets very short. Not so much for the babies but more so for stupidity!
On those days in particular I avoid Walmart...Just no patience for that sect of society.
The boys are usually a source of amusement for me but some days they leave me at my whit's end...this would be one of those days...
They have figured out how to open the powder room door and usually do so yelling, "BOO!" at whomever is sitting on the potty. This initial introduction is then followed by the shouting of the word pee-pee more times that you can imagine any creature uttering a word. It was cute the first couple of times, now it's just annoying.
When I am not looking they like to open the door and play with the toilet brush - yuck! or remove the toilet paper and roll it around on the floor. I get absolutely nothing accomplished because my time is spent moving them from the door to a toy hoping to divert their attention. As of right now there is a five gallon bucket of spackle topped with a three gallon bucket of ceiling paint in front of the door to keep them out of the room.
Needless to say my productivity is non-existent today.
My eyesight has gotten worse over the years which is a good thing in a sense...it's heightened my hearing which is much needed since I can't see around corners without stopping whatever I am doing...Hence the reason I work until 2am.
I have come to know the sound of certain toys, the door to their bookcase, the cabinet they play in etc. It's the silence and the odd noises that get my attention. On of the noises that I'm sure I'll never tire of is that of my husband struggling to control the boys.
We usually bathe the boys every other night, unless they are really dirty from helping daddy in the gardens. The other night after bath time and after putting them into diapers I went back into the bathroom to drain the tub and rinse the ring of boy funk down the drain. As I was finishing up I heard, "Uh, no, no, NO!!! We have a revolt, we have a revolt!!!"
When I walked into the boys' room the Engineer was standing in the middle of the floor completely naked - diaper nowhere to be found - poking himself in the penis and giggling. Meanwhile hubby has the Stuntman in his lap - sort of - desperately trying to reattach the diaper that he had removed.
The Stuntman was across one of hubby's legs and doing the 'crocodile roll' trying to prevent the re-application of the diaper. He was moving so fast that he appeared to have grown another set of arms and legs.
Hubby looked like he was trying to put a diaper on a spinning octopus.
Both were making lots of noise but neither was coherent because they were laughing so hard.
Evidently the boys had worked together to remove their diapers.
The Engineer slowly pealed the tabs back on his diaper, across the room from daddy, who could not get there in time to prevent said removal and just as the Engineer was successful hubby turned to see Stuntman remove his diaper "Chippendale" style and fling it across the room - Please God do not let this be a premonition of future employment!
This, no doubt, will not be the last time they successfully remove their diapers and fling them across the room...I just pray that the next time they will be as clean as they were this time.
Boys...
I happen to love having a history with someone. Ours is short. We've
only been together for 5.5 years but have managed to cram a lifetime
into what amounts to a smidge more than half a decade.
Hubby refers to them as "adventures." We've had many.
I used to travel a great deal for work and from time to time hubby would join me to both help out and get in a little sightseeing. We have been to AZ (multiple times), Tennessee and Colorado to name a few. We always bookended the trips with personal time that included things like visiting the Grand Canyon, Beal Street and Zip lining in Vale!
We might not travel now but our days are no less exciting.
Rather than gazing at the grandeur of the Grand Canyon we now gaze upon the faces of our boys. We no longer risk life and limb zip lining across gigantic ravines. Instead, we risk our lives changing toxic diapers. Seriously! It's amazing how bad the end product of a grilled cheese sandwich can smell. We no longer dance to the sweet, soulful music on Beal Street but do silly dances with the boys on the playroom floor.
Our days are filled with bumps, bruises and boo-boos that need kissing and occasionally an ice pack.
The other night the stuntman took a header off the back of the sofa onto the hardwood floor. While he was screaming he kept putting his hands in his mouth and, I swear, I saw blood on his tongue. So I applied an ice pack to his mouth and he stopped crying.
About ten minutes later hubby and I noticed that he had a lump on the top of his head...his mouth was fine. Evidently icing his mouth was simply a diversion that caused him to stop crying...probably because he was trying to figure out why mommy and daddy were putting that cold thing on his face?
There are many times that the kids go bump that I don't react at all. I don't want wimpy kids that cry at the drop of a hat or every time they bump into things. They are going to bump into an awful lot of stuff in the next couple of years and need to learn that not everything is "cry worthy."
Granted I am not really an expert here, but I can say from my 17+ months of experience that they clearly look to us to see how they should react. I have even seen them fall down, pause, look at me, whine, wait for a reaction and, when they get none, get up and walk away!
I snap at people who freak out or make a big deal out of it when they fall.
Don't do it!
There are enough whiney kids in the world...I don't want mine on that list!
Much of their reactions to things are learned but there are somethings that you can neither teach nor prevent...Boys will be boys and there is nothing you can do about it!
We live behind an Amish farm. They are a lovely, kind, God-fearing, hard-working family who welcomed their sixth child into this world last November.
Every day the older kids cut through our yard to get to their school house. It's a really long walk by today's standards and even involves traveling down a road a very busy road.
A couple of weeks ago I headed out to the store at about the same time the Amish school let out for the day. Seeing the kids walking down the road I slowed so that I could leave plenty of room when I passed them. As I neared them the oldest of the boys, in his adorable little straw hat looked at me, smiled and then did the 'Miley Cyrus tongue face' as I drove by!
I almost drove into a tree!
Aaaah boys!
I would be happy no matter what I had, but I have to say that I am beyond grateful that I have sons and not daughters. As one friend put it "I will forever be the queen of my castle."
There will be no PMS drama in this house unless it comes from me and as another friend said, "When you have a son you worry about that one boy, when you have a daughter you worry about all the boys!"
I was never a girlie-girl to begin with and the thought of having daughters brought on nightmares and anxiety attacks the likes of which were paralleled only by my PTSD from a car accident!
I have enough friends with daughters and enough nieces of my own to know that the drama can be painful beyond words and was truly terrified of the thought. Besides, I prefer tree climbing to Barbies any day of the week!
Hubby refers to them as "adventures." We've had many.
I used to travel a great deal for work and from time to time hubby would join me to both help out and get in a little sightseeing. We have been to AZ (multiple times), Tennessee and Colorado to name a few. We always bookended the trips with personal time that included things like visiting the Grand Canyon, Beal Street and Zip lining in Vale!
We might not travel now but our days are no less exciting.
Rather than gazing at the grandeur of the Grand Canyon we now gaze upon the faces of our boys. We no longer risk life and limb zip lining across gigantic ravines. Instead, we risk our lives changing toxic diapers. Seriously! It's amazing how bad the end product of a grilled cheese sandwich can smell. We no longer dance to the sweet, soulful music on Beal Street but do silly dances with the boys on the playroom floor.
Our days are filled with bumps, bruises and boo-boos that need kissing and occasionally an ice pack.
The other night the stuntman took a header off the back of the sofa onto the hardwood floor. While he was screaming he kept putting his hands in his mouth and, I swear, I saw blood on his tongue. So I applied an ice pack to his mouth and he stopped crying.
About ten minutes later hubby and I noticed that he had a lump on the top of his head...his mouth was fine. Evidently icing his mouth was simply a diversion that caused him to stop crying...probably because he was trying to figure out why mommy and daddy were putting that cold thing on his face?
There are many times that the kids go bump that I don't react at all. I don't want wimpy kids that cry at the drop of a hat or every time they bump into things. They are going to bump into an awful lot of stuff in the next couple of years and need to learn that not everything is "cry worthy."
Granted I am not really an expert here, but I can say from my 17+ months of experience that they clearly look to us to see how they should react. I have even seen them fall down, pause, look at me, whine, wait for a reaction and, when they get none, get up and walk away!
I snap at people who freak out or make a big deal out of it when they fall.
Don't do it!
There are enough whiney kids in the world...I don't want mine on that list!
Much of their reactions to things are learned but there are somethings that you can neither teach nor prevent...Boys will be boys and there is nothing you can do about it!
We live behind an Amish farm. They are a lovely, kind, God-fearing, hard-working family who welcomed their sixth child into this world last November.
Every day the older kids cut through our yard to get to their school house. It's a really long walk by today's standards and even involves traveling down a road a very busy road.
A couple of weeks ago I headed out to the store at about the same time the Amish school let out for the day. Seeing the kids walking down the road I slowed so that I could leave plenty of room when I passed them. As I neared them the oldest of the boys, in his adorable little straw hat looked at me, smiled and then did the 'Miley Cyrus tongue face' as I drove by!
I almost drove into a tree!
Aaaah boys!
I would be happy no matter what I had, but I have to say that I am beyond grateful that I have sons and not daughters. As one friend put it "I will forever be the queen of my castle."
There will be no PMS drama in this house unless it comes from me and as another friend said, "When you have a son you worry about that one boy, when you have a daughter you worry about all the boys!"
I was never a girlie-girl to begin with and the thought of having daughters brought on nightmares and anxiety attacks the likes of which were paralleled only by my PTSD from a car accident!
I have enough friends with daughters and enough nieces of my own to know that the drama can be painful beyond words and was truly terrified of the thought. Besides, I prefer tree climbing to Barbies any day of the week!
Monday, March 24, 2014
Helga Schnidt and Ass Wax
Lately it seems that the only time hubby and I get to talk to each other is after our heads have hit the pillows. It's the only time we are alone and the only time we can finish a sentence uninterrupted.
We love to talk about the things that the boys have done during the day and even imitate their actions or the way they try to say certain words like "bah" for bottle, "ha" (pat head when saying this) for hat but the best is the Engineer's new sign for the word icky. Here's how it works...hold your hand up, fingers open, palm facing you in front of your face, make a "raspberry" sound and pull your hand away while closing your fingers at the same time.
It's kinda fun, isn't it?
You can say the word, and if he hears you, will automatically do the sign. We've been teaching the boys sign language because they can sign long before they can form words with their mouths. Hubby does have a hearing loss, but that is not the reason for the signing.
Hubby's hearing loss is real, not the usual situational hearing loss that most men seem to have but true, diagnosed hearing loss complete with hearing aides...that he doesn't wear nearly enough. Needless to say conversations can be very interesting, if not confusing, and often take an extremely humorous turn.
A couple of years ago, while on the phone, the name of a friend of ours came up and he asked if I knew what he was doing these days. I replied, "I think he's an Aflac salesman." After a more than long pause hubby replied, "What's ass wax?"
Huh?
Wait, What?
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
He replied, "You said he was an 'ass wax' salesman."
"OH MY GAWD!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!! Not ass wax, AFLAC, AFLAC! You know like the duck, Aaaaaaaflaaaaac!"
To this day anytime we misunderstand each other, we just say "ass wax."
Despite his hearing loss, he is not the only one that has trouble deciphering what they've heard. The other night we were partaking of our usual pillow about our days and how tired we were - the Stuntman had been waking up in the middle of the night - when Hubby suddenly started talking about a woman named Helga Schnidt.
Totally confused, I asked him what she had to do with any of this and who was she anyway?
"Who?" He replied.
"Helga Schnidt"
"Who the hell is that?" he asked.
"How the hell should I know you brought her up." I said.
Hubby replied, "I said, 'You've had a helluva night!'"
I have no idea how I heard "Helga Schnidt" but hubby launched into a monologue about "the next shot-putter to the line is Germany's Helga Schnidt complete with a tightly wound bun!"
We must have laughed for a good 20 minutes.
We love to talk about the things that the boys have done during the day and even imitate their actions or the way they try to say certain words like "bah" for bottle, "ha" (pat head when saying this) for hat but the best is the Engineer's new sign for the word icky. Here's how it works...hold your hand up, fingers open, palm facing you in front of your face, make a "raspberry" sound and pull your hand away while closing your fingers at the same time.
It's kinda fun, isn't it?
You can say the word, and if he hears you, will automatically do the sign. We've been teaching the boys sign language because they can sign long before they can form words with their mouths. Hubby does have a hearing loss, but that is not the reason for the signing.
Hubby's hearing loss is real, not the usual situational hearing loss that most men seem to have but true, diagnosed hearing loss complete with hearing aides...that he doesn't wear nearly enough. Needless to say conversations can be very interesting, if not confusing, and often take an extremely humorous turn.
A couple of years ago, while on the phone, the name of a friend of ours came up and he asked if I knew what he was doing these days. I replied, "I think he's an Aflac salesman." After a more than long pause hubby replied, "What's ass wax?"
Huh?
Wait, What?
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
He replied, "You said he was an 'ass wax' salesman."
"OH MY GAWD!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!! Not ass wax, AFLAC, AFLAC! You know like the duck, Aaaaaaaflaaaaac!"
To this day anytime we misunderstand each other, we just say "ass wax."
Despite his hearing loss, he is not the only one that has trouble deciphering what they've heard. The other night we were partaking of our usual pillow about our days and how tired we were - the Stuntman had been waking up in the middle of the night - when Hubby suddenly started talking about a woman named Helga Schnidt.
Totally confused, I asked him what she had to do with any of this and who was she anyway?
"Who?" He replied.
"Helga Schnidt"
"Who the hell is that?" he asked.
"How the hell should I know you brought her up." I said.
Hubby replied, "I said, 'You've had a helluva night!'"
I have no idea how I heard "Helga Schnidt" but hubby launched into a monologue about "the next shot-putter to the line is Germany's Helga Schnidt complete with a tightly wound bun!"
We must have laughed for a good 20 minutes.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Mistakes Are Not Failures
I now have a job demonstrating Dyson vacuum cleaners on the weekends working both Saturday and Sunday from 10am to 6pm. Hubby and I made the decision to do this so that I could earn extra income and he could watch the kids and we wouldn't have to pay out anything for childcare.
I know that right now you are envisioning the door to door vacuum cleaner salesman who pesters the "decision maker" of the home into buying a vacuum...Well you'd be wrong.
I'm paid hourly to stand in either Bed Bath & Beyond or Costco and demonstrate how a Dyson works, I do not make commission.
I've been a Dyson user for years and love their products. They are not gimmicks and really do suck...in a good way :)
Some things you might want to consider when buying one of our products: It really is covered under warranty for five years. If something breaks and you wait 7 years before calling customer service, it will not be covered and it won't be our fault. It's not meant to vacuum up water. There is no need to get insane about cleaning the inside of the canister and/or washing it out with water. Technically, it is the inside of a vacuum cleaner and no one really gives a rats ass if it's dirty. If you have that much time on your hands, you might want to consider volunteering with a non-profit, I'm sure they'd love your enthusiasm.
I do not know where the mattresses, refrigerators or foot massagers are located. One would think that that the black shirt with the word "Dyson" printed on it would alert people to the fact that I am not an employee of the store but you'd be wrong. The shirt is my uniform, the people at Costco wear red vests and in Bed Bath & Beyond the employees wear name tags that say Bed Bath & Beyond.
If you don't bother to notice that my shirt says Dyson and ask me where to find a toilet brush, please don't be offended when I can't tell you.
Oh and please save the "suck" jokes...I've heard them all...
I am actually enjoying this experience. I have a marketing job that I do from the house. A cake business that I run from the house and a business that I am starting with my sisters-in-law so it's not like I'm not busy. The bulk of what I do, I do from home and love it. However, I love being out working with the public too. Most of the time it's lots of fun but once in a while I meet someone who is obviously hell-bent on being miserable and trying to take everyone down with them.
I'll never understand this type of person.
I'm a generally happy person. I love to laugh and I love to make others laugh. I even tried my hand at stand-up and did pretty well. I really have experienced the rush of "the roar of the crowd" and loved it! Why anyone wouldn't want that feeling I can't imagine but some people just aren't happy unless they have something to complain about!
Last week we had our bi-weekly moms' group get together. Normally we have a speaker and then break out into groups to talk about specific topics and other times we have craft workshops where we learn things like knitting or review a book. It's two hours of free babysitting with a hot breakfast with other moms...an experience worth it's weight in gold...but I digress...Last week we didn't have a speaker or groups so we just got to sit and talk. We were sharing funny child stories and one of the moms was telling us about her son - "a numbers guy" at the age of six - who loves to watch the numbers change on their digital scale. He has asked her to get on so he could watch the numbers on the scale and when it finally stopped he exclaimed, "Whoa mom! Look at all the points you got!" In his mind higher was better!
Winning!
We talked about changing our perceptions of our weight and seeing it for what it was...a number. Granted, you don't want to make a point on getting a "higher score" every time you step on the scale - if you even own one - rather being should be ok with the number that you get. We are not all built the same, we'll never be Victoria Secret models but we are who we are, our spouses love us for who we are, that's why he chose us. We need to be ok with the "score" and find ways to be living examples to our children of happy accepting people who are comfortable in our own skin.
I have fought with my weight my entire life. Between mean girls in high school and magazines that showed emaciated girls as "normal" I've always had a warped perception of my own body. It wasn't until I had kids that I realized my "shell" doesn't matter as much as my heart.
I have done many, many things in my life. I have been married before...a couple of times, I've been a step-mother, manager, clerk, mechanic etc., but the greatest, most difficult, yet most rewarding thing, is being a mommy.
As
important as those things were at the time they pale by comparison to
my life these days. I'm not talking about kissing boo-boos or changing
diapers. Yes, those things come with the territory but the
unconditional, deep-rooted love that I have for the two tiny little men
who call me momma.
The smiles and the giggles that I get when I play peek-a-boo or the hugs and kisses I get when I get home from my part-time job on the weekends or the warm snuggly feeling that I get when I rock them to sleep at night all contribute to the most amazing love I have ever felt for another human being.
I don't try to be perfect. I don't want to be perfect. I've learned way too much in my life from my trials and tribulations. I don't want my kids to be afraid of making mistakes. Mistakes are not failures unless you fail to learn something from them.
James Dyson doesn't look at things as failures, he looks at them as learning opportunities. I want my kids to grow up with the same attitude and drive to find solutions. If I'm constantly trying to be perfect I am never showing them how to improve only how they'll never measure up.
I enjoy watching the kids discover something new and watching what they do with it. Just the other night they dug two new swim diapers out of the closet and had us put them on their heads. Yup! Hats! We've put those hats on them every day since. They love to run around in them and they are, of course, adorable!
I want their minds and their hearts to be open. I want them to be accepting of themselves as well as others and I want them to be happy.
We all dream that our kids will become doctors or lawyers or the next Pulitzer Prize winner but the fact is that I want my kids to be happy and know that they are loved more than they can possibly imagine, until they day their own kids are born...then they'll get it.
Maybe they'll find a cure for cancer or maybe they'll be in a Costco, politely saying, "No sir, I don't know where they keep the pickles, I work for Dyson." As long as they are happy, my life will never suck.
I know that right now you are envisioning the door to door vacuum cleaner salesman who pesters the "decision maker" of the home into buying a vacuum...Well you'd be wrong.
I'm paid hourly to stand in either Bed Bath & Beyond or Costco and demonstrate how a Dyson works, I do not make commission.
I've been a Dyson user for years and love their products. They are not gimmicks and really do suck...in a good way :)
Some things you might want to consider when buying one of our products: It really is covered under warranty for five years. If something breaks and you wait 7 years before calling customer service, it will not be covered and it won't be our fault. It's not meant to vacuum up water. There is no need to get insane about cleaning the inside of the canister and/or washing it out with water. Technically, it is the inside of a vacuum cleaner and no one really gives a rats ass if it's dirty. If you have that much time on your hands, you might want to consider volunteering with a non-profit, I'm sure they'd love your enthusiasm.
I do not know where the mattresses, refrigerators or foot massagers are located. One would think that that the black shirt with the word "Dyson" printed on it would alert people to the fact that I am not an employee of the store but you'd be wrong. The shirt is my uniform, the people at Costco wear red vests and in Bed Bath & Beyond the employees wear name tags that say Bed Bath & Beyond.
If you don't bother to notice that my shirt says Dyson and ask me where to find a toilet brush, please don't be offended when I can't tell you.
Oh and please save the "suck" jokes...I've heard them all...
I am actually enjoying this experience. I have a marketing job that I do from the house. A cake business that I run from the house and a business that I am starting with my sisters-in-law so it's not like I'm not busy. The bulk of what I do, I do from home and love it. However, I love being out working with the public too. Most of the time it's lots of fun but once in a while I meet someone who is obviously hell-bent on being miserable and trying to take everyone down with them.
I'll never understand this type of person.
I'm a generally happy person. I love to laugh and I love to make others laugh. I even tried my hand at stand-up and did pretty well. I really have experienced the rush of "the roar of the crowd" and loved it! Why anyone wouldn't want that feeling I can't imagine but some people just aren't happy unless they have something to complain about!
Last week we had our bi-weekly moms' group get together. Normally we have a speaker and then break out into groups to talk about specific topics and other times we have craft workshops where we learn things like knitting or review a book. It's two hours of free babysitting with a hot breakfast with other moms...an experience worth it's weight in gold...but I digress...Last week we didn't have a speaker or groups so we just got to sit and talk. We were sharing funny child stories and one of the moms was telling us about her son - "a numbers guy" at the age of six - who loves to watch the numbers change on their digital scale. He has asked her to get on so he could watch the numbers on the scale and when it finally stopped he exclaimed, "Whoa mom! Look at all the points you got!" In his mind higher was better!
Winning!
We talked about changing our perceptions of our weight and seeing it for what it was...a number. Granted, you don't want to make a point on getting a "higher score" every time you step on the scale - if you even own one - rather being should be ok with the number that you get. We are not all built the same, we'll never be Victoria Secret models but we are who we are, our spouses love us for who we are, that's why he chose us. We need to be ok with the "score" and find ways to be living examples to our children of happy accepting people who are comfortable in our own skin.
I have fought with my weight my entire life. Between mean girls in high school and magazines that showed emaciated girls as "normal" I've always had a warped perception of my own body. It wasn't until I had kids that I realized my "shell" doesn't matter as much as my heart.
I have done many, many things in my life. I have been married before...a couple of times, I've been a step-mother, manager, clerk, mechanic etc., but the greatest, most difficult, yet most rewarding thing, is being a mommy.
At the time, each job seemed like the most important thing I could possibly ever do and I did it with as much enthusiasm as I could. If you know me, you know I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I do nothing half-way...it just wastes time.
The smiles and the giggles that I get when I play peek-a-boo or the hugs and kisses I get when I get home from my part-time job on the weekends or the warm snuggly feeling that I get when I rock them to sleep at night all contribute to the most amazing love I have ever felt for another human being.
I don't try to be perfect. I don't want to be perfect. I've learned way too much in my life from my trials and tribulations. I don't want my kids to be afraid of making mistakes. Mistakes are not failures unless you fail to learn something from them.
James Dyson doesn't look at things as failures, he looks at them as learning opportunities. I want my kids to grow up with the same attitude and drive to find solutions. If I'm constantly trying to be perfect I am never showing them how to improve only how they'll never measure up.
I enjoy watching the kids discover something new and watching what they do with it. Just the other night they dug two new swim diapers out of the closet and had us put them on their heads. Yup! Hats! We've put those hats on them every day since. They love to run around in them and they are, of course, adorable!
I want their minds and their hearts to be open. I want them to be accepting of themselves as well as others and I want them to be happy.
We all dream that our kids will become doctors or lawyers or the next Pulitzer Prize winner but the fact is that I want my kids to be happy and know that they are loved more than they can possibly imagine, until they day their own kids are born...then they'll get it.
Maybe they'll find a cure for cancer or maybe they'll be in a Costco, politely saying, "No sir, I don't know where they keep the pickles, I work for Dyson." As long as they are happy, my life will never suck.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Counting Blessings...One-handed
Yes there is such a thing as being too patient!
The other night the Engineer tripped and face planted right into the door jamb. After I got him settled down hubby was playing with him when the Engineer fell again and hit the same spot which was again followed by screaming.
Hubby is so patient, too patient in fact. He held the Engineer, whose screams continued to escalate, and just sat there on the sofa with him waiting for the 15 month old to settle down...which did not happen.
If doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is really the definition of insanity, then hubby is truly nuts.
Since day one he has done virtually the same thing. While I believe that kids need to learn to soothe themselves, there are times when self-soothing is not an option and distraction is the better option.
I thought this was common sense...evidently it's rocket science.
When I tell him to move around, etc. he gets defensive like I'm picking on him. Noooo I'm here all day, I have to distract them fairly frequently and know what works because I'VE TRIED IT!!
Of course some days are better than others - which really goes without saying but, I've said it anyway.
Most days the boys are capable of playing by themselves. They will fight over toys, but usually find something else to play with once the toy has been removed. There are certain toys that we keep out of reach as they involved parental supervision and well...I don't always feel like supervising.
Since we began the liquid Zantac our nights have improved immensely. The kids sleep through the night almost all the time now...almost.
We've been battling colds lately. Large quantities of snot aside, it hasn't been bad during the day, but night time is another story all together.
At approximately 9 p.m. every evening, we settle the kids into their highchairs, dispense meds and brush their teeth. The Stuntman receives a dose of Zantac and liquid Rolaids and if needed the Engineer will receive a dose of ibuprofen. Most nights the Engineer gets jealous of the Stuntman's medicine and we have to give him a "taste" to settle him down.
Of course, he only wants this when he's not sick. When he is sick, giving him medicine is a terrible experience for all of us! It takes no less than two people to administer any drug. He fights, screams, cries and whips his head back and forth and no matter how you put it in his mouth, he spits it back out.
Honestly, I'd much rather give pills to a cat than liquid medicine to the Engineer. That being said, I do have more than 40 years experience with cats and only 15 months experience with the Engineer.
When the boys have colds they don't sleep well. Really, who does when they are sick? At least as adults we know what the problem is and how to deal with it. As babies they have no idea what is going on and can't be reasoned with. Crying makes their snot production go into overdrive and giving the Engineer a dose of anything in the middle of the night is not an option!
Recently, the Engineer AKA The Urinator peed so much that he soaked his diaper, his pajamas and his crib and woke us, as well as the neighborhood, up with his screaming. We got him changed and because I didn't want to change the sheets in his crib at 2am put him in the big bed with us.
Unfortunately, the Stuntman doesn't sleep through the Engineer's screaming and he woke up as well. There was nothing wrong with him but he was now wide awake.
We only have a queen size bed, fitting the four of us in it is not really an option so I took the Stuntman down to the family room and snuggled on the sofa in desperation of recovering some much needed sleep.
Since the Stuntman's faulty dismount from the sofa, and subsequent stitches in the back of his head, we keep the coffee table pushed up against the front of the sofa so they can climb up and down without injury. I left the coffee table in place, grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and settled down on the sofa on my back with the Stuntman on my chest.
After a while, he wiggled himself between the back of the sofa and me leaving me on my side with my knees bent, which he didn't like. Eventually, he rolled over onto his stomach taking up the bulk of the sofa cushion and began kicking me to move my legs so that he could stretch out. I had no choice but to roll over onto the coffee table and try to sleep!
Needless to say it was a really bad night and when I finally did wake up my left arm was asleep and completely paralyzed.
Despite having the bed, hubby didn't really have a much better time. The Engineer does this thing with his legs when he is on his stomach where he "digs" with his feet which propels him forward. Hubby was awakened by whimpering to find the Engineer had traversed the head of the bed and propelled himself down in the chasm between the bed and the nightstand - head first!
Nights like this I try to count my blessings and think of the time with either boy as bonus snuggle time.
However, it's really hard to count blessings when the fingers of one hand are paralyzed from sleeping on the coffee table which may be very sturdy but not the least bit snugly.
The other night the Engineer tripped and face planted right into the door jamb. After I got him settled down hubby was playing with him when the Engineer fell again and hit the same spot which was again followed by screaming.
Hubby is so patient, too patient in fact. He held the Engineer, whose screams continued to escalate, and just sat there on the sofa with him waiting for the 15 month old to settle down...which did not happen.
If doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is really the definition of insanity, then hubby is truly nuts.
Since day one he has done virtually the same thing. While I believe that kids need to learn to soothe themselves, there are times when self-soothing is not an option and distraction is the better option.
I thought this was common sense...evidently it's rocket science.
When I tell him to move around, etc. he gets defensive like I'm picking on him. Noooo I'm here all day, I have to distract them fairly frequently and know what works because I'VE TRIED IT!!
Of course some days are better than others - which really goes without saying but, I've said it anyway.
Most days the boys are capable of playing by themselves. They will fight over toys, but usually find something else to play with once the toy has been removed. There are certain toys that we keep out of reach as they involved parental supervision and well...I don't always feel like supervising.
Since we began the liquid Zantac our nights have improved immensely. The kids sleep through the night almost all the time now...almost.
We've been battling colds lately. Large quantities of snot aside, it hasn't been bad during the day, but night time is another story all together.
At approximately 9 p.m. every evening, we settle the kids into their highchairs, dispense meds and brush their teeth. The Stuntman receives a dose of Zantac and liquid Rolaids and if needed the Engineer will receive a dose of ibuprofen. Most nights the Engineer gets jealous of the Stuntman's medicine and we have to give him a "taste" to settle him down.
Of course, he only wants this when he's not sick. When he is sick, giving him medicine is a terrible experience for all of us! It takes no less than two people to administer any drug. He fights, screams, cries and whips his head back and forth and no matter how you put it in his mouth, he spits it back out.
Honestly, I'd much rather give pills to a cat than liquid medicine to the Engineer. That being said, I do have more than 40 years experience with cats and only 15 months experience with the Engineer.
When the boys have colds they don't sleep well. Really, who does when they are sick? At least as adults we know what the problem is and how to deal with it. As babies they have no idea what is going on and can't be reasoned with. Crying makes their snot production go into overdrive and giving the Engineer a dose of anything in the middle of the night is not an option!
Recently, the Engineer AKA The Urinator peed so much that he soaked his diaper, his pajamas and his crib and woke us, as well as the neighborhood, up with his screaming. We got him changed and because I didn't want to change the sheets in his crib at 2am put him in the big bed with us.
Unfortunately, the Stuntman doesn't sleep through the Engineer's screaming and he woke up as well. There was nothing wrong with him but he was now wide awake.
We only have a queen size bed, fitting the four of us in it is not really an option so I took the Stuntman down to the family room and snuggled on the sofa in desperation of recovering some much needed sleep.
Since the Stuntman's faulty dismount from the sofa, and subsequent stitches in the back of his head, we keep the coffee table pushed up against the front of the sofa so they can climb up and down without injury. I left the coffee table in place, grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and settled down on the sofa on my back with the Stuntman on my chest.
After a while, he wiggled himself between the back of the sofa and me leaving me on my side with my knees bent, which he didn't like. Eventually, he rolled over onto his stomach taking up the bulk of the sofa cushion and began kicking me to move my legs so that he could stretch out. I had no choice but to roll over onto the coffee table and try to sleep!
Needless to say it was a really bad night and when I finally did wake up my left arm was asleep and completely paralyzed.
Despite having the bed, hubby didn't really have a much better time. The Engineer does this thing with his legs when he is on his stomach where he "digs" with his feet which propels him forward. Hubby was awakened by whimpering to find the Engineer had traversed the head of the bed and propelled himself down in the chasm between the bed and the nightstand - head first!
Nights like this I try to count my blessings and think of the time with either boy as bonus snuggle time.
However, it's really hard to count blessings when the fingers of one hand are paralyzed from sleeping on the coffee table which may be very sturdy but not the least bit snugly.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Weekend Away
I will be starting a part-time job this coming weekend and had to spend last weekend in a training class in Chicago.
I left my house at noon on Friday and didn't get home until about 2am Sunday night/Monday morning.
Way, way, way too many hours without seeing my babies. Hubby was good about sending pictures but pictures are not the same as holding them.
I was ok until I got a panicked call from hubby because the Engineer had spiked a fever of 102 and he had no idea what to do. Although I purchase generic over the counter drugs I use brand names when talking about them. Advil is much easier to say than ibuprofen and ditto for Tylenol over acetaminophen.
Hubby was stressed which stressed me out and I began to panic. I don't panic often but this was utterly out of my control and I was freaked. In giving him directions I resorted to the easier to say brand names and he replied that there was not Tylenol.
O. M. G. Seriously!
I'm pretty sure that he's the only person in the world that doesn't know that acetaminophen is the generic of Tylenol. I tried to do my best to not yell into the phone.
I failed.
After a few minutes (he had to write down the directions) we switched from phone to FaceTime and when the Stuntman realized that mommy wasn't going to be coming out of the phone he began to cry which touched a cord in me had me choking back tears. It was awful. After saying goodbye and hanging up I sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. Every tear that I had fought back since noon that day cascaded down my cheeks.
I pulled myself together, remake-upped my face and went downstairs to grab some dinner and prepare for the weekend training. Despite my having a good time, my hubby and my boys were on my mind the entire time. Frequently throughout the weekend I would pull up pictures of the boys just so I could see them.
We never did the FaceTime thing again. It was just too much for the boys (translation: I couldn't handle it!). As it was if hubby put me on speaker the Stuntman would cry when I'd say goodbye. It really sucked being out of town.
But, I survived the weekend.
Hubby had to get up and go to work Monday morning so he was in bed when I arrived home at 2 a.m. As I headed upstairs I noticed that he'd left the outside light on and when I went to the backdoor to turn it off I discovered that hubby had made a heart in the snow in the backyard.
He'd purposely left the light on so I would see it.
He's such a sweet guy!
I made my way up the stairs, peeked in on the boys, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed next to the love of my life.
I left my house at noon on Friday and didn't get home until about 2am Sunday night/Monday morning.
Way, way, way too many hours without seeing my babies. Hubby was good about sending pictures but pictures are not the same as holding them.
I was ok until I got a panicked call from hubby because the Engineer had spiked a fever of 102 and he had no idea what to do. Although I purchase generic over the counter drugs I use brand names when talking about them. Advil is much easier to say than ibuprofen and ditto for Tylenol over acetaminophen.
Hubby was stressed which stressed me out and I began to panic. I don't panic often but this was utterly out of my control and I was freaked. In giving him directions I resorted to the easier to say brand names and he replied that there was not Tylenol.
O. M. G. Seriously!
I'm pretty sure that he's the only person in the world that doesn't know that acetaminophen is the generic of Tylenol. I tried to do my best to not yell into the phone.
I failed.
After a few minutes (he had to write down the directions) we switched from phone to FaceTime and when the Stuntman realized that mommy wasn't going to be coming out of the phone he began to cry which touched a cord in me had me choking back tears. It was awful. After saying goodbye and hanging up I sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. Every tear that I had fought back since noon that day cascaded down my cheeks.
I pulled myself together, remake-upped my face and went downstairs to grab some dinner and prepare for the weekend training. Despite my having a good time, my hubby and my boys were on my mind the entire time. Frequently throughout the weekend I would pull up pictures of the boys just so I could see them.
We never did the FaceTime thing again. It was just too much for the boys (translation: I couldn't handle it!). As it was if hubby put me on speaker the Stuntman would cry when I'd say goodbye. It really sucked being out of town.
But, I survived the weekend.
Hubby had to get up and go to work Monday morning so he was in bed when I arrived home at 2 a.m. As I headed upstairs I noticed that he'd left the outside light on and when I went to the backdoor to turn it off I discovered that hubby had made a heart in the snow in the backyard.
He'd purposely left the light on so I would see it.
He's such a sweet guy!
I made my way up the stairs, peeked in on the boys, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed next to the love of my life.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Gag!
I can't get over how fast time flies now that we have kids! It seems like just yesterday I was bawling my eyes out over another failed IVF attempt and here we are with 14 month old twins who are using sign language, trying to talk and putting things that are not trash in the trash can.
Not only can they put things in that shouldn't be thrown away but they take things out that should.
The kitchen trashcan has a lock on it that, when we remember to use it, keeps them from opening it. The diaper pails do not and the cans in the bathrooms are just open ones.
There are telltale signs that the children have been in the bathrooms: the toilet lids are down, toilet paper is on the counter or window sill and the trash cans are on the counter. They love to pull things out of the trash cans and hand them to me like their presenting me with the Crown Jewels!
The looks on their faces say, "Look mommy! I got you a used snot rag. Isn't it great?!"
Until recently we didn't worry about them getting into the diaper pails. I mean really, who opens those things if they don't have to. I guess ones nose needs to be higher than the lid to get the full effect of the odor but still...Gag!
About a week ago I was headed downstairs when I noticed the Engineer on the floor next to the diaper pail with a dirty diaper in his lap...a poopie diaper to be exact! He had one hand on the diaper and one in the poop and was looking a little concerned about what he was going to do about it.
Even he knew that this was not something that should go in his mouth.
I came close to screaming but bit my tongue so I wouldn't scare him into crawling away leaving a trail of poopie handprints on the one area of the first floor that has carpeting.
I picked him up, deposited the diaper back in the trashcan and headed into the bathroom to try to wash the hand of a 14 month old while holding him at the same time. I did manage but neither of us was happy when we it was over.
The other night I did that oatmeal in the crockpot overnight recipe - it was delicious by the way. I peeled and sliced the apples, put the apple peels, seeds, cores, etc. in the trash, turned on the crockpot and went to bed. The following morning when we came downstairs the oatmeal smelled heavenly. I helped myself to two (yes two) large bowls which I shared with the boys while they also had their morning banana and clementines.
About 20 minutes after finishing breakfast and cleaning up I was exercising my OCD by separating the kids' blocks, chew toys and stuffies when the Engineer rounded the corner munching on something and waving what appeared to be a slice of bacon. Mmmmm BACON!
Wait...where did he get bacon?!
Upon further inspection I discovered that it was, in fact, not bacon but rather apple peels that he pulled out of the kitchen trashcan...that I had forgotten to lock...again.
I made two New Year's resolutions this year. 1. Clean the office AKA the Abyss (See Flat Surface Disease). 2. Keep said office clean.
In an effort to keep this year's resolutions I tied a rope around my waist the other day and ventured into the Abyss while the boys were napping. I actually made really good progress and had to empty the round-file twice.
The first time I dumped the office trash into the large can in the garage I heard, "Do you need a tow truck, call me, I'm on the way."
Huh?
"Beep, Beep!"
Wait, what?!
I pushed on the top of the trash, "My name's Tommy and this is my Tow Truck."
Crap! That's where that toy ended up!
I began removing the stuff I had just dumped in, and looked into the bottom of the can to see a light blinking behind the white plastic of the bag from the DIAPER PAIL!
Eeeeeeeew! No no no no nooooooo not that...Anything but that!!!
I began to bargain...
I considered putting the lid on and pretending that I heard and seen nothing. But my conscience just wouldn't let me do it so, I tore a hole in the end of the bag and removed Tommy and his Tow Truck. Evidently it had been in the very bottom corner of the bag and had not contacted any of the poopie-ness that potentially comes with being in the diaper pail bag.
I refilled the trashcan, carried the toy truck into the house, promptly hosed it down with antibacterial cleaner, scrubbed it off with paper towels and then scrubbed myself off.
Poop doesn't particularly scare me. I mean it's just poop and it stinks but it's not like it's going to leap up out of the diaper and smear itself on me. Trash picking the diaper pail bag skeeves me out more than a poopie diaper does.
This is not the case for the hubby. He tends to freak out a bit about poop and I think I've figured out why.
When I change a poopie diaper I don't inspect or analyze the contents. I open it, scrape the poop off their butt, clean with additional wipes, wrap them in the dirty diaper and put it in the pail.
Hubby analyzes.
No wonder he is prone to gagging!
I try to feed the kids balanced meals and most of the time, to my surprise, I actually achieve this goal.
The kids will eat just about anything but hubby won't eat broccoli. He does eat peas, green beans, spinach and Brussels sprouts. Nights we don't do green we do carrots or corn - I know more of a starch than a veggie but I'm trying.
Recently we had a couple of nights of baked chicken with sweet potato fries and green beans. Well rounded meals complete with cookies for dessert. Unless we have fresh pears then they want nothing to do with cookies. But I digress...
Sometime during that week hubby was changing the stuntman's diaper when I heard, "The green stuff is not processing."
"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "that's interesting."
No sooner did I finish this thought did I hear, "DID YOU HEAR ME??? THE GREEN STUFF IS NOT PROCESSING!"
I replied that I did indeed hear him but that there was nothing I could do about it. I did, however, thank him for his observation.
Once he had finished the diaper change and washed his hands he remarked that it was really disgusting. I pointed out that if he spent less time analyzing it, he might not gag. "After all," I said, "you're just changing a diaper, not trying to recover a pair of ingested diamond earrings."
He gagged.
Not only can they put things in that shouldn't be thrown away but they take things out that should.
The kitchen trashcan has a lock on it that, when we remember to use it, keeps them from opening it. The diaper pails do not and the cans in the bathrooms are just open ones.
There are telltale signs that the children have been in the bathrooms: the toilet lids are down, toilet paper is on the counter or window sill and the trash cans are on the counter. They love to pull things out of the trash cans and hand them to me like their presenting me with the Crown Jewels!
The looks on their faces say, "Look mommy! I got you a used snot rag. Isn't it great?!"
Until recently we didn't worry about them getting into the diaper pails. I mean really, who opens those things if they don't have to. I guess ones nose needs to be higher than the lid to get the full effect of the odor but still...Gag!
About a week ago I was headed downstairs when I noticed the Engineer on the floor next to the diaper pail with a dirty diaper in his lap...a poopie diaper to be exact! He had one hand on the diaper and one in the poop and was looking a little concerned about what he was going to do about it.
Even he knew that this was not something that should go in his mouth.
I came close to screaming but bit my tongue so I wouldn't scare him into crawling away leaving a trail of poopie handprints on the one area of the first floor that has carpeting.
I picked him up, deposited the diaper back in the trashcan and headed into the bathroom to try to wash the hand of a 14 month old while holding him at the same time. I did manage but neither of us was happy when we it was over.
The other night I did that oatmeal in the crockpot overnight recipe - it was delicious by the way. I peeled and sliced the apples, put the apple peels, seeds, cores, etc. in the trash, turned on the crockpot and went to bed. The following morning when we came downstairs the oatmeal smelled heavenly. I helped myself to two (yes two) large bowls which I shared with the boys while they also had their morning banana and clementines.
About 20 minutes after finishing breakfast and cleaning up I was exercising my OCD by separating the kids' blocks, chew toys and stuffies when the Engineer rounded the corner munching on something and waving what appeared to be a slice of bacon. Mmmmm BACON!
Wait...where did he get bacon?!
Upon further inspection I discovered that it was, in fact, not bacon but rather apple peels that he pulled out of the kitchen trashcan...that I had forgotten to lock...again.
I made two New Year's resolutions this year. 1. Clean the office AKA the Abyss (See Flat Surface Disease). 2. Keep said office clean.
In an effort to keep this year's resolutions I tied a rope around my waist the other day and ventured into the Abyss while the boys were napping. I actually made really good progress and had to empty the round-file twice.
The first time I dumped the office trash into the large can in the garage I heard, "Do you need a tow truck, call me, I'm on the way."
Huh?
"Beep, Beep!"
Wait, what?!
I pushed on the top of the trash, "My name's Tommy and this is my Tow Truck."
Crap! That's where that toy ended up!
I began removing the stuff I had just dumped in, and looked into the bottom of the can to see a light blinking behind the white plastic of the bag from the DIAPER PAIL!
Eeeeeeeew! No no no no nooooooo not that...Anything but that!!!
I began to bargain...
I considered putting the lid on and pretending that I heard and seen nothing. But my conscience just wouldn't let me do it so, I tore a hole in the end of the bag and removed Tommy and his Tow Truck. Evidently it had been in the very bottom corner of the bag and had not contacted any of the poopie-ness that potentially comes with being in the diaper pail bag.
I refilled the trashcan, carried the toy truck into the house, promptly hosed it down with antibacterial cleaner, scrubbed it off with paper towels and then scrubbed myself off.
Poop doesn't particularly scare me. I mean it's just poop and it stinks but it's not like it's going to leap up out of the diaper and smear itself on me. Trash picking the diaper pail bag skeeves me out more than a poopie diaper does.
This is not the case for the hubby. He tends to freak out a bit about poop and I think I've figured out why.
When I change a poopie diaper I don't inspect or analyze the contents. I open it, scrape the poop off their butt, clean with additional wipes, wrap them in the dirty diaper and put it in the pail.
Hubby analyzes.
No wonder he is prone to gagging!
I try to feed the kids balanced meals and most of the time, to my surprise, I actually achieve this goal.
The kids will eat just about anything but hubby won't eat broccoli. He does eat peas, green beans, spinach and Brussels sprouts. Nights we don't do green we do carrots or corn - I know more of a starch than a veggie but I'm trying.
Recently we had a couple of nights of baked chicken with sweet potato fries and green beans. Well rounded meals complete with cookies for dessert. Unless we have fresh pears then they want nothing to do with cookies. But I digress...
Sometime during that week hubby was changing the stuntman's diaper when I heard, "The green stuff is not processing."
"Hmmm," I thought to myself, "that's interesting."
No sooner did I finish this thought did I hear, "DID YOU HEAR ME??? THE GREEN STUFF IS NOT PROCESSING!"
I replied that I did indeed hear him but that there was nothing I could do about it. I did, however, thank him for his observation.
Once he had finished the diaper change and washed his hands he remarked that it was really disgusting. I pointed out that if he spent less time analyzing it, he might not gag. "After all," I said, "you're just changing a diaper, not trying to recover a pair of ingested diamond earrings."
He gagged.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
No Big Deal Right?
I am blessed with a mother that is one of my best friends in the whole-wide-world.
She is smart, funny, sensitive and the one you want on your side in an argument - she should have been a litigator - and is the ultimate "momma bear" if someone she loves is in danger.
If you are in need of an advocate for medical services she will go to any length to help including calling the governor's office if need be. Most medical practitioners have never had a patient or advocate that arms herself with information the way she does. She has knowledge of obscure facts and laws that most people have never heard of, never mind remember, and can recall details of a phone conversation from 1972.
Her math skills suck unless you want to know how much 25% off the sale price of an item is but her command of the English language is above par. She is one of the few people left in the world who can actually diagram a sentence or explain what a dangling participle is but ask her to plug in a printer and things will go to hell in the blink of an eye!
There is no such thing as a quick trip to my mom's house.
Knowing this, when I arranged to "stop" in last weekend, to return the wood splitting equipment that we had borrowed, I expected to find a list of things that needed to be done. The first of which was to tighten the faucet on the kitchen sink. Upon attempting to do so, we discovered that there was a leak in the drain pipe from the small (right) sink.
No big deal right?
Wrong!
I tightened it up. Fixed! Yay!
Or so I thought...
I crawled the rest of the way under the sink and tightened the faucet down. Whew that was easy. Mom turned on the water to make sure that the thing wasn't wiggling around anymore and next thing I knew I had dirty drain water spewing onto my face!
AAAAAACK! Shut it off, shut it off, SHUT IT OFF!!!!
Ugh! Now I have to call the king of all things water, AKA Hubby, and see if he can tell me what the issue is.
I got hubby, who was giving the boys their post nap snack, on the phone and told him what was happening, followed his instructions to a T and reassembled everything.
It didn't work.
I took pictures and sent them off to him so he could see exactly where the problem was and waited for the return call with further instructions.
So picture me sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the kitchen sink, phone pressed between my left shoulder and ear trying to follow his directions while he plays referee with the boys.
In the meantime, my mother, who has always hated the pendent lights that hang over the island located behind me, turns them off leaving me virtually in the dark. As if that weren't bad enough, she either makes a comment or askes me questions ever time I make a comment to hubby.
Not only can I not see but I can't hear the guy who knows what he's talking about!
I had to point out to my mom that I WAS ON THE PHONE!!!
I seem to have followed his directions pretty well and got the problem fixed but we left the bucket there just in case!
Then I hear, "You know what I should have you do while you're here?"
Here it comes...
"I can have you hook up my printer," she says.
Oy vey!
She told me a few months ago that she needed a printer. The old one wouldn't work. So I researched printers and, because of the cost of ink cartridges, suggested that she go with a decent laser printer this time, sent her a link for a Brother color laser printer.
It's been in the box since it arrived at her house for at least two months.
So we begin the process of removing the old one, cleaning the dust bunnies out from under the desk and plugging in the new, wireless printer. There is a problem...her router is so old that it will not communicate with her new printer. She is going to have to call Verizon to get them to install a current wireless router for her DSL.
She then says, well the new one will still scan and copy right?
Scan? Copy? No! You told me you needed a printer...
So, I asked her what was wrong with the old printer anyway - something that as a result of hindsight I should have done months ago - and was told that she couldn't use it because it was plugged into my dad's old computer.
Wait, what?
I should have known...
This is the same woman that thought she could only access her gmail account on one computer.
Sooooooo....
I plugged in the old computer, connected the USB cable to mom's laptop, installed the drivers and voila, fixed!
Yep, it was that easy!
I'm reasonably certain that she has yet to call Verizon to get the router switched out. There are other work arounds for it but I'm not about to go there with her...ever!
She is smart, funny, sensitive and the one you want on your side in an argument - she should have been a litigator - and is the ultimate "momma bear" if someone she loves is in danger.
If you are in need of an advocate for medical services she will go to any length to help including calling the governor's office if need be. Most medical practitioners have never had a patient or advocate that arms herself with information the way she does. She has knowledge of obscure facts and laws that most people have never heard of, never mind remember, and can recall details of a phone conversation from 1972.
Her math skills suck unless you want to know how much 25% off the sale price of an item is but her command of the English language is above par. She is one of the few people left in the world who can actually diagram a sentence or explain what a dangling participle is but ask her to plug in a printer and things will go to hell in the blink of an eye!
There is no such thing as a quick trip to my mom's house.
Knowing this, when I arranged to "stop" in last weekend, to return the wood splitting equipment that we had borrowed, I expected to find a list of things that needed to be done. The first of which was to tighten the faucet on the kitchen sink. Upon attempting to do so, we discovered that there was a leak in the drain pipe from the small (right) sink.
No big deal right?
Wrong!
I tightened it up. Fixed! Yay!
Or so I thought...
I crawled the rest of the way under the sink and tightened the faucet down. Whew that was easy. Mom turned on the water to make sure that the thing wasn't wiggling around anymore and next thing I knew I had dirty drain water spewing onto my face!
AAAAAACK! Shut it off, shut it off, SHUT IT OFF!!!!
Ugh! Now I have to call the king of all things water, AKA Hubby, and see if he can tell me what the issue is.
I got hubby, who was giving the boys their post nap snack, on the phone and told him what was happening, followed his instructions to a T and reassembled everything.
It didn't work.
I took pictures and sent them off to him so he could see exactly where the problem was and waited for the return call with further instructions.
So picture me sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the kitchen sink, phone pressed between my left shoulder and ear trying to follow his directions while he plays referee with the boys.
In the meantime, my mother, who has always hated the pendent lights that hang over the island located behind me, turns them off leaving me virtually in the dark. As if that weren't bad enough, she either makes a comment or askes me questions ever time I make a comment to hubby.
Not only can I not see but I can't hear the guy who knows what he's talking about!
I had to point out to my mom that I WAS ON THE PHONE!!!
I seem to have followed his directions pretty well and got the problem fixed but we left the bucket there just in case!
Then I hear, "You know what I should have you do while you're here?"
Here it comes...
"I can have you hook up my printer," she says.
Oy vey!
She told me a few months ago that she needed a printer. The old one wouldn't work. So I researched printers and, because of the cost of ink cartridges, suggested that she go with a decent laser printer this time, sent her a link for a Brother color laser printer.
It's been in the box since it arrived at her house for at least two months.
So we begin the process of removing the old one, cleaning the dust bunnies out from under the desk and plugging in the new, wireless printer. There is a problem...her router is so old that it will not communicate with her new printer. She is going to have to call Verizon to get them to install a current wireless router for her DSL.
She then says, well the new one will still scan and copy right?
Scan? Copy? No! You told me you needed a printer...
So, I asked her what was wrong with the old printer anyway - something that as a result of hindsight I should have done months ago - and was told that she couldn't use it because it was plugged into my dad's old computer.
Wait, what?
I should have known...
This is the same woman that thought she could only access her gmail account on one computer.
Sooooooo....
I plugged in the old computer, connected the USB cable to mom's laptop, installed the drivers and voila, fixed!
Yep, it was that easy!
I'm reasonably certain that she has yet to call Verizon to get the router switched out. There are other work arounds for it but I'm not about to go there with her...ever!
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Sleepless No More...I Hope!
The past couple of months have been wracked with difficult nights. Not only has the stuntman not wanted to go to sleep but he's been waking up once or twice a night. We'd go a full week without incident, and then just as the pattern was getting established he'd start all over again.
To say it was frustrating would be an understatement.
I'm a pretty high energy person and can usually get by on a couple of hours of sleep without a problem. I've been known to do this for days or even weeks on end but usually with a purpose like a trade show or something that would keep me so busy that I wouldn't notice the exhaustion.
At the end of whatever the event was, I'd crash for a day and get the sleep I needed. If you've known me for any period of time, you'll know that this was my standard means of existence.
This is no longer the case...
With a child that was only sleeping for 3-4 hours at a time - intermittently, I was unable to ever feel like I was rested. The worst part was that we had no idea when his bad nights would strike.
The final straw came about a week ago when he had a particularly horrid night and was up at 11:00, 1:00 am, 3:30 am, 6:30 am and finally at 8. He would not lie down in his crib and spent most of the night on my chest in the recliner. By the time that night was over I felt like I'd been dragged through a knothole and didn't look much better either!
Many of my friends and my mom, insisted that I call the doctor, which I did.
The nurse called me back to discuss what was going on and said that he really should see a doctor, since he'd had a cold lately, they were concerned about his ears. Ok that makes sense but that wouldn't account for the previous months of turmoil. Anyway...
I threw myself together - even managed a shower - changed the kids into regular clothes and headed out.
Our regular pediatrician wasn't in that day so he was seen by another doctor who after checking his ears, eyes, nose and throat declared him to be in perfect health. While this is a great and wonderful thing for which I am eternally grateful, this declaration will not garner sleep for any of us.
She did say that if he is teething that I should use ibuprofen instead of Tylenol because it will help with the swelling that accompanies teething. She then went on to say that when he has his episodes, we could give him a teaspoon of Maalox and see if he settles down. If that works then they could prescribe Zantac for him.
I called hubby on the way home and gave him the report and asked that he pick up the Maalox on his ride home from work. He couldn't find it but did arrive with a bottle of liquid Rolaids. We gave him both the liquid Rolaids and ibuprofen that night and every night since.
We have had six consecutive full nights of sleep!
We have had six consecutive full nights of sleep!
Our routine now involves putting the bottles of milk in the microwave to warm them and giving the stuntman his bedtime cocktail of ibuprofen and liquid Rolaids. Hubby heads to the sofa with the engineer and I take the stuntman up to the rocking recliner in the bedroom.
We do this because the stuntman is too easily distracted by any form of stimulation. Doesn't matter if it's the television, the cat walking across the room or his brother breathing, anything will take his attention away from the task of falling asleep.
For some reason when I try to put the engineer down, he wakes up. I seem to have better luck with the stuntman and hubby has better luck with the engineer. Once their bottles are finished or they are out, whichever comes first, we put them down for the night in their cribs.
I can always tell when hubby is bringing the engineer up to bed by the sounds of the toys he collides with on his way to the stairs. One particularly distinctive sound is that of the Leap Frog Turtle who has these gears on his shell. Each gear has a different number of bugs on it. If you push on the gear it talks.
The other night I hear, "Three bees buzzing. Bzzz, Bzzz, Bzzz" as he kicked the turtle.
Oh good, hubby's on his way upstairs.
Not realizing that the poor little thing was still in front of him he hit it again this time making it sing, "My friends are traveling on my back..."
Oh. My. Gawd!!! I can't laugh, I can't laugh, I can't laugh! I'm going to wake the stuntman!
The kid is a champion power-napper! He can be asleep for five minutes and if woken up, will be awake for another three hours. Each night when we climb into the chair I boot up Lullaby World's Lullabies For Babies To Go To Sleep on You Tube. Not only is it visually interesting it is mind numbing and helps the stuntman achieve the perfect level of trance that lets him pass out in obtain a very deep sleep.
Thank goodness too because the combination of noise from downstairs and my giggling would certainly wake him up.
Hubby reads my blog so he knows that I pick on him about his clumsiness. He can't deny it and will even make comments about whether or not what he's done will end up on the world wide web. Some of what I post actually seems to impact him albeit not always in a good way.
Back in August, I wrote about his 18-inch disease. (See Shiny) Right after that post I caught him standing in front of the sink, coffee mug in hand trying to decide if he was going to put it in the sink or actually open the dishwasher.
I laughed.
His mug ended up in the sink.
His 18-inch disease improved for a little while but honestly not very long.
Last weekend, after he finished his coffee, headed over to the sink to put his coffee cup in it. I had cooked breakfast, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher but there was still a bunch of stuff in the sink that needed to be hand-washed.
I heard this loud, aggravated sigh come from the direction of the sink and when I asked what was wrong he said that there was so much stuff in the sink that there was no room for his mug. I replied that he could put it in the dishwasher, which is where it belonged anyway.
"I can't," he replied with a wicked gleam in his eye. "I have that disease."
Back in August, I wrote about his 18-inch disease. (See Shiny) Right after that post I caught him standing in front of the sink, coffee mug in hand trying to decide if he was going to put it in the sink or actually open the dishwasher.
I laughed.
His mug ended up in the sink.
His 18-inch disease improved for a little while but honestly not very long.
Last weekend, after he finished his coffee, headed over to the sink to put his coffee cup in it. I had cooked breakfast, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher but there was still a bunch of stuff in the sink that needed to be hand-washed.
I heard this loud, aggravated sigh come from the direction of the sink and when I asked what was wrong he said that there was so much stuff in the sink that there was no room for his mug. I replied that he could put it in the dishwasher, which is where it belonged anyway.
"I can't," he replied with a wicked gleam in his eye. "I have that disease."
Just
There is no "just" when you have kids.
Before children, which has only been 14 months, if we wanted to go out for dinner all we had to do was grab our coats and head out the door. Every aspect of our lives has changed since we had kids. Not only can we not "just go out for dinner" but we can no longer "just run to the store," "just take a nap," or even "just run upstairs for a quickie!"
I have learned to tolerate soggy cereal and I have even stopped eating oatmeal for breakfast as I can't stand it when it's cold!
I was relatively prepared for the change in lifestyle, and since having children was such a long endeavor, I welcomed the changes...I thought.
I would no longer be jetting around the country for work or spend my evenings line dancing.
I was going to be a mother and had every misconception about that experience running through my head that you can imagine. My days would be full of fun times with happy-go-lucky children, who were brilliant and charming...I thought.
That still may come; for now however, my days are filled with dirty diapers, barf, drool and whining.
A. Noise. I. Despise!
I can't stand whining when it comes from any kid, and maybe because it's coming from mine, I really hate it. I mean really, it's sooooo annoying. I called my bestie the other day to ask if I should feel guilty for wanting to lock my kids in the house and go for a long drive because the stuntman was driving me crazy.
No one in their right mind romanticizes the idea of snuggling with a whiner! So I was largely unprepared to deal with a child who does. Hence the desire to take a long slow drive around the block...alone!
If you say that you've never been irritated by your child I'm just going to call BS now!
Don't get me wrong here. I love my boys. They are beautiful, adorable and extremely cute. Most of the time they are really happy and I love spending time with them and learning to see the world all over again through their eyes. However, they can also drive me nuts.
The whining is enough to put me over the edge.
Teething has truly sucked beyond words but they won't be teething forever. However, I'm a little nervous however, that they will whine forever.
The stuntman's primary form of communication seems to come in the form of whining. He does it when he has something that he wants me to open, he does it when his brother refuses to let him steal the toy he was playing with and he does it when something is wrong.
The volume seems to be the only way to tell the severity of his need.
He's sort of a sky is falling type of kid. He whines all the time so it's pretty hard to know when there is something serious.
The good news is that he has learned the word "ball." Well, we think it's ball. Bottle, bear and ball all come out as "bah." You have to look at what he's pointing at to decipher his intention.
Last night for about two straight hours he walked around the first floor of the house saying, "bah." As irritating as it might have been, he wasn't whining!!!
Thank God for small favors!
Lately, the boys have been into sharing their food with us. They fight over toys but are more than willing to give daddy or me a bite of their grilled cheese, PB&J sandwiches, crackers, etc.
This morning, while I was cutting up their oranges, the engineer had finished is banana and Cheerios. By happenstance their highchairs were close enough that they could reach each others hands. I looked up from the cutting board just in time to see the stuntman reach out with a handful of banana and Cheerios to the engineer who took it and put it in his mouth.
They were sharing with each other!!!
Not only was this ADORABLE but for children who often whine and hit each other over the head with toys when they don't want to share, this was nothing less than amazing.
Think I'll just go say a prayer of thanks.
Before children, which has only been 14 months, if we wanted to go out for dinner all we had to do was grab our coats and head out the door. Every aspect of our lives has changed since we had kids. Not only can we not "just go out for dinner" but we can no longer "just run to the store," "just take a nap," or even "just run upstairs for a quickie!"
I have learned to tolerate soggy cereal and I have even stopped eating oatmeal for breakfast as I can't stand it when it's cold!
I was relatively prepared for the change in lifestyle, and since having children was such a long endeavor, I welcomed the changes...I thought.
I would no longer be jetting around the country for work or spend my evenings line dancing.
I was going to be a mother and had every misconception about that experience running through my head that you can imagine. My days would be full of fun times with happy-go-lucky children, who were brilliant and charming...I thought.
That still may come; for now however, my days are filled with dirty diapers, barf, drool and whining.
A. Noise. I. Despise!
I can't stand whining when it comes from any kid, and maybe because it's coming from mine, I really hate it. I mean really, it's sooooo annoying. I called my bestie the other day to ask if I should feel guilty for wanting to lock my kids in the house and go for a long drive because the stuntman was driving me crazy.
No one in their right mind romanticizes the idea of snuggling with a whiner! So I was largely unprepared to deal with a child who does. Hence the desire to take a long slow drive around the block...alone!
If you say that you've never been irritated by your child I'm just going to call BS now!
Don't get me wrong here. I love my boys. They are beautiful, adorable and extremely cute. Most of the time they are really happy and I love spending time with them and learning to see the world all over again through their eyes. However, they can also drive me nuts.
The whining is enough to put me over the edge.
Teething has truly sucked beyond words but they won't be teething forever. However, I'm a little nervous however, that they will whine forever.
The stuntman's primary form of communication seems to come in the form of whining. He does it when he has something that he wants me to open, he does it when his brother refuses to let him steal the toy he was playing with and he does it when something is wrong.
The volume seems to be the only way to tell the severity of his need.
He's sort of a sky is falling type of kid. He whines all the time so it's pretty hard to know when there is something serious.
The good news is that he has learned the word "ball." Well, we think it's ball. Bottle, bear and ball all come out as "bah." You have to look at what he's pointing at to decipher his intention.
Last night for about two straight hours he walked around the first floor of the house saying, "bah." As irritating as it might have been, he wasn't whining!!!
Thank God for small favors!
Lately, the boys have been into sharing their food with us. They fight over toys but are more than willing to give daddy or me a bite of their grilled cheese, PB&J sandwiches, crackers, etc.
This morning, while I was cutting up their oranges, the engineer had finished is banana and Cheerios. By happenstance their highchairs were close enough that they could reach each others hands. I looked up from the cutting board just in time to see the stuntman reach out with a handful of banana and Cheerios to the engineer who took it and put it in his mouth.
They were sharing with each other!!!
Not only was this ADORABLE but for children who often whine and hit each other over the head with toys when they don't want to share, this was nothing less than amazing.
Think I'll just go say a prayer of thanks.
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