Big Vent

For the last week, I have been experiencing a persistent, low-grade frustration. Nothing major or life-changing has happened, for which I am grateful, but there has been a series of minor frustrations.

It is common knowledge that appliances tend to break in clusters. I don't know if this is really true, or if you just get more and more frustrated with each successive breakage, making multiple breakages stand out in your mind.

Anyway, last week was my week. Not only did the laptop go kaput, but the vacuum hose stopped sucking, and the GPS had been broken for several weeks. (Another debunking of the "things break in clusters" myth: a lot of times we tend to count things that have, in fact, broken long ago and are just still not fixed.)

And then there was the dishwasher. For some time, my husband has been at odds with the dishwasher. According to his mom, he has always been rather particular about the cleanliness of dishes, such that when he selects a dish, he will inspect a series of dishes and reject several for having miscellaneous spots on them. He determined that the source of the problem in our dishwasher was a large white blob of something at the bottom of the dishwasher, which he told Nathan was the mythical Mexican chupacabra. This actually became quite comical, because Bill bought Nathan a Scooby-Doo DVD about the chupacabra for his birthday, and when it came time to shop for a new dishwasher, Nathan told the salesperson, "We need a new dishwasher, because our dishwasher has a chupacabra in it."

Anyway, so on the day we bought our new fridge, we also got a new, space-age, non-chupacabra-having dishwasher, which was to be installed the following Tuesday (which was last Tuesday). When the day came, it turned out Sears' computer system had somehow malfunctioned, and our order was completely lost. Five frustrating days later, during which the chupacabra caught wind of his impending eradication and decided to render the dishwasher completely non-functional, we ended up going back to Sears and just re-buying the dishwasher. It's supposed to come tomorrow. And I blame the chupacabra for mobilizing the other appliances to break as well.

Bill went out of town Friday for his high school reunion. He asked if I could drive him to the airport. On the way, Nathan began whining that he was thirsty, and so I let him drink out of my plastic cup with a reusable straw (you know, the kinds they sell at Starbucks and the like?). When he gave it back, several sharp, jagged pieces were missing from the straw. Bill asked me to pull over so we could frantically search for the pieces. When we couldn't find them, we became paranoid that Nathan had swallowed one, so we took a detour to the nearest ER and went through a little adventure there. The doctors assured us we had nothing to worry about, and they took an x-ray to prove it. They discharged us and told us to look out for signs of abdominal distress, which were unlikely at that point. Also at that point, Bill had missed his flight and had to pay $200 to get a later one. But I still consider him the lucky one, because after that ordeal he got to get on a plane, relax, and enjoy a kid-free three-day weekend.

I don't know what it is about having Bill out of town that is so stressful for me. I'm used to him working late and having to do most of the housework/cooking/childcare on my own, which is the deal I signed up for when I decided to become a stay-at-home-mom. I'm used to getting up with Nathan in the morning and being up for several hours with him while Bill sleeps. And on many weekends I take Nathan alone to do things while Bill gets work done. Yet somehow the combination of never having another adult there really wears you out. You can never ask somebody else to give a bath or even just dry the kid off after the bath. There are no periods where the kid is off with his dad playing so you can make dinner. It's just all you, all the time.

My strategy with the weekend was to just spend the days completely wearing Nathan out, so I wouldn't have any problems at bedtime. Normally he takes a nap in the afternoon and then we stay up a little later because I have the gym and we eat late to accommodate Bill's late afternoon classes. But for this weekend, I didn't want to have Nathan wake up around 5 p.m. from a nap, then be tasked with the challenge of having to wear him out in the evenings. Better to just forgo the nap and power through the day.

So on Saturday we: went to the gym, went to the little league opening day parade, ran a few errands, went back to Sears to buy the dishwasher, ran around a lot at the mall playground outside of the Sears, and then rode in the little cars at the mall that you put quarters in. And then we got home and it was still just me and this kid, and I had to make dinner, force him to eat his dinner, and then get him ready for bed.

And then he still wouldn't sleep in his bed and ended up in mine. Where his diaper leaked. A lot.

Sunday I decided to opt for one big outing instead of several little ones. I found this super fun children's museum in Indiana, just 25 minutes away. They had your standard water table and train table, plus the little make-believe dress-up village with the toy kitchen and grocery store. And, adorably, they have a little cooking class where they show the kids how to make something, and then they eat it. They made ants on a log, which is usually made with celery, peanut butter, and raisins, but they are a peanut-free facility so they substituted cream cheese for peanut butter. And speaking of food, they have a fairly decent snack bar with pizza they make there. Plus they have a big ball pit and a giant padded play structure, making it sort of a combination museum/Chuck E. Cheese/McDonald's playland. We stayed until the place closed.

And then we went home. And I still had to deal with this kid, dinner, and bedtime. And exhausted as he was, he still found the energy to carry on in his bed for two hours until I gave up and once again let him sleep in my bed. Which was actually pretty convenient because he developed a cold and was up several times in the middle of the night moaning, "I'm siiiiiiick."

So that's where we are today. I'm really tired of being alone with this kid, and now we're throwing in whiny and sick as well. I scrapped my plans to go to the gym because you aren't supposed to bring sick kids to the daycare, and plus even if I did it would have been difficult to motivate him to go.

Instead I just ordered pizza. With cheesy garlic bread. And baked mostaccioli.

Big NaBloPoMo FAIL

So, in case you might be wondering why I haven't posted in the last 3 days, the answer is not that I'm dead. My computer, however, is dead. It started making this rattling noise, like a rain stick, when I picked it up to carry it downstairs Tuesday morning. And it won't start up anymore. Ignoring the wishes of my DIY husband, I took it in to the Best Buy Geek Squad. Of course, they suggested I get a new computer. And not to bring you into my marital problems, but Mr. DIY is against replacing the thing, while I am all for it.

Big Mistake

In the great debate between being a stay-at-home mom and a work-outside-the-home mom (a debate that exists, largely, inside each individual mom's own head), there is the question of whether staying home will bring a mom more free time. More time with your child(ren), yes. More time for household chores, yes. But more free time? Hard to say.

I think that as a SAHM, I have more unstructured time than I did when I was working. When I was working, my whole day was scheduled with my work shift and then my at-home evening routines. Even the weekends had to be used mostly for catching up on laundry and grocery shopping. It was stressful, and I admit that being a SAHM is a lot less stressful in terms of scheduling. I do feel like I have time to get things done.

However, I also have less alone time, and that makes it hard to get certain kid-free activities done. I am lucky to have childcare on Tuesdays, but I can only get so much done on those days. It's hard for me to thoroughly clean my whole house from top-to-bottom with Nathan around, so I usually do that on Tuesdays. Throw in some grocery shopping and other miscellaneous errands/appointments, and my Tuesdays are more or less shot.

So I usually start thinking around Sunday about what I can do to lessen my Tuesday load. For example, could I possibly squeeze in a small grocery-shopping trip with Nathan Monday afternoon to tide us over until the following weekend?

So, the big mistake part comes in here, when I was using today to try to get some of my Tuesday to-do's done. As you may recall, I got fake nails a couple of weeks ago. I got them mostly for the wedding I was in, and then my intention was to have them removed this week. I got to thinking that Nathan could probably behave himself long enough in the nail place for them to pry off my acrylic nails, and for me to get an eyebrow wax. I have brought him along for eyebrow waxes before, because it's not like those are relaxing anyway. They're ripping your facial hair out from the roots, so adding in the pain of wrangling a toddler doesn't make it that much more painful.

So it was gonna be brow wax, then nail removal. But when I got into the nail place, I was seduced by the many pretty colors I could get if I just got my nails filled in another time. I craved that feeling of walking away with something pretty and novel to have all for myself. So I asked to have my nails filled, with the bright pink sea gems tips.

Nathan had many toys. He played with them for a time, ate a sucker from my purse for a time, and sat on my lap for a time. However, he also wanted to spin around in the chair, step on the pedals that operate the electric nail tools, and play with those fake hands that display the different kinds of nails you could get. He broke off two of the nails on the display hands, and the lady was mad. She yelled at him, "You go sit down!" And that child looked like my old dog used to when you would scold her for peeing on the carpet and she'd hide in the corner with her tail between her legs.

Maybe I should yell at him more.

Anyway, I learned that you should not take your child with you to the nail place. You have to spend every second controlling his behavior, and you have to do it from a chair with only one available hand. And you have to endure yelling from the nail lady and Judgmental Looks from the other patrons.

The thing is, I feel like an idiot in so many ways. First of all, what made me think the child could behave himself while I got my nails done? Second, why am I not a good enough parent to just get my kid to listen to me? I swear, that child fights back on every command I give him. I mean, not in an argumentative way, just in a "let me ascertain the exact limits of my behavior" way. So, say he is screaming and yelling. You say, "Stop screaming." And instead he changes his voice to making the same noise, just in a voice that's not quite loud enough to qualify as a scream, but is still loud enough to be annoying. And it's like, must you be so sneaky?

I think I need to find a new nail place. I'm too embarrassed to show my face in there ever again.

Not-so-big problems

First of all, I am posting twice in one day because I didn't post yesterday. Yes, I know that's cheating. Whatever.

This running thing is just killing me. I have gone out running twice since my class last week, and both times were big fat fails. I couldn't run for 5 minutes straight at all. This has been trying both physically and psychologically. Some people have suggested that this particular program might be starting out too advanced, and that I should try something easier at first, but I don't know if I should because I still have to be able to hang with the teacher/class on Wednesdays.

Anyway, so all the time I am exhausted and crabby. I can't seem to get anything done. And I just feel off my rhythm these days anyway. First I went on this trip, and then last week Bill worked late every single day, so simple things like preparing dinner and sitting down to eat it with my family have not happened in several days. I feel off.

The Big Box

Two guys on a truck came yesterday to bring us this big box, which has been turned into a fort that is obviously very holy and angelic, seeing as it's bathed in light and all.

Prior to being fort-ified, the box contained our new refrigerator! See, on Friday, Bill stayed home from work so we could go to Sears and take advantage of the one-day government incentive to get 15% off energy-efficient appliances. (Am I the only one who wishes the government would put its money toward universal healthcare instead of bribing us all to buy appliances? I mean, I'm sure the appliance money wouldn't go all that far in terms of healthcare, but it could at least buy some band-aids for a clinic or something.)

So, the reason for our new refrigerator was that our old one was totally decrepit. It was manufactured in 2000, and it seems to me that a refrigerator shouldn't fall apart after 10 years, because didn't everybody's grandma own a refrigerator from like 1952 or something? Oh well, they don't make 'em like they used to. Also, I am a very destructive appliance owner.

On the old refrigerator, both the refrigerator and freezer handles had broken off. (Talk about Life telling you to go on a diet.) Every single drawer was cracked. On the lunch meat/cheese/tortilla drawer (what, that's a category, right?), there was such a large hole in the front that you didn't even have to open the drawer to put the stuff in. It was actually really efficient. Also, the ice maker no longer dispensed on the front.

Plus, it was nasty. I have to confess that in the time we have lived in this house (which is the better part of 3 years), I really only did one serious scrub-down of the fridge. Is there any bigger pain in the ass than cleaning spills in a refrigerator? Everything you spill seeps down into every crack and crevice, including ones you can only reach with a toothpick, and also all the substances congeal and cool so you can't clean them with ordinary household cleaners.

So when we decided to get a new fridge, I just decided to stop cleaning the old one altogether.

Our new fridge really isn't different than the old one, except for the non-nastiness and the full functionality. But it's nice to start fresh. I was ruthless, ruthless I tell you, in my cleanout of the old fridge, throwing out every barbecue sauce with only a quarter inch of sauce in it and getting rid of the little applesauces that I thought would solve all my problems with getting Nathan to eat items from the plant kingdom.

And now all we do is just sit and stare at our new fridge in awe. Which is just totally dumb because a new fridge doesn't cook the food for you or make it so delicious foods are somehow healthier. It just cools your food, same as your old fridge. And you're out a lot of money for it, even if the government did subsidize a small part of it.

But there's something so nice about having something clean and efficient. It reduces a lot of stress. Plus, there's the bonus of having a really attractive giant box fort in your living room! Buzz Kill that I am, I wanted to have the delivery people take the box with them. But my husband's inner child, as well as my actual child, wanted to keep the box. And man, has this fort been exciting! We have played several rounds of a game known as "knock on the door and come in," and I even typed part of this post in it.

The big summer preview!

Yesterday we had temps in the 80s. The 80s! In April!

So we went to the garage and got out two plastic containers with the most beautiful labels ever: "Summer" and "Wading Pool."

In "Summer" we found beach towels, sidewalk chalk, and some balls that float in the pool. The towels smelled like citronella candles, and that scent, mixed with the smell of our sunscreen, gave us the full summer olfactory experience.

"Wading Pool" contained not only the basic inflatable pool, but this other contraption that goes over it and hooks up to the hose to produce a rainstorm. I kind of downplayed that top part because I was a little light-headed after blowing up the pool, and the top part is inflatable, too.

After adding 5-6 large stock pots of hot water to the freezing-cold hose water, the pool was a comfortable temperature. I quickly whipped up a picnic lunch in the kitchen while Nathan chomped at the bit to go in the pool. Then I ate while Nathan splashed:

Living in a cold climate really makes you appreciate the little things that signal warmer weather. Like fruit:

My favorites are strawberries and nectarines. What are yours?

The pool got a little chilly, so we played with sidewalk chalk for awhile:
The reflection of the tulips in the glass door is a cool touch, don't you think?

Today our string of good-weather luck has ended, and it's overcast with temps in the 60s. But now I've had a preview of the summer, and I'm hooked. Oh Mr. Sun, I love you so much, I even paid tribute to you in my art:

The big challenge: REVISED

Remember two whole days ago when I wrote about trying to go to the gym 20 times in April so I could get a t-shirt? Well, since then, as in yesterday, I embarked on a new fitness challenge.

My friend Carolyn and I joined a class at the gym that is supposed to train you to run the 5K circuit that they have in our hometown over the summer. It's sort of like the Couch to 5K, except with a teacher. And this teacher? She is one of those people who is so fit in such a perfectly-proportioned way that you can't believe it. She's not just thin, but toned, except not in a gross bodybuilding way. Her skin is perfectly tanned. Her hair is perfect. Her teeth are sparkling white and straight. This woman is so perfect I might consider sleeping with her. And oh, did I mention I see her dropping off her two kids in the gym daycare when I drop off Nathan? And that the younger one is exactly Nathan's age? And that her abs would suggest otherwise?

Anyway, she's one of those people who eats, sleeps, and breathes fitness. She's a trainer and instructor at not only our gym, but another one across town as well. She rides in 100-mile bike races and does triathlons. And she says things like, "Tomorrow I have a training appointment at 5:15 a.m., then I'm teaching Spin & Sculpt at 6, and then I'll be off-and-on at the gym on the floor until 10 p.m."

I wish I could be that passionate about something that is good for me. Or that I could incorporate one of my hobbies into professional work. But until Professional Cat Appreciator becomes a real position, I'm stuck.

Anyway, so we're in this class that's supposed to take us from total schlubs to 5K runners in six weeks. Each week we run a little bit more. Last night we ran 5 minutes, then walked 2, then repeated this two more times. I felt exhausted, but it seemed do-able.

But here's where a wrench gets thrown in the whole t-shirt-earning plan. The running class has homework. You're supposed to repeat that week's workout at least 3 more times on your own. Now, granted this week's workout is only 21 minutes long, but it's a major energy-drain and sweat-builder, and I don't know that I want to try to do it before another exercise class. And I sure as hell know I won't be willing to try to do it after another exercise class. Which means that I'll probably have to cut out at least a couple of classes a week.

So I'm not making any promises on the t-shirt now.

But hey, Running Instructor Barbie (actual name: Amy, and she's very nice) told us that it is pointless to work out too much, which makes me feel a little bit better.