It looks like pickles

I am not awake today. The combination of my job, a sick, nursing infant, and a preschooler who is potty training has completely drained me. Fatigue started when the post doc nearly killed his computer by forcing it to function with all 30 gigabytes of memory full to the tippy tippy top (he has only been here 6 months, I have been here 4 years and have used 800 MB). I spent all of Mon am explaining to him that the 250 papers he was saving to his hard drive in super-rich-text complete-color-illustration format would definitely still exist in the medical database a month from now and he could trust the database to save them for him. This was followed by 3 hours of continuous nursing with Scoots as soon as I arrived home and that certainly contributed to my fatigue.
But, potty training really was the final blow. Manther absolutely must operate in extremes at all times. I found out last week that it took until the age of 3 years and 11 months to potty train her because she holds her pee for all 8 hours at daycare rather than use a potty that is not tucked away in a private room. I was more than a little shocked to find that she is (or is capable of) doing this and explained the importance finding and using a potty when the urge occurs rather than get sick with a UTI. So, I was woken up at 2:30 am, after two full hours of sleep, by a little voice telling me she had to go potty. More precisely, poo poo. I perched on the edge of the bathtub and fought to stay awake and keep my balance as we poo pooed and discussed Spiderman. Apparently, he was on TV last night and Manther really likes him and wanted to know the details of his existance: does he live in a house, does he have parents, does he come in the front door or down the chimney, will he come to my birthday party, if we were in trouble would he rush in to rescue us, and on and on and on. Finally, there was silence. I looked up from the doze I had fallen into to see Manther standing next to and staring into the potty. I asked if she was okay and she said, "I went poo poo." I congratulated her and asked why she looked concerned. "My poo poo looks like pickles." Funny? Yes, but not at 2:45am. After many assurances that everyone's poop looks something like what she saw in the potty, we returned to bed (praise God). From this point on, all fruits and fiber that are served in my household will be served at morning meals only.

I got pregnant

It is so sad that I haven't posted, blogged, or read blogs in eight months. I miss this part of my day. I got swept away with so many distractions, good distractions, that I couldn't keep up. Even though I am posting now and thinking I will start posting regularly again, there is a voice in my head telling me that I am not being honest with myself about the number of hours in the day and the number of directions I have split myself.
The list of good distractions includes a few good experiments and the race for manuscript preparation so we can stay funded, pregnancy in the middle of March, and somewhere between 2-3 students in the laboratory all summer with lots of needs and questions. I raced through every day and to meet the immediate needs at work and home and I don't remember looking at anything on the internet unless I absolutely needed to. Half the manuscripts are published now, although we still have two more to do in the immediate future. I am due in 6 weeks and, aside from a little diabetes, this has been a pretty easy pregnancy. The students went back to school and are here far less often. This little extra time may give me the opportunity to blog, or this may be the lull before the next storm.
If it matters to anyone reading (and it might have mattered to me if I were reading this), I was struggling with infertility and it was very frustrating. My husband and I tried more than 20 times (like two years) and the disappointments were overwhelming. We made a decision to not pursue invasive, expensive fertility options even though the fertility doc who checked us out recommended some. It happened for us and I am very glad that we did things the way we did. I am not saying we were right and everyone else who handles infertility differently was wrong, but I am comfortable with the path with took even though it was painful at times.
Hubby and Manther (the 3 1/2 year old) are doing well. Hubby is extremely active in AA and runs two meetings and is going to a men's retreat this weekend. His performance at work has apparently been great (at least in my mind) and he is now top salesman and store manager. He has a lot of pressure, but handles it well most of the time. Manther is quite a big girl now, even though she refuses to cooperate and use the potty, and seems very happy in her older preschool room at daycare. She is not happy about having a little sister, but she is a diva/princess and I did not expect gracious acceptance of a new sibling to share stuff with. She will adjust and in 20 years she will probably love her new sister.
I go to my one AA meeting and week and church on Sunday. I am not as active in AA as hubby is, but that is where I am right now and life will change when the kids get older and I will have more free time for meeting and fellowship. I get lots of phone calls in to friends and family members and I feel happy and not isolated.
That's it for now. Today I look forward to finishing my day at work and going home to delouse my child and my house after a note a received regarding an outbreak at daycare. Always something to look forward to...

Manther grows up

It's Monday am and I really should be doing work, but I am having a little trouble getting motivated. Thank you all for your support on my last post. Things haven't improved, but I have just a little bit more acceptance this week than I did last week. We'll see what next week brings
Today I am posting about Manther because I miss her on Monday mornings. I enjoy my time with her over the weekend and she's on my mind when I go back to work. She was more challenging than the average toddler from the age of 18 months until about 2 1/2. At first I thought I had a skewed perspective on the situation because I was her mother. I knew all toddlers were defiant and she just 'felt' more defiant than average because I was so close to the situation. But, I started getting notes from daycare and they confirmed that what I was experiencing was outside of the norm. Well, we heightened discipline and that seemed to improve the situation. Now that some life rules have been established (you may not answer 'no' to everything, you do have to follow instructions, you may not climb or leap from or onto furniture, humans, or animals, AND you do have to wear clothes or at least a diaper and appropriate winter clothing outside because we live in Michigan), we can actually do stuff together rather than engage in a series of behaviors and reprimands. The bonus of having a 'challenging' kid is they seem to have an extra dose of personality and that makes for a lot of fun when they get older. Of course, it can also lead to attention-seeking criminal behavior when they get even older, but we have a few years.
Manther has still loves Elmo and her Sesame Street friends ('all the boys' as Daddy calls thems), but she has developed a second love that was unexpected given her tomboy personality. She loves ballerinas and ballet. I know this is common for a lot of little girls, but she refused to wear a dress for 12 months and I never anticipated an obsession with the pink tutu and tights. She has a couple of ballet cartoons that she adores and she desperately tries to imitate them with clumsy awkward toddler movements. I watch with mommy pride and congratulate and tell her how she looks just like a ballerina.
Last week was a rough one for her and I'm not sure she's recovered. She caught Mom and Dad in a compromising position. We didn't even know we were caught until we finished and walked into the hallway. She was sitting silently in the middle of the hallway, staring at the wall and anxiously sucking on her pacifier. My husband and I gasped and went back into the bedroom and wondered what to do. What did we do? Nothing. How do you explain that to a 2 yr 8 month old? Mommy and Daddy are playing. No you can't play, too. Because it's a game for adults. I don't know why. Do you want candy and an Elmo video? So, rather than have this stupid discussion I totally ignored the situation. She was really mad at Daddy that morning and wouldn't let him touch her, but she seems to have recovered. I wonder what version of the story they heard at daycare.

Prayers for Hubby

The title of this post sounds terrible and, no, my husband does not have a deadly disease. I am feeling so sad because he has the worst boss I have ever seen and I am watching it change him. He is becoming agitated and insomnia is creeping in. His self-esteem is being chipped away despite the fact that I am desperately trying to hug, kiss, and complement at every turn.
My husband works in flooring sales is employed at a small, family-owned company. The owner is an alcoholic ( I don't care if it's inappropriate for me to make this statement, I'm calling a spade a spade today) and has two adult sons who also have chemical dependency issues that have landed them in jail several times. Of course, their lifestyle is costly with the car accidents, lawyer fees, and the price of liquor/drugs and, it seems to be my husband's responsibility to support their habits. Every employee except for my husband and the warehouse manager have quit. I wish Hubby could quit, too, but I am not sure what is worse for your self esteem, permanent unemployment and bankruptcy or lunatic bosses? We look EVERY day for a new job. Occasionally, an opening appears and we jump on it. No calls yet.
Hubby has not missed a day of work in two years. He is scheduled for a 45 hr week with no sick time, paid time off, benefits or commission. His hourly pay is ~ $14 and hour. He does not get reimbursed for the gas or the cell phone that is used constantly in his sales position. He typically works 10 hours more a week than he is scheduled. He got no Christmas bonus this year despite the fact that he was promised one (he is a salesman who laid a floor for free in the new expanded showroom and was told "Thanks buddy, I'll get ya at Christmas). He was informed of an unpaid lay-off over Christmas and then was called back for 4 days during the middle of the lay-off. He was only compensated for 3 of the 4 days. His paycheck for the first full week of work after Christmas was $150 short. There is no real reason given for the cuts in pay. Sometimes the owner indicates sales are down, but my husband and the warehouse manager both see the books and are quite aware that this is a lie. Sometimes the owner just promises to make up the difference later. This never happens.
The one thing the owner does do is make sure you feel like you aren't worthy of the check you are getting and, despite the craziness of it all, I think Hubby is starting to believe it. I know it's a lie. On top of the professionalism and responsibility Hubby has displayed during his employment, he is averaging $30,000 a month in sales. This is the equivalent of the owner's sales and the owner makes sure to take the best sales leads and cuts prices beyond the stated parameters to make his quota. I keep assuring my husband that he is a wonderful husband, father, and employee with a terrible job. My words cannot reverse the effect of the abusive relationship and Hubby's behaviors are starting to scare me.
About two weeks ago, he told me he was wearing sweats to work one Sunday. I tried to insist this was a bad idea and I can't remember if he went through with it or not. On Saturday, he decided to shut and lock the door of the store 15 minutes early. The boss stopped by and confronted him. Hubby didn't really defend himself, but just mentioned he had another job scheduled and was in a hurry (this is the truth, he works on the side installing because his pay is crap). The owner said they would discuss it later. If this discussion would occur in a professional format, Hubby would invite it as an opportunity to vent some frustration. However, the owner likes to humiliate his employees and will wait until several family members and the warehouse manager are present and loudly point out that Hubby was trying to steal hours from him.
I love Hubby and he has grown so much in the past two and half years. I am terrified that this job will eventually enrage him to the point that he beats the hell out of his boss or relapses or both. I am praying, praying, praying every morning. Usually, I am praying out loud in the car. I am asking for your prayers,also. Apparently, God has a little trouble HEARING when I am praying alone (yes, that is my frustration speaking). Please give Hubby a better job option before the abusive relationship destroys him.

The keepsake

Thanks everyone for tolerating my anecdote on poor parenting decisions. I wasted my and my daughter's evening and bought the motorcycle and she has sat on it once. She is not interested in it and I hope this has been a good lesson for Hubby as he watches $110 sit in the garage. I will never again purchase a toy anywhere but a reasonably priced garage sale.
As I've mentioned a few (100) times, my dear sweet Sis has moved to St. Louis for her husband's job (Lisa asked where she lives and I honestly don't know, some suburb, I'll find out more). She is 9 months pregnant and lost her job and is going to be a SAHM for a while. Since they lost an income and will gain a baby, they downsized their house and tried to get rid of as much stuff as possible. Well, Sis tried to get rid of as much stuff as possible. As she bumps around the house and unpacks a few boxes waiting for the baby come, she is finding that her husband did not work very hard at getting rid of stuff. Her MIL does crafts and unloads a lot of craft stuff on Sis. She hates the crafts and I can't say I blame her as they aren't usually very attractive. However, her husband saves all the special things his mother makes as keepsakes. Yesterday she called me and was demanding her husband's head on a stick. Apparently, she happened upon more than a couple boxes of bad crafts and icky keepsakes in the basement. She found what appeared to be a big, dead rodent in a bag in one of the boxes and was more than a little bit startled. She gathered courage and pulled the bag out of the box for further inspection. It was hair. Human hair. A lot of human hair. Some mothers save a lock of their child's hair as a keepsake. It appears that Sis's MIL saved a thick wad of the stuff in a Ziploc baggy. I had to laugh... and admire Sis for further inspection of the creepy thing when I would have shut the box and run upstairs.
TAGS:
family parenting mom kids parents

Absenteeism

Here's some more sidewalk chalk art for you to enjoy compliments of the girls on my block.
I have hardly been posting and I am missing my blog time very much. Thank you all for the support you gave on my last post. I guess I didn't clarify that I was not the one giving the presentation. The resident in our lab gave the presentation, but I had to mingle with the doctor types during the scheduled lectures. I got frustrated because the resident did not prepare properly and his presentation made him, our supervisor, and our research look shoddy. As a result of my frustration, I called him an asshole when I was in the women's bathroom and the director of our department was in the next stall. My coworker was with me and tried to make nice conversation with the director and pretend like there wasn't a lunatic cursing in the bathroom, but there is only so much you can do to clean up a situation like that. You can take the girl out the the streets, but you can't always take the streets out of the girl.

Here's an update:

Nael - She is working her tail off for another presentation her boss will do in England in one week. The data is not coming together very well and it is making her cranky. Also, she is working long hours and this is making her cranky. The upside is she no longer feels like an outsider at her weekly AA meeting because she has to spew so much emotion/frustration at tables to stay sane that everyone feels like they know everything about her. Her sister has gone to St. Louis and this is sad, but they still stay in contact with almost daily phone calls and she is looking forward to visits. Apparently, she is never going to get pregnant and have a second baby. She could not even find an LH surge the past two months and is getting tired of mandatory, unspontaneous sex when she does occasionally surge.

Manther - She has learned where the park is in relation to the house and has a tantrum everytime we drive, bike, or walk by it unless we stop and play. When mommy is having a bad day, she has to drive out of her way to avoid the park because she can't tolerate the tantrum. A few days ago, Manther received some cotten candy from the neighbor and mommy cut her off after she had consumed generous amounts of it. When Manther found that the the tantrum wasn't getting her what she wanted, she went over to the neighbor and asked for more candy. Mommy was quite embarassed. Manther's terrible twos do have some positives. She does not have meltdowns when I leave her at daycare or with sitters and she is becoming a lot of fun to interact with when she isn't being a stubborn, demanding, little cuss.

Hubby - Hubby works all the time now. He worked 14 hours yesterday and he will work 16 today and probably 12 hours days all weekend. He has worked something like 21 days straight and I just pray he doesn't collapse. He has been cranky, but I forgive him.

I promise to check posts tomorrow and see where everyone is at. I can't make any promises about the next week, but I do know that on 7/9/7 the boss takes the data I have and I get some of my life back.

Happy 4th everyone.

Greater Than and Less Than

One of my struggles in recovery is trying to be 'right sized'. When I moved out of my safety zone and into the suburbs, my insecurity escalated and I noticed I was comparing myself to others (with a fully skewed perspective) and assigning rank. This behavior is very sick, self-centered, and dangerous. I end up being arrogant or feeling worthless and both extremes will lead me to a drink if I don't keep my thinking in check.

The people who send me into the worst spiral with this behavior are wealthy people. I am intimidated and terrified of them. When I am with them, I monitor their behavior closely. This is partially due to my need to imitate them so I don't do anything improper. But, I also keep a mental list of any character defects I can detect. I guess I feel this list somehow brings them closer to my level. Very sick. Yes, I know. I am working on it. My rational mind knows that there are lots of very decent people who happen to have comfortable incomes. They genuinely care about others and will not call the police just because an unfamiliar, low income person is in their neighborhood. However, my rational mind is often drowned out by fear when I am stuck in a real life situation.

Saturday night we were invited to the very nice home of my husband's sponsor and he is quite well off. I prepped like I was getting ready for a date. I dyed my hair, plucked my eyebrows, waxed, shaved, primped, and tried on 3 outfits. I also forced Manther into a little summer dress and had fits about whether or not she would behave. My husband will never admit it, but he was nervous, too. He was anxious about us being late and took inventory and commented on how nice Manther and I looked. I think the last time he commented on my looks was our wedding day. We arrived and managed to visit and converse pretty well, but I constantly felt like I was talking too much and I second guessed everything that came out of my mouth. We ate ice cream on the deck and then walked over to the golf course (yes, his home is on a golf course) to watch a firework display. It was a nice evening and I enjoyed the company and Manther enjoyed his daughters. But, the next day I was so exhausted from the stress of what should have been a simple evening with friends.

Today, I have to go to a series of presentations with a bunch of doctors. I am totally stressed out. I have worked with a few of them and they really have all been nice to me. Why do I let this stuff freak me out so much? I feel like I am walking on eggshells when I am around fancy folks. I have been sober a while, but I still cuss too much and talk too much and I am not exactly classy. I like classy. I have seen women who wear it well and I admire them. I think I have to be sober and working steps another decade before I can naturally be one of them.
TAGS:
alcoholism addiction 12-step aa alcoholics anonymous family

All good things must come to an end

The garage sale is finally over. Three days of sitting in the sun in front of my garage and the most significant thing I have to show for it is an itty bitty tan. It takes a whole lotta sun for me to get a tan. My costs: $23 newpaper ad, $6 balloons, $0.75 cardboard sign. My profit: $30 for general crap, $50 for dryer. So, I ended up with a $50 profit for 50 hours of labor and about 10 boxes of crap of the Vietnam Veterans Association. I don't think I will ever have another garage sale, but I might change my mind by next year. Here are the most memorable moments.

1) Outrageous 'flare' on my front lawn as advertisements. Racing flags were strung along both sides of the driveway on pylons. I had two signs with a bunch of balloons hanging off of them. One was bright green. I am sure the neighbors were hating me.

2) A nice little old lady talked me into dropping the price of the dryer from $75 to $50 She didn't know how to get it home, so we agreed to drive the dryer across town to help her. She lived in a $750,000 home in a very exclusive subdivision. I felt like a big sucker.

3) A crackhead refused to pay 25 cents for jeans, but also refused to put them back. I ended up selling them for 10 cents to get her out of the garage before things started coming up missing.

4) Another old lady tried to hustle me by asking me to make change for her $100 bill 5 different ways. Thank God I have been employed in so many crappy cashier jobs that I was onto her.

Yeah, I need to think twice before I garage sale again.
TAGS:
family home

Phobias

As I have mentioned a few times, I am trying to have a garage sale. It is taking every spare moment and even moments I don't have to spare. Today I came home from work, kissed Manther, unloaded the work bag, started chili, and rushed out to the garage to clean, price and stack. I got two feet into the garage and I heard rustling and chirping in the rafters. I froze for a second and then ran out of there and half way down the driveway. I am terrified of birds in enclosed places. The little buggers are always weaving in and out of the rafters when I grocery shop at Meijer's and it is all I can do to force myself through the produce section. The rafters in Meijer's are much higher than the rafters in my garage and I was terrified. I tended chili and soaked in the baby pool with Manther for a few minutes. I laughed at myself and my irrational behavior. It's a silly fear and there is no reason I couldn't go in there an chase that bird out. I made it three steps into the garage before terror drove me out the second time. I tried to flush the bird out from the outside. I opened and shut the garage door and I hosed down the side of the garage to make noise. It scared the bird, but instead of leaving he started recruiting other birds. He chirped and chirped and birds started swooping into the yard and perching on the fence to chirp back at him. One duck stood outside the garage and I had to run right at him to get him to leave the yard. At this point, I lost the ability to minimize my fear and I shut the garage and went inside the house to hide. I waited for Hubby to come home. When he arrived, I told him my plight and he boldly went into the garage and waved a broom around. Manther stood there with him and danced and laughed. I was scared she was going to get hurt and started to go and drag her back into the house. Then I realized Manther was safe in the garage and I was being a freak... again. The bird was chased out and Hubby and Manther clapped and laughed. I nearly cried. I can take on a lot of bugs and even an occasional rodent, but birds and bats bring me to my knees quickly.
TAGS:
family home

Giving 100%

I have been blog lazy for the past few days. We are trying to have a garage sale and it is consuming all of my free time. I am glad to get rid of all the stuff, but I am not enthusiastic about the scrubbing, organizing, and pricing. I took a break today to go the a surprise 50th birthday party for the neighbor. I wish I had stayed home.
I really like the guest of honor. He is the nicest guy and frequently does our snowblowing. He is a little bit quiet and very laid back and seems to be a great father and husband. His wife is nice, also, although she is a more outspoken and louder than her spouse. I met her whole family today and it was very uncomfortable. The host of the party was the wife's best friend and the party was populated by primarily two groups of people, the wife's family and the guest of honor's coworkers. The host seemed be working very hard and I would have expected the wife's family to pitch in. They talked about it, but rather than helping they discussed how much they had already helped. Then, the wife's family decided to start drinking (and sending children to fetch drinks, one of my pet peeves) and got a louder and cruder while the host and her husband continued to work very hard. The wife ended up leaving to tend to a sick baby and that is, of course, a priority and very valid. I was frustrated her family was partying rather than stepping up and filling in.
I am sure there are folks reading this who think I am simply overreacting to the consumption of alcohol and having a 'good time'. I can't answer with certainty, but I don't think that was the case. I have been around people partying since I have gotten sober. I am not in that environment a lot because I choose to avoid it if possible, but it has happened a few times. Am I uncomfortable in this situation? Yes, usually on some level I am. Was today's discomfort different? Yes, there was a lot more frustration and anger in it.
My commitment was short and I left quickly and it bothered no one. I am glad. And grateful. I come from a famiy where pitching in is taught early on and it's hard for me to watch people celebrate at the expense of the host of the party.

Jump!

This post is not about the Van Halen song (aren't you relieved?). It's about muppets, again. I have a deadline at work and I am working pretty darn hard right now. I came home and was exhausted yesterday and Manther's irritability suggested she was exhausted, too. Even though I knew it was a mistake, we took a nap from 6-8pm. The natural consequence of this was that Manther wasn't tired at bedtime or for a few of the hours after that. At 11:45pm I gave up and stuck her and her babies, Elmo, Cookie, and Ernie, in the bed between Hubby and I. I rolled over intending to go to sleep. Manther played nicely for a few minutes. She covered the muppets and gave them bottles and patted them on the back to put them to sleep. Then, she decided everyone should jump. She would toss a random muppet into the air and yell, "Jump Elmo" or Cookie or Ernie. I thought the quickest way to end this game might be to let her tire of it, so I tried to ignore it and doze off. But, anxiety builds in you while you are laying there wondering if you will be bombed with a stuffed animal and that anxiety makes it extremely difficult to sleep. Hubby opened one eye and asked, "Is she throwing Elmo at us?" I said, "No, the muppets are jumping on the bed." I don't know if it was genius or an effort an humor, but Hubby's response to this was amazing. He sat up and gave all the muppets a firm reprimand and told them to go to sleep. Manther was delighted that the muppets were being acknowledged as members of the family. She lined them up at the head of the bed and started wagging her finger at them and talking to them in her stern tone. I guess it wore her out because the next thing I remember is morning and Manther asleep on a pile of her Sesame Street friends.
TAGS:
family parenting mom kids parents

The courage to admit you don't know the answer

I have a 1998 Mercury Sable with 160K miles on it. During a moment of extreme poverty three years ago, we had to buy a car. The best we could do was the Sable with 125K on it and even then we had to get a loan to pay for it. The car has required regular repairs ever since it was purchased and our most recent mechanic seemed pretty good. He owned a few shops and we never saw him face to face, but he would call in the early am on the morning after we dropped the car off. He gave the diagnosis and estimate and did the work fast and we had a decent running vehicle when he finished. He recently hired a full time mechanic for the shop. The new guy just doesn't have the skills his employer does.
We dropped the car off last Friday and it had a rough idle and acceleration. The Saturday morning call from the new guy reported we needed an alternator, tension pulley, and serpentine belt. This didn't sound quite right. An alternator charges your battery, but it doesn't have a whole lot to do with how the car idles. I did believe the parts he listed were old and not performing optimally, but that was true for most of the parts in the car and I didn't believe the parts he listed were causing the problem we wanted fixed. The new guy assured us this needed to be done and so we gave in and agreed to the $500. Saturday afternoon he called to tell us the repairs hadn't corrected the problem. The problem was caused by the PSE valve and he wanted to replace it. My husband told he he wouldn't pay anymore than we already had and the new guy agreed to put the PSE valve in at no cost, but it wouldn't be done until Monday morning.
Monday morning the phone call came and the report was that the problem still existed and this time the cure would be the idle control valve. He couldn't replace it for free, but, if I picked the part up at Murray's, he would put it in for free. I said we would think about it and I would pick my car up that afternoon. It was pretty obvious that guy had no clue what was causing the problem , but instead of admit that to me he was going to keep replacing parts.
I was discussing the unresolved problem with the mechanic when I went to pick the car up because I was curious what his line of reasoning was for replacing the idle control valve. He told me his wife drives a Ford (uh-huh, um , why do I care) and they were driving to Wompers Lake, a nice lake out by Saline (get to the damn point), last summer and the rpms on the car went really high (not the same problem my car has). He told her to pull over so the car didn't blow up (I guess you have evolved high enough to have self-preservation instincts). He tinkered around and got the idle to drop, but he couldn't figure out what the probem was (sounds familiar). The next day his friend at work told him it was the idle control valve.
So, I just paid $500 to someone whose high tech method of diagnosis is to ask the hillbilly working next to him. I want to be mad. I want to demand my money back. I want to call him all sorts of names and point out what an imbecile he is. But, who's the real imbecile here? Probably the fool who trusted her car to back yard mechanic who looks like he played a mountain person in the movie "Deliverance".

10 reasons I love flip flops

1) Everyone can own a dozen pair because they only cost $1

2) They come in an endless variety of colors

3) If they get dirty, you can just hose them off

4) They dry in minutes even if they're soaking wet

5) It's easy to get a good fit

6) Easy off and on

7) They make a rythmic, slapping sound when you walk in them.

8) You can wear them with shorts, jeans, capris, or dresses

9) It's acceptable to trip when you're wearing them

10) They automatically exclude you from events that require running


TAGS:
family home

A beautiful summer night

I just spent a few minutes on the patio with hubby enjoying a summer night. The moon is full and the air is thick and it felt magical. He must have felt the same way because he looked at me and asked, "Do you have any idea how lucky we are?" He listed his gratitudes and I agreed with every one.
The attitude of gratitude was prompted by more than just the summer air. Hubby had just returned from a job site where I had also been helping move appliances. The site is a condo that is being sold to a young couple. The previous owner/landlord is replacing floors and painting as part of the rent to own agreement. My husband sold the floors and the installation is half done. The owner is already finding every possible thing to complain about. There are smudges on the wall here and a hairline fracture in the molding behind the door and he was quite certain that scratch wasn't here before the installation started. The young couple doesn't seem particularly concerned with any of these things, but that doesn't relax the owner's attitude at all. He even tried to micromanage the relocation and hook-up of the appliances, something my husband and the young man are experienced in and the owner has probably never really done.
Finally, we made it out of there and home to the patio to relax. Hubby could have been miserable and I would have forgiven him after dealing with that wretched little jerk for 2 hours, but instead he was grateful. After he shared his gratitudes, he told me it didn't matter how much money the owner of that condo had. He was obviously a miserable man and Hubby was glad he didn't have that life. I completely agree.
TAGS:
marriage family home

My laundry basket overfloweth

If shorts and T-shirts are half the size of sweaters and jeans, why does the laundry basket fill 3 times faster in warm weather than it does in cold weather? I washed darks on Sunday and this was staring me in the face when I came home from work today. I think the laundry procreates when I'm gone at work because the pile didn't look this big in the morning.
TAGS:
family home

Gold Star

I've talked a lot about my recovery on this blog, but I don't often mention how hard Hubby has worked to get sober again. About two years ago, Hubby relapsed after 14 years sober. A few months previous, hubby had a car accident that left him unemployed with a disabling back injury. Along with these challenges, there were consequences from law enforcement and child protective services following the relapse. He did everything he was told to do. He dropped all painkillers except for ibuprofen and forced himself to outpatient therapy, meetings, parenting classes, and doctor's appointments for almost 6 months. He stuck it out through surgery and rehab and gave up his installation business and interviewed for jobs. He has been at his new job 14 months and he just received his 3rd raise yesterday (yeah!) because he has worked hard to become an outstanding employee and (in my opinion) quite a salesman. On top of all this, he's moonlighting as an installer every chance he gets to bring extra money in. I'm very proud of his amazing progress in the program and in life and so grateful for effort he makes to build a future for us.
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marriage family home

Grass...no, not that kind

I was driving by our city buildings yesterday and something caught my eye. No, it was not the building itself, although I am startled by the ostentatious glass structure set in the middle of what was recently a cornfield. I focused on one of the blurbs in the prominent, lit-up, scrolling sign that reads, “Keep it neat! Grass should be no higher than 5 inches.” This bothers me on several levels. I am very American in that I hate it when the government regulates any part of my life that I feel they have no business in. I definitely think they crossed that boundary when they give me suggestions on the length of a proper lawn. The other thing that nagged me is the suggested length, 5 inches. I think my lawn is 5 inches long when I finish cutting it, not when I decide to cut it. This is ‘setting the bar high’, even for the suburbs. So, here’s MY suggestion. Let’s not worry about the length of the lawn because that’s really not hurting anybody. Instead, let’s work on the dangerously aggressive mode of driving that is fashionable in my burb. If we can convince the SUV and minivan drivin’ mamas to view a human life as equal to getting Bobby and Sue to soccer practice on time, we might actually create a safer place to live.
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marriage family home home repair