Today is my SEVENTH anniversary but I feel like Dan and I have been married forever. But I mean that in a good way.
We met on June 5th, 1995 at a Jimmy Buffett concert. We actually worked at the same company (but had never met before) and a bunch of us (probably 20 people or so) were going to the concert together. We were all going to meet at Harris Teeter and head to the concert together. One group went to the Harris Teeter near work and the other group went to the Harris Teeter near Blockbuster Pavilion, the show venue.
You will have to remember that this was 1995, back before every 10 year old and their grandmother had a cell phone so we weren’t able to communicate with one another. The group I was with got tired of waiting for the group he was with so we decided to just go and hope we would eventually find them. We weren’t actually expecting to find them this since there would be thousands of people there.
It must have been fate because we actually found his group. He and I were introduced and little cupids and red hearts started circling around our heads and we could hear harp music playing in the background and… O.k. that’s not exactly how it happened…there were no harps and no cupids but I don’t think it took me long to know that he was the one. He made me laugh and he was smart…much smarter than me... and I found that very attractive. Speaking of attractive, I thought he was very handsome. Still do, actually.
We dated four years before Dan finally proposed to me in September of 1999 and we were finally married one year later. People always talk about marrying their soul mates. Whenever I hear that I gag a little. I prefer to say that I’ve married my best friend. That might make someone else gag but it’s true. Who else other than my best friend would put up with my ever changing moods, my MS, my love of reality TV and all the other stuff that makes me “me”?
I thank God every day for sending Dan to me. I can’t imagine my life without him. I don’t want to. I want to grow old, really old with him. At our wedding, we danced our first dance to “Grow Old Along With Me” by Mary Chapin Carpenter. It’s a beautiful song and it sums up my feelings perfectly.
Happy Anniversary, Dan. I love you.
Grow old along with me
The best is yet to be
When our time has come
We will be as one
God bless our love
God bless our love
Grow old along with me
Two branches of one tree
Face the setting sun
When the day is done
God bless our love
God bless our love
Spending our lives together
Man and wife together
World without end
World without end
Grow old along with me
Whatever fate decrees
We will see it through
For our love is true
God bless our love
God bless our love
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Don't Even Get Me Started
Wednesday, August 22nd started as any normal weekday would. I got up, showered, made lunch for my husband and settled in front of the computer to check email and to post an entry to this blog. I was very excited because I was going to join the “Works For Me Wednesday” blog carnival and post an entry on my idea for cheap and reusable popsicle drip catchers.
It took me a while to make sure I had everything linked properly but I did it! I was so excited and proud of myself. I was babbling to my husband before he left for work about my post and the carnival and how I just knew I was going to gain lots of new readers from this post so I should probably start thinking about my next blog entry so any new readers wouldn’t be disappointed if they happen to stop by to visit my blog again...
Fast forward to one hour later:
I popped back into the office to check my Stat Counter to see how many people had read my blog and what was I greeted with?
None other than the horrible and dreaded BLUE SCREEN.
It was a big, blank, blue screen. Oh, no! What’s going on here? I quickly tried to reboot. Sweat started popping out on my brow as I rebooted two more times with the same result. I almost started to cry but decided to call Dell Technical Support before I resorted to such childish antics.
Fast forward to Thursday, August 23rd:
After two separate conversations of at least 1 hour each, it was determined that we needed a new hard drive. I ordered one from Dell at a cost of $95…that includes shipping and handling and tax of course. Quite the bargain don’t you think?
Fast forward to Monday, August 27th:
My new hard drive arrived! I just knew I would be up and running in no time!
Immediately upon arriving home from work, my sweet husband Dan removed the old hard drive and installed the new one and we got other error messages. We called the lovely Dell Tech Support team (which based on the accents of each member we spoke to, is located somewhere in the heart of India) and were informed that the hard drive they sent us was blank and we would need our diskettes to load the operating system onto the hard drive.
Uh? Diskettes? Uh…we don’t have any diskettes.
We actually had one diskette but it wasn’t the operating system diskette it was the Microsoft Office diskette which was useless to us if we didn't have the operating system diskettes. So we spent another hour on the phone with Dell until we convinced someone to send us the diskettes…for free. What a joke. The computer we had before was loaded with everything we needed on it when they shipped it to us so if they send us a new hard drive (which we paid $95 for) then it should be sent to us preloaded with everything we need…right?...right?...WRONG! It was sent blank and we were expected to load the operating system on it.
Fast forward to Wednesday evening, August 29th:
We received the diskettes and made another phone call. We now were getting different error messages:
Floppy Diskette Seek Failure
Hard Drive Not Found
Press F1 to Reboot, Press F2 to Curl Up in Fetal Position and Cry Like Big Baby
We called the lovely folks at Dell Tech Support again and kept getting told that our warranty had expired and that we needed to pay $49 to get Expired Warranty Support. My husband, being the cheap Yankee that he is, did not want to pay this. He felt that we just purchased a blank hard drive from Dell with a limited 90 day warranty so why should we pay $49 for Expired Warranty Support when technically we had a new waranty. At this point I didn't care about the $49 I just wanted my computer to work!
So we began engaging in a game of good cop, bad cop with our friends at Dell Technical Support. This is how we played the game...
Dan used our home phone to call Dell Tech Support and would get into an argument with the technical support person and would ask to speak to their manager. He would inevitably be put on perma-hold. When this would occur I would call the same number from our cell phone and would go through the long and boring spiel of the hard drive crash, the new blank hard drive, the diskettes, the error messages and then the person I was speaking to would say, “Oh yes, I see in the records here that your husband has just called and has been transferred to a manager.” So I would whisper conspiratorially, “Yes, he’s upset but maybe you can help me without getting any managers involved?” We played several rounds of this fun game but the techs were never able to get the computer to work.
Fast forward to Thursday morning, August 30th:
I finally thought I had a break through. I spent a good hour on the phone Thursday morning with Ramir. He seemed very knowledgeable. He ran through the same steps with me that all the other techs before him had and as usual, with no luck. The only difference being that Ramir seemed genuinely concerned about my case and wanted to fix the computer without me having to pay $49.
After one hour on the phone with Ramir he finally said that my husband should check the hard drive. Maybe he hadn't installed it properly. I told him I doubted this was the case since Dan, being a smart engineer, had taken pictures of the old hard drive prior to removing it so he could get all the connections reconnected the exact same way and that he had most likely installed it properly. Honestly though I was tired of talking on the phone with Ramir and was just ready to get on with my day.
Ramir promised me, PROMISED ME, that he would call me on Friday morning at 8:30 am to run more tests with me after Dan had a chance to reinstall the hard drive on Thursday night. He wanted to talk to Dan but Ramir left work before Dan got home and Dan would be gone Friday morning before Ramir got back to work. So Ramir was going to call me Friday morning to check to see how things were. In fact, his exact words were, “I am going to make it my personal mission to see that we get your computer fixed without you having to pay $49.” For a few minutes, I thought I was in love.
Fast forward to Friday morning, August 31st at 8:40am:
I started trying to call Ramir at 8:40 when it was clear he was not going to call me. I called and called but basically was told that the number I had called was a generic Tech Support number and there were too many people working there to know if there was a Ramir there or not. Why did I suddenly feel like the naive 20 year old who was promised by the cute guy she met at the party that he would call her and then never did? Um, not that I have any experience with that or anything.
So I was left venting to some other poor tech. He tried to help me but could only say that perhaps the hard drive was bad…the NEW hard drive mind you.
This was all I could take! I called the number that I had ordered the hard drive from to give them a piece of my mind…although at this point there really wasn’t much left of it to give. This nice guy promised me that if I just paid $49 for the Expired Warranty Tech support those people would be able to make it work. "Guaranteed". His words, not mine.
So, I did what I knew I shouldn’t do and gave him my credit card number. He then forwarded me to a nice girl who told me that it wasn’t the hard drive but probably just bad cables and if it wasn’t bad cables probably a bad motherboard. Oh, and by the way, if it was a bad motherboard well, it would probably cost as much to replace the motherboard as to just go ahead and buy a new computer.
Buy a new computer?
I picked myself up off the floor, took a deep breath to calm myself and said, “I just paid you $49 to tell me that I probably just need to buy a new computer?”
“Well, uh, you should check the cables first.”
“How do I get my $49 back?”
“Well, I really don’t think you can since you have already received our advice.”
I’ll give all of you some advice…for free…
DON’T BUY A DELL COMPUTER!!!! And you don’t even need to check the cables first!
Fast forward to Saturday morning, September 1st:
Dan and I took the kids and our computer to Best Buy. I don’t normally like Best Buy but that’s where the nerds from the Geek Squad live. A friendly agent (yes, they call themselves agents and they even wear badges…no, I’m not joking) checked out the computer, bad mouthed Dell Computers, informed me that the NEW hard drive was bad but my old hard drive was still ok, and told me they could fix it. I paid him $158 and was out of there with the promise that it would probably be ready by Monday.
Fast forward to Sunday, September 2nd:
We got home from church and there was a sweet, sweet message on the answering machine:
“This message is for Beth. This is Agent Rob (yes, he called himself Agent Rob…no, I’m not joking) from the Geek Squad. We fixed your computer and it’s ready for pick up."
My computer works again, Mommy is happy again and things are back to normal in our household for now.
Next thing on my to do list: Call Dell to get my $95 back for the bad hard drive they sent me and my $49 back for the bad advice they gave me.
Should be fun!
Edited to add: I did call Dell and after talking to multiple reps and being transferred multiple times I did get my money back!
It took me a while to make sure I had everything linked properly but I did it! I was so excited and proud of myself. I was babbling to my husband before he left for work about my post and the carnival and how I just knew I was going to gain lots of new readers from this post so I should probably start thinking about my next blog entry so any new readers wouldn’t be disappointed if they happen to stop by to visit my blog again...
Fast forward to one hour later:
I popped back into the office to check my Stat Counter to see how many people had read my blog and what was I greeted with?
None other than the horrible and dreaded BLUE SCREEN.
It was a big, blank, blue screen. Oh, no! What’s going on here? I quickly tried to reboot. Sweat started popping out on my brow as I rebooted two more times with the same result. I almost started to cry but decided to call Dell Technical Support before I resorted to such childish antics.
Fast forward to Thursday, August 23rd:
After two separate conversations of at least 1 hour each, it was determined that we needed a new hard drive. I ordered one from Dell at a cost of $95…that includes shipping and handling and tax of course. Quite the bargain don’t you think?
Fast forward to Monday, August 27th:
My new hard drive arrived! I just knew I would be up and running in no time!
Immediately upon arriving home from work, my sweet husband Dan removed the old hard drive and installed the new one and we got other error messages. We called the lovely Dell Tech Support team (which based on the accents of each member we spoke to, is located somewhere in the heart of India) and were informed that the hard drive they sent us was blank and we would need our diskettes to load the operating system onto the hard drive.
Uh? Diskettes? Uh…we don’t have any diskettes.
We actually had one diskette but it wasn’t the operating system diskette it was the Microsoft Office diskette which was useless to us if we didn't have the operating system diskettes. So we spent another hour on the phone with Dell until we convinced someone to send us the diskettes…for free. What a joke. The computer we had before was loaded with everything we needed on it when they shipped it to us so if they send us a new hard drive (which we paid $95 for) then it should be sent to us preloaded with everything we need…right?...right?...WRONG! It was sent blank and we were expected to load the operating system on it.
Fast forward to Wednesday evening, August 29th:
We received the diskettes and made another phone call. We now were getting different error messages:
Floppy Diskette Seek Failure
Hard Drive Not Found
Press F1 to Reboot, Press F2 to Curl Up in Fetal Position and Cry Like Big Baby
We called the lovely folks at Dell Tech Support again and kept getting told that our warranty had expired and that we needed to pay $49 to get Expired Warranty Support. My husband, being the cheap Yankee that he is, did not want to pay this. He felt that we just purchased a blank hard drive from Dell with a limited 90 day warranty so why should we pay $49 for Expired Warranty Support when technically we had a new waranty. At this point I didn't care about the $49 I just wanted my computer to work!
So we began engaging in a game of good cop, bad cop with our friends at Dell Technical Support. This is how we played the game...
Dan used our home phone to call Dell Tech Support and would get into an argument with the technical support person and would ask to speak to their manager. He would inevitably be put on perma-hold. When this would occur I would call the same number from our cell phone and would go through the long and boring spiel of the hard drive crash, the new blank hard drive, the diskettes, the error messages and then the person I was speaking to would say, “Oh yes, I see in the records here that your husband has just called and has been transferred to a manager.” So I would whisper conspiratorially, “Yes, he’s upset but maybe you can help me without getting any managers involved?” We played several rounds of this fun game but the techs were never able to get the computer to work.
Fast forward to Thursday morning, August 30th:
I finally thought I had a break through. I spent a good hour on the phone Thursday morning with Ramir. He seemed very knowledgeable. He ran through the same steps with me that all the other techs before him had and as usual, with no luck. The only difference being that Ramir seemed genuinely concerned about my case and wanted to fix the computer without me having to pay $49.
After one hour on the phone with Ramir he finally said that my husband should check the hard drive. Maybe he hadn't installed it properly. I told him I doubted this was the case since Dan, being a smart engineer, had taken pictures of the old hard drive prior to removing it so he could get all the connections reconnected the exact same way and that he had most likely installed it properly. Honestly though I was tired of talking on the phone with Ramir and was just ready to get on with my day.
Ramir promised me, PROMISED ME, that he would call me on Friday morning at 8:30 am to run more tests with me after Dan had a chance to reinstall the hard drive on Thursday night. He wanted to talk to Dan but Ramir left work before Dan got home and Dan would be gone Friday morning before Ramir got back to work. So Ramir was going to call me Friday morning to check to see how things were. In fact, his exact words were, “I am going to make it my personal mission to see that we get your computer fixed without you having to pay $49.” For a few minutes, I thought I was in love.
Fast forward to Friday morning, August 31st at 8:40am:
I started trying to call Ramir at 8:40 when it was clear he was not going to call me. I called and called but basically was told that the number I had called was a generic Tech Support number and there were too many people working there to know if there was a Ramir there or not. Why did I suddenly feel like the naive 20 year old who was promised by the cute guy she met at the party that he would call her and then never did? Um, not that I have any experience with that or anything.
So I was left venting to some other poor tech. He tried to help me but could only say that perhaps the hard drive was bad…the NEW hard drive mind you.
This was all I could take! I called the number that I had ordered the hard drive from to give them a piece of my mind…although at this point there really wasn’t much left of it to give. This nice guy promised me that if I just paid $49 for the Expired Warranty Tech support those people would be able to make it work. "Guaranteed". His words, not mine.
So, I did what I knew I shouldn’t do and gave him my credit card number. He then forwarded me to a nice girl who told me that it wasn’t the hard drive but probably just bad cables and if it wasn’t bad cables probably a bad motherboard. Oh, and by the way, if it was a bad motherboard well, it would probably cost as much to replace the motherboard as to just go ahead and buy a new computer.
Buy a new computer?
I picked myself up off the floor, took a deep breath to calm myself and said, “I just paid you $49 to tell me that I probably just need to buy a new computer?”
“Well, uh, you should check the cables first.”
“How do I get my $49 back?”
“Well, I really don’t think you can since you have already received our advice.”
I’ll give all of you some advice…for free…
DON’T BUY A DELL COMPUTER!!!! And you don’t even need to check the cables first!
Fast forward to Saturday morning, September 1st:
Dan and I took the kids and our computer to Best Buy. I don’t normally like Best Buy but that’s where the nerds from the Geek Squad live. A friendly agent (yes, they call themselves agents and they even wear badges…no, I’m not joking) checked out the computer, bad mouthed Dell Computers, informed me that the NEW hard drive was bad but my old hard drive was still ok, and told me they could fix it. I paid him $158 and was out of there with the promise that it would probably be ready by Monday.
Fast forward to Sunday, September 2nd:
We got home from church and there was a sweet, sweet message on the answering machine:
“This message is for Beth. This is Agent Rob (yes, he called himself Agent Rob…no, I’m not joking) from the Geek Squad. We fixed your computer and it’s ready for pick up."
My computer works again, Mommy is happy again and things are back to normal in our household for now.
Next thing on my to do list: Call Dell to get my $95 back for the bad hard drive they sent me and my $49 back for the bad advice they gave me.
Should be fun!
Edited to add: I did call Dell and after talking to multiple reps and being transferred multiple times I did get my money back!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Works For Me Wednesday
Today I am participating in a blog carnival hosted by Rocks In My Dryer. Every Wednesday people from all over the internet post practical tips on their blog and link them back to her blog. There are lots of great tips on her site every Wednesday so please, go check it out!Here’s what works for me.
My kids love, love, love, LOVE popsicles and in the summertime I indulge them almost everyday. What’s a hot sticky day without a cool sweet Popsicle? Almost as much as they love popsicles, I hate the drippy mess they make so last summer I got smart. I took one O-Cel-O sponge for each of my kids and cut a slit in the center of it. Now when the kids want a Popsicle I wet one of these sponges, put the stick end of the Popsicle through the slit in the sponge and hand them their treat. In addtition to being a cheap, reusable and very effective drip catcher the kids also have something to wipe their hands and mouths off on when they are finished eating. Then they toss the stick in the trash and the sponge in the sink.
The kids are happy. Mom is happy. Works for me!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
As if theirs doesn't stink!
We have a bathroom right beside the kids’ playroom. It comes in very handy for them as they seem to always wait until the very last minute to do their business. It also comes in very handy for me as it is also right off the kitchen and laundry closet which seems to be where I spend all of my time during the day.
A couple of mornings ago I went in to uh, er, well do MY business. Dan was getting ready to leave for work and as he passed by the door he muttered, “Oh! Wow!” and shot me a dirty look. Peter piped in with “Shoo! Mommy stinks!”
Dan left for work, Peter resumed playing and I resumed my post in the kitchen. Sarah woke up, came down the stairs and headed straight for the playroom. As she passed the bathroom door she crinkled up her nose, turned to look at me and said, “Ew! Mommy! Can you spray some of that nice, good spray! You made it stink in there!”
Geez! Everyone’s a critic!
A couple of mornings ago I went in to uh, er, well do MY business. Dan was getting ready to leave for work and as he passed by the door he muttered, “Oh! Wow!” and shot me a dirty look. Peter piped in with “Shoo! Mommy stinks!”
Dan left for work, Peter resumed playing and I resumed my post in the kitchen. Sarah woke up, came down the stairs and headed straight for the playroom. As she passed the bathroom door she crinkled up her nose, turned to look at me and said, “Ew! Mommy! Can you spray some of that nice, good spray! You made it stink in there!”
Geez! Everyone’s a critic!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Please don't make me wash the sheets!
It’s no secret – I hate to wash sheets. I’m not sure why but the whole process of taking off a set of sheets - tugging on the pillows until they come out of the cases, having to remove the comforter so I can get to the bottom sheet, blah, blah, blah – really drives me crazy. All the steps of getting the sheets off the bed are just a huge hassle and then having to stuff it all in the washing machine (we have an older averaged size washer/dryer…maybe one day we will get a new-fangled fancy set but not anytime soon as our old set works just fine.) and then having to put it all back on the bed when the sheets are clean….UGH! It is a process that just completely annoys me!
I’m not sure what was going on earlier this week but I think my kids were secretly conspiring against me to get me to wash their sheets. On Sunday afternoon my husband left for a business trip and things were going smoothly until about 3:00am on Monday morning. I woke up to Sarah screaming, “It’s wet in here! There’s water in my bed!”. I trudged into her room and was trying to quickly figure out why there was water in her room. My thoughts were garbled since it was 3:00am but I was trying to eliminate potential causes before I got to her room.
Hmmm…Water? Did it rain into her room? That couldn’t be it since it hasn’t rained around here since 1987.
Did a pipe leak? No there really aren’t any water pipes leading into her room. That couldn’t be it.
Oh no, I thought when I stepped into her room….she has peed in her bed! You have got to be kidding me! She never pees in the middle of the night. She always wakes up dry and of course, of course I just stopped putting her in pull-ups three nights before. She has been potty trained since January but I have always put her in pull-ups just in case she has a night time accident. But she NEVER does and she ALWAYS wakes up dry so I decided to stop wasting money on the pull-ups and just put her to bed in her underwear since she NEVER needs to pee in the middle of the night and since she ALWAYS wakes up dry.
But alas, 3:00am on Monday morning she had an accident. She was scared and she didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t scared. I was just annoyed. Now I’m going to have to actually wash her sheets. Grrrr…. Well, I’m not washing her sheets at 3:00am, I thought. My husband wasn’t at home. I didn’t want to have to turn on all the lights, go through the hassle of getting the dirty sheets off, put on clean ones and then try to get my daughter back to sleep so I did what any laundry hating, sleep loving mother would do at 3:00am. I cleaned her bottom with a wash cloth in the dark, quickly changed her pajamas, put towels down over the wet spots and tucked her back into bed. It was 3:06 am, she was asleep and all was well except that I knew that first thing in the morning I was going to have to wash her sheets. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night.
On Tuesday morning my son bounded down the stairs and into the office where I was reading email, paying bills, drinking my coffee, and he says, “Good morning!" Then he proceeded to take off his pajama bottoms and his underwear. I asked him what the heck he was doing and he calmly said, “My underwear is wet.”
“Your underwear is wet? Did you spill some milk or water on it?”, I asked with a sinking feeling knowing full well that he had not had any milk or water yet that morning.
“No. I think I peed in my bed. Can I have my breakfast now?”
What?? He peed in his bed?! This can’t be happening to me. Peter is 4 and a half! He’s been potty trained for the last two years and stopped wearing pull-ups to bed a long, long time ago. He’s great about getting up in the middle of the night if he has to go so why, oh, why did he pee in his bed? The kids must be conspiring against me. They must sense that I hate washing sheets. They know that Daddy is out of town and Mommy is already on edge so let’s see if we can push her over it. Won’t that be fun to watch?
Or maybe they both realized that wetting the bed is the only way to get clean sheets around here. And who can blame them? There is nothing nicer than sliding down into crisp clean sheets that have been tightly pulled into place. And who doesn’t love how hospital corners look right after clean sheets have been put onto a bed? Peter probably even got spoiled by staying at my mother’s house because my mom IRONS her sheets! IRONS her sheets, people!!! Come to think of it my mother-in-law irons her sheets, too! I don’t even iron my clothes much less my sheets!!
I know my husband likes fresh clean sheets too. I just hope he chooses a better way to let me know he would like the dirty ones washed!
I’m not sure what was going on earlier this week but I think my kids were secretly conspiring against me to get me to wash their sheets. On Sunday afternoon my husband left for a business trip and things were going smoothly until about 3:00am on Monday morning. I woke up to Sarah screaming, “It’s wet in here! There’s water in my bed!”. I trudged into her room and was trying to quickly figure out why there was water in her room. My thoughts were garbled since it was 3:00am but I was trying to eliminate potential causes before I got to her room.
Hmmm…Water? Did it rain into her room? That couldn’t be it since it hasn’t rained around here since 1987.
Did a pipe leak? No there really aren’t any water pipes leading into her room. That couldn’t be it.
Oh no, I thought when I stepped into her room….she has peed in her bed! You have got to be kidding me! She never pees in the middle of the night. She always wakes up dry and of course, of course I just stopped putting her in pull-ups three nights before. She has been potty trained since January but I have always put her in pull-ups just in case she has a night time accident. But she NEVER does and she ALWAYS wakes up dry so I decided to stop wasting money on the pull-ups and just put her to bed in her underwear since she NEVER needs to pee in the middle of the night and since she ALWAYS wakes up dry.
But alas, 3:00am on Monday morning she had an accident. She was scared and she didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t scared. I was just annoyed. Now I’m going to have to actually wash her sheets. Grrrr…. Well, I’m not washing her sheets at 3:00am, I thought. My husband wasn’t at home. I didn’t want to have to turn on all the lights, go through the hassle of getting the dirty sheets off, put on clean ones and then try to get my daughter back to sleep so I did what any laundry hating, sleep loving mother would do at 3:00am. I cleaned her bottom with a wash cloth in the dark, quickly changed her pajamas, put towels down over the wet spots and tucked her back into bed. It was 3:06 am, she was asleep and all was well except that I knew that first thing in the morning I was going to have to wash her sheets. I tossed and turned for the rest of the night.
On Tuesday morning my son bounded down the stairs and into the office where I was reading email, paying bills, drinking my coffee, and he says, “Good morning!" Then he proceeded to take off his pajama bottoms and his underwear. I asked him what the heck he was doing and he calmly said, “My underwear is wet.”
“Your underwear is wet? Did you spill some milk or water on it?”, I asked with a sinking feeling knowing full well that he had not had any milk or water yet that morning.
“No. I think I peed in my bed. Can I have my breakfast now?”
What?? He peed in his bed?! This can’t be happening to me. Peter is 4 and a half! He’s been potty trained for the last two years and stopped wearing pull-ups to bed a long, long time ago. He’s great about getting up in the middle of the night if he has to go so why, oh, why did he pee in his bed? The kids must be conspiring against me. They must sense that I hate washing sheets. They know that Daddy is out of town and Mommy is already on edge so let’s see if we can push her over it. Won’t that be fun to watch?
Or maybe they both realized that wetting the bed is the only way to get clean sheets around here. And who can blame them? There is nothing nicer than sliding down into crisp clean sheets that have been tightly pulled into place. And who doesn’t love how hospital corners look right after clean sheets have been put onto a bed? Peter probably even got spoiled by staying at my mother’s house because my mom IRONS her sheets! IRONS her sheets, people!!! Come to think of it my mother-in-law irons her sheets, too! I don’t even iron my clothes much less my sheets!!
I know my husband likes fresh clean sheets too. I just hope he chooses a better way to let me know he would like the dirty ones washed!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Of pirates and princesses...
Overheard in the backseat of the car:
Sarah: I’m a princess and you are going to be a pirate!
Peter: (authoritatively) Well, I can be a pirate but you can’t be a princess and live here. We have a president in this land so you will have to go somewhere else if you want to be a princess.
Sarah: (defensively) Well, Mommy and Daddy call me “princess” so I am one already!
I chuckled for the next few miles. They are both correct for a change! There are still real pirates plundering and pillaging on the high seas so I guess if Peter really wanted to be a pirate he could be one. Of course they probably don’t wear eye patches and carry cool swords, but still.
And Dan and I do call Sarah “princess”. But why wouldn’t we? Her name does mean “princess” in Hebrew, she only wants to wear dresses and she has no less than 5 tiaras so it seems to me that she is destined for the monarchy! But it’s too bad she would have to live in another county since we “have a president in this land” because I was totally looking forward to babysitting the grandkids!
Sarah: I’m a princess and you are going to be a pirate!
Peter: (authoritatively) Well, I can be a pirate but you can’t be a princess and live here. We have a president in this land so you will have to go somewhere else if you want to be a princess.
Sarah: (defensively) Well, Mommy and Daddy call me “princess” so I am one already!
I chuckled for the next few miles. They are both correct for a change! There are still real pirates plundering and pillaging on the high seas so I guess if Peter really wanted to be a pirate he could be one. Of course they probably don’t wear eye patches and carry cool swords, but still.
And Dan and I do call Sarah “princess”. But why wouldn’t we? Her name does mean “princess” in Hebrew, she only wants to wear dresses and she has no less than 5 tiaras so it seems to me that she is destined for the monarchy! But it’s too bad she would have to live in another county since we “have a president in this land” because I was totally looking forward to babysitting the grandkids!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Another Mommy?
Last Friday was one of those summer days that a mother dreads. We had no plans until 2:30 p.m. and both kids were up by 7:30 a.m. so I knew it was going to be a long morning. It was going to be in the low 90’s with high humidity so go to the park wasn’t an appealing thought to me or the kids. My parents who live right next door were both busy. We had already been to the Children’s Museum and Bounce U earlier that week. I needed to return something to Target but both kids immediately starting grumbling about that – even with the prospect of getting a hot pretzel. Target has really good pretzels and they keep my kids quietly occupied in the shopping cart for about 20 minutes. Since they weren’t thrilled at the idea of going to Target and since I didn’t absolutely have to go I decided we would just stay home and play. Great idea for the kids not so great idea for Mommy.
We ended up playing “pirate ship and baby”. How does one play pirate ship and baby you might ask? Well let me explain. Sarah and I toted three baby dolls (Stella, Riley and an unnamed naked doll with wild hair), diapers, bottles, baby clothes and several books around in our arms while we followed Peter from bedroom to bedroom. He informed us that he was the pirate captain and we were the first mates. As mateys we had to PRETEND to hoist flags, swab decks, throw anchors, prepare meals, etc. all while Peter was telling elaborate pirate stories. We did this for one hour.
One. Hour.
I thought I was going to cry at about the 15 minute mark but since we didn’t have anything else that we had to do and no where else we had to be I decided to just deal with it and live in the moment. Both kids were having lots of fun and I have to admit that I enjoyed it to up to a point. Sarah was even allowing Peter to boss her around for a change. That never happens. Ever.
So for one hour we played this and life was good until I casually said, “O.k. Mommy is going downstairs now. You guys can keep playing but I am going to fold the laundry.” And then all hell broke loose. There was screaming and wailing and whining and gnashing of teeth. There were red faces, tears, and snot. There were two kids jumping up and down on the beds, rolling around on the floors and general bedlam.
When my kids get crazy like this the only thing I can do (other than give in and play pirate ship and baby for another hour. Which was not going to happen.) is to tell them I love them and remove myself from the situation. I headed down the stairs and even though I felt guilt at ending the game after ONE HOUR I also was proud of myself that I played the game for ONE HOUR. I’ve mentioned before how much I don’t enjoy playing pretend games so I felt good with my accomplishment. My kids being kids however just wanted more.
They followed me down the stairs and as they began to stop their crying and whining and gnashing of teeth Sarah, my beautiful darling daughter whom I love more than the world itself, said to me,
“Next time can we have another mommy? I don’t want this one anymore.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
My kids have said mean and hurtful things before. Peter’s usual response when I tell him no to something is “I don’t like you!” or sometimes even “I don’t love you!”. I usually just respond with “But I love you” in an annoying singsongy voice and that just makes him huff even harder.
But to ask for another mommy. Because they don’t want this one anymore. Wow. I was floored. I don’t even remember my response but she must have realized she actually hurt my feelings because she started to backpedal.
“Well I mean we should have two mommies AND two daddies and blah, blah, blah, blah.”
I don’t remember the rest of her “explanation” but it was clear she was trying to cover her tracks. I like how she brought in Daddy as if wanting another daddy would make the fact that she said she wanted another mommy less hurtful. Even as I was standing there trying to figure out a response I was impressed with the fact that she immediately realized she hurt my feeling and that she was quickly trying to “explain” her statement.
I’m not sure why this statement hurt so much. Maybe it stung because it came from baby. My last baby. Maybe it stung so much because she said it so matter-of-factly so pointedly. I guess she is starting to take steps toward her inevitable independence. I guess I was hoping to wait until her surly teenaged years before I had to hear anything like that. I guess I was secretly hoping that she would always put me on a pedestal and always look up with adoring eyes. I’m her mother after all! I deserve that! Don’t I??
It’s been a week since she asked for another mommy and I’m sure she’s forgotten her request. I am over my initial hurt and realize that it was something said in the heat of the moment and not something she really meant. But we’ve turned a corner now and there’s no going back. She’s hurling down the road to being her own big girl and getting farther and farther away from being mommy’s little girl. I guess she can’t be my baby forever but I’m going to tighten my grip on her little hand for a little while longer.
Another mommy?? Sorry kid. You are stuck with this one.
We ended up playing “pirate ship and baby”. How does one play pirate ship and baby you might ask? Well let me explain. Sarah and I toted three baby dolls (Stella, Riley and an unnamed naked doll with wild hair), diapers, bottles, baby clothes and several books around in our arms while we followed Peter from bedroom to bedroom. He informed us that he was the pirate captain and we were the first mates. As mateys we had to PRETEND to hoist flags, swab decks, throw anchors, prepare meals, etc. all while Peter was telling elaborate pirate stories. We did this for one hour.
One. Hour.
I thought I was going to cry at about the 15 minute mark but since we didn’t have anything else that we had to do and no where else we had to be I decided to just deal with it and live in the moment. Both kids were having lots of fun and I have to admit that I enjoyed it to up to a point. Sarah was even allowing Peter to boss her around for a change. That never happens. Ever.
So for one hour we played this and life was good until I casually said, “O.k. Mommy is going downstairs now. You guys can keep playing but I am going to fold the laundry.” And then all hell broke loose. There was screaming and wailing and whining and gnashing of teeth. There were red faces, tears, and snot. There were two kids jumping up and down on the beds, rolling around on the floors and general bedlam.
When my kids get crazy like this the only thing I can do (other than give in and play pirate ship and baby for another hour. Which was not going to happen.) is to tell them I love them and remove myself from the situation. I headed down the stairs and even though I felt guilt at ending the game after ONE HOUR I also was proud of myself that I played the game for ONE HOUR. I’ve mentioned before how much I don’t enjoy playing pretend games so I felt good with my accomplishment. My kids being kids however just wanted more.
They followed me down the stairs and as they began to stop their crying and whining and gnashing of teeth Sarah, my beautiful darling daughter whom I love more than the world itself, said to me,
“Next time can we have another mommy? I don’t want this one anymore.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
My kids have said mean and hurtful things before. Peter’s usual response when I tell him no to something is “I don’t like you!” or sometimes even “I don’t love you!”. I usually just respond with “But I love you” in an annoying singsongy voice and that just makes him huff even harder.
But to ask for another mommy. Because they don’t want this one anymore. Wow. I was floored. I don’t even remember my response but she must have realized she actually hurt my feelings because she started to backpedal.
“Well I mean we should have two mommies AND two daddies and blah, blah, blah, blah.”
I don’t remember the rest of her “explanation” but it was clear she was trying to cover her tracks. I like how she brought in Daddy as if wanting another daddy would make the fact that she said she wanted another mommy less hurtful. Even as I was standing there trying to figure out a response I was impressed with the fact that she immediately realized she hurt my feeling and that she was quickly trying to “explain” her statement.
I’m not sure why this statement hurt so much. Maybe it stung because it came from baby. My last baby. Maybe it stung so much because she said it so matter-of-factly so pointedly. I guess she is starting to take steps toward her inevitable independence. I guess I was hoping to wait until her surly teenaged years before I had to hear anything like that. I guess I was secretly hoping that she would always put me on a pedestal and always look up with adoring eyes. I’m her mother after all! I deserve that! Don’t I??
It’s been a week since she asked for another mommy and I’m sure she’s forgotten her request. I am over my initial hurt and realize that it was something said in the heat of the moment and not something she really meant. But we’ve turned a corner now and there’s no going back. She’s hurling down the road to being her own big girl and getting farther and farther away from being mommy’s little girl. I guess she can’t be my baby forever but I’m going to tighten my grip on her little hand for a little while longer.
Another mommy?? Sorry kid. You are stuck with this one.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
That Smell*
There is a lingering odor in my house that I can’t get rid of. It’s my own fault that it’s here and nothing I try will get rid of it! If there is any such thing as a smell exorcism I need to perform one!
Early one morning, several months ago, I walked downstairs to make my husband’s lunch and make myself a cup of coffee. As I was turning down the stairs a stink hit me in the face. (Our stairs are such that you come down one little flight, turn on a landing and come down them in the other direction. Hard for me to explain but I think you all know what I am talking about.) It wasn’t the smell of poop, or dirty feet or even skunk (living out in the country we get lots of that!). I can instantly identify these smells. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on this one. It was vaguely familiar but what was it??
The odor was very subtle. So subtle that my husband didn’t notice it and I never mentioned it to him figuring that it would just go away on its own. Odors do that right? Isn’t that called dissipation? Didn’t I learn that concept in science class? The odor was only in the stairway. It would hit me in the face at the landing of the first flight and then would get stronger as I would come down the final flight. The smell was driving me crazy. Not only the fact that it seemed stuck in my stairwell but also the fact that I couldn't identify it.
It is hard to describe this smell other than to say it is slightly unpleasant, extremely subtle and just not a smell that I want in my house! This smell hit me in the face for weeks and finally I resigned myself to the fact that I would never figure out what it was and that it was never going away. Then I made Adobo in the crock pot. Again.
After a couple of hours the odor started to fill the kitchen and I had a sinking feeling. I realized what the smell in the stairwell was. It was the Adobo! I recalled that I made Adobo right around the time I first started smelling the smell.
If you aren’t familiar with Adobo it is a dish prepared in the Philippines and basically is meat cooked in vinegar and soy sauce. The recipe I used called for the meat (you can use chicken, pork or beef) to be cooked all day in a crock pot. So I wasn’t just creating this smell again but I was reinforcing it ALL DAY in the crock pot!
And sadly enough the Adobo wasn’t even that good the first time I made it. It was just really easy. After making the Adobo I pointed out the smell to Dan and he agrees that there definitely is an odor in the stairwell. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with it because after all it is subtle and it usually only resides in the stairwell. But it is driving me crazy.
I have tried covering it up with potpourri.
Didn’t work.
We switched out our air filters. Not so much because they were really dirty and it was way past time but because I thought perhaps the odor was stuck in our air vents.
Didn’t work.
I even bought those air fresheners that you attach to the air filters. They smelled great for two days and now I can’t smell them at all. So much for lasting for 30 days. And as for getting rid of the Adobo odor…
Didn’t work.
I have thrown away the recipe for Adobo and have resigned myself to smelling this smell every single time I go up and down the stairs which as a stay at home mom means possibly 20 times a day. Maybe more. Sure feels like more. Perhaps in a few months the odor will be gone. I can only hope so but in the meantime I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of it.
*Everytime I come down the stairs the chorus of the song That Smell by Lynard Skynard pops into my head.
" Oooooh, that smell. Can't you smell that smell?"
Just realized. If you type smell enough times it starts to look mispelled.
Early one morning, several months ago, I walked downstairs to make my husband’s lunch and make myself a cup of coffee. As I was turning down the stairs a stink hit me in the face. (Our stairs are such that you come down one little flight, turn on a landing and come down them in the other direction. Hard for me to explain but I think you all know what I am talking about.) It wasn’t the smell of poop, or dirty feet or even skunk (living out in the country we get lots of that!). I can instantly identify these smells. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on this one. It was vaguely familiar but what was it??
The odor was very subtle. So subtle that my husband didn’t notice it and I never mentioned it to him figuring that it would just go away on its own. Odors do that right? Isn’t that called dissipation? Didn’t I learn that concept in science class? The odor was only in the stairway. It would hit me in the face at the landing of the first flight and then would get stronger as I would come down the final flight. The smell was driving me crazy. Not only the fact that it seemed stuck in my stairwell but also the fact that I couldn't identify it.
It is hard to describe this smell other than to say it is slightly unpleasant, extremely subtle and just not a smell that I want in my house! This smell hit me in the face for weeks and finally I resigned myself to the fact that I would never figure out what it was and that it was never going away. Then I made Adobo in the crock pot. Again.
After a couple of hours the odor started to fill the kitchen and I had a sinking feeling. I realized what the smell in the stairwell was. It was the Adobo! I recalled that I made Adobo right around the time I first started smelling the smell.
If you aren’t familiar with Adobo it is a dish prepared in the Philippines and basically is meat cooked in vinegar and soy sauce. The recipe I used called for the meat (you can use chicken, pork or beef) to be cooked all day in a crock pot. So I wasn’t just creating this smell again but I was reinforcing it ALL DAY in the crock pot!
And sadly enough the Adobo wasn’t even that good the first time I made it. It was just really easy. After making the Adobo I pointed out the smell to Dan and he agrees that there definitely is an odor in the stairwell. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with it because after all it is subtle and it usually only resides in the stairwell. But it is driving me crazy.
I have tried covering it up with potpourri.
Didn’t work.
We switched out our air filters. Not so much because they were really dirty and it was way past time but because I thought perhaps the odor was stuck in our air vents.
Didn’t work.
I even bought those air fresheners that you attach to the air filters. They smelled great for two days and now I can’t smell them at all. So much for lasting for 30 days. And as for getting rid of the Adobo odor…
Didn’t work.
I have thrown away the recipe for Adobo and have resigned myself to smelling this smell every single time I go up and down the stairs which as a stay at home mom means possibly 20 times a day. Maybe more. Sure feels like more. Perhaps in a few months the odor will be gone. I can only hope so but in the meantime I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of it.
*Everytime I come down the stairs the chorus of the song That Smell by Lynard Skynard pops into my head.
" Oooooh, that smell. Can't you smell that smell?"
Just realized. If you type smell enough times it starts to look mispelled.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Mommy? Will you play with me?
It all begins innocently enough. After breakfast Peter will watch an episode of The Magic School Bus and then he will head into the playroom. I am usually in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee, washing the breakfast dishes and trying to scan the headlines from the morning paper so I don’t sound like a complete idiot when someone says, “So what did you think about the huge volcano eruption in Canada?” Too many times I’ve been completely unaware of some major world event and have had to politely say “Oh, yes, um, horrible!?”
Inevitably after he heads into the playroom I will hear a sweet little whiney voice call out to me, “Mommy. Will you play with me?” And so the day begins. I trudge into the playroom wishing there was more coffee in the pot and plop down onto the floor right beside him. He has dumped three Rubbermaid bins of Mega Blocks Pyrates toys on the floor and asks me to play pirates with him.
Peter got his first Pyrate toy from my parents in his Easter basket. Yes. In addition to chocolate bunnies the Easter Bunny brings toys. The Easter Bunny (especially the Grandma Easter Bunny) feels bad for Peter and Sarah because they don’t get any toys except on their birthday or Christmas. They get plenty of toys on these two occasions but the rest of the year is toy free except for the occasional minor gift giving holiday toy. (Minor gift giving holidays would include Easter and Valintine's Day.) I’m sure this is the case in many households and it is true at our house too. We have never given into requests for any new play things. We always answer with, “Put it on your list for your birthday.” Or with “Maybe Santa will bring it.” Luckily for Peter and Sarah they have generous relatives who like to begift them throughout the year. (Grandma, Aunt Cathy and Aunt Barbara immediately come to mind!)
Peter has been playing with these Mega Block Pyrate toys since March and his love for them has not diminished. When he finds a toy he likes he will stick with it way past the time that Mommy is completely OVER IT. For in stance on his second birthday we got him a set of cool blocks. He played with these EVERY DAY until around age four. At that point he started getting bored with them. He still brings them out but it’s usually just a once or twice a month now. (I highly recommend these blocks by the way! $25.00 well spent!)
Anyway, back to the Pyrate Megablocks. He creates little islands with the blocks and then starts making up very detailed stories about them. He always asks me to play with him and I’m never sure why because I never seem to do it right. I will always go into the playroom and ask him what he wants me to do. He usually asks me to build an island. But I always do it wrong. No matter what I do I get an emphatic, “You’re doing it wrong, Mommy!” So I will try to do it “right” whatever right is. After a few more failed attempts I will put together an island to his satisfaction and then he will start yelling at me to “Play, Mommy! Play with it!” Agh! Am I not already playing with it?? Have I not already been playing for 15 or 20 minutes?? So then I will start to take the little pirates and make shooting noises and will start to say things like “Arghh, Matey! Where’s the treasure!?” Sometimes this will appease him and other times not so much. I always say a silent prayer of thanks when Sarah comes downstairs asking for breakfast. Thank goodness for my other duties! No more pirates. For now.
But once she’s awake and fed I start getting requests to play “baby”. This game is a little less annoying for me since it only involves me sitting at her table and pretending to eat the food she has prepared for me. Many times it involves a tea party which is easy enough for me to pull off. I usually don’t get yelled at during these rounds of make believe play like I do when I am pretending (poorly) to be a pirate. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and “baby” comes more naturally than “pirate”.
I didn’t realize being a parent would require so much pretend play. And I’m not sure why I dislike it so much. I can read them book after book. I can do craft after craft. I can push them on the swing for hours on end. But for some reason I can't get into the pretend stuff. In my head I imagine other parents playing happily on the floor with their kids for hours on end laughing and serving up another round of tea or engaging in yet another bloody pirate battle. Meanwhile I’m thinking to myself “how much longer do I have to do this?” I worry that my lack of enjoyment for these activities makes me a horrible parent. I keep telling myself that the kids need to learn to play by themselves. I think I’ve read that somewhere. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway…
I know I can’t get out of playing pretend games with my kids so I have found something that makes it a little more bearable. Luckily our playroom is located fairly closely to the family room which of course contains a TV. So now before a round of pirate or baby I make sure that the TV is turned to a Mommy show (usually the Today Show) and that the volume is turned up.
Way up.
For some reason as long as I can hear adults in the background having adult conversation I can suffer through the pretend games. And as an added bonus I can learn more about that volcano eruption in Canada at the same time.
Ahoy, Matey!
Inevitably after he heads into the playroom I will hear a sweet little whiney voice call out to me, “Mommy. Will you play with me?” And so the day begins. I trudge into the playroom wishing there was more coffee in the pot and plop down onto the floor right beside him. He has dumped three Rubbermaid bins of Mega Blocks Pyrates toys on the floor and asks me to play pirates with him.
Peter got his first Pyrate toy from my parents in his Easter basket. Yes. In addition to chocolate bunnies the Easter Bunny brings toys. The Easter Bunny (especially the Grandma Easter Bunny) feels bad for Peter and Sarah because they don’t get any toys except on their birthday or Christmas. They get plenty of toys on these two occasions but the rest of the year is toy free except for the occasional minor gift giving holiday toy. (Minor gift giving holidays would include Easter and Valintine's Day.) I’m sure this is the case in many households and it is true at our house too. We have never given into requests for any new play things. We always answer with, “Put it on your list for your birthday.” Or with “Maybe Santa will bring it.” Luckily for Peter and Sarah they have generous relatives who like to begift them throughout the year. (Grandma, Aunt Cathy and Aunt Barbara immediately come to mind!)
Peter has been playing with these Mega Block Pyrate toys since March and his love for them has not diminished. When he finds a toy he likes he will stick with it way past the time that Mommy is completely OVER IT. For in stance on his second birthday we got him a set of cool blocks. He played with these EVERY DAY until around age four. At that point he started getting bored with them. He still brings them out but it’s usually just a once or twice a month now. (I highly recommend these blocks by the way! $25.00 well spent!)
Anyway, back to the Pyrate Megablocks. He creates little islands with the blocks and then starts making up very detailed stories about them. He always asks me to play with him and I’m never sure why because I never seem to do it right. I will always go into the playroom and ask him what he wants me to do. He usually asks me to build an island. But I always do it wrong. No matter what I do I get an emphatic, “You’re doing it wrong, Mommy!” So I will try to do it “right” whatever right is. After a few more failed attempts I will put together an island to his satisfaction and then he will start yelling at me to “Play, Mommy! Play with it!” Agh! Am I not already playing with it?? Have I not already been playing for 15 or 20 minutes?? So then I will start to take the little pirates and make shooting noises and will start to say things like “Arghh, Matey! Where’s the treasure!?” Sometimes this will appease him and other times not so much. I always say a silent prayer of thanks when Sarah comes downstairs asking for breakfast. Thank goodness for my other duties! No more pirates. For now.
But once she’s awake and fed I start getting requests to play “baby”. This game is a little less annoying for me since it only involves me sitting at her table and pretending to eat the food she has prepared for me. Many times it involves a tea party which is easy enough for me to pull off. I usually don’t get yelled at during these rounds of make believe play like I do when I am pretending (poorly) to be a pirate. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and “baby” comes more naturally than “pirate”.
I didn’t realize being a parent would require so much pretend play. And I’m not sure why I dislike it so much. I can read them book after book. I can do craft after craft. I can push them on the swing for hours on end. But for some reason I can't get into the pretend stuff. In my head I imagine other parents playing happily on the floor with their kids for hours on end laughing and serving up another round of tea or engaging in yet another bloody pirate battle. Meanwhile I’m thinking to myself “how much longer do I have to do this?” I worry that my lack of enjoyment for these activities makes me a horrible parent. I keep telling myself that the kids need to learn to play by themselves. I think I’ve read that somewhere. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway…
I know I can’t get out of playing pretend games with my kids so I have found something that makes it a little more bearable. Luckily our playroom is located fairly closely to the family room which of course contains a TV. So now before a round of pirate or baby I make sure that the TV is turned to a Mommy show (usually the Today Show) and that the volume is turned up.
Way up.
For some reason as long as I can hear adults in the background having adult conversation I can suffer through the pretend games. And as an added bonus I can learn more about that volcano eruption in Canada at the same time.
Ahoy, Matey!
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