February 26, 2009

I give up

I have been incredibly stressed of late, the kind of stressed where I am awake from 2 to 4 every night turning things over in my head, only to fall into the sleep of the dead approximately twelve minutes before the alarm goes off.

I am tired, you all.  And my jeans don’t fit right, which may be neither here nor there but is also stressing me out because the boys have started asking when the pool is going to open and the mere THOUGHT of putting on a swimsuit would keep me awake at night if all these other things weren’t already.

It’s been quite a week.

Charlie has been talking about what he’s going to give up for Lent; his first idea was to give up video games, but I said oh no you won’t because sometimes I need for the kids to be quiet and still and not talking to me, and Nintendo is a really great babysitter.  Then he started doing what I used to do as a kid and randomly picking out sweets that he could give up, which is funny because he doesn’t eat all that many sweets and of course he was choosing things he never has, like gum.  So that seemed to defeat the whole point.

We talked about the idea of giving something up, and about why people do that; we also talked about how Lent is a good time to be helpful and kind, and to make a difference instead of making a sacrifice.  Charlie finally settled on not fighting with Henry for forty days.

Today after school they were in the playroom arguing about the obstacle course they were building.  So much for giving up fighting.

After wallowing in my stress for weeks now, I decided that I was going to give that up, certainly for Lent, at least as a starting place.  Or if I can’t give it up, because stress is tenacious, at least do something specific about managing it, like maybe get some exercise.  For Christmas, my in-laws gave me a Wii Fit, which I have used a total of ONCE since I opened it because my children have been monopolizing the Wii, and also possibly because I have been too busy being stressed to do anything constructive like, oh I don’t know, EXERCISE.  Sheesh.

This morning I decided that I was going to hook up the Wii Fit and do some yoga, dammit, because that would make me feel less stressed.  Clearly I was in the right frame of mind for deep breathing and sun salutation.

The Wii baffles me; I don’t know why.  You would think that my tech savvy would carry over to the gaming console, but it doesn’t; I need a six-year-old to walk me through it.  But my six-year-old was at school, so I forged ahead because dude how hard could it be?

I got the disc out, put it in the Wii, booted the whole thing up … and couldn’t get the remote to work.  I waved it around, I changed the batteries, I read the manual, I swore at it … nothing.  Finally I pulled the little Wii box out and flipped it over to look at the cords and realized that Wade hadn’t plugged the sensor in all the way after he moved it this weekend.

Ahhh.  That didn’t do anything at all for my stress level, let me tell you.

So I finally get the damn thing turned on (TWENTY FIVE MINUTES LATER) and now I figure I should do my Fit Test again because it’s been 54 days since I did it the first time and I am probably nearly dead in Wii world. I’m all ready for the Wii to yell at me because I have been a big slacker and I’ve heard the stories about how the Wii disapproves of slackers and will berate you for being one, but instead it tells me I’ve lost four pounds and shaved three years off my Wii Fit age.

I offered to buy my virtual trainer dinner and a stiff drink.  And then we made out.

So for Lent, I am giving up being stressed.  I can’t give up the things that are causing the stress (although I would LIKE TO, believe me, and I am TRYING TO, I promise) but I can let the actual chest-tightening, stomach-clenching, teeth-grinding, not sleeping parts go.  I think.  Or I can at least spend half an hour every day trying to stand up straight on the Wii balance board.  That totally takes my mind off of everything, because I have to concentrate so freaking hard in order to keep myself from tumbling over and breaking something that there isn’t any part of my brain left to worry about things.

Like swimsuit season.

February 24, 2009

it’s Tuesday, and I’m feeling fat

Charlie came home yesterday and announced, “Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday!  We’re having a party and I need to bring a treat.”

I texted Chris and said, “I need more notice.  No last minute treats.”

She suggested that I get Charlie some beads and tell him to give them only to the kids who lifted up their shirts.  Tempting, really, but probably not.

Charlie’s class celebrated Mardi Gras by eating themselves stupid; at breakfast, he announced, “I’m only having ONE bowl of cereal because we’re going to make PIGS of ourselves today.” He was right; he had cake and brownies and at least one doughnut, and there was something about cookies, too, but it was hard to understand what he was saying because he was jumping around and talking really really fast.

Apparently the whole idea of Fat Tuesday is to create a sugar high that will last the entire forty days until Easter, when it can be renewed by massive quantities of Peeps and Jelly Bellys.

Henry was a little bummed that his class didn’t have a party for Fat Tuesday (because cake! and brownies! and doughnuts! but mostly he just wanted some beads, although no way was he lifting his shirt up) but he made his peace with it because on Friday, his class is in charge of presenting the Stations of the Cross.  And this year, instead of doing one of the readings, Henry is a soldier! with a SPEAR!

Let me say that again: A SOLDER! WITH A SPEAR!!!  God bless Catholic school.

Charlie may have gotten King Cake, but clearly, Jesus loves Henry best.

Today we had an impromptu playdate with my neighbor, and while we were sitting on her porch sipping our Cosmos while the boys all jumped on her trampoline (OMG I LOVE MY NEIGHBORHOOD!!!) I was whining about having to make a SPEAR for heaven’s sake!  I mean, we have a whole basket of SWORDS in our playroom, but NOOOO he has to have a SPEAR!

And she said, “Do you have a broom that unscrews?  You could use the broomstick.  And maybe do a foil thingy on top for a tip.”  And I said, “Geuh?!?”  Because perfect!

After dinner, Henry reminded us that he needed a SPEAR! for Friday, and Wade said, “Do we have a broomstick?  Because we could unscrew the broom part and make a tip out of tinfoil.”  And I said, “Geuh?” because I am surrounded by geniuses.  And then he made a tip for the spear out of a box and some tinfoil and blue masking tape and voila! we’re all ready to observe Lent.

Except that Charlie is saying both that he’s hungry and that his stomach hurts.  I have no idea what that’s all about.  Maybe Jesus knows.

February 20, 2009

grace in small things: twenty two

ROAD LESS TRAVELED

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference

- Robert Frost

Today I have been thinking about Frost’s road less traveled, and about how I came to be here, in Oklahoma, yes, but also in this family and this life.  And today I am thankful for the road, because without it, I might be somewhere else, which I cannot even imagine, as I tuck my children into their beds and settle in to share the night with my husband.

And I am grateful for the road that brought me here, and for the places it wound through on the way.  It has, indeed, made all the difference.

1. Albuquerque, NM

2. Gambier, OH

3. Baltimore, MD

4. Columbus, OH

5. Tacoma, WA

February 19, 2009

I came THIS CLOSE to burning down our house (so you know, just your normal Thursday)

I had a plumber out to the house today, because we had a leak in the laundry room, or at least that’s what I inferred from the puddle that kept appearing on the floor after every attempt to mop it up.  Since the little puddle kept appearing on the side of the laundry room furthest from the washing machine, I assumed that the leak was behind the drywall, which didn’t make me very happy, but still a leak is a leak and you’ve got to deal with it, right?

Right.

When Jason the plumber showed up (at 10:00 am, JUST as I was getting ready to go get my FIRST CUP OF COFFEE for the ENTIRE DAY dammit I mean woo plumber!) I told him the following story:

My dad was here over the weekend and he did some work on the toilet in our utility bathroom (the one off the kitchen — don’t ask why it’s the “utility” bath, that’s just what we call it) — mostly, he replaced the thingy inside that makes it flush (see why I need plumbing help???) but there was also something about how the knob that turns the water on and off was kind of not working so the water is turned all the way up and WHOA do we ever have strong water pressure in this neighborhood.   And in case you happen to be my dad, I was not not SAYING that anyone messed up the plumbing work, I was just letting Jason the plumber know that we’ve been messing with the toilets.

Because you never know.

Then I take Jason the plumber in the laundry room, where the dryer is both pulled out into the middle of the wee tiny two-foot-square room AND running (because house guests! laundry! gah!) and I show him the leak.  To do this, I have to hang over the dryer and shine a flashlight around the metal lint thingy that connects to the back of the dryer (yes I’m sure it has a name but that’s NOT MY JOB you all) because you can’t really see the leak without the flashlight.

With the flashlight, though, it is clear that there is water on the floor behind the dryer.  NOWHERE NEAR THE WASHING MACHINE.

Because that is not the end of the story (hell no) I tell Jason the plumber that yesterday, I went to turn the dryer on and I thought I smelled something burning, which was of course IMPOSSIBLE, right, but I pulled the dryer out anyway because I am a worrier and found a lingerie bag that I lost like THREE MONTHS ago and thought WHOA THAT’S WHAT’S BURNING! but it turns out it was not burning, it was WET because we have a leak.

Which is clearly coming from behind the drywall, because where else would water be coming from on that side of the laundry room, where there is no water?

Jason the plumber was almost in a coma by the time I finished all that, but since I was paying him by the hour and that whole story took like 25 minutes to tell, how much could he complain, really.

So I go back into the office to work and he starts doing his plumber thing, which mostly consists of flushing the toilet in the utility bath and going, “Hmm.  Hmm.  HMM” a lot.  And then I hear him in the laundry room, and then he comes in the office (which shares a wall with both the utility bath and the laundry room) and asks if the carpet is wet.  And then I die a little because OH MY GOD HOW BAD IS IT?!?

And while he’s feeling the carpet and baseboards in the corner, he says, “I’m not finding a leak anywhere.  Do you mind if I cut into the drywall in the laundry room?”

Sure why not!

Twenty minutes later, he comes back into the office and says, “Okay, this is the wierdest thing I’ve ever seen.”  Which is NOT what you want the $80.00 an hour plumber to say, honestly, because “wierd” is always contractor code for “expensive.”

The deal is this: my pipes are fine (heh heh).  It’s my DRYER that is leaking.

I know!  What the hell?

That metal thingy, that funnels the hot air out of the dryer?  FULL of SOAKING WET LINT.  And THIS CLOSE to completely bursting into flames (okay the plumber didn’t say that but you could honestly smell the singed lint).  We’ve always wondered about the lint trap on this dryer, mostly because it’s ALWAYS empty, which seemed a little odd — hey go figure the lint was TRAPPED IN THE BACK OF THE DRYER.  Waiting to set my house on fire.

So I paid the plumber, and honestly it was the best $83.00 I’ve ever spent.  Now I have a hole in my laundry room wall and a completely useless dryer, but at least I didn’t burn the house down.  And before all this happened, I managed to get ALL the laundry done.  Go me.