Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Lost in translation

Around the house, I am typically the one that fixes things. If the door closes wrong, I am the one to adjust it, if a drawer gets jammed, I am the one that unjams it. I put up the hardware and I have more mileage on the power drill than my hubby. I guess you get the idea, right?

The past few days I have noticed a little ‘stuffage’ in our downstairs toilet. That bathroom is not typically used so I have put the soft toilet paper in there to try to get rid of it. It turns out that the super soft, ultra thick, you can jump off the top of a building and land on it safely toilet paper is really bad for your pipes. After all the sewer and plumbing issues I have witnessed, I listen to my plumber like he is the leader to my cult. Scott brand, regular toilet tissue is all we will use in this house. However, I do have some leftover soft stuff so I try to place it wisely. I just can’t bear the thought of just tossing all of it.

Last night I mentioned the stuffing that I have noticed in the bathroom to R. I told him to be careful with the toilet paper because it seems like that toilet doesn’t take it so well. I even pointed to the door of the water closet since we were sitting in the room it adjoined.

Today R worked from home, so he got up pretty late and ran downstairs just in time for work. He typically doesn’t bother me and lets me sleep in the mornings. During breakfast this is the conversation I had to endure:

“The downstairs toilet is stuffed up.”
“It is? Did you use it?”
“Didn’t I just tell you last night not to use that bathroom?”
“You meant THAT bathroom?”
“Uh, YES! I pointed right at it.”
“Oh, I thought you meant the upstairs bathroom.”

{Short pause}

“Why did you even use that bathroom.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You blow dry your hair in our bathroom and I never wake up.”
{confused stare}

So I spent all morning with J searching Target for a $120 plunger. (well that includes a few extra items)

Monday, April 24, 2006

Where is my sleep

I have yet to have a good nights’ sleep all on my own these days. There are many factors that feed into this never ending peril of my life. First, and probably the most important is that I really don’t feel like going back to my Rheumatologist who will prescribe me with my itty-bitty perfect pill. It’s not a sleep aid or an antidepressant. It’s just a small dosage of a little bit of heaven. I just don’t feel like being poked and prodded and x-rayed and tested and anything else a doctor can do to rule out everything in the book except for my condition. One day I will go, when I get THAT desperate. Maybe I am, I just don’t know it yet.

These are the environmental conditions I have to live with that prevent me from my beauty rest:

1. My husband has taken up the Olympic sport of snoring. In the 13 years that I have known this man, he has never been a snorer. Yea, a little heavy breathing and maybe a snore here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good smack in the head or a shove off the bed.

2. We have a 22-pound cat, Andre, which thinks he is still a kitten. Not only does he think he is the cutest, most adorable thing, he thinks he is small enough to sit above my head on my pillow. So every night when I am about to dose off into my slumber land, he makes himself comfortable at the top of my head. Paws in my face, smooshing my nose or in my ears. His cold wet nose always winds up somewhere very uncomfortable and his whiskers tickle anything they touch. If that isn’t bad enough, his purr is as loud as a lawnmower. Maybe even louder. I am surprised it doesn’t wake baby J sometimes. If the sound of the purr doesn’t keep me awake, the vibrations of my head do.

3. My little 12 pound Oscar likes to sit by my feet but he doesn’t seem to bother me too much. What does bother me is that we now have the worlds’ cutest cat, ChoCho, in the house but he is one bad motherfucker, I’ll tell you! He likes to sit on me or very close to me. If he can’t because one of the other two sweet cats are nearby, he will get his way by hissing and smacking. If that doesn’t work an all out war will be declared on my side of the bed. And if I kick them off the bed or out of the room, the bombs start to drop anywhere else in the house. Sometimes I do hear something break and I actually have to get up to clean it.

4. If ChoCho isn’t threatened by one of the other two cats, he will just climb onto me and start to dig his head into my armpit. That means he wants treats. He will do that until I reach into the drawer and give him the exact amount that he wants.

5. The house is always too warm for me to sleep.

6. R always steals the blankets.

7. R always seems to find his way to the center of the bed and leaves me with about 5 inches of space to sleep in.

8. R steals my body pillow, which has been a sleeping staple for me since I was in college.

9. R decides that 3 am is a great time to get it on. Um, not.

10. I start to think. (This is a bad one) Sometimes Ill be so mad at R for the fight we had while he was sleeping that I wont be able to sleep at all. And of course Ill need to confront him in the morning. You should see his face when this happens. He is like a deer in headlights and you can see in his eyes, ‘What the fuck did I do?’

11. I start to think of mom.

12. I hear noises.

13. I don’t hear noises

14. I have to pee. (You would think that this is an easily fixable dilemma)

15. I’m trying to remember if the alarm is set.

16. Hungry.

17. R’s pager goes off, more than once. It seems to know when I am about to dose off.

18. I hear J stirring.

19. I don’t hear J stirring.

20. Did I mention that R snores?

21. I reminisce of the days when I was an RA in college and I am confronting a room with a police officer and a fellow coworker. The kid comes out of his room wearing nothing but leopard skin leotards. That will keep you awake for days!

22. I remember the perfect comeback to an argument I had 3 weeks ago.

23. I haven’t shaved my legs in a long time and you can almost not tell the difference from my legs and R’s.

24. Trying to decide if I would rather have a boy or a girl as my next child.

25. Trying to decide if I even want another child.

26. Thinking of my next blog entry.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

My Mr. Pisser

Nighttime diapers have become quite a challenge. We have gone through every option we can think of and we still have the same problem: They just don’t hold enough! Just about every morning when I go in to get J from his crib (yes, he is still in a crib and will be there until he is either 1. Fully potty trained or 2. Figures out how to get out) I have to repeat the get up, strip and clean up routine. My washing machine was brand new and I swear it’s about ready to conk out from all the pee-pee bedding it has had to endure. We were using the Huggies Overnights but he started to pee through those and they don’t make a bigger size than what he was in. I tried using all kinds of diapers, different sizes, liners or anything you can think of. I can’t seem to find the liners I was using and I am about ready to try a maxipad. How much different could it be? They both claim to hold a lot of fluid, right?

Last night I tried a Pampers Cruiser. They seem to do a really great job during the day, especially those days where I am just a bad parent and change his diaper only when it offends the neighbors’ dog. This morning J woke up screaming 'MOMMY, MOMMY, NA-KIN, NA-KIN, BUG, BUG' in a high pitched, very scared sounding voice. I ran into his room and discovered that the diaper crystals had escaped and exploded out of the confines of his diaper and were all over his bed, all over him, his face, hands, everywhere. I immediately got him out of the bed and stripped him down in fear that he may get the crystals in his mouth. When I got him down to his birthday suit, he saw hundreds of little crystals all over his body and he completely freaked out. He got all heeby-skeevy and was shrilling that these things were all over his body. Without delay, I got him in the tub.

So, the Pampers Cruisers have been scratched off our list of appropriate bedtime diapers.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

One measly inch

For many months I have been complaining that I want a king size bed. In our old house it really wouldn’t fit so after our fire, I was hesitant about getting a queen but I knew it was the only solution at the time. It was either that or I slept on the futon in the computer room. However I like to hear my husbands breathing while I sleep and I already use the monitor to listen to my baby boy. We now moved out of that house and into one that has rooms that fit us much better. We sold our old bedroom set with the trillions of drawers, low laying bed and the matching nightstands to the people who are buying the house. “Why move it if it fits so well in the room?” SOLD! So off to furniture stores we went to buy a new bedroom set. An adult bedroom set. Ever since the words ‘new set’ hit my radar I have bugging my other half that I want a king size and I was going to get it no matter what it took. I finally did get him to see the beauty of a bed with space and room to roam in, by the way things look, it’s going to be awhile before I prove this to him.

We found a bedroom set that we both really love with a king size bed. And what do you know, it was available to be delivered on Wednesday. PERFECT! So the next day we went to a local mattress store. We ordered our super soft, super comfortable, dreamy king size bed with low profile box springs. We decided on the low profile because I am pretty short and I feel I shouldn’t have to actually climb into bed.

The set comes in early in the day, which was perfect. I was able to check the drawers and dust it off and position everything perfectly. I set up our clocks, lamps, baby monitor and anything else that had to be ready. Wednesday was a holiday and I was going to shower and get ready while baby J was sleeping because we were going to leave as soon as he woke up to go to my cousins. I wait and wait and wait for the mattress delivery. With each minute that passes I ask myself if I should hop into a quick shower. I call for an update on the truck and they are on their way to my house. So I wait. An hour goes by and no truck. Damn! I could have showered, but just in case, I didn’t want to be indisposed when they knocked at the door. R gets home from work and they still don’t show up. Another call and another half hour and they drive up. They set up the bed and R and I take a good look at it. It’s too high. I feel like I am climbing Mount Everest to get ontop of the bed. We measured and the box spring was definitely not a low profile. So after much fighting and arguing and steam coming out of R’s ears, the box springs went back.

This was so depressing. By the time we were done with the battle with Sleepy’s, it was too late for us to go to my Cousin’s house for the Sedar. We decided to go to R’s Cousin’s instead of sitting in traffic. It actually did work out nicely, but I feel horrible for canceling on my Cousin when I was the one who wanted to get together with them. So we slept on the living room floor on our old mattress, looking up at our beautiful king size bed propped up against the wall in the hallway.

Today R got our money back from Sleepy’s and called 1-800-Mattress and ordered what we needed. These were to be delivered tonight. The guys came, placed the box springs on the bed and then had to take them right back on the truck. Of all the low profile box springs out there, we get the ULTRA low ones that only measure 4 inches high. All we need is one that is 5 inches. Just one inch is what is keeping us from sleeping in our wonderland of a king size bed. So again, we will be sleeping on the old queen on the living room floor staring up at our beautiful king size bed propped up against the wall in the hallway.

Sunday, April 9, 2006

Its someones day

Baby J just started to sing. He is not very good at it and if you weren’t R or I, you wouldn’t think he was actually singing. He sings one or two words and kind of makes a semi beat to it. He typically skips a word or two so its difficult to understand what he is actually singing.

Typically the melodies are encouraged by us trying to get him to sing or asking him to sing a song. His favorite song is Happy Birthday. He sings the words ‘Happy’ and ‘Birthday’ with emphasis on the r in birthday. It’s quite a sound to listen to. Today after dinner at the pizza place he was in a great mood. He was so excited that he refused to get into his car seat. After a few minutes of struggling with him, R asked me to take over the challenge. I handed him a yamikah that was in the car from my mothers unveiling that took place earlier today. As he placed it on his head I was able to buckle the little guy into his seat.

The next thing we know, he is belting out loud ‘HAPPY BURR-TH-DAY’ {pause} ‘HAPPY BURR-TH-DAY’… over and over again. I guess he figured the yamikah is a really cool birthday hat. I wonder who’s birthday he thought it was?

Tuesday, April 4, 2006

Would you like some whipped cream on that?

After dinner tonight I decided it was time for me to buy a book I have been meaning to get for a long time. It’s called ‘Your Wearing That?’ and it’s about the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters. Being that my mothers unveiling is this coming weekend and her one year anniversary of her passing is coming up I thought it was about time for me to join the group of mothers and daughters (and anyone else) who actually try to understand the most complicated relationship known to the human race. Why I want to torture myself like that? I don’t know. But I feel its something I have to do.

With baby J in tow, we go to the Borders near our new home. I figured I would check it out and see what their Children’s section has to offer. We walk in, J with his sippy, and I see the book that I was there for and grab it. J runs through the aisles as fast as I can blink and I finally get him the Children’s section. I strongly believe you cannot bring a child to a bookstore without buying him a book. I start searching the board books for something that might intrigue him or at least have him sit with me for 5 minutes to read to him. J picks up a little Elmo doll and around the corner, between the board books and the picture books is a nice, grey, commercial sized book cart with the large metal bars and wheels as big as J’s head sits. Elmo seems to find his way to the bay area of the cart and Elmo gets a ride of his life. Going back and forth and up and down the board book aisle. Occasionally he found himself being smashed into a bookshelf, but no one got hurt.

Instead of fighting with him, I let him roll the cart around. It was harmless and he has played with things bigger and much more treacherous than that. I figured I would get him to bring the cart to the register and recommend to the underpaid idiot taking my money to put it in the proper place. Then have an all out temper tantrum scene on the way out of the store.

So on my way from point A to point B we bumped into a woman who obviously worked there displaying her big green (or was it red?) name tag which I didn’t have a chance to read and had quite a superiority complex. She practically chased us down and went up to J telling him that the cart was not a toy. Me, knowing that he wasn’t going to hurt himself, maybe others, but not himself, I briefly explained how I tried to get it away from him and figured I would let him roll it to the checkout. He wasn’t hurting anyone, especially himself, and he was quiet and happy. The woman, in a firm voice, started to explain how the cart was dangerous and he could really get hurt and it shouldn’t be played with by a child. I just stood up as I pulled J away from her beloved cart and stated, "Such a dangerous item shouldn’t be left in the Children’s section of your store."

She stormed away in a huff.

Saturday, April 1, 2006

Comfort of Our Future

“I want a king size bed.”

“Why? Our bed is fine.”

“It’s too small.”

“No its not.”

“Every night you creep onto my side of the bed and I have no where to go.”

“I’m going to creep to your side of the bed no matter how big it is.”

“I want my own bedroom.”