The Way You Make-a Me Feel

nothing helps the nausea

except, maybe, sometimes, Mario on the wii

I'm drinking milk and chocolate milk by the gallon

I don't like milk

usually

mandatory afternoon naps

a scare of bloody spotting

more "resting time"

boys offering to sleep with me "so we can take care of you, Momma"

roasting pounds of chicken at a time

for the boys

so they can eat

since I'm apparently unable too

unless it's toast

can gluten-free toast count as a food group?

toast with grape jelly

toast with honey

toast with strawberry preserves

toast with butter and cinnamon sugar

why does butter taste too buttery?

toast with seedless blackberry jam

garlic toast

oh, yes, garlic toast

handfuls of fiber gummy vitamins

since not eating means "things don't move along"

and the doctor insist that "things get moving along"

a puppy who is obsessed with my belly

children who tell the baby to be nicer to me

and who love the baby more, since it's already being ornery

And So The Conversation Turned

Darwin, crying: "Daddy is mean!"

"Why are you crying?"

"He called me a name!"

"He did?"

"Yeah! He called me a nerd!"

"Darwin?"

::sniff:: "What?"

"Do you know what a nerd is?"

"It's a name!"

"Do you know what it means?"

::sniff::

"A nerd is a person who is very, very smart and knows lots of things. Daddy's a nerd. I'm a nerd. Griffin's a nerd..."

"And I'm a nerd too?"

"Are you a very, very smart person who knows lots of things?"

"Yeah! I do! HEY DAD, GUESS WHAT! I'M A NERD TOO!"

We're High Above But On The Floor

You didn't know we were trying? Neither did we.

Yes, this is a huge surprise. But I love surprises and even though I'm still in shock ("we're having a baby? you sure about that?") I'm certain this is the best surprise ever.

Except? Ohmyhell, my belly. Only eight weeks and it has exploded.


"Mama, I'm sharing stickers with the baby. This is the baby's sticker. Not yours. Got it?"

And the funny thing is, everything is going "perfectly" (as long as you don't count the constant nausea). With both boys we had to try-try-try and once pregnant I had to take hormones in order not to miscarry. With this one? Hormones are perfect. With the boys, I just got fat-fat-fat and I never looked pregnant. With this one? "Oh my god! You already have a baby bump!" The differences are just mind-boggling.

I'm thanking the gluten-free gods for the everything-working-out-for-once. Over four years and I'm most definitely at my healthiest.

Except for the nausea. Dear gods, could you take care of that one please? With a cherry on top?

Mmmmm, cherries.

But Just Maybe, Halaka Ukulele, Mama Made a Baby

Invisible Man Who Can Sing in a Visible Voice

I thought the worst of my troubles is being snowed in for a third day in a row, with antsy children who need to burn off some energy.


Turns out having a leaky window splashing on your computer is so much worse. And losing a wii bowling game to a five year old doesn't help either.

Shape it Up, Get it Straight

This year, I have decided, is the year we're gonna get our shit together.

Personally, I blame it on the dishwasher fiasco.

Well, that and years of piling stuff up. And up. And up. And not completely unpacking when we moved into our home nearly nine years ago.

And the fact I'm a pack-rat and Aaron is a hoarder.

(Oh, yes he is. Don't you look at me like that. We even watch the show Hoarders occasionally and he? He sympathizes with the people on the show while I fear what our home will become if we doesn't start making a dent.)

But!

(And let me state I'm not a fan of New Year Resolutions. It just so happened that the dishwasher fiasco - the instigator - randomly happened during the holidays. And I had plenty time of reflection while washing the damn dishes by hand multiple times a day.)

This time, I am trying to lead by example instead of my usual getting-fed-up-and-throwing-an-almighty-hissy-fit tactic. Something tells me this doesn't work.

For starters, I've been slowly easing my way into the FlyLady system (which? oh my god the amount of l-o-v-e they talk about. goodness). Yes, I totally realize I'm joining a bandwagon on this one, but if it works for so many people there's a good chance I can follow it as well.

It's my goal that shining my sink will lead to clearing out and organizing the basement. I hope to store items we're keeping in rubber bins (classy) and line the finished basement "family room" walls with them, instead of the shtuff taking all the space now.

I hope that by doing so, Aaron will make a dent in his cave (which is So Full, the door doesn't even open fully) and have it cleared out before gardening season arrives. This will give me an opportunity to paint the room, rip up the carpet and start living in our space instead of storing crap in our space.

And while we're talkin' pie-in-the-sky hopes (ha), I also hope to maintain my home in a manner that anyone can drop by at anytime and I won't feel humiliated by the state of my home. I'll save the hope for always-on-hand-freshly-baked-gluten-free-cookies-to-offer-our-guests till next year.

See? I'm a totally reasonable person.

Those icicles have been known to KILL people!

Don't You Put Me On the Back Burner

I've tried not to be overly bitch-y and complain-y because I get it: most people don't want to hear that shit. We want to live in a world with happiness and joy and relaxation with no mentions of Wood Rot Under the Dishwasher and Oh My, My Kitchen is Flooding. Again.

But, you know, when that stuff happens the not-overly-bitchy-and-complainy go straight out the window and lo, here I am.

My dishwasher flooded the kitchen a couple of weeks ago so I was a diligent homeowner. Upon putting on my Big Girl Panties I called the repair center because extended warranties? They rawk.

It took over 48 hours for Sears (hi Sears! you're adding this to my case notes, right?) to send someone out to fix it. Grumble, grumble but okay.

The tech came out, nice as can be, and ran all the diagnostic tests on the dishwasher. Grunts and hmmms escaped from his mouth and I sat here working away, trying to Give The Poor Man Some Space all the while being Miss Nosy Body.

Finally, finally, he figured it out. The dishwasher had a hole it in. A hole.

Not where a knife was, no, it just wore away after the long four years of hard service ::cough, cough:: and everyday use.

He needed to order a new tub (also called a basin also called something else which I can't recall because COME ON I'm not a dishwasher repair fix-it person) and he'd be back in a week to fix it.

In a week when the part would be in and he and another person with him would pull the dishwasher out, tear it down, put in the tub and rebuild the whole thing back together in the course of "two to there hours."

So I put on another pair of Big Girl Panties and set-out to wash my dishes because at that point? After 48 hours? The only dishes that were clean were Aaron's from college packed away in the basement.

Now, this is a good time to interject that we've had this dishwasher for just over four years. In the course of these four years, we've had over $2,000 worth of repairs on it (and was later corrected that that figure was just for the past 18 months) prior to this experience. And the tub alone cost (our warranty) over $500.

So! Yes! Look at me! Being an adult! Washing dishes by hand! Not bitching! Not complaining! Takin' care of my family!

Then, the secondary part for the dishwasher comes that next Monday (day eight of broken dishwasher-ness). But the tub? The tub doesn't come.

So I decided to Act Like An Adult and call Sears to get the tracking number, so if my appointment needs to be rescheduled it can be.

And then Sears tells me my part? Is on back-order at least until December 30th. At least another 10 days away. And they knew this for five days. And I wouldn't have the part on the 30th, they'd just maybe have more information.

And at this point, my dear friends, is where I went internet ghetto.

"This is unacceptable! Mah dishwasher cannot be broken for that long!"

Yes, pronounced and properly spelled: "mah" instead of "my."

That look in your eyes? I hope it is pride.

So I got passed to a "manager" who refused to help me because as the terms of my warranty states, only on the 4th service call within a 12 month period will Sears consider replacing my unit. This was only service call number three in 12 months.

Lisa #79846 at 1-800-4-My-Home told me that no one in the company is above her. She is the manager of everything. And no, she would not transfer me to her boss, she would not transfer me to an associate and no, there was not a damn thing I could about this situation.

Really?

You sure about that?

Not a damn thing?

Not even Twitter?

Because guess what I did.

Oh yes, I totally went all Heather B. Armstrong to Sears on Twitter.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I was mostly working our my aggressions. Considering it was the week of Festivus and Christmas and I'm not well known on the internets I didn't actually expect a reply.

But a reply I received.

The next day I received a call from the Executive Department and oh hey, they would like to replace my dishwasher. Would that work for me?

Um, yes. Yes, it would.

Granted, it would be another week, but the part is now scheduled to be back-ordered till January 5th, at which point they'd have a new date of back-ordered-ness.

So we arranged the details, Aaron and I danced around the kitchen and for a split second I felt like Someone Important.

(Dude. I twittered a free dishwasher. How kick-ass is that?)

Two days later, though, that part? That was on back-order for more than a week? Arrived on my doorstep. Sears let me choose to fix or replace the until ("replacement would be lovely") and yesterday our new dishwasher was installed.

And that part? On back-order? Is sitting in my garage indefinitely. But it's a small price to pay for the boys to recover from the food allergy contaminations.

In closing, I would like to say YAY for Sears to listening to customers on Twitter and insuring their complaints get addressed.

And a BIG FAT BOO for ever letting this situation escalate to a point where I had to go to Twitter to complain about you.

May Your Days be Merry and Bright

Now You Know, You Got My Back Against the Wall

My dishwasher broke.

Again.

An hour after Aaron left on his business trip, it flooded my kitchen. And I mean, it flooded my kitchen.

So I've been doing dishes by hand, which is incredibly difficult considering I eat dairy, the kids are allergic to it, and to eradicate the proteins the water has to be ridiculously hot. Of course, it's never hot enough, so I've crossed my fingers and hope for the best.


Double-hoping the dishwasher repair person gets here soon considering someone should have been here two hours ago.

Sigh.

While we're complaining, my tire is flat and requires constant moderation. The cable box is on the fritz, which wouldn't be a big deal except it causes my boys to whine and I don't handle that well. And I can't seem to be warm in the van - I'm in total denial about potentially needing to have the heater fixed. Goodness.

On the upside, my holiday shopping is nearly complete so now I can focus on wrapping and baking.

Well, baking as soon as the dishwasher is fixed.

Edited to add: Well, nevermind about that holiday baking. They are ordering a new part - a new basin, because ours has a hole in it - and the soonest the dishwasher will be fixed is a week from today. Kenmore hates me.

Additional side note: And the hole isn't anywhere logical, it was a weak part that just wore away. Who else could this possibly happen to other than me? And at a time like this? Geesh.

Me and You, Tell Me What We're Gonna Do

So, really, it should come as no surprise to anyone that not only have I not posted pictures from the Lego calendars, but we're even behind on opening the Legos. Right? Right.

Because if there's anyone in this world who wishes for time to stay still, who digs her heels deep into the earth and screams stop, it's me. Right? Right.

And yes, we have a tree up - but only thanks to Aaron, who fandangled the whole operation without a massive Airing of the Grievances (small wonders never cease) but any additional completion has been halted by a bickering of Who Hangs Lights Better And I Do Believe It's You.

Which causes me to think, you know what sounds good right now? A cake. I'm going to ignore this whole business and make a cake. And honey? Go buy me a larger size pants while you're out, mkay?

So, yes. Broken record: I am behind. Woe is me. Boo hoo.

But! I am trying. I want my two-sizes-too-small heart to grow. So in the boys' room...


Squee! Wee felted lights! The holidays are migrating beyond the living room!

(And no, sadly, I did not make these myself, I purchased them from Cakies.)

(Because if I don't make something myself, it's better to support other crafty mamas. Right? Right.)

So now I have two boys whom I've promised lights on the tree tonight, pinky swear and I mustn't fail.