Last week, we had our water heater replaced. It's been working-ish for upwards of a year, sputtering out lukewarm water in the shower upstairs only if someone had already had a shower, and then for about 5 minutes before lukewarm became cold.
Hubs didn't believe me for a while when I said it was the water heater, then we didn't quite get around to it for a while since it wasn't actually, completely broken.
I also started my Crossfit Foundations/on-ramp program last week and was, as a result, very sweaty. And very, very sore. I dropped off some onesies to my friend for her daughter and through the window, the wee ones caught a glimpse of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on their TV. H asked to watch MMC when we got home, and I decided that was a SWEET idea since I was smelly and wanted to test out the shiny new water heater.
H can work the TV and Roku, and I told him to pick whatever MMC he wanted. I raced to the shower with the glee of a tiny person on Christmas morning and jumped in.
As I was making vaguely obscene noises during my first truly HOT shower in way too long, I hear H yelling. Not very loud yelling. Just quiet yelling. Probably-nothing-broken-yelling. I decide it's probably fine.
I hear more yelling. La la la, soaping my hair and letting hot water pour on my Crossfit-sore muscles.
Louder yelling.
Me, sticking my head out of the shower curtain: What's up, buddy?
H: (unintelligible yelling)
Me: I can't hear you, can you come up here and tell me?
H: (more unintelligible yelling)
Sigh.
I end my HOT shower and go downstairs.
Me: What's up?
H: This is the Goofy Babysitter one!
Me: ...
H: (expectant smile, since this is the coolest information on the planet)
Me: Oh! Cool! Is that what you were telling me when I was in the shower?
H: Yup!
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
I got chills, they're multiplyin'...
When I was small, my two favorite movies in the WORLD were Dirty Dancing and Grease. Recently Netflix released Dirty Dancing for streaming and I VERY happily sat down to watch it - since my VHS has long since bit the dust.
The first few minutes of the movie have the requisite exposition. During that part, Baby says that she's 17. SEVENTEEN. When I was 5, that seemed old. ANCIENT. Certainly knowledgeable in all ways of the world and totally qualified to hook up with Patrick Swayze. Now I'm much older than 5 and have a 2-year-old daughter and the thought of her ever being 17 or within 100 feet of someone like Patrick Swayze makes me hyperventilate.
Then yesterday, our internet went out for a bit. Since we stream all of our tv, this meant we were without tv for a while. H has been strictly anti-movie for a long time (his choice, definitely not mine - I desperately want an excuse to see all movies labeled "kid"), but since there were no other options, he agreed to watch one. He picked The Little Mermaid, which was another favorite since I was a child in the late 80's/early 90's. Ariel is 16. SIXTEEN.
"Somebody's gotta' nail that girl's fins to the floor."
YES, Sebastian. YES.
The first few minutes of the movie have the requisite exposition. During that part, Baby says that she's 17. SEVENTEEN. When I was 5, that seemed old. ANCIENT. Certainly knowledgeable in all ways of the world and totally qualified to hook up with Patrick Swayze. Now I'm much older than 5 and have a 2-year-old daughter and the thought of her ever being 17 or within 100 feet of someone like Patrick Swayze makes me hyperventilate.
Then yesterday, our internet went out for a bit. Since we stream all of our tv, this meant we were without tv for a while. H has been strictly anti-movie for a long time (his choice, definitely not mine - I desperately want an excuse to see all movies labeled "kid"), but since there were no other options, he agreed to watch one. He picked The Little Mermaid, which was another favorite since I was a child in the late 80's/early 90's. Ariel is 16. SIXTEEN.
"Somebody's gotta' nail that girl's fins to the floor."
YES, Sebastian. YES.
Friday, June 21, 2013
On the Fall of an Icon
When I was 8, I got a glimpse of a tabloid in the grocery store. It had a grainy, lurid picture of Donnie Wahlberg (then of New Kids on the Block fame) trashing a hotel room or something equally Rock Star. I was DEVASTATED. Now when I look back on it, my reaction is hilarious, but then I was so sad that someone I idolized (he was my favorite, yo) had done something that, in my tiny type A world, was so obviously a "bad thing." It was my introduction to someone being knocked rather unceremoniously off of their pedestal, if only in my mind.
I thought I was too old to have that kind of reaction to something - I know famous people are a) not the characters they play and b) people and therefore fallible.
Yeah. Not too old.
I recently picked up the first book in the Homecoming Saga by Orson Scott Card. My friend introduced me to Orson Scott Card about 10 years ago with Ender's Game. I fell in love. His writing is so beautiful sometimes that it physically hurts. I've always found his opinions on God to mesh with mine - at least the opinions that come out in his books. Andrew (Ender's real name) was on our list of boy names when I was pregnant. I hadn't gotten around to the Homecoming Saga yet and am desperately lacking in things to read right now, so I was thrilled.
OSC is in the news a lot right now because Ender's Game is being released as a movie. I Googled the series to see if we had all of the books/how many there were - and stumbled on several articles discussing his opinions re: homosexual people.
And I felt like I was 8 all over again.
I thought I was too old to have that kind of reaction to something - I know famous people are a) not the characters they play and b) people and therefore fallible.
Yeah. Not too old.
I recently picked up the first book in the Homecoming Saga by Orson Scott Card. My friend introduced me to Orson Scott Card about 10 years ago with Ender's Game. I fell in love. His writing is so beautiful sometimes that it physically hurts. I've always found his opinions on God to mesh with mine - at least the opinions that come out in his books. Andrew (Ender's real name) was on our list of boy names when I was pregnant. I hadn't gotten around to the Homecoming Saga yet and am desperately lacking in things to read right now, so I was thrilled.
OSC is in the news a lot right now because Ender's Game is being released as a movie. I Googled the series to see if we had all of the books/how many there were - and stumbled on several articles discussing his opinions re: homosexual people.
And I felt like I was 8 all over again.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
The Five Stages of Children's Television Acceptance
There's a phenomenon I've observed since I became a SAHM. We don't stay away from kids' shows in my house. Oh no. We embrace them as the 20-minute sanity breaks that they are.
But...they're not exactly great television. Or even really entertaining horrible television. Except for Sesame Street. Cookie Monster just understands me, you know?
I've noticed that there are stages a person goes through when introduced to a new show.
Stage 0: Loathing
This one only applies in some cases. This is reserved for the Caillou's, and the Daniel Tiger's. You hear the theme song (or the teachable moment ditty) and you cringe. You physically cringe. You swore that you'd never let your kid watch this show, but they caught a glimpse of it in the STUPID PBS Kids/Disney Junior app.
Stage 1: Annoyance
When your kid asks to watch The Show, you grimace a little. But The Show and your kid, their relationship is new and shiny and full of wonder, and when it's on, their tiny adorable face lights up like it's really irritating Christmas. You agree, and you tune out while it's tuned in and do other things. Productive things, like cleaning and definitely NOT surfing Facebook or texting your BFF.
Stage 2: Neutrality
The music stops bugging you, and in fact you begin to learn the words to the theme song, thinking, "oh, what a clever play on words!" You can explain the plot of the episode based on the title or episode number because your son always wants to watch "the one with Super George." Every once in a while you glance up from...the cleaning...and watch. You mock it to your friends, which you could really only do if you paid enough attention to know the characters.
Stage 3: Insidious Lyrical Poisoning
The songs are stuck in your head. A LOT. You have two choices: 1) go slowly but thoroughly insane, or b) learn the words and nod your head along as they rattle around in there on a constant loop. When the song that's stuck in your head comes on the show, you're kind of relieved because you can learn the rest of the words without admitting to Googling them.
Stage 4: Appreciation
You get excited when there's a new episode. You tell yourself it's relief because you're sick of the episodes you've already seen, but we all know this is only partially true. You chuckle at the kid-friendly puns, and occasionally suggest it as a show choice.
Stage 5: Assimilation
You admit it. You like the show. You feel genuine affection for the characters, even Katerina (meow meow). You begin to notice nuances, like the fact that Daniel Tiger is the only kids' show you've seen with a single parent family (rock on, Daniel Tiger!), or that we only see one set of grandparents at Caillou's house. You look forward to watching it and wonder if you've completely lost your marbles. This is almost always when you child(ren) stop wanting to watch it and you're all, "Aww. But...but...Sofia!"
But...they're not exactly great television. Or even really entertaining horrible television. Except for Sesame Street. Cookie Monster just understands me, you know?
I've noticed that there are stages a person goes through when introduced to a new show.
Stage 0: Loathing
This one only applies in some cases. This is reserved for the Caillou's, and the Daniel Tiger's. You hear the theme song (or the teachable moment ditty) and you cringe. You physically cringe. You swore that you'd never let your kid watch this show, but they caught a glimpse of it in the STUPID PBS Kids/Disney Junior app.
Stage 1: Annoyance
When your kid asks to watch The Show, you grimace a little. But The Show and your kid, their relationship is new and shiny and full of wonder, and when it's on, their tiny adorable face lights up like it's really irritating Christmas. You agree, and you tune out while it's tuned in and do other things. Productive things, like cleaning and definitely NOT surfing Facebook or texting your BFF.
Stage 2: Neutrality
The music stops bugging you, and in fact you begin to learn the words to the theme song, thinking, "oh, what a clever play on words!" You can explain the plot of the episode based on the title or episode number because your son always wants to watch "the one with Super George." Every once in a while you glance up from...the cleaning...and watch. You mock it to your friends, which you could really only do if you paid enough attention to know the characters.
Stage 3: Insidious Lyrical Poisoning
The songs are stuck in your head. A LOT. You have two choices: 1) go slowly but thoroughly insane, or b) learn the words and nod your head along as they rattle around in there on a constant loop. When the song that's stuck in your head comes on the show, you're kind of relieved because you can learn the rest of the words without admitting to Googling them.
Stage 4: Appreciation
You get excited when there's a new episode. You tell yourself it's relief because you're sick of the episodes you've already seen, but we all know this is only partially true. You chuckle at the kid-friendly puns, and occasionally suggest it as a show choice.
Stage 5: Assimilation
You admit it. You like the show. You feel genuine affection for the characters, even Katerina (meow meow). You begin to notice nuances, like the fact that Daniel Tiger is the only kids' show you've seen with a single parent family (rock on, Daniel Tiger!), or that we only see one set of grandparents at Caillou's house. You look forward to watching it and wonder if you've completely lost your marbles. This is almost always when you child(ren) stop wanting to watch it and you're all, "Aww. But...but...Sofia!"
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Happy Daddo Day!
Happy Father's Day to four very special people:
1) My husband, who is the most amazing dad and child-wrangling partner I could ever have imagined.
2) My dad, who has always loved me unconditionally as his own regardless of a) no shared genetic material and b) not meeting me until I was a (probably psychotic) 12-year-old.
3) My father-in-law, who helped raise the aforementioned husband really really well.
4) My mom, who was mother and father to me for a very long time.
So far, we have finished the following Daddo Day Missions:
Operation Maple Donut Procurement
Operation Handmade Card
Operation Get Groceries Because There are None and Sometimes You Have to be Practical (or Operation Om Nom for short)
Operation Jet's Bread
1) My husband, who is the most amazing dad and child-wrangling partner I could ever have imagined.
2) My dad, who has always loved me unconditionally as his own regardless of a) no shared genetic material and b) not meeting me until I was a (probably psychotic) 12-year-old.
3) My father-in-law, who helped raise the aforementioned husband really really well.
4) My mom, who was mother and father to me for a very long time.
So far, we have finished the following Daddo Day Missions:
Operation Maple Donut Procurement
Operation Handmade Card
Operation Get Groceries Because There are None and Sometimes You Have to be Practical (or Operation Om Nom for short)
Operation Jet's Bread
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
So it begins. Begins again. Re-begins? Whatever.
Hi!
I'm Laney. I've tried blogging before and...then I get distracted. I have three FAVORITE distractions:
1. My husband. We've been married for about 8 years and together about 10. He's awesome and he makes my world happier and make more sense.
2. My son. He's 4.5 and I refer to him as H because I'm a wee bit psycho about protecting my kids' privacy.
3. My daughter. She's 2, and I refer to her as E - see above, re: psycho privacy concerns.
Anyway. In addition to being a mom (a stay-at-home-mom!), I'm also an eater of Paleo food. Or I try to be. I'm not perfect at it, but I DO love the way it makes me feel when I nail it. And I'm a giant geek. And I love all things crafty. I make jewelry, I'm learning how to sew, I crochet, and I have a list a mile long of other things I want to try or learn. This blog will be about all of those things. I promise it will be more interesting than this, but I always feel like I should introduce myself. IT'S ONLY POLITE.
I'm Laney. I've tried blogging before and...then I get distracted. I have three FAVORITE distractions:
1. My husband. We've been married for about 8 years and together about 10. He's awesome and he makes my world happier and make more sense.
2. My son. He's 4.5 and I refer to him as H because I'm a wee bit psycho about protecting my kids' privacy.
3. My daughter. She's 2, and I refer to her as E - see above, re: psycho privacy concerns.
Anyway. In addition to being a mom (a stay-at-home-mom!), I'm also an eater of Paleo food. Or I try to be. I'm not perfect at it, but I DO love the way it makes me feel when I nail it. And I'm a giant geek. And I love all things crafty. I make jewelry, I'm learning how to sew, I crochet, and I have a list a mile long of other things I want to try or learn. This blog will be about all of those things. I promise it will be more interesting than this, but I always feel like I should introduce myself. IT'S ONLY POLITE.
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