Tag Archives: family life

Have Kids, Will…Live Without a Microwave

It wasn’t that long ago that we had to replace all of the appliances in our kitchen.  Once the dishwasher went bad, it seemed like they all started misbehaving.  At the time, money wasn’t tight, my kids (all boys, mind you) were eating A LOT (that hasn’t changed), and we could get a “deal” by purchasing everything at once…yipee!  Naturally, we got the largest refrigerator we could fit in our kitchen–you can store a side of beef and your four best friends in this thing–and a pretty sweet microwave/convection oven that has gotten a ton of use.  Until now.

Fast forward maybe five years, seven tops, and those GE appliances are once again dropping like flies in a hot attic.  That mac daddy fridge now creates a sheet of ice under the meat & cheese drawer that threatens to guillotine off your toes when you open it.  The dishwasher underwent several repairs that, at first,  Mr. Repairman attributed to apple seeds in the filter.  What?!  Turned out, the pump was bad.  The glass door on my oven completely shattered one year right before we were scheduled to host Thanksgiving.  And now, my microwave is blown.

Instead of spending hundreds of dollars to replace it with another expensive piece of s*&t, I’m re-learning how it was all done in the “olden days” before every kitchen, office, and dorm had a microwave.  I’m reheating leftovers on the stove!  And in the oven!  I feel so retro!  Not really, I actually feel like I’m camping and it kinda sucks.  But hey, we managed to have our hot tub fixed…maybe I can heat things up in there!

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Photo credit:

Vintage Everyday (2012, September 7). Old Photos of Hobos: A Hobo in Camp, 1935. Retrieved from http://www.vintag.es/2012/09/old-photos-of-hobos.html

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Have Kids, Will…Nurse My Ego

Having boys has opened my eyes to a special kind of flattery:  the kind that only a Mommy can get from her little boy.   In his eyes you’re a princess…beautiful, nice smelling, kind, and infallible.  He wants to snuggle, hold your hand, and marry you because you’re the most wonderful woman in his world.  Your heart absolutely melts when he looks into your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are.  And you are.  I’ve no doubt about that.

But then, he gets bigger.  Older.  Wiser.  Maybe a little cynical.  Suddenly you’re being picked apart like last week’s garbage.  Your breath stinks (somehow that coffee breath previously went unnoticed), you’re mean and unfair, your butt is big, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.

My big nose and big teeth were recently subjects of scrutiny and raillery.  The boys were being very funny, cracking each other up as I stood there, a witness to my fall from familial eminence.  And this was on the heels of having my youngest draw a picture of me on the back of a restaurant menu…as a green witch.

Despite the slight bruising to my ego, I do find a sense of relief when my kids hit this point.  There’s a lot of pressure involved in being the most awesome person in the world.  When your children finally realize you are, in fact, a flawed human being and not the smartest person in the world, you’re off the hook.  I’m totally comfortable admitting to my mistakes and physical shortcomings because I have nothing to prove except that this ugly witch loves them unconditionally.

Have Kids, Will…Clean (Again and Again and Again)

There must be something very gratifying about having a clean house.  You can welcome guests with ease, confident that they’ll be comfortable in your lovely, uncluttered home.  You can have an impromptu gathering for coffee or cocktails, serving refreshments in clean glassware that’s been neatly put away in the cupboard and is free of dust or dried on gunk.  You can even sit back, put up your feet, and sigh a breath of gratitude for how lucky you are to live in such a nice, tidy space.  I wouldn’t know.

With four kids, all of whom are BOYS, a husband who is just as messy as the kids, a dog, a cat, and a house in the woods, where every stinkin’ pine needle, leaf, and clump of dirt comes in on everyone’s shoes and paws, my house is rarely ever clean.  And when it is, it’s because a monumental effort has been put forth to get it that way.  Admittedly, I HATE to clean and I can find a million other things to do with my time other than even basic maintenance.  As a result, it can get pretty gross.

Yesterday, I decided the upstairs bathroom really needed a good scrubbing.  Resigned to spend a precious half hour or so on the room, I wiped down the cabinets and walls which had been covered in several clouds of baby powder dust over the past week.  This is a new passion for the youngest two…a thorough dusting after every shower, which leaves a fine white coating on every surface.  A good, deep cleaning followed and, with pathetic pride, I stood back and admired the loveliness of having at least one clean room in my house.  Until they all came home.

By evening, nay by 4 p.m., I smelled a strong chemical odor coming from the upstairs bathroom.  Turns out, my boys can’t simply sit on the toilet to do their business, they have to keep busy!  One of them decided it would be fun to coat the counter top with Compound W wart remover while he was sitting there.  I imagine he was thinking: Let’s add a little baby powder to that.  Why don’t I trim my bangs while I’m at it and the scissors are right here in the vanity.  Oh, Mom might not like all this.  I’ll just grab one of those freshly washed towels to wipe it all off and then leave it on the floor.  Phew!  That was a close one.

At least I know who’s getting bathroom cleaning duty this weekend…not me!