Thursday, February 21, 2008


I hate painting. If I ever see a paint brush again it will be too soon. The sad thing is I used to love painting. I loved looking at colors, choosing one I liked, getting the freshly mixed gallon of paint. I would rush home, open the lid, find a paint brush and walk around the room putting little samples of paint on the wall to give a hint as to how it will look. The first roll of paint on the wall was a much anticipated event. I would stand back and admire what a great color it was - well, the times I picked good colors at least - and how excited I was to see the finished product. I wouldn't even mind the detailed cutting in at the ceiling or around the trim. I just really liked the change you could make just with a little paint. I've painted beds, dressers, night stands, chairs, and bookshelves over the years and have always enjoyed it.

But not now. I am done. I don't want to paint ever again. I have just finished painting nearly every room in my house by myself. After, washing the walls, painting 2 coats of primer, then at least 2 coats but most times 3 of the actual color, I am completely done with painting. That also includes priming and painting the entire ceiling in the house - and that I do believe I did by myself. I have had help painting our bedroom and the boys bedroom and the kitchen but otherwise I have painted it alone. It does look wonderful, a far cry from the scary, dirty, house I walked through 3 months ago. I have a friend to thank for helping me pick out colors that go together so I won't have to re-paint the rooms. I think I painted the bedroom in the house we are in now 3 times before I got it right.

I am so happy to be moving in and to be done with all the rooms. Except the trim. How I hate the trim. As my husband said to me yesterday: "I really thought you would have the whole house painted by the time we moved in". I know, I did too, but that darn trim is killing me. It is so tedious and time consuming to paint and I just completely ran out of time. I have painted the trim in all the places I plan to put things or in rooms that I know I will never get back to paint but that is it.

I guess I am not quite done painting. I will probably be painting trim for quite some time, at nap time, in the evenings, maybe even on the weekends. I think I might cry.

Monday, February 18, 2008

An Apology

I owe my husband a big apology. For the last three months he has worked on our 'new' house every Saturday, some evenings, and now even Sundays. Doing hard, back-breaking labor. I acknowledge that it is hard work, especially after working all day, and that he does not get to see his boys much which makes him sad. But I have argued that I am also tired. Tired of taking care of the kids 24/7, tired of doing all the housework, grocery shopping and cooking, and tired of being alone at night. Plus, Mr. M still thinks he needs to get up at 3AM. I have felt that while I might get to bed earlier I will only get a few hours before I am up and out of bed.

That opinion changed this weekend. Together we put in 26 hours at the house starting Friday night at 8:00. We drywalled, put down plywood, painted, sanded, mudded/taped, cleaned and even did a bit of demo. We only left the house to use the bathroom (well, I did I won't discuss Brandon's solution to the no-toilet issue) and sleep. We even ate our meals at the house to save time. By Sunday night when our boys came home I was exhausted. But it wasn't until the next morning that it really hit me.

Sleep stupid. I was completely and utterly sleep stupid this morning. I finally stumbled up the stairs at 8:30 (I admit it) only to sit down at the little kids table. I was handed both a cup of coffee and a tall, quad, non-fat latte. I watched my husband feed my son, make his lunch, and continue to get ready for work. This after he had already gone to Home Depot and filled my car with gas. I knew I needed to help and tried to offer to make his lunch, or take over breakfast, or even get the right bowl of cereal for my son but nothing happened. My brain knew what to do but my body was unwilling. I just sat there. I tried to form a coherent sentence or phrase but nothing came out. I was bone weary, mind-numbingly exhausted, and I think every part of my body hurt, down to my finger nails. It was kind of pathetic really.

B. - I sincerely apologize for every snarky comment, impatient gesture, annoyed eye-roll, and any complaints I may have leveled against you. You totally win.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Mad Men

Have you seen this show? Have you even heard of this show? I admit I did not know about this show until the pseudo-Golden Globes. I have this thing about watching movies that have been nominated for Oscars. In fact, one year I watched all the nominees for Best Picture. Let me say, I don't think I have ever seen a more depressing bunch of movies. Quills still gives me nightmares. But, I digress. When I heard this show had one Best Drama I knew I had to check it out. I mean, I had never even heard of it and it won. Luckily they are replaying the first season on AMC (I know, AMC!!!) and you can catch up on the entire season.

I can't decide if I like it, hate it, or am too bored to care. The thing about it that fascinates me and has me returning week after week is the era it is set it. It is a show about an ad agency in 1960 (I think), women are just entering the work force, men are still manly men, smoking is everywhere, and a 4:00 cocktail is the only way to make it through the day. What fascinates me is how true to the era they are. I'm not kidding about the smoking, everyone smokes everywhere - on the subway, at work, in restaurants, even in bed, which seems a little unsafe to me. It is funny to watch because now smoking is banned everywhere. Not that I am advocating for smoking it just isn't somehting you see that much of anymore. The women are what kill me. There are 2 kinds of women on the show, catty housewives or slutty secretaries. I'm not joking. The secretaries love working in a big city with powerful men, the housewives live in the suburbs and have dinner waiting on the table at night. I watch this and think, "wow I am glad I live in the present age where we have come so far."

But then I get a newsletter from the Pastor where my son goes to preschool. Here is what he says: "The discipline of keeping our home neat and clean, which we learned from our parents and taught to our daughters, we continue to teach to our grandaughters today."


Apparently we are not that far removed from Mad Men after all. Women still are expected to be in charge of the house, keeping it clean and organized. We can work, but we still have a job to do when we get home. And this is so important we must teach it to our daughters.

Well, I don't have any daughters so what am I to do? I have no one to show how to clean the toilet, wash and fold laundry, mop the floor. Oh my! This is terrible. Oh wait, maybe I should teach my sons how to notice the environment they live in. Maybe I can teach them how to walk by a pile of clothes and either put it away or put it in the hamper. Maybe I can teach them where the dish soap is and how to wash the dishes. I could even teach them where the vacuum is and how to notice when there are dust bunnies bigger then your head that that is a good sign you need to vacuum. Maybe I will teach them that keeping your house neat and clean is a partnership, requring both spouses to equally contribute. What a concept!

But really - have you seen this show?

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Love That Boy

Love that boy,
like a rabbit loves to run
I said I love that boy
like a rabbit loves to run
Love to call him in the morning 
love to call him
"Hey there, son!"
by Walter Dean Myers


Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Country or Christian?

That was my choice of music growing up, Country or Christian. I was raised in a pretty religious house and my parents felt that rock music was too secular to listen to. I think I would have been forced to listen to only Christian music but my mom intervened so we were given a choice. Of course my sister and I choose country music. Any chance to show a little rebellion. What my parents did not realize, I guess, is that country music is really not that wholesome. I still remember one of the first songs I would sing along to: "I"m going to hire a whino to decorate our home, so you feel more at ease here and you won't need to roam". At the time I didn't know what a 'whino' was but it was a very catchy tune. In middle school when all my friends were listening to Mariah Carey, Boys II Men, Beastie Boys, I was listening to Don Williams, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Reba, Oak Ridge Boys. It is what I grew up on and what I still secretly love.

Unfortunately I married a man who shudders at the sound of any country twang. I took him to one Reba/Brooks and Dunn concert before realizing I would have more fun by myself. We have compromised in our marriage and listen to KEXP which has such a variety of music we can both find things we like. But I still long for the good old country music of my youth.

When my son, Jack, was born I decided he needed to love country music like I did. So, whenever we went on a long car ride I would turn to KMPS and sing along to whatever songs were playing. My plan backfired as Jack does not like any music. As soon as he could talk he would say "No sing mommy, no sing". I finally gave up and quit listening to any country music.

The other day I was on yet another long drive to Arlington and once you hit Everett KEXP tends to fade out. Another reason to hate Everett, besides the hideous traffic, we lose our radio station. I switched over to KMPS and found it was playing one of my favorite songs: "Every light in the house is on". I started singing away until the song ended and another one began. It was my lucky day and it was another oldie but goodie. Pretty soon I was almost to Arlington and still singing along to the radio. I had turned it up by now and was, I admit, sounding pretty good when I heard a little voice from the back. Not Jack, asking me to stop singing because he was asleep, but Micah singing along with me. Yes, I know he is only 10 months and has no words but he was making noises along with me like he was singing.

Finally! One person in my house loves to sing country music with me!

Now if only I could get all the words right to another favorite song:
Jose Cuervo you are a friend of mine
I like to drink you with a little salt and lime
Did I kiss all the cowboys
Did I start any fights
Did I dance on the bar
Did I turn out the lights?


Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Tater Tots

I love tater tots, I do not even mind that they are supposedly "kids" food. I simply adore everything about them. I love their crisp, crunchy, golden brown exterior that gives way to a piping hot, mushy potato center. I went grocery shopping a little too close to lunch time today and when I went into the frozen food section to buy spinach (another fav) I saw the bag of tater tots and they were calling my name. I decided a little treat for lunch was in order.

I already know my husband would be disturbed by my lunch choice, and even my 3 year old can not understand my absolute passion for tater tots, but I have one more person to try and convert. Micah, my 10 month old, he seems pretty open to eating different things. So far I have found him eating paper, an unidentified object from the kitchen floor, and a poopy wipe he pulled out of the trash. I am very excited to introduce him to these little nuggets of heaven.

When we get home from grocery shopping, before I even begin to put away the food, I have turned on the oven in preparation for my treat. I wait patiently for it to heat up to 450 degrees, before I can even put the tater tots in the oven. Then I have to wait 10 minutes for them to cook. The directions actually say 12 minutes, but I can not wait that long. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the timer goes off. They are done!

I pull them out of the oven all toasted brown, cover them with salt (because that is also what makes them so good), get out the real ketchup - no generic bottle this week, and sit down to eat my lunch. I take one off my plate and carefully pull it apart, blowing on it to make sure it is not too hot before putting it on Micah's highchair. As soon as a piece hits his tray he has made a grab for it and puts it right in his mouth. Oh! I think he likes it!

But wait, now he is gagging, coughing, sticking out his tongue and trying to spit out what is in his mouth. This can not be happening. Not even Micah will eat tater tots. Unfortunately, he does not realize that what he has found to eat now is just another piece of tot and off we go again with the gagging.

I guess I will just have to eat the whole bag myself. That is really too bad.