Crap My Kids Have Ruined

I have decided that even if I DID have the money to buy nice things, there would really be no point in doing so until the year 2025 or later. It all depends on where my kids decide to go to college (note I did not say "if"). I started learning this lesson the hard way when I had my first, and the realization has become more concrete ever since.

1) I haven't owned or wore anything white, excluding socks, since 2004. From spit up and overflowing diapers, it has progressed steadily to Chef BoyArdee fingerprints and unidentifiable stains that are only noticed AFTER leaving a public place. No matter how many times I've washed those clothes, there is a faded orange spot that refuses to detach itself from the white fibers of my shirt (or pants...or coat).

2) The arms of my couch. Scotch-Guard...pshht. Doesn't stand a chance against my kids. The dirt and grime from their hands, and feet for that matter, have worn its way past any sort of protection barrier that chemical may have attempted to provide. I have scrubbed them so many times, they have become nearly translucent. Finding banana peels and Popsicle sticks left there hasn't helped either.

3) Along the same lines, Shawn's Laz-E-Boy has acquired a slight tilt. Apparently, when the floor becomes lava, it is necessary to get from one end of the room to the other by hopping from arm to arm of whatever available furniture is close at hand.

4) Shortly after we bought and hung custom cut blinds for our kitchen, I noticed a bite mark in one of the slats. And although both children claimed the indentations just miraculously appeared out of nowhere, it bears a strong resemblance to my youngest's mouth size. Along with the coinciding hole where he is missing a tooth.

5) At least 3 walls have been written on. PLEASE! Do not tell me you didn't do it when you wrote your own name!

6) My piano has one key that "clunks" every time it's depressed and I don't know enough about pianos to get in there and see what's causing it. I'm not really sure I want to know. Also, that piano bench has multiple scratches in it from being a Hotwheel ramp.

7) I actually have to purchase the 2 year insurance policy on any video game that is purchased. Just as leaving them out on the floor to be stepped on by kids and dogs alike, they didn't hold up well when "cleaned" by scouring pads.

8) My vacuum accessories have been missing for 18 months.

9) The hallway ceiling is in need of repainting due to an experiment in how long "slime" will hang before they can try to catch it when it falls.

10) Baseboards didn't stand a chance against soccer balls, monster trucks and rollerblades.

11) Shawn and I decided that purchasing our own carpet steam cleaner was the best investment we ever made. Although it works well enough, I have yet to find something that will remove chewing gum remnants. I'm hoping it wears off on its own.

12) I own more plastic glasses than real ones and can never have more than three people over at a time, since none of my wine glasses match. My dishes are a mishmash of colors and styles...the survivors of once complete sets.

13) Might as well lump the rest together...a vent cover, a space heater, several toilet seats, an oven burner, many window screens, knick knacks to numerous to count, a huge glass-top table at grammie's house and a set of outdoor patio chairs. However, a bath tile repair job did turn into a complete makeover that I am not unhappy about.

14) And lastly, my figure. Although they are not completely to blame...THEY STARTED IT!

15) Don't even get me started on the intangible things, such as privacy in the bathroom, spontaneity, an uninterrupted phone conversation, or any quality study time before 9 PM.

The reason they will not have a choice about attending college is obvious, they are going to need well paying jobs to replace the things they've ruined. But by that time, I'll be too old and senile to enjoy them. Oh well, in the meantime, I'll have to make do.

MY Redneck's Inventions

They say that, "Necessity is the mother of invention." Or at least I think that's how it goes. And boy oh boy, have we met 'necessity' up close and personal these last few months! We have been brow beaten by her over and over. I say 'her', because only a female can poke, prod, tease and nag like necessity does.

I'm talking about the necessity to create meals out of potatoes, or pasta, whatever canned vegetable is left and season it from the crumbs scraped from the bottom of the spice cupboard.

I'm talking about the necessity to walk away from our credit cards, redefine "needs" and how that differs from "wants."

The necessity to use what we have and not let anything that costs money go to waste. Conserve energy, water and food to meet budgets set every week. We will never be able to keep up with the Jones's, so what's the point in trying? I hear they're not great company anyway.

The necessity to work as much as possible in order to dig ourselves out of a huge hole we've dug by living above and beyond our means, thinking there would be no consequences. (Can I get an amen?!)

We no longer buy new, we buy used, or more often the case...we create. I consider us to be the Rednecks of the North. Yeah, I've seen all those websites that poke fun at "Redneck Inventions" and we've never reached the lengths as say, oh, these guys:

Redneck Hot Tub

But really? Hasn't the economy and high gas prices forced most of us to make do with what we have in one way or another? To come to grips with the idea that the moment we throw it away, we might need it and can't afford to buy a replacement? It's just that a lot of us have to make do with a lot less. I'm pretty sure it was a Redneck who came up with this idea first so he wouldn't have to leave his lawn chair:

In addition to this, he probably invented the catheder as well...

I'm guessing the first one involved a duct tape, a camouflage baseball hat, 2 cans of Schlitz, and a bunch of straws from McDonald's strewn together. (You can see it, right?)

Anyway, back to me (because it's all about me), or rather my husband. He is THE KING! The difference with his inventions is, they're actually quite useful. He feigns incompetence when it came to changing diapers, cooking anything besides cheeseburgers, and apparently changing a roll of toilet paper. But I began to see through his ploy when he invented the "refrigerator knot." Besides the possibility of my children hanging themselves from the frig door, this one had a lot of potential...it just needed some tweaks and a good marketing campaign. We call them "McGyver's" because, seriously, under all of that Hollywood make-up, wasn't he just a glorified Redneck?

I always thought he was hot...

Wanna take a look at what we got going on? Let's start with this:

A little worse for wear, but we cut the sharp ends off.

This was built several years back out of scrap wood and chicken wire. It fits perfectly between the edges of the garage door rails. Since the garage opens to the backyard, this allows us to have the garage door open AND be able to let the dogs roam freely. It has saved us hundreds in doggy jail bail-out money.

Problem: we lost our downspout in a windstorm. The large hole in our soffit caused the rain to pound on one section of our patio, thus washing out the sand between the pavers. The solution?

That is the top to our outdoor fire pit (whose handle corroded away and left a hole) up-side-down on a bucket, thus collecting any stray streams, and directing it to a bucket...also with a hole drilled into it, and PVC pipe and our salvaged piece of drainpipe leading the water away so our pavers don't take such a beating. The downside to this one, sounded like a Reggae band on steel drums whenever it rained.

Next, we had a light fixture located directly above the stairs leading to our basement. Problem: Who could reach the 12-inch string dangling above the middle of the stairs? Reaching it was a matter of luck and a death wish...and that was for the adults. Our children wouldn't go downstairs to their playroom without having a lighted way.

Solution:

Much better. We can now turn the light off and on without having the balance of an aerialist AND without leaving the safety of the first floor.

Moving on. The kid's bouncy house did not survive the rambunctious tribe of 7-year-olds at my son's last birthday party even after several attempts to salvage it with strips upon strips of gorilla tape (sorry mom). Besides, after all of the air-filled-toy-lift-offs on the news, maybe it wasn't safe. However, after creating a yellow spot from laying on our lawn for too long, hubby devised a way to recycle. Problem: No escape from heat and sun on a 2-second sunburn-rated body while fishing in the boat.

Solution:

PVC pipe (eat your heart out, Blue Man Group), string, screws, cut up bouncy-house canvas, and some ingenuity, and wa-lah! A fold out canvas that provides shade and comfort while fishing, yet folds up easily and doesn't reduce visibility while driving. (He also concocted some sort of PVC pipe set up that allows him to steer while trolling and controlling the motor from the BACK of the boat. Too complicated for me to picture here.)

If you have a career as a handyman, you need to utilize every available space for transporting your tools. Problem: Where to store brooms so they don't poke you in the eye from the back seat every time you make a right turn.

Solution: Add a wooden bumper, drill holes, insert brooms or shovels...'nuf said.

View from below.

Hell, his whole trailer is a McGyver-ism:

 

This is my life. I embrace it. I consider my husband quite a talented man. (Shameless plug - find Help Around The House on facebook, and you can see pictures and updates of his craft.)

So, when we have a need, we find a way. I kid my husband a LOT about his "inventions," but deep down, I hope that my kids inherit his ability to combine necessity, creativity and materials at hand to form a solution...that takes talent...especially if you need to defuse a bomb with a paperclip, Rolex watch, and duct tape.

Visitation Rights

Well, we all survived my parent's visit this weekend, or I should say, they survived us. Maybe just barely. They arrived late Thursday night. Big K wasn't able to wait, which is fine, since he had school the next morning. Little Man looked out the window every 2 minutes and asked, "Are they here yet?" So everything started out well...and then went downhill from there.

I'm always excited about them coming up and we try to plan, over the phone, the different things we can do. But, by the end of the visit, I'm experiencing a mixture of anger, stress and disappointment. Not at my parents, at my children.

I don't know what happens. Is it the excitement of having more people in the house?  Maybe because we do things that are out of the ordinary, like shopping, going out to eat, getting the boys' haircut? Suddenly, the boys that I think are not perfect, but at least manageable, have become the mini monsters that are normally the children of those other parents which upon seeing, make me feel better about my parenting skills.

But within minutes, I have become THAT parent.

You may know what I'm talking about. THAT parent that dares to take their children to a semi-nice restaurant, like Olive Garden, and after spending a mere 15 minutes in the same waiting area with them, you pray to God that they are seated on the other side of the restaurant from you. Those children that insist on holding the little light-up thing that lets you know when you're table's ready and then proceed to drop it so many times, you're guessing that they'll never get a table because the thing is busted. You also feel sorry for the next person who handles the gadget, because you've witnessed the devise being licked...more than once. And what's with that kid's oral sensation anyway? He's got his fingers in his mouth and even licked the wall behind the bench that they're sitting on. And why does that parent even allow the kid take up precious space on the coveted seating bench when he spends more time under it than on it? At least the staff won't have to work so hard sweeping. By the time they're seated, the fight begins. THAT parent who spends more time fetching complimentary crayons from underneath the table, the one who plasters a fake smile on her face for the benefit of anyone looking their way (which they all are, because the children are screeching about who stole the crayon from the other.) THAT parent who's voice has become more and more strained between clenched teeth when one child complains that this is, "not what he ordered," and he's "not going to eat it," even though it looks just liked the picture he pointed to. The child is now seated with his back to the table and arms crossed in front of chest as he refuses to eat the best dinner he's had in a month and that his grandparents have graciously paid for. It's THAT parent who also orders the largest drink at the table.

I've become THAT parent, whose kids suddenly have this innate knowledge that they are able to do things they don't usually do...namely play video games, without their mother going ballistic on them. (It doesn't help that dad has found his own hiding place in the bedroom, where the video games are.) So now my mother is under the impression that this is ALL THEY DO. I do admit that they play more than they should, but why did they decide that this was marathon weekend? I've listened to my mother's subtle (and not so subtle) hints about the dangers of too much TV/video game time, including seizures, ADD and child obesity. She tries to be light about it...yeah, not really. I know all these things are true and try to assure her that yes, they do play with blocks, cars, action figures and occasionally draw.

I'm THAT parent that is actually excited about driving the grandparents to any store they would like to go to because A) You finally get a chance to be away from the kids and B) my mother pays for an update in my ten year old wardrobe that wouldn't be feasibly possible in the next 6 months, because you lost your job, and although I feel completely guilty about it..I SO needed some clothes. I'm THAT parent who will make two separate trips to Great Clips, because they have also offered to pay for haircuts for one boy who has pictures next week and another who needs the stylist to "fix" dad's last attempt at a home haircut for the same aforementioned reason. Humbling to say the least.

I'm THAT parent who, even AFTER the events at Olive Garden, agree to take the kids out to breakfast, because I apparently think things will be different. They aren't. Now, they just involve maple syrup. At least the waiting time was much shorter. But now I have become THAT parent who must now deprive themselves of any dignity whatsoever, and open the door to the men's room, check for any occupants, and grab their kid off of the sink to whisk him back to the table, to force him to eat more than three bites of the ginormous pancake with a banana smile and strawberry eyes that he insisted on ordering. Pancakes in a to-go box just don't work.

I'm THAT parent who must continually assure my dad that it is not the connection from the DVD player to the TV that isn't working, but the actual DVD player itself. He's just trying to be helpful, but we know our quirky outlets and the dang thing was working just two days ago. THAT parent who must constantly shush they kids or send them into another room (to play video games, I'm sure) so that we can actually hear what's happening in the movie. THAT parent who may fill their wine glass more than is sociably acceptable.

I'm THAT parent who mentally smacks herself in the head when her husband is the first one to compliment grammie on her weight loss, because I was so busy dealing with the kids, I noticed and forgot to say something.

I'm also THAT parent, who, on the morning of their departure, must drag both kids from the bedroom (still playing video games) to say goodbye to their all-too-generous grandparents. The one who feels guilt and shame, because I want to believe that they understand that games are games and grandparents don't last forever. THAT parent who stands alone, waving goodbye in the driveway, feeling like schmuck, because I am alone, waving goodbye.

But as I am waving goodbye, I also realize that I am THAT parent that cherishes every moment that I am able to have another adult to talk to, no matter how briefly, about my kids' problems and know that the answers come from someone who knows my children almost as well as I do. I'm THAT parent who looked over and saw her mother hiding the same laugh when Little Man yelled, "Leave me alone Kaiden, you little...TWIT!" THAT parent who is amazed when her husband contributes to conversation over coffee, because it reminds me that he can be insightful and humorous at the same time. He told the kids if they were good, maybe, just maybe, they could have TWO weeks at grammie's instead of ONE this summer.

I'm THAT parent who knows, that even though they may not show it at the time, my kids love their grammie and papa, look forward to their visits and talk about the things they did with them after they leave. I'm THAT parent who knows life is short and I must memorize every moment, no matter how difficult it may be at times. I'm THAT parent who is exhausted at the end of the visit, but still wishes it could be just a few days longer...

End of the World As We Know It?

According to the Mayan calendar, the world is supposed to end on my husband's 41st birthday. He says with his luck, he'll finally buy a lottery ticket, scratch off the numbers, win the big jackpot and BOOM! (Got screwed again, hon, is what he says). Although the hype seems to have died down, no pun intended, It still kind of haunts me. Usually when I'm daydreaming in the car on the way to work.

Personally, I'm going to side with the people who believe that OUR calendar isn't accurate in the first place, that the actual end of the world is thousands of years after that fateful day in December. I side with them for a couple of reasons, one being that my own belief is that God would not let mere mortals know when Armageddon is approaching. I mean, what would be the point? Everyone would live the way they wanted to right up to, umm, I don't know, 6 weeks prior? And then I suppose they would nearly all repent and be saved. Done deal.

The second reason is every movie I have seen that deals with this subject tends to approach it in almost the same way. I can tell you right now, I don't have the survival techniques. I'm kind of rooting that if it's a ton of asteroids that hit the earth, the first, biggest most fiery one falls right on my house. Then it would all be over. Morbid, right? But look at the the flip side, I really don't see myself being able to maneuver a mobile home a hundred miles an hour while meteors create fireballs inches away from the bumper and I'm dodging large cracks that open out of nowhere in the middle of the road.

2012

I'm definitely not in any kind of physical shape to outrun some sort of indestructible robot, let alone heave anything substantial above my head to crush the circuitry in it's main motherboard (or whatever it's called.) I'd be panting, holding the stitch in my side after running a WHOLE BLOCK, and WHAMMO, smashed by something that runs on a motor. Dead.

Terminator - I'll be back

I can't stand winter, so any type of nuclear blast that would block the sun would be intolerable. Not only because of the cold, but because of the total lack of any decent take-out.

Day After Tomorrow - Brrr

Disease spreading monkeys? With my constant exposure to the germs the kids bring home from daycare, my immune system would probably survive the first wave of that. But I'm telling you right now, someone would have to bury the bodies of those who didn't survive, and it not going to me!

12 Monkeys

I certainly can't imagine surviving alone. No way. Who would listen to me bitch and complain about the heat, dirt, lack of water...

Book of Eli

Any time I picture this scenario, my family would survive as well. But that brings up several issues. It would not be possible to load up a back pack with water bottles and canned goods to start trekking to the nearest hub of civilization. We'd maybe get 2 blocks and Little Man would start whining that his legs hurt. There I would be trying to balance 35 lbs of kid on my hip and 80 lbs of gear on my back with a rope tied around my waist attached to the wagon with a broken wheel carrying all of our bedding and changes of underwear. Shawn wouldn't be able to carry him, because he will somehow deem it necessary to bring along his fish sonar (or something similar that he would be convinced we would need at some point!)

I've never been hunting and always end up apologizing to the worm when we go fishing. Let's say I discover my hidden talent for hunting birds, squirrels and other small furry animals and am able to bag fifty for supper. And let's say, I actually could keep the content of my stomach IN my stomach while skinning them to cook. My kids would still say, "What?! Squirrel again! Why can't we ever have anything good to eat?"

From our camping adventures, I'm pretty sure I could at least get a fire going. Staying awake to keep the wild animals at bay, that may be another story. I could see us all huddled in complete darkness, except for the orange glow of the fire. I'd have a shelter made (and swept, I'm sure) with sleeping bags laid out to keep us warm. Big K would turn to me, "Mom, I'm bored. What can we do?" It would take us 3 months longer than expected to get where we thought we were going because my sense of direction sucks, and we are without GPS when the cellphones died.

Of course, we'd probably run into other survivors, but I'd be embarrassed to join up with them because I hadn't done a thing with my hair and my kids' shirts are filthy.

But seriously, the world won't end on December 21, 2012, will it? Probably not, but I'm going to throw hubby one hell of a birthday party...on the 20th.