Bad Day 41--Mom, you're touching me!

Husband changed all the dead lightbulbs in the the house today and I couldn't love him more. I asked him before he left if we could get one of those lightbulb changers on a stick like I used when I worked at Gymboree because I am too short to reach the ceiling. Husband laughed at me and didn't believe me until I stood on top of the stool and was still about a foot too short (about 30 cm for you metric people.) In the last month, about five of them blew and it was getting pretty dim. Now I can see in the kitchen and I'm very happy. But I still think I need a pole because if we lose one lightbulb per week, then we'll be in the dark by Thanksgiving and Husband will still have another month before he gets home again.

The annoying thing about his being home is that I keep touching him. Let me rephrase that. I'm pretty sure that he will be annoyed with me shortly because I have to keep touching him. Not that kind of touching. Please! My mother reads this blog! No, I mean that I always have to be in the same room with him and have my hand on his shoulder or his knee, or whatever arm he's not eating/reading/using the remote with. If it were me, I would have said "enough already! I'm not going to disappear if you let go." But he's too nice and he's putting up with me quite well. Still, it's early days yet. It's not just me, either. On Sunday at church everyone wanted to sit with Daddy which was tough because there are four of us and he only has two sides, so I was on his left, one was on his right, one on his lap, and he reached his arm around me to the last one and had his hand on her shoulder.

When the children were little and I was home with them all day long with no maid service and no nanny and no grown-ups to talk to (see, I so remember what it was like), I used to have this feeling that I had a certain number of touches each day and since the children were all over me all the time, by the time Husband came home, they were all used up and I just wanted to go to sleep. That may have had something to do with the exhaustion that comes from being a mom with toddlers, now that I think about it.

Now that the children are older, I have to force them to hug me. I offer to do their hair, and they usually say no, and I tell them it just needs a little fixing but usually it's fine and I just want to play with their hair and be their mother. I am probably giving them all a complex about their hair and that is just tough because I need an excuse to touch them. I'll pay for their therapy later. Or hair extensions. Or whatever. But Husband just came in the room and I need to stop typing so I can put my hand on his shoulder.

Congressman Yoder is having a worse day than me.



Now, everyone in America and around the world knows that when he went to visit the Holy Land and saw the Sea of Galilee where Jesus Christ walked on water, he thought an appropriate thing to do would be to strip down and go skinny dipping. In the Sea of Galilee. On a tax-payer funded trip. Did I mention it was where Jesus walked on water? So thank you, Congressman, for reminding me that if I am ever lucky enough to travel to Israel I will remember to bring my bathing suit.

Bad Day 40--Give it back!

In every relationship there is always someone who loves the other person more. In my relationship that is definitely The Dog. I'm not sure what I ever did to earn The Dog's undying affection, but apparently it was something enormous, like breathing, or existing. I'm not exaggerating when I say that she needs to be in the same room with me at all times. She has even figured out how to get in my room when the door is locked, and I was locking it to keep The Dog out. So now I have to use rubber bands to tie the door handles together which is very unsafe should there ever be a fire and I need to leave the room quickly. It also makes the children very frustrated because they also cannot enter the room and they try the door handle over and over and push and nothing happens and then they yell.

You would think that the children would have figured out about locked doors right now, but these children have no boundaries--not that I didn't try to set them. It's just that they ignore them. All. The. Time. It started when they were small. I would run a bath for me and Child 1 would run and get her ducks and throw them in the tub and climb in. Um. Great. So much for privacy. I know it's my own fault for not locking the door, but all three of them would scream and pound on the evil thing that was between them and their mother and  it is not very relaxing to be in a bath with a screaming toddler on the other side of the door. So basically, not much has changed now that they are older.

Now the boundary crossers do believe in privacy, but instead of barging in on me in the bathroom, they just steal my stuff. Jewelry and make-up occasionally, but always my hair brush. I was so tired of going on the hair brush hunt daily that I bought a second brush, and they take that, too. So next time you see me, if my hair looks like this, just know it's because someone has taken my brush! Again!



Good thing their feet are bigger than mine so they can't take my shoes or it might mean war.

I am pretty sure this woman had a worse day than me.



This is a Miss World contestant, not someone auditioning for Harry Potter the Musical for the role of Hedwig. While other contestants were wearing native costumes or princess dresses, this poor woman's country decided she would look better as a bird. So thank you, Miss Fiji, for reminding me to be grateful that I will never ever have to wear feathers like this.

Day 39--Adventures in Cooking

Since Husband's parents were visiting this weekend, we did the tourist thing and went downtown to the Library of Congress. I had never been in before because the only time I went, they told me I couldn't bring in a stroller, so Sister 2 went inside and I stayed outside and played with the baby on the grass. Frankly, I'm sad now that I have lived here all these years and never went inside because it is amazing. It is very beautifully decorated with lots of pre-Raphaelite style murals and quotes about books, and wisdom, and literature. My favorite is from Thomas Jefferson who simply said "I cannot live without books." I completely agree. I agree so much that I bought a cookbook in the gift shop to add to my collection.

I firmly believe that one cannot overbuy cookbooks. But one CAN buy the wrong cookbooks. I have some that I never open, like the one that had 17 steps for making potato salad. Or the one that requires ingredients you can only find in China. It was fabulous in China but not so great in the US. And then there is the one someone gave me that we call 101 ways to make jell-o. Ick. But this new one is full of county and state fair recipe winners and looks like a winner itself. I told the girls, who were urging me to buy it, that this could be our year of adventurous cooking and we could pick one new recipe a week and try it. It's my secret plan to get them to help me with the cooking. We'll see if it works.

I'm not so sure, however, that there is much hope we will find something new and exciting. This is because I have discovered I have a house full of picky eaters which is throwing me off a bit because I never thought I would raise picky eaters. I never cooked them separate meals and I always made them try everything and now Child 1 hates mangoes, Child 2 doesn't like spaghetti, and Child 3 complains about everything we put on her plate, including tonight's watermelon salad. Husband and I decided to try something new tonight based on this recipe we found in Slate. Feta and watermelon is actually quite delicious, but each of the children individually said when they saw the lovely salad, "Why is there cheese in the watermelon?!"

I know I shouldn't complain because they like mushrooms and they eat eggplant (as long as it's in ratatouille) and they love olives which is good because they wouldn't be my children if they didn't. I would disown them. Eating olives is not negotiable in our house. But sometimes I wish they would like my lasagna and try watermelon with feta without complaining and saying, "Is it just me or does this cheese taste like nothing?" Well, if it was nothing, then why wouldn't you eat it?

These people on an Air France flight to Lebanon had a worse day than me. Not only was their flight diverted and they had to land in Syria (Syria!), then Air France asked them to help pay for the extra fuel it would take to get to Lebanon. So thank you, Air France, for reminding me to be grateful that I neither need to fly to Lebanon nor would ever have to do it on your airline.

Bad Day 38--Balderdash!

Everyone told me to expect a lot of tension when Husband came home for the first time. It will take a while to adjust they said. He'll try to change things and it will drive you crazy. Well, my lovely and sweet friends, I really do appreciate your advice but you are all completely and totally wrong. It hasn't been hard at all. It has been magical having Husband home. Granted, it's only been three days and one of them was our anniversary, and he's only been gone for a month total so far. But still, I was prepared for the worst and it hasn't shown up and I'm happy.

I also think it helped that we've already had quite a number of years together so that we are already familiar with the routines. There is nothing new for Husband to learn or get used to yet, so I'll keep that advice, which I still think is helpful, in mind for when he returns for good. But for now, I'm going to sit back and let the magic happen.

As I mentioned before, we've been married a long time. Long enough so that when I tell people how long we've been married, they gasp. I think this is because I don't look old enough to have been married that long (good genes and liberal use of sunscreen.) The other day, someone mistook me for being under 30. I know! The light was a little dim and he definitely needs his eyes checked, but it made me smile all day. It must be the bangs. But I digress. What I was starting to say is that in our married life, we've been separated for about a month a couple of times. The first  was when he went for language training in this armpit of a town in Asia for  a month without me and the baby. When people heard where he was going, they asked if I was worried that he'd get lonely and fall prey to some Asian hussy. I laughed at them because I knew that the only women he was hanging around with were a couple of French nuns and he used all his spare time and change calling me. So no, I wasn't jealous.

The second time was when I was stuck in language training and he moved to China with two of the children and I stayed behind with the third and she said once, "Remember that time when it was just you and me in our red brick house and we were lonely?" Yes, we were. Luckily, Skype had been invented by then, and so had the internet and we could see each other twice a day. And again, I wasn't jealous because I knew I would join him soon.

Then came Afghanistan and I was seething with jealousy. Not over women, because even if there were any there, that is not who Husband is. No, it's Afghanistan itself that I hated for luring Husband away from me with promises of excitement and adventure that I can't give. But now that he's come home for a bit, all that jealousy has melted away and I am no longer angry at Husband. I can see clearly that it is not his fault and I can put the blame squarely on the person responsible for this entire war. That's right. I am now seething mad at Queen Victoria. If that British hussy hadn't had such a thirst for Empire, maybe Pakistan and Afghanistan wouldn't be the mess they are today. So you can see that I'm totally right about the British. Every bad thing is all their fault! Hmph.



Today, my friends "Rob and Bobbi" suggested this link for someone having a bad day. It is  particularly appropriate because it involves Norway, where I used to live, and a moose, which I had in my back yard and we nicknamed Bullwinkle and it used to charge at us when we made the long walk from the bus stop up our driveway to the house. So thank you, Norwegian driver, for reminding me to be grateful there  is no danger I will hit either a moose or a bear in my town. And thank you Rob and Bobbi for the fun story. I'm sorry you have to put up with all those awful British people because you live in England.

Bad Day 37--Buying for the famine

It might be possible that in the past, on occasion, I may have overbought things. Husband is laughing because that might be understatement of the year, if not the decade. OK, I really overbought things all the time up to the point of ridiculousness at times. Now, I am not one of those hoarder people that you see on TV where they can't move around their house because of all the stuff and the bugs and vermin there give you the willies. I am definitely NOT a hoarder, but I sometimes buy too much of a thing because I am afraid of running out. But seriously, wouldn't you rather have too many rolls of toilet paper than not enough?

Here is a list of things I may have overbought in the past: salami (because I am the only one who eats it and a half pound of salami is probably way more than one person should eat and it goes bad pretty quickly), black T-shirts (my sister once asked me if I was buying black Ts to outlast a famine), purses (yes, I know I have too many, but the pewter commuting purse is still perfect!), Christmas ornaments (because they are pretty.) I may have also overbought shoes, but I don't think so because I can actually wear all of mine in a month or two and I am in no danger of becoming Imelda Marcos. Plus, shoes make me happy. Following is a picture of Imelda's shoe closet. NOT mine. I only own one pair of pink shoes and they are flip-flops.



But what I really over-bought in the past is food. I am always afraid of not having enough to eat, and also I like to cook and try new things and I am the worst kind of impulse buyer, so much so that grocery stores cheer when they see me coming because they know I will buy a ton of things not on my list. However, a couple of events changed this habit. First, we had that stupid derecho in July which in addition to almost ruining our trip to New York destroyed two refrigerators' worth of food, and second, that whole Husband in Afghanistan thing. Since he left, I haven't had time to go grocery shopping and for quite a while there were only two of us in the house and we could get by on turkey sandwiches and apple juice. So tonight when husband asked me what we had in the refrigerator to make for dinner, I looked and we had frozen eggplant Parmesan and some Greek yogurt. There was also some raspberry syrup and ginger ale which would make for a fun drink, but probably not dinner for 5 hungry people.

So we went grocery shopping at the warehouse store. I love warehouse stores and in the past, they would be my downfall. (You can buy socks in bulk! And also winter coats!) But I am determined to mend my ways, so we only bought enough for dinner for the in-laws tomorrow, and some soup. I have enough tomato soup to feed an army and a block of Feta the size of a dictionary, but I did not buy anything I'm not going to use. However if there is anyone in the Western Hemisphere who needs a cup or two of capers, come on by! I have enough to share with a dozen or so of you.

Today, this Hungarian politician is having a worse day than me and it is his own darn fault! See, this is what you get when you run your campaign on being racist. It is the perfect example of kharma and great reminder that we are all the same and no one is better than anyone else. So thank you, Mr.Szegedi, for reminding me to be kind to everyone and that racism is just stupid.

Bad Day 36--One great day

Husband is home. R&R is a blessed thing and I am so very glad everyone else on Husband's team was scheduled for leave in September so that he had to come home early, especially because it means that he is here on our anniversary. It's been a wonderful day catching up on all we missed and the children are literally bouncing around the house with happiness.

We started out by surprising Husband by not following his instructions to meet him at the airport curb. I mean, who welcomes someone home from Afghanistan by driving by and letting them hop into the car when you slow down? So he was on the phone calling us to tell us he was coming out of customs when he saw us and the children ran up to hug him and he was beaming and we all kissed him, which was itchy because he came back with a very scruffy beard because his razor broke a week after he got there. Then we made him breakfast (eggs, sausage, and crepes) and looked at pictures of Afghanistan which looks remarkably like the ickiest parts of Nevada, but without the paved roads and high tension wires.

And we also looked at lots of pictures of rugs, because apparently what you do in Afghanistan when there is nothing to do is go rug shopping and you don't buy anything because you want your wife's input which is a good thing because the rug you like is a "conversation piece" which is never a good idea for a rug. Here is a picture of one we both agree is really ugly.

And then we spent the rest of the day cleaning up dog vomit because The Dog decided that this was a really good day to eat some grass and get very sick all over the house.

The children are grumbling a bit because we are leaving them to go have a romantic dinner and be all mushy about our anniversary and gaze into each other's eyes over fabulous pasta. But they are getting pizza so quit complaining and for heaven's sake finish cleaning your rooms!

Lots of people are having a worse day than me today, but this guy really is. I know people have mixed feelings about permits to carry weapons and I understand after Aurora why someone would go armed to a theater. But can we all at least agree that if you shoot yourself in the behind while sitting down in a public place that you should not be allowed to have a weapon? So thank you, Mr. Sore Behind, for reminding me not to carry a gun in my pants without the safety being on.

Bad Day 35--8.5 hours!

If I actually ever slept for 8 hours straight, I could go to bed right now and when I woke up, it would be time to pick up Husband. Frankly, I can hardly wait. I have been excited all day. Christmas Eve at age 5 excited. Kid in a candy store with 5 whole dollars to spend excited. 12 year old with a season pass to Six Flags excited. I thought for certain this would be a day that I could get through without crying because even though Husband didn't call me, it was because he was on an airplane coming to see me!

And then I came home and saw them. Flowers. Gorgeous lilies, roses, and snap dragons. Husband had sent them ahead with a note that made me sob because it was perfect and I miss him so much and now I am carrying that note around in my wallet like teenagers used to do with notes that the guy they liked had passed them with the question, "Do you like me?" and he checked the box that said maybe. And so that is why I cried.

The rest of the day wasn't bad except for the children who didn't do chores all day (why am I surprised at this?) even though I called them and talked to them all individually and they all swore they would do what I asked. So I'm making them stay up and it is 10pm and they are cleaning their rooms and they won't be done before midnight and I don't care because they had better finish before Husband arrives in the morning.

The best thing about today, aside from being the day before Husband Day, is that we did manage to come up with a way to get our neighbor to stop stealing our garbage cans. Yes, our neighbor who throws the loud parties on holidays and always parks right in front of our front door even when the space in front of hers is empty--that neighbor has been taking my garbage cans! Our city issued everyone the same cans and recycling bins and you write your house number on them. We have to put them all together down the street at the corner, and all the time I come home and mine are missing. Twice I have found them in the annoying neighbor's garage which she always leaves open, so I swap out the correct ones without saying anything to her. I've been meaning to go to Home Depot and buy those big reflective numbers so she can't miss them, but as you know I have so much free time that I spend it all in the spa instead. (I so wish!) But Child 2 had the brilliant idea to mark them with the Hello Kitty duct tape that my friend "Guido" gave me as a housewarming gift. Perfect! If annoying neighbor misses the hot pink tape with Hello Kitty all over it, then I don't know what I'll do. (Thanks, Guido, for the tape!)



This family in New Hampshire definitely had a worse day than me. Their house caught on fire because they had a battery in their junk drawer. Yes, a battery--9 volt to be exact.



 Now years ago, I learned that you can use a 9 volt and steel wool to start a campfire, but I had never thought that if you stick one in a junk drawer with your mail key or some paper clips you are asking for trouble. So thank you, New Hampshire family. I'm sorry your house caught on fire, but I'm happy to be reminded to clean out my drawer. Now everyone, go check yours, too, and separate those batteries!