It’s altogether too routine for a Tuesday. I feel like somebody swapped out my Tuesday for a Wednesday or something. I hate when that happens. I have a hard enough time remembering what day of the week it is without feeling like it’s not the day I think it is.
- We had to get the first oil change on my car yesterday. It was something they automatically do when you get the car: the salesperson just pre-books your first scheduled oil change so you keep up on the regular maintenance. And yesterday was the first one. DO YOU KNOW HOW I KNOW THIS? Because two or three months ago the dealership called to remind me of a maintenance appointment, but I knew it was too early for MY appointment, so I rang them back and confirmed that a) they were calling for BDH’s car and not for mine, and 2) the date of MY car’s appointment, which he looked on computer and told me was April 4. It was, however, scheduled for 6 am. So we switched that to 10 am. And then I put it in my calendar. EXCEPT… I showed up, on time, yesterday, child in tow with diaper bag and snacks and juice and other diversions, for my first scheduled maintenance, only to find out IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ON MAY 4TH AT 10 AM. So. The STUPID MORON on the phone BACK IN JANUARY, when I CONFIRMED THE DATE AND TIME, gave me the WRONG DATE. And the guy checking me in was all, “DUH, you came a MONTH EARLY.” I wanted to punch somebody RIGHT IN THE JUNK, I tell you truly. Fortunately, it was just an oil change, and they were not busy, so they took my car in anyway. But STILL. Anyway, now I have an appointment for MAY 4, to get my winter tires off. YOU ARE ALL MY WITNESSES.
- I’m having chicken issues. I am. It’s getting annoying, and a little expensive. See, I buy chicken in bulk — if I am at the grocery store, and there’s a sale on boneless skinless breasts (which is all we eat), I buy a whackload of ’em and then bag up meal-sized portions and freeze them. I have done this for LO, THESE MANY YEARS. With no problem. Except recently, I am finding that when I go to the freezer to get some of this chicken to use for dinner, I take it out and as it thaws, I am beginning to notice it’s gone a bit… white-ish. In patches. Like what I imagine freezer burn would look like, except I don’t really know from freezer burn. It smells okay, but it just looks… NOT RIGHT. Anyway. I took some out this past week and hemmed and hawed about it, and then eventually just chucked it. I’m a coward. It’s not been anywhere except our deep freeze for a month or two, and yet… And there’s a bunch of them in there right now, 3 pounds, and I’m eyeing them suspiciously as well. These are the times when I wish my mom was here so I could go “WHAT IS THIS, O FONT OF MOM KNOWLEDGE?” Except she was SO EXCITED to have a DEEP FREEZER (this was back in the 60s/very early 70s, you understand) I fear she would have been all “NO THERE’S NOTHING WRONG LOOK AT THE MIRACLE OF MODERN TECHNOLOGY YOU HAVE BEFORE YOU”. And then we would all die from eating funky chicken. The end.
- My kid is talking in her sleep. She does, from time to time. The first time she did it was, like, the first or second night we had her in our care, back in Addis, in the hotel. We’re sleeping, it’s like, 4 am, and all of a sudden she lets out this PEAL OF LAUGHTER. And BDH and I LEAPT from our beds all OMGWTF IS THAT BABY DOING and I just about blew a hamstring because I got one foot tangled in the bedcovers. Anyway. She does not do it often, so it catches us off guard when she does. So, last night, I’m sleeping in bed, minding my own business, and all of a suddenly I hear LA DE DA BLAH DE BLAH SOMETHINGSOMETHING in this pleasant little voice over the baby monitor. I have no fucking clue what she said because, OH YEAH I WAS ASLEEP. But I tell you truly, I went from ZONK to FULL ALERT WHOOP WHOOP WHOOOOOP in about three milliseconds. You KNOW all the crazy shit that goes through your head — well, maybe just MY HEAD — in these situations. I’m all WHO IS SHE TALKING TO WHAT IS WRONG OMG SOMEONE HAS BROKEN IN AND IS IN HER ROOM ABDUCTING MY CHILD. So I get up and rush to the door and listen… And what’s happening? NOTHING, man. She’s sound asleep. So’s BDH, for that matter. He didn’t even KNOW she had been talking. But not me. OH NO. I’m WIDE AWAKE now.
- Parenting Fail of the Week (Potentially): Every time my kid falls down now, she looks at me and asks “IS IT OKAY?”. The thought process is not “okay, I have fallen down and I feel a slight pain here, so I will tell you I have a problem”. It seems to be more along the lines of “I have fallen down, but you normally just get me to shake it off, even if it hurts so what is the point? AM I HURT? YOU TELL ME, BOSSY MOM LADY.”
- Parenting Fail of the Week (Definitely): My kid’s had a cold, and she hates having a runny nose. So, she will always ask for a KWEENEX. This is good, right? Except for the fact that A) she will wake in the middle of the night and begin calling for KWEENEX, KWEENEX, so we have to get up out of a sound sleep, go in, find a kleenex and deal with the boogers in the dark, and 2) she has picked up on the fact that we call them “boogers” and so, just to be sure, will stick a finger in her nose TO CHECK before asking… and then announce “BOOGERS”, loudly, in a tone of great gravitas, before quietly asking for a kleenex.
- Parenting Fail of the Week (Heavyweight Division): It snowed the other night, around dinnertime, after being warm for a couple of days. I stood at the patio doors and bellowed “SNOW! AAAAAAUGGGGHHH!” My husband went to the window in the playroom and pointed and yelled “AAAAAAUGGGGHHH!” So. Guess who has taken to yelling “AAAAAAUGGGGHHH!” at the dinnertable because she thinks it’s funny?