How Drywall Can Organize Your Toys

Have I ever mentioned that our contractor bailed on us a few months ago? Well, he did. So we have been taking a break from remodeling our house in order to find someone qualified to finish the job. We finally found someone who, unlike the last guy, is actually, oh what's the word, ... COMPETENT. The last guy was horrendous. He never showed, he made a rat's nest out of our backyard and garage, he damaged our NEW tub and our NEW shower, he did all kinds of crap just straight up wrong (like the plumbing) and he was a pathological liar to boot. Literally -- that is not an exaggeration. For instance, when he started coming only a few hours a day, I started logging his hours. When he asked to get paid, I gave him the old "I don't THINK so" speech. Because getting paid for 40 hours of work when he was only there for 10 hours seemed like a bit of a stretch. He was PISSED.

Then he started crying and told me that the reason that he wasn't coming was that his wife was divorcing him because she thought he spent too much time working on our house. Heart-wrenching, isn't it? Or at least it would have been if I had not known that he told the LAST person that he worked for that his wife was divorcing him for THAT job! Then there is The Back Door. Our back door that he "ordered" in April was still not there by October. He went to the door company "every week" for the entire six months and "spoke to the manager." Obviously we had paid him for the door back in April. SO we finally called the door place and they had no clue who he was! Or who we were! Nor did they have ANY record of that type of door being ordered! Bastard. So we decided that it was not worth a fight -- we just wanted him to finish the fucking job, already -- so we just told him that apparently the door company lost the door, but they had the exact one we needed in stock, so go there RIGHT NOW with this money and get it. So he did, but the stupid bastard thought that we really bought his lie, so he had the nerve the VERY NEXT DAY to tell me that our door we ordered in April came in, but that they would not refund him. I nearly clocked him right there. Looking back, I should have, but at the time we still thought he could actually finish the job and we knew how hard it would be to find a replacement, so we let it slide.

BUT when he gave me the old "wife divorcing me" speech right before he quit, he mentioned the door again!!! This time, he said that we were so selfish and greedy and that he had to install it in his own house since he could not return it. Oh, and he still had the paperwork, too. I was DONE at that point. I said in my least nice voice ever that I would LOVE to see pictures of that door, and I would really love to see the papers. He cried and said that it was not right that I would make him do that, that I should just trust him. Holy hell was he an ass. He showed up for a few days after that and then we never saw him again.

The thing is, everyone talks about how bad remodeling is, so everything he did we just wrote off to a typical remodeling experience. But now that this new guy is here, we see just how bad the first guy was. Looking back, we should have fired him the first week. Sure the new guy doesn't show sometimes and stuff like that, but it is NOTHING compared to the old guy. He said he would build a gate, and he built it! He said he would clean out the hell-hole of a garage that the first guy left, and I nearly passed out when I saw how empty the garage was after he worked for only one day! We were so, so blind.

I think it is like my post-partum recovery with Henry. I had some internal scarring that I didn't know about and the prenatal vitamins were messing with my digestion something fierce, so I was in a LOT of pain. I had to take 800 mg of ibuprofen every 6 hours to avoid passing out. But since everyone always says that recovery is hard, I just assumed my pain was normal. Then they found the scar tissue that was causing my massive cramping, and I realized --- warning, this is gross -- that me having to bite my fist so as not to scream when doing #2's and bleeding out my ass was caused by the vitamins. So then all was well. My recovery with Quinn was a cinch. If I had had that experience first, I would have known instantly after having Henry that something was very wrong. Just like the remodel. You need to know what "normal" is in order to recognize when something is not.

But back to the title of this post. The new guy says he is drywalling the damaged walls (caused by the old guy) this week, and I believe him! So we had to clear out the entire Toy Room. I took this as an opportunity to get rid of every crap ass toy that we have. Anything that was slightly broken, that got on my nerves, that the boys never played with, or that I had some other ill will toward, I put in the alley. There were five large bags of toys sitting out there by the time I was done. They were gone the next day.* We are now down to only a few toys that they boys actually play with and enjoy (which should be how it was to begin with, but we all know that you can't make it through bdays and xmas without friends and relatives piling on the junk. Plus I have made some bad purchases myself.)

* That is one of the perks to living near Mexico, by the way. Putting Stuff In Alley = Instant Charitable Donation To Family In Mexico.

And the Toy Room is clean. This may all have been worth it just for that!

And So Comes MORE Laundry

You know those shirts that say "Soccer is Life" or things of that nature? I want one that says "Laundry is Life." Because it seems to take up about 80% of MY life.

We already had plenty of clothes to wash. So we didn't necessarily NEED Henry to wet his bed last night. And we really would have been quite fine without Quinn throwing up in his bed 4 times the night before that. Does Tide have stock available?

The FANTASTIC news is that I have finally hired a housekeeper. Ever since we moved back into our 98% complete remodel, my allergies have been horrible. The boys seem to be sniffly all the time, too. So I finally threw in the towel and hired some help. Now that I am working, it seems we are all home just long enough to mess up the house, but not long enough to clean it, so having someone come weekly will be awesome. But the best part? SHE DOES LAUNDRY!!!! Can you sense how big the smile on my face is?

On a completely unrelated note, if you have two little boys who love money and love pirates, then have I got a game for you -- Pirate Money Hunt! The boys go sit in their "ships" (which are overturned kitchen chairs) and I hide tons of coins in one room of the house. Then the miniature mates go and search for their treasure. They love it! Of course Henry is so into video and computer games that he insists we have levels. So Level 1 is easy, Level 2 is trickier, Level 3 is where you hide the coins all in one place, etc. I should include two disclamiers, though:

Disclaimer 1: If your kids love this game as much as mine do, they will want to play it again and again and again until you are hating yourself for ever introducing it to them. So make sure you make the coins harder to find each time so that it takes them longer. Also, set a limit for the number of levels that you will do before you start. And be prepared to find coins later on, even days later, that you forgot about.

Disclaimer 2: Absolutely do NOT play this game if there is a child in your house who puts coins in his or her mouth. This is kind of a no-brainer, but I just want to avoid any potential lawsuits. Oh, and don't play this game while holding a blow dryer in the bath, either.

My Children, My Mirror

Quinn has this weird habit of saying "I don't know" to questions and then immediately answering them. Here is a typical conversation with him:

Me: What is that you are holding, Quinn?

Quinn: I don't know. A ball.

Me: What are you going to do with it?

Quinn: I don't know. Bounce it.

Me: What color is it?

Quinn: I don't know. Red.



HERE is the conversation I had with my mother-in-law the other day:

MIL: Have you noticed how Quinn always say "I don't know" before he gives an answer? Do you think he really know what that means?

Me: I don't know. I think he knows what it means because he uses it correctly a lot, so maybe it is just a weird habit he somehow formed.


Did you catch what just happened there? HE GETS IT FROM ME!! My mother-in-law burst into laughter when she heard me do it, which is what brought it to my attention. I thought it might be a fluke, but no, I catch myself doing it about ten times a a day. For instance, Henry will ask where the crayons are, and I will say, "I don't know. In the toy room." It is like a disease. I can't stop doing it. How have I done this my whole life and never noticed? I don't know. I guess I just have.

So what say you people? Have you ever noticed your children doing something odd, only to discover they learned it from you? They learned it by watching you! (In case you missed it, that last line there was a reference to a very cheesy 80's anti-drug commercial. Does anyone else remember that commercial?)

Henry Is On To Me

Ever since his birthday, Henry has been obsessed with money. He received a grand total of $65 from various relatives for his big 0-5, and he instantly fell in love with those green little presidents. I agreed to start giving him an allowance of $5 a week, with the understanding that he would buy any and all toys that he wanted with it. In other words, I would no longer buy him the newest version of Power Ranger crap, but if his heart desired it, he need only to dig into his tin of dough.

So we have made it through several weeks now where I give him $5 every Friday. He asks EVERY single day if it is the day he gets money! And so far I have been good about handing over the 5-spot every Friday. Flash forward to today. He asked if today was the day he got money from me, and I said that I meant to give it to him yesterday but forgot. I said that I was not sure if I had money in the house, but I would look and see if I could find any. I couldn't find any, so I quite cleverly (I THOUGHT) snuck into his money tin and retrieved a $5 bill. When I gave it to Henry, he looked me right in the eye and said, "Did you just go get this from my money bank?" I said, "Oh no, I just found it in my purse!" He bought it, but honestly, how did it even occur to him that I would do that??!! I am in bigtime trouble when he is a little older if he is already onto my piggy bank break-in! I don't know whether to be ashamed of myself, proud of him, or just plain terrified. Probably a little bit of all three.

Why Working Rocks

Why Working Rocks:

I am so glad that I stayed home for five years with my children. You know why? Because now I realize just how easy working is!!! Sure, teaching high school involve tons of paperwork and grading and lots of time trying to figure out the best way to communicate with and motivate a group of rebellious teens. BUT I still say it is far easier than spending all day with two little active boys. AND the best part is that my kids seem much cuter now! Something about not spending EVERY waking moment of every day with two whipper-snappers who are great BUT whine and hit and destroy and ask 20,000 questions ALL DAY LONG makes them much more tolerable. Even adorable. Not that they can't still make me lose my mind, but I can take a lot more whining and crying before I get to that point. I think after five years at home I just could no longer "see the forest for the trees." Of course, in that analogy, Henry and Quinn would be the forest and all of the whining and such would be the trees, but it seems H and Q make better trees than a forest, so maybe I should say that I couldn't see the trees for the forest. Is this making sense to anyone besides me? If not, here is the bottom line: Working makes me appreciate my kiddos so much more, and my kiddos make me appreciate working so much more. Yin and Yang.

STILL sick

Quinn is sick. Still. Today he had a 102 fever, a cough, and the neverending runny nose is still around, too. So I took him to work with me this morning, set my classroom up with an independent activity for the students, and promptly got the hell out of there before he infected the entire campus. He was so hot that he was radiating heat. He was standing about four inches from me while I knelt beside him and I could literally feel heat surrounding him. So sad. But as I have mentioned before, the one good thing about a kid with a high fever is that they are SO easy! And mellow! Despite the fact that I stayed home from work with a sick child, it was such an easy day! Did I mention the 3 hour nap? Obviously, I feel awful for the little guy, but it was so nice to have a whole day of quiet!

Henry is the only one in the family that is not sick. The rest of us have been fighting this damn bug for two weeks. Henry has changed so much in the last few days. It is almost as if turning 5 has biologically changed him. He listens better, he helps out more, he is somewhat calmer, and even put his PJ's on by himself without a fight! THAT is huge! I am hoping this is a permanent change and not a fluke, but part of me knows better. Still, one can dream.

But back to Q. He is now on antibiotics. Again. Didn't we just finish the last round of the orange stuff like three seconds ago? With everything I've read, I REALLY hate putting him on that stuff again, but when your kid has been sick for two weeks and gets WORSE all of a sudden, what can you do? So ten long days of Zithromax AGAIN. Thank goodness Q is good about taking it. Those baby days of medicine when I had to pin the boys down and force-feed it down their throats were so not cool. Now, lo and behold, they can drink their medicine all by themselves! It's the little things that count.