Just Plumb Stupid

The last few weeks have given me the chance to learn a little about plumbing.  A few weeks ago, thanks to Google, I learned how to fix my toilet so everything goes down with the first flush.  You can't have that problem in a bathroom overrun by kids.  It's gross and disgusting and thinking about it makes me gag.

And now we're having the bathtub adventure.  Our "vacation." 

I'm learning a lot.  Mostly because there's nothing to distract us.  The kids are gone and all we have done is the bathtub.  Maybe we can sneak away to see a movie tomorrow night.  Maybe.

Anyway, here are some things I've learned:

• Glued pipes do not move, even if you really, really want them to.
• Turning the water off and working in sweaty conditions is a bad combo.
• I know what a P trap is.  And it has nothing to do with urine.
• Vanities are heavier than bathtubs.
• I thought that, in conjunction with copper pipes, the word was "sauter" but it's "solder".  Who knew?
• Home Depot owns half of my soul.

And the greatest lesson I've learned:

• Never, ever, ever, ever, ever replace your bathtub DIY-style.  Ever.  It's stupid.  It sucks.  It takes a lot of time and money.  It will make you insane.  INSANE, I TELL YOU!!

Insane.

Uncensored

When I avidly kept a journal (and I'm ashamed to say it was many years ago), I wrote in it often.  But only when I wanted to complain, vent or do some other negative writing.  I've tried really hard not to let my blogging become the same thing.  Who the heck cares about only the depressing things in another person's life?  A sadist.  That's who. 

But I've had a bit of a hard day and I feel the need to whine and complain.  And since this blog is the closest thing I have to a journal, here I go.

Dribble died today.  He was Emma's dear little tortoise that she got for Christmas.  We have some theories on what happened, none of them that bring any peace.  But I'm so sad that my little girl's pet, the one she begged for for so long, wasn't able to thrive.  I didn't expect to love a tortoise, but I did.  I think all of us did.  It's just so sad to think of him gone and not getting to see him be big enough to wander the back yard or meander over to us to be pet on the head.  These are things tortoises do and we looked forward to it.  Little Dribble made me happy to have a pet.  Granted, he was quiet, but I didn't expect to be so taken by a pet.  We already miss him so much.  It makes me want to cry just thinking about him. 

I'm really trying not to be an awful person, but I'm having a hard time being happy for pregnant people right now.  And several of my friends are in the motherly way.  I want to be pregnant.  And I definitely am not.  It's really crappy to realize that I should be posting the gender of my baby and possible names.  I should be scrambling to find all the pinks or blues.  I should be wondering where I put this baby item and why did I give that one away.  But I'm not.  It's been three months of disappointment.  Who knows how long it will take to have another baby.  Maybe another month?  Doubtful.  Maybe another year?  Probably.  I don't have much faith in getting pregnant easily.  That's not how it usually happens for me.  I don't know that I can go another two years of constantly aching for the child I know is coming, but won't seem to just come.  I hold Millie dear because it did take so long for her to be conceived, but I just don't know if I can go through that again.  So if you're reading this, and you're pregnant, know that I love you.  Deep down I'm happy for you.  But right now it's really deep. 

And the last thing I'm upset about today is that I've eaten all the calories for the day and I really want some Oreos.  Like, 20 of them.  Double Stuf.  And some milk.  But I'm going to go to bed instead.

And this is why I generally censor myself.

The Magician's Assistant

There's one job I've never considered doing.  A magician's assistant.  I just never thought about it before.

But it's a life of adventure, danger, and even mystery.  Haven't you ever seen The Prestige?  Never mind the fact that Josh had to explain it to me because I didn't get it.  (Don't judge me.)  There are lots of things the assistant does.  She keeps the audience entertained while the magician subtly sets up for the next trick.  She also distracts them at just the right moment for the trick to completely succeed.  She brings props onstage and takes them off.  Sometimes she is the prop. 

Have you ever seen the knife throwing trick?  You know, the one where the magician throws the daggers and they barely miss the confident and always-smiling assistant all around her head and torso. 

Recently a stranger gave us the chance to be the assistant to his magician.  It all started when his truck backed into our car in a private parking lot.  He apologized for not looking before pulling out of his spot.  It seemed like it would easy enough to get the puncture from the corner of his bumper out of the door of our car.  He seemed like a nice guy.

Then the magic began.

The nice guy donned his top hat, twisted his mustache, and pulled out the daggers.

Dagger 1: When we called his insurance to file the claim, they told us that he reported that he and Josh both backed out at the same time.  As an eye witness to this collision (I was in the van watching Josh so I could back out as well) I can assure you that Josh had backed out of his parking spot, already stopped and was about to drive away.

Dagger 2: It's no secret that we don't care much for our car.  It has issues.  So if we have to endure the pain and suffering of filing claims and standing in front of the dagger target board, Mr Magician, make it worth our while!  I don't know how much it'll cost to fix our door.  We don't even know if it will open or close.  We haven't tried it yet because we can't take the chance that it won't close since Josh has to drive it to and from work.  But it's not going to total it.  It's just going to inconvenience us.  A lot. 

Dagger 3: I got a call today from our insurance telling us that Mr Magician had filed a claim against us.  Enter daggers 4 thru 12.  Excuse me, sir.  I need to turn around so you can target my back where all of your daggers actually belong.  I don't know how this guy can live with the thought of expecting us to take care of his bumper.  He didn't look where he was going.  He ran into Josh.  He has some nerve thinking he's justified. 

Thank you, Mr Magician, for giving me a chance at a job I never knew I never wanted.

No, I'm Not Complaining

I've had a request.

My husband would like me to write something on here.  He misses my writing.  I think it gives him a nice break to just sit and read some of the nonsense that goes through my head.  And since he hasn't mastered the art of reading my mind (imagine that), I'll oblige him.

I haven't written a new post for a while because the only thing truly on my mind is this:

Ah, crap, pregnancy is killing me!

And I have several more months to endure and complain.  If I start complaining too much now, will anyone (including Josh) even read anything I write anymore?

Well, I haven't done a Top Ten List for a while.  So here we go:

Top Ten Things I'm Trying to Avoid Complaining About:

10.  I've finished my Couch to 5k program but have no 5k to participate in.  What the heck, man?  I'm not allowed to do my half-marathon.  So now what?  Just run for my health???  Seriously???

9.  My house is so dirty.  I truly have to wonder: Am I experiencing Nesting or is my house really just trashed?  I'm so afraid to know the answer.

8.  I am tired.  All. The. Time. 

7.  If I thought I was weepy before, then I better buy stock in Kleenex now.  I was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  I know that show can pull at the heart strings, but I started crying when the team did a Flash Mob to notify the family they were chosen for the makeover.  What's a flash mob, you ask?  A sad and/or sentimental thing?  No.  It's when dancers are planted in a crowd and start dancing to amplified music.  That's not sad!  It was clever!  And I was crying!!  Give me a break.

6.  I got the worst advice ever from my doctor: Only eat what sounds good.  Great.  You know what sounds good?  Carmel rolls.  Ice cream.  Carmel popcorn.  Chocolate.  Chocolate covered peanuts.  Ice cream with chocolate, carmel, and peanuts.  Mmmmm......

5.  My boobs hurt.  Just putting that one out there.

4.  Millie is getting too smart.  She knows when she's made a bodily noise.  It's too hard to blame her for mine because she'll rat me out.  And we have no dog.  Life isn't fair.

3.  Did I mention I'm tired a lot?  I basically have one good effort of energy a day -- and usually that's used to roll out of bed.  Any activity requiring more energy than that doesn't stand much of a chance.  Oh, you're hungry?  There's the peanut butter and jelly.  Have fun.

2.  I told my friend Cindy that I feel like I have the flu.  Minus every single symptom but fatigue and nausea.  Although, I think I can add body aches back in there.  I'm pretty sure I could get a note from my doctor to excuse me from strenuous activity if need be.

And Number 1:

If you missed my post on Facebook, here it is again: "Pregnancy mood swings are like a pendulum. A pendulum that's just been round-house kicked by Chuck Norris after he was yelled at by his pregnant wife and he's still clueless as to what he did wrong. ~Shelly"  Oh my goodness, my mood swings are just beginning, but they keep popping up.  "Oh, I love my children.... HOLY HECK, WHO LEFT THEIR BOWL ON THE TABLE?..... I have the best life in the world..... EVERYBODY ZIP IT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!  Yep, I'm a stereotype.

And those are the things I've been avoiding complaining about on my blog.