If You Wanna Be Startin’ Something.

I’m always roping Dave into house projects. 

It usually goes something like, “Oh hey, I just went and bought 3 gallons of paint, guess what we’re doing?”

I’m a changer.  I like change. 

So, we have had a bit of a busy month including Halloween costume making, Oma’s 91st birthday dinner, a trip to Mexico, parent/teacher conferences, dinners with friends, crafting for Maker’s Mart, blog projects, and loads of holiday prep in the works.  The plan was to rip out the carpet in the living room three weekends ago because we had a rare ‘free’ weekend.  Why not screw that all up and do something fun, like ripping up carpet? 

The carpet is 15 years old and has survived a dog, cat, two kids, and lots of traffic and is in desperate need of replacement.  I wanted a little time to scrub the floors under and then get the new carpet installed.  So up came the carpet and what I really mean by that is, I grabbed a box cutter and went to town on a Saturday morning before Dave even had his coffee.  It’s harder for him to protest that way. 

No turning back now, new carpet here we come!  Right?

But then we pulled the pad up and I fell in love a little with the wood floors in there.  An hour later, everything was rolled up and taped and Dave started on the fun task of ripping out tack strips.  The original floors are much darker than the lighter color on the floors in the dining room that were refinished about twelve years ago.  Maybe we should go with the original floors instead of carpeting over them again? 

Only… that would mean having ALL of the flooring sanded and re-stained in all of the main living areas of the house. The floors are all are continuous boards from room to room from the living room to the dining room hall to the bedrooms which will remain {thankfully} carpeted, and the kitchen is laminate.  Did I mention figuring out where to put all of the furniture while this happens?  And while our house is teeny tiny and won’t take very long, it is a gargantuan project.

One that we’re leaving to the professionals… the guys arrive this morning.

I am certifiable and that husband of mine is a good sport, but we value our marriage enough not to test it with refinishing floors.

The Thing About Vacations.

Vacation has a certain kind of magic that even when it’s epically bad, you can always laugh and call it the Griswald’s Summer Vacation and suddenly it’s a story.  More often than not though, it’s epically awesome.  Even better when you win the double bonus of sleeping in AND afternoon naps in an actual bed on the beach with your husband.  These things exist.  Not in the real world, but in vacation wonderland. 

Don’t mind me folks, just laying here in a bed relaxing while waves crash ten feet away and lull me to sleep.

But then you hit the ground in Detroit after what can only be described as a forty-five minute ‘holding’ pattern in which you are both holding your bladder so you don’t pee your pants AND holding your husband’s arm.  Oh, not because you’ve fallen asleep in some loving beach nap embrace but because you think that you could actually fall out of the sky due to turbulence so disturbing you might now truly pee your pants if it weren’t for the concentrating on holding down your vomit thing.

And twenty-four seconds after landing and turning on his phone, that husband of yours is flooded with “STUFF BLEW UP, HAVE YOU LANDED? VACATION IS OVER! CAN YOU CALL US, LIKE NOW?” emails from work.  It kind of felt like a Howler had arrived from Mrs Weasley, just hearing the ding ding ding of the emails arriving had me wishing he wouldn’t open them. 

Also, all of you need to order this.  SkyMall says so, and I do too.  You are welcome.

 

You then get to walk 8 miles down a long hallway and the prize is a mostly clean bathroom.  Congrats, you’ve just won the bladder holding Olympics!  Collect your passport and WELCOME HOME.  You’re sucked right back to reality before you’re even through explaining to US Customs agents that bottle of pomegranate tequila is for your sister who tirelessly took care of your kids for five days and you bought it because yes, you were drunk at the pool and the devils at the hotel promised to send it bubble wrapped to your room, but also because you know she needs a drink more than anyone right now.  It’s like you don’t even realize that you’re going to be the one wanting a tequila shot mid-day tomorrow and that maybe you should hold on to that bottle.

Plus, you come home so relaxed and happy and ready to see your kids that you kind of forget that there will be a next day.  A day filled with wishing the two year old will still hold on to your finger all day so you don’t EVER leave her again and snuggles and I missed you Mama’s from your six year old who’s other front tooth miraculously appeared making you feel like you’ve been gone more than five days of his life.  But that doesn’t happen, instead you get a few of those things because they’re still slightly excited from the night before that you’re home… Forty-four minutes later, it’s back to mob-rule where you are wholly outnumbered because your afternoon nap and hotel sex buddy has left you for fixing those things the emails were shouting about.

Don’t worry, he’s having zero fun too.

These little punks will want YOU to cook THEM breakfast and you’ll try to call room service but quickly realize the days of Belgian waffles and fresh orange juice on your sunny deck are long gone.  It’s then that you remember that all of those cute clothes and fun items you carefully tucked into your suitcase a week ago are now crammed in at odd angles and smell like airport and disappointment.  They need to by laundered as soon as humanly possible.  Only, you are the one that has to do it so you pretend that it doesn’t have to be done as soon as possible… or ever if you burn them in a bonfire in the backyard to keep warm from the FRIGID temperatures you’ve managed to come home to.

So, there’s that.  How was your week?

Hitched.

Yesterday, we got to sit on a beach in Mexico and watch one of my besties promise to love her guy forever.  And then, maybe even better, the party. Can't wait to show you all the details.  

They Cancelled Halloween + I’m Having a Midlife Crisis.

The cashier at Target called me ma’am. 

Have a good night ma’am.

Not anymore, Young Chippie who has yet to understand what wandering around Target in silence without a two year old can do for a mother’s soul.  But, thanks for that.

Yesterday, they cancelled Halloween which is why I was at Target anyway.  If we’re being honest, cancelling Halloween was fine with me.  Not only did it mean my two and six year old weren’t fighting the rain and wind in their super cute costumes, it meant that I could sneak in a hair appointment before we leave for Mexico.  And I buy the good candy to hand out, so now there is a whole bowl of it just sitting there.

It’s a win for everyone, really. 

Unless you’re the jerks stuck with a bowl of Tootsie Rolls and pennies, in which case I think we all know, you deserve it.

They’ve never cancelled Halloween before, and really I suppose I mean postponed since the kids will trick or treat on Sunday.  You should have heard the uproar from people on Facebook.  You would think that they were asking people to walk out in the rain themselves and deliver it door to door.  There were ridiculous amounts of in MY day you went tricking and treating whether there was eight feet of snow on the ground or not!  This is a travesty!  A crime!  A little rain will never hurt anyone when you’re walking to school uphill both ways barefoot in your sister’s hand-me-down dress.  Kids these days!  Next they’ll be asking us to FEED them the chocolates on a silver spoon!  Maybe we should just move Halloween to June so they can have nice weather every year!  Stupid kids!

And on and on it went for hours.  And then the weather turned out to be nothing until after trick-or-treating would have been over.  That’s what happens when our weather people say something out loud, Mother Nature flips them the bird and says, “I do what I want, Beyotches!"

Of course. 

It waited, because Halloween was already cancelled… postponed… and we need to give these people more fuel to the nostalgia of awful Halloween weathers past.

Cancelled Halloween because of a sprinkle or two?  Hmpff.  Damn kids these days are going soft if you ask me.  Once, I held on to a tree limb while my little brother and I made a human chain to get to every door in the neighborhood, it was so windy.  Need to teach these kids to toughen up.

I always find it highly amusing when people my age… people getting ma’am-ed at the store age, start bitching like we’re ‘the man’ because of course, we are, but no one has to know that.  Do they?  Can we keep it hidden just a little longer that we’re the ones these young whippersnappers will be rolling their eyes at by just shutting our mouths when they call off Halloween because there was the potential for 40 – 50 mph winds and torrential downpours? 

Instead, can we just say, “I wish they’d have called off Halloween that time that I was sick for a week from walking around in the pouring rain and refused to put a coat on over my majorette costume.  Enjoy those tricks and treats on Sunday when there isn’t the threat of flying tree branches and downed power lines, Pipsqueaks.”

Yes, ma’am, we can.