I feel like I haven't written a real meaty post in forever. I'm sorry. I used to be funny, with posts about weird work stories and whacky neighbours and kid poonamis. Now I feel like I just post too-happy monthly updates on my daughter, and odd scraps. I'm trying to get back to my old style again but often I just feel like (a) my life is boring. It's the same stuff day in and day out. How funny can it be, really? and (b) I'm tired.
Today bit me in the ass, though, so I thought I would share. Even if it's brief, you might enjoy it in the same way we all want to hit "Like" when someone posts "I had a shitty day" on Facebook; we didn't "like" that you had a shitty day but we are glad you shared and want to pat you on the back so you know you're not alone!
It's funny because tons of stuff that were difficult three years ago I no longer find hard. My mountain of laundry has been tamed. Oh my gosh, it has finally (finally) been tamed. It is never all done, but I've found a system that works. It involves three loads per day and a focus on pre sorting, and folding/putting away. So I can't bore you with my laundry woes anymore because they aren't woes anymore.
Oh no wait! I can! I have a kid who likes to hold his poop until it turtles out and pinches off in small bits, and then put underwear with pinched off log bits folded in it in the laundry, and then I wash it with everything else. Ohhhhh, nothing yummier than a load of laundry that smells like shit after you wash it.
Or how about the mini sock in the front loading washer drain? Oh my fuck is that ever a pain in the ass. Do you know how many mini socks our family produces? The sneaky buggers hide on me and despite my trying to stick them all in a lingerie bag to get washed, one always stays hidden and slides into the front loading washer drain and prevents all that pinched off log bit poo from going down the drain. Or anything. Or even rinsing. That's so my favourite.
Even without the pinched off poo, the laundry can't clean and rinse properly with mini socks covering the effing drain. Like what the hell. Mini socks are my nemesis and may be utterly outlawed if this continues!! I don't care if your feet are cold. Rules are rules, dammit!
Oh no wait!! I have another laundry woe! I have another kid with an immature/irritable bladder! Who pees his pants multiple times a day! So when I finish loading laundry into the front loader washer we paid too much damn money for because of the mini sock issue, my hands and arms smell like a cat box. Oh the joyous rewards of being a mother. Staying at home is so blissful and amazing (NOT).
I also manage my crazy a bit better now. It is funny to look back on my posts from 2008/09 and see how many of them had the title "Scary." I actually started numbering them at one point. How scary can one regular old life be? Jeepers. Granted it was scary that time I lost Ayden at White Rock beach. We still talk about that one and Ayden is all I couldn't figure out why you forgot me and I'm all I want to cry just thinking about it. Yuck. Who doesn't lose a kid once or twice while raising them? But seriously that one was awful.
These days I'm generally good. HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA.... No I'm not. But I'm medicated (with supplements) and cognitive therapied and surrounded by good peeps (Hi Brent, Hi Rowenna, Hi other good peeps) who put in hours of listening and talking me down. Hence, mild crazy. With occasional breakthroughs of mighty wild crazy to keep things interesting.
Like today when I realized it was 4:20 and we had forgotten for the second day in a row to go to the Notary for a signature on Amarys' name change form. I yelled. I may have panicked. Brent may have talked me down. (Shhh, don't tell anyone but I might have an anxiety disorder...)
Well, this morning started out fine and fair. I got my hair cut yesterday so I had the fun task of trying to tame a new haircut the day after. Our sweet '97 Toyota was totalled in the parking lot next to Brent's work office last month, and ICBC gave us $2000 to replace it rather than fork out the money to repair it at nearly the same price tag. We shopped around and found a newer Toyota of the same model with fewer kilometers on it for cheaper (the engine is awesome but the interior smells like mold) so we totally scored. We bought it in Vancouver though, which meant a long day with four kids in the cold van whose heater is still dead, following leads on cars from Craigslist. When we got it home and went to transfer the insurance, our autoplan place said they couldn't because there was a signature missing on the seller's paperwork. Goodbye, go solve your own problem, and you only have ten days to do it.
So yesterday we piled all four kids in the cold van (again) and drove to Vancouver for one signature. [I'm married to a cop, that is why we have to drive forty kilometers for a signature that could easily be forged]. This morning I take the paperwork over to the autoplan place (again) and after standing there for fifteen minutes answering stupid questions and fending off offers of more expensive coverage (the car is only worth two grand dude), the insurance broker looks up at me cheerfully and says, "That will be $255, how would you like to pay?" And I'm all what the whobie whatty? I don't have $255. Well, I do, but it is for gas, food, and a Visa bill. You want the food out of my babies' mouths? The gas that was going to drive us around for two weeks? Why don't you just rob my bank and be done with it? Fuck I hate insurance.
So I pay the $255, gather up my youngest kids, and drive to White Rock to visit a friend. Brent had an appointment at 10:45 and he phoned me at 10:15 frantic for his keys. I was already in White Rock at this point, and lo and behold here are the car keys in the console of the van. He had to cancel his specialist appointment because even if I turned around and drove back and skipped out on my friend date, he wouldn't make it in time.
Meanwhile, Amarys is screaming huge screams in her carseat and huge slug trails of snot are dribbling down to her chin, and Riley is frantic because he has to pee RIGHTTHISMINUTE! And Brent is making helpful suggestions about where I might look in the van for keys HE LEFT THERE. And I have to phone and cancel my chiropractor appointment an hour before my appointment because I have no money to pay for the damn appointment because the auto insurance place wanted $255 just to transfer my insurance from one car to another (identical) car. FOOK ME! That's the call of shame: I'm sorry I can't come to my appointment in an hour because I just figured out I can't afford it. SORRY!
I walked into my friend's house, she asked me how I was doing, and I just started to cry.
I told her the story and she said,
Damn, it isn't even ten thirty yet, Melissa!
A second friend of mine was there, too, and she said,
I'm going to Costco today. What do you need?
Oh my gosh, no. No no no no no. Nobody can afford to feed our six person family, no no no no no. But Melissa insisted. What do you need?
Chicken. Just some chicken.
Okay. I will bring chicken this afternoon.
Oh, thank you thank you thank you.
My friend Katie, whose house it was, leapt up and said,
I still owe you $150 for the doula care you gave me when I had my daughter. Here, I'll write you a cheque right now and if you don't cash it I will be REALLY MAD!
NO! No no no no no, I didn't tell you this so you would give me stuff, guys! And you can't afford that, Katie, you can't, no, don't give it to me, I can't.
Yes you can. We have it. It's yours anyways, thanks for being my doula.
Hello Jesus. Thank you for friends.
Melissa came by later with chicken. And pizza, shepherd's pie, frozen vegetables, cheese, milk, eggs, TWO huge packs of chicken, fruit cups for the kids' lunches, and holy shit this is friendship. I cried after she left. Otherwise how would we make it two weeks with no food?
What a day.