Life in the Fish Bowl


Adiós, Do widzenia, Salaam, Auf Wiedersehen, Shalom to my Painters

The painters are gone. Finally. It looks better after another visit, but I still think I will paint my dining room again myself. I look at this as a costly learning experience - if you want something done the way you want it, do it youself.

At least this time one of them spoke English so we could communicate. I told one of them last week that he reminded me of my Grandmother who is hard of hearing and who just nods to everything like she heard it, when of course she didn't understand a word you said.

Know what he did?

Nodded at me like he understood.


Doing your job --- or not

Operator What ever happened to doing your job and doing it right? My first job was at Winn Dixie. We were trained on how to check groceries, how to bag them, and how to deal with customers. If you weren't competent at this you had to go work somewhere else. Now I made the gigantic sum of $3.35 per hour, but I was paid to do X, and to do X a certain way and I did it.

I just paid painters over $2K to paint my living room, dining room and foyer and they did a crappy job. Then proceeded to tell me I was too picky. After much thought, two follow up phone calls and five days of looking at the amateur job my professionals did I called and stopped payment on the check (which he had had since Thursday and not bothered to deposit, thankfully).

Now I have their attention. Of course he can't believe I would "stop the check", say his guys did a poor job, or act this way. I was told that I had a ten year old house and that I must want a new one. What an ass. What ever happened to customer service? If the attitude toward the customer had not been so poor, the customer would have had confidence in the service provider and not forced to take more drastic measures. You know you act like the customer is crazy when talking to your coworkers or crew, not to the customer's face! And, by the way, I'm NOT crazy! Just want a pro to do a better job than I could do myself!

So Thursday I will have a crew of painters in my house cussing me out in Spanish while I stand in front of them not understanding (well, I know a few of the good words!) and hoping they do me right and get out of my house for good within a day or so.

I figure if you take a job, whatever it is, do it and do it right. Don't take it if you can't handle it or aren't willing to put in the time and effort it takes to do it right. Or at the very least stay the hell away from my house!!!!!!

PS. I paint well - just not ceilings over ten foot (mine are 14 or I'd have done it myself) - and need money. Maybe my next career - from Accountant to house painter..........
I So Rock

PSS - Can you tell I just figured out how to get these emoticons into my blog?!?!?


Roommate Reunion

A few weeks ago I became reaquainted with my college roommate thanks to We haven't seen or talked to each other since 1986 or 87. Wow, we sure are old. Probably were talking, just couldn't hear each other! After a few failed attempts at getting together, she is coming for a visit tomorrow. I can't wait! I have missed her these past years.

When were were roommates in 1985-86 there was no email, no MySpace, no You had to put a little bit more effort into staying in touch and obviously we didn't exert ourselves. Maybe it is age that makes you realize how important your friends are and that making the extra effort to stay in touch is really important. Or maybe it is being a stay at home mom and spending most days only talking to a two year old that makes you want to renew old connections. Regardless of the motivation, I am excited to see my friend once more and don't plan to lose touch again. Of course, after she comes to my messy house (once again, I'm on the internet instead of straightening up the house) she may change her mind!

The painters are done now, but need too make a follow up visit - it pisses me off so I won't go into it. Even though there is still work to be done, it definitely is an improvement. It looks sooo much better. Getting rid of nearly all of the beige makes it feel so much more like home. Now if I can just find the time to finish Aidan's room, the bathroom, the laundry room, the hallway, the front yard, the back yard ......aaaaaaaaaggghhhhhh it never ends!

Damn DVR!

So lately it has been a real ordeal getting Aidan to sleep. Yesterday to drown out his screaming I started singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall". I made it through all 99 bottles and, even though I don't like beer (except for Belgian Lambic beer which at $9 a bottle I can no longer afford and probably couldn't find in Alabama anyway) I was in desperate need of a bottle or two before he went to sleep. ANYWAY, tonight I lay down with him and ask him what he wants me to sing and he says "I want beer". HA! Can't wait until he tells that to his Nanny!

So the painters come tomorrow to erase the beige and I have yet to pick up all of the crap from my living room. This wouldn't be such a big deal, but in four minutes it will be tomorrow. I'm just sitting here wasting time because I am pissed that I forgot to record the Sopranos tonight. Or more to the point, I did try to record them, but there was a conflict and the recording was bumped to tomorrow night. Now don't get me wrong, I like to know whats happening on Wisteria Lane, but I need my Sopranos fix. It's nearly 12:00, I've got no Sopranos or Entourage (conflict, too) to watch and I've still got five hours of shows recorded from tonight. And painter prep. Oh, Sopranos came on again at 11:00 on HBO West and I missed it too. Dammit. Fuggedaboutit.....

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The ones we lose....

I was just reading a blog (Hi, my name is Christi and I'm a blogaholic) of a mother who lost a child and I am so overcome with sadness I can hardly move. I had a miscarriage in October and if I hadn't I would have been due on May 17, just a little over a month away. When it happened I cried and cried and felt really sorry for myself. I felt better after a few weeks, but sometimes I read something or see something and it just all comes back to me.

My little Aidan is seeing me cry and said "It'll be alright, Honey" ( I'm assuming he picked the "Honey" up at his MDO) and telling me he is sorry and that it will be ok, stop crying. He thinks that he did something wrong.

He didn't. But his sweetness just reminds me of what I was denied by the miscarriage - another sweet baby to love. I know this sadness will pass just as it did before, but it never goes completely away and the void can't be filled, even by ten more children. I will always wonder who he or she would have been, what they would have brought to the world and to my family and think of how happy I would have been to be his/her mother. I'm sad that it is looking like Aidan will never have a brother or sister. I'm just sad.

I will always miss the one I lost....

To Nap or Not to Nap....That is the Question

Nap time used to be easy. Within ten minutes he would be out like a light. Recently, with the decent deep into the terrible twos, it has become quite a battle. Yesterday he told me "I am not going to sleep anymore. I am going to play in the basement". Today there were no declarations of intent, but he only fell asleep after 45 minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs. Now I use the word screaming because that is what it was. Not crying, screaming. What happened to my easy-does-it baby? He has definitely left the building!

Today, though, it could be because he was hopped up on sugar. We bought a "birthday" cupcake so he could practice blowing out the candle - as opposed to spitting it out. We still need practice. He has picked his birthday cake for this year out of a magazine, and though the photo is not of a cake we are going to make it into one. He kind of went a little off the deep end with it : "I want this! I want it! I want it! Order it now! I want it!"

We did animals for his party last year, but the fascination with them has yet to subside. Anyway, I would like for everyone at the party to enjoy the cake and I'm sure they would rather my Little Man didn't blow spit all over it. Sweet as he is, even I don't want to eat his spit.....

The Bug Man and the Fish

So this morning was a whirlwind of cleaning due to the fact that the Bug Man was coming. I was going to clean up last night, but spent the whole evening either trying to get my Little Man to sleep or playing on the internet. So as a result I got to spend three hours this morning trying to get my house to the point where it would look like I had let it go for a couple of days. What a slob.

Now the Bug Man, he likes to talk. And - duh - I like to talk. Add in the fact that my Little Man likes to talk too, and you know there was going to be trouble. The Bug Man and I are discussing how advanced the Little Man is when we hear a big swoooosh. We both run in the kitchen where my neglected child has pulled his fish bowl off of the counter and dumped fish, water and all in the floor. Fish is flopping, I am yelling, Bug Man is wondering what to do next. So I spooned up the fish, the Bug Man helped get the water up, and my Little Man splashed squishy wet footprints all over my only-let-go-for-a-few-days house. In all of the confusion we forget to have the Bug Man spray down the AC vent where the Little Man likes to poke his goldfish - crackers, not swimmers- and miscellaneous other treasures. But I did find one Thomas the Tank Engine, a Fisher-Price horse, 3 pieces of Eggo (flavors undiscernable), a Cheese-It, the mangled corpses of a school of Goldfish and what I think/hope was once turkey bacon while preparing for the missed spray.

Its time for nap now - his, not mine - and a poopy diaper is calling my name. He just hugged me and told me it was going to be all better, how sweet. Then he informed me I had boogies (???) in my ears. Wouldn't want me to get too full of myself, I guess (though how could I when I still have to clean up and dispose of his latest stinky creation).

For the second day in a row we didn't make it to buy groceries so I'll be eating those pieces of Eggo, Goldfish remains and the Cheese-It for lunch. I'm not so sure about trying that turkey bacon....

My Best Friend

Today my son told me I was his best friend. Actually, he said it yesterday, but I thought I must have misunderstood him. After all, he is only 2 years old. But this morning when he grabbed my face in his two little hands and turned it toward his and said "Mama, you're my best friend", there was no doubt what he had said. Now where he picked up the concept of best friends I don't know. Barney? Wonder Pets? Scooby-Doo? Caillou (his new favorite)? MDO? I just don't know. But it is probably the nicest thing anybody has said to me in a long time, or maybe ever. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and totally unworthy of this sweet little creature we created.

He really is amazing - even if I am a little prejudiced towards him. Yesterday he wanted his Daddy who was at the store. So he tells me "I'm going to the store to see Daddy. See you later, Mommy" and takes off out the door into the garage. Now he is only two years old. I am not ready for grammatically correct sentences or to see his little mind working logically. I know it has to happen eventually, but I just would really like to keep my baby for a little while longer.

We had a lot of errands to run today so he didn't get a nap - or lunch - until after 2:00 so I let him stay up late tonight. I lay down with him at 10:15, but he wouldn't go to sleep so I left his room. It's now 10:50 and his is laying in front of his door yelling Mommy, Mommy, Mama, Mama. Poor guy, but he has got to go to sleep by himself. This is one of those times when I take back the request to keep the baby around longer. Or if he would just yell for Daddy, Daddy, instead of Mommy, Mommy....

But then again, after all, I am his best friend!!!