I know. It’s been a while. My job has been a little…. shall we say ‘high maintenance?’ I sort of feel that this type of post is the cheater’s way to blog, but they’re easy. And when I’m out of practice, easy is key. So, here’s just a smattering of what has been going on around my house:
D: “You’re a strange duck, Ms. B.”
Ms. B: “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
If the number of songs she makes up in the car are any indication, the Peanut has a future in songwriting. This morning, as she was drawing on her knock-off MagnaDoodle, the song lyrics were, “Mommies have necks, Daddies have necks, duckies have necks, kitties have necks,” etc. etc. etc. This then changed to, “My Sissy’s cute, my puppy’s cute, my Molly’s cute, my Lori’s cute,” etc. etc. etc. Eventually she got around to, “My mommy’s cute.” She stopped singing for a second and looked up with surprise. “Hey! Hey, Mommy! You’re kinda cute!” Oh Peanut. Flattery will get you everywhere.
On another car trip, as we were getting into the car, the Peanut spotted a goldfish cracker that had fallen on the floor god knows how long ago and snatched it up.
Me: “Don’t eat that! Don’t….”
Peanut: (Pops the old, crusty, dirty goldfish cracker in her mouth).
Me: “Peanut! That’s yucky! We don’t eat food off the floor.”
Peanut: “I’m cleanin’ up, Mommy!”
Late last year, I told D that in 2013 I was either getting a new kitchen, or a divorce. I was joking, of course, but also serious about the fact that our kitchen needs some attention. Our countertops are actually being held together in places with clear packaging tape (this is embarrassing to share. We are two professional adults, one of whom is an architect. Why, oh why, do we have counters held together by packaging tape?), and the performance of our appliances was getting spotty. This conversation initially made D nervous, but he finally got tired of having to wash our dishes before putting them in the dishwasher and this past week we bit the bullet and got new appliances. This has gone a long way towards saving our marriage. We’ll let the bank account breath for a little bit, and then hopefully put in the new countertops later this year. In the meantime, I’ve been spending a lot of time just standing in the kitchen petting my appliances and figuring out how to cook with an oven that is capable of holding a consistent and predictable temperature.
It’s interesting: The kitchen was one of the reasons why D and I bought our house. We were coming from a galley-style apartment kitchen that was barely big enough for one person to stand in, and had about 15″ of usable counter for food prep (to my sister-in-law in NYC, you are now free to bitch about your tiny kitchen). At the time, our new kitchen seemed decadent in its scale. Now I find myself wishing I had more cabinet space. Or that I didn’t have to share the pantry with the washer and dryer.
When we bought the house, both D and I thought we would stay here around five years, and then would be ready to move on to something else. It will have been seven years in May. I don’t actually know what that means other than its interesting to think about. I think I’m afraid to know what our house is worth if we tried to sell right now. I’m afraid it would be depressing.
Ms. B. has joined the rowing team, following in D’s footsteps. She’s been begging to join for years and finally became old enough. I’m just happy to see her in a sport again. She brought home one of her best report cards ever last week, which earned her dinner at a restaurant of her choice. She’s also been taking noticeably more care with her appearance lately. D commented about it to me one evening, and then said, “I wonder what his name is….”