Monday, July 13, 2015

Sometimes you have to pay the stupid tax

I like to think I have a pretty good head on my shoulders; I read a lot, I have a Master's Degree, I am able to generally navigate life in a positive way. But then I get reminded that maybe I don't have everything as together as I think I do.

Our building has on-street parking. In order to sweep the streets, which, don't get me wrong, I am pro clean streets, you need to move your car off certain streets where we usually park. This is only one day a month, from 9-12 (one side is the 2nd Wednesday of the month, and the other side is the 2nd Thursday of the month). This doesn't sound too complicated. And it usually isn't - when school is in session, both cars are long gone by 9 am.

But now it's summer. so even though I like to think that the world stops and everyone isn't actually paying attention to what day it is, this is sadly untrue. Thus, exhibit A:

Bummer. I pulled it off the windshield, and chalked it up to summer brain. The Professor and I looked it over ruefully that night, and put it aside. Now, The Professor is no lightweight in the brain department either, having not only an aforementioned Master's Degree, but a Doctorate as well. Thus, the following day's excitement was even more appalling:

There was an episode of Cheers where Kirstie Alley's character has something awful happen due to her own mistakes, and she cries out, "I am too stupid to live!" Enough said, I think.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

And the living is easy...

Well, it's not summer yet, but I know it's coming because of this:

Another dog, you ask? Why no - it's the remains of Big Trouble's winter 'do. It's always funny to recognize the milestones and turning points of a year. A big pile of hair on my floor is one of those. Every year around this time Big Trouble decides he's ready to be shorn, although the breadth of the pile was definitely more spectacular than usual.

He decided somewhere along the way this year that he wanted longer hair, and actually ended up with the longest hair in the house. Unfortunately for him, however, he didn't reckon with the fact that longer hair requires some actual care; he showers before bed, and goes to sleep with wet (sometimes even dripping hair) and the morning result was often not to be believed. When faced with the realization that he was going to have to actually spend more than a minute on his hair-care routine, he decided it was time for it to go.

RIP winter - don't let the door smack you on the way out....

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Happy Mother's Day!

It's Mother's Day. A day set aside to recognize the hard work of mothers everywhere, and I wish my mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother-in-law a wonderful day. Now that my kids are older (12 & 14), Mother's Day has taken on a sweet, relaxing tone. Chocolate croissants for breakfast (Trader Joe's makes a frozen version that you let rise overnight and bake in the morning that are to die for), maybe dinner out. Pretty low key. And let me tell you - I earned it this year - all in one night.

If you have a delicate constitution or are averse to vomit stories, it would probably be best if you moved on at this point. Just saying.

We had attended a fund raising art auction last night, and I got to sleep a little later than usual, probably around 11:00. It wasn't too much later than that when The Professor nudged me awake, uttering my favorite of phrases, "I'm so sorry, but I really need you to come." Big Trouble was in the bathroom getting into the shower, and The Professor explained that he had gotten sick. Now, anyone familiar with Big Trouble's childhood will know that he is a champion vomiter. Before the age of 5, he had probably thrown up at least once in every restaurant we frequented, at most family gatherings, and as a fairly regular occurrence around the house. 

Now that he's older, this sort of thing either didn't happen, or happened without my involvement and in the proper receptacle. That was not to be this evening. I walked into his bedroom, and it was like a crime scene of vomit. I could re-create the action based on splash and pooling patterns. It was magnificent. And disgusting, And, being the mother, my job. The Professor was also graced with a delicate constitution, and had valiantly tried to start on the cleanup, only to lose his lunch himself (he made it to the toilet, however). I plowed through, and got the room cleaned up in about an hour (yes, it was that bad). By the time everything was said and done, it was after midnight. Mother's Day.

When I was young, I completely took my parents for granted. They were the authorities, the ones that knew what to do when you had a temperature, and did the clean-up when things went bad. And then you're the parent. The 105 degree fever is your problem, and you are the one that has to figure out what kitchen implement will best scoop up the pile of goo on your son's floor. 

All I can say is a heartfelt thank you - for your help, your advice, and your love. (And for the large pastry scraper you got me for Christmas - it did the trick!) Happy Mother's Day!