The Perks of the Handwashing Experience

This past week, I’ve gotten a real taste of what it truly means to be a housewife. This job requires a lot, even taking over when you household appliances fail.

My dishwasher has been sick for some time; and, I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it would go so quickly.

One day it’s running (mind you, sort of haphazardly), and then, you blink, and it’s gone for good. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I do realize, everyone doesn’t have a dishwasher. My aunt (who is 80), has a dishwasher now for the first time in her life.

And the other day I was on the phone with her, discussing my current predicament, and she said, “I really don’t mind handwashing dishes at all.”

I told her she is more than welcome to come over and wash my dishes anytime.

Although, the first dishwasher was developed by Josephine Cochrane, in 1886, it wasn’t even until the 1970s that dishwashers became commonplace in households across America.

I’m of the opinion the invention of the dishwasher was made to save humankind — continuing the cycle of reproduction. I don’t know if I would have agreed to two children in the first place if I hadn’t had a dishwasher.

The greatest takeaway from the whole handwashing experience, has been that it’s given my husband a rare opportunity to learn where things go in the kitchen.

For you see, I explained to him, if I must suffer through being the dishwasher, then he must be the dish dryer.

Apparently, he hasn’t put dishes away in the last 10 years of marriage. Obviously, I’ve been doing something wrong. But, I’m glad we’ve remedied the situation.

I also pointed out to him, that not only was this a great learning experience, but a great bonding opportunity as well, (as he gets to spend extra quality time with me).

It only took two times drying dishes, before he said, “OK, we’re going to buy a new dishwasher; the first day I’m off. What kind do you want? Top of the line? Anything for you.”

I really should thank my old dishwasher for failing, and leaving us in this bind.

My husband has a whole, new appreciation for the culinary arts. 

And, I told him, that he’s off the hook for Valentine’s Day, as the new dishwasher will be our tribute to one another. After all, it’s keeping the love alive, one wash cycle at a time.

(Or — at least — keeping the wife cooking.)

Which, I believe was the ultimate goal here.

He’s a smart man; and, he realized that the longer I went without a dishwasher, (and the less he offered to help), the more take out on paper plates we would be having.

What can I say? I guess he likes my cooking.

My new dishwasher won’t be here for another week; but, when it does arrive, there will be much celebration. Until then, please reuse your glass, dear.

Driving the Winter Blues Away with Man’s Best Friend

I’m beginning to see new meaning in the Nelly Furtado song, I’m Like A Bird. I’ll only fly away. Honestly, if I could winter in the Bahamas, I would as well.

Cold, dark and dreary … that pretty much sums up this time of year.

While my boys don’t seem phased by winter, I remember, they’re still young. They’re coming off the Christmas high, and have snow days and valentines from secret admirers to look forward to. Oh, the joys of youth.

My oldest son keeps asking me when I’m taking him on an expedition to Antarctica to see the penguins. (I don’t think he got the memo that I’m out of the office until spring.)

I can barely make it out to the mailbox.

I’m like a lizard; I prefer sitting on a rock, and soaking up the warm rays. (Preferably with a cool drink in hand.)

The start of winter has left me jittery and sluggish, barely able to move. (Of course, this might have something to do with the five cups of coffee I’ve had to drink to stay warm, and the multiple layers of clothing I have on, but I’m not sure.)

I haven’t quite mastered typing in my fingerless gloves yet; but, let me assure you, I will keep on trying. I’m no quitter.

One thing that has actually kept me from mindlessly binge watching all Hulu has to offer, or covering my head and hibernating, is spending time with my dog. Now, whether this means something is wrong with me, the vote is still out.   

Rex and I have taken this opportunity to perfect the sport of wogging (otherwise known as walk-jogging). The explanation for our newfound athletic activity is that he’s an Aussie full of energy, and I’m a winter zombie in need of mental and physical stimulation. (But, not so much that I keel over. And, he enjoys the breaks.) It’s an ideal situation really. When you start to get cold, you jog again.

While it probably won’t be inducted into the Olympics anytime soon, and I’m not logging my miles or counting my steps, the truth is, we wog because it’s fun.

I’m not really the type to buy a watch to tell me it’s time to get moving.

My dull state of mind, and inability to type a sentence, are clear enough to me.

Spending time outside, I begin to see the world with clarity again; the fog lifts. Oh, and there go those nerve synapses in my head again; brain is still functioning after all.

It’s no wonder we go stir crazy in the winter, wondering where our lives are going, and combatting dull moods by devouring carbohydrates to keep ourselves sane.

Even the kids are wilder, with no outdoor recesses or time at the park.

The birds have the right idea here. But, I say, if you can’t fly south, (bundle up) and fly out the door, every chance you get. 

The Winter Rebellion

Winter isn’t coming this year … at least at my house. In fact, my children seem to believe they can ward it off altogether by starting an all-out rebellion against it.

The boys say they just won’t have it. And to demonstrate their dedication to the cause, they refuse to wear coats, shoes remain optional (let’s not start with the socks), and they burst into tears when I force them to put on pants.

And as all good rebels do, they’ve fought the system, and made way to bend — perhaps stretch — the rules as much as they can.

And by doing so, they’ve invented a brand new look.

My youngest actually coined the fashion statement, but my older son quickly followed suit. The sleeveless sweater vest — as a stand-alone clothing item — pants remain optional. They say it is all too practical, because they don’t have the bulk of long sleeves, but yet they’re kept quite warm by the weight of the sweater. In fact, they tell me, there’s really no need even for a jacket, because the vest is self-sufficient.

Life Lessons, Pure and Simple

The older you get, the more it seems you enjoy stories from your parents and grandparents. What was it really like when they were a kid? What did they do for fun?

Childhood, when you are in it, seems like it will never end. But you turn around, look in the mirror, and your youth has suddenly vanished. You realize your parents aren’t so much older than you — as you used to think they were.

My kids laughed and told me just the other day, “No, you were never a kid, mommy.” Obviously, to them, I’ve always just been a mommy. There was nothing before, and nothing after.

Hopefully, with age, comes wisdom and truth. As I’ve grown up, family traditions and old ways of doing things have become more interesting to me. As I child, I would usually spend a week of the summer with my grandparents in Indiana. They had a large garden, and I used to love to go and pick berries and beans or corn with my grandfather in the early mornings.

Now, I don’t have a large garden, but I have become more interested in what my family is putting in their mouths lately.

Hear Us Roar

Life at my house ­— post Jurassic World, that is ­— will never be the same.

The big screen has once again captured the hearts of my children as it brought dinosaurs back to life, and spun them into a modern-day-world. Just as Jurassic Park thrilled me back in my elementary days, the new movie has gone above and beyond to incorporate what we love most about dinosaurs with our world, as we know it.

Yes, we’ve already been to see the new movie in the theatres … twice.

Now I get to listen to the sound of roaring all day and night. I just hope everyone else in our general vicinity (wherever we happen to be) appreciates my little dinosaurs as much as I do. All I can say is, yes, they have been practicing their dinosaur sounds. They are quite good, and quite loud. I apologize in advance.

When we are not pretending to be dinosaurs, we’ve been spending most of our spare time learning more about dinosaurs.

All of this reading has made me think a lot about time, and even more about family.

Seven Points for LOVE

Now that I live the life of a leisurely stay-at-home mom/trophy wife (ha!), my husband and I joke all the time that I married him for his money. But if you know us at all, you know this is far from true. The man I married was actually unemployed. In fact, he quit his job working at a horse stable just so we could go on our honeymoon. But we didn’t fear for our future, we were young, blinded by hope, and living on love.

And it’s a good thing that’s how it all began, because here we are … with our one income family surviving a union refinery strike … we are back to living, and surviving, on that love.