I've learned a lot in this job of mine, including plenty of sass that I hasn't always been part of my core personality previously. This morning I was not very happy to see that someone had painted this phrase from Harry Potter on a brick wall of one of my apartments. Having not read the series (I know, I know.), I had to google it to calm my slightly alarmed self. I guess credit goes to whoever painted it for doing it in bright red paint, but I still wasn't pleased.
The normal Erin started the clean up project with a scrub brush, ladder, a bucket of water, and plenty of obscenities. It took me half an hour--still too long, obviously -- to decide that I needed to have the artists themselves do the work if I could find out who had done it.
Only one door knock later, I knew where to head. (BYU students tattle on each other really well, you know. That's all I'll say about that as my thoughts are pretty loaded. . . ) My conversation with the girl then was far more tame than I expected. It went like this:
"What can you tell me about the paint on the wall outside?"
"Ummm, it's washable?"
"Who should I ask to wash it?"
"I can help."
"Did you paint it?"
"Yes."
"Good. Have it cleaned up by tomorrow."
Adam warned me a few years ago that he didn't want to see this job transform me into the likes of the other vinegary, cross old ladies that we've met in the rental business of this little town.
Whoops. Oh well.
22 May 2012
02 May 2012
Untitled.
We've been doing the same old stuff over here:
Check-outs went well enough, everything considered. The mass exodus of tenants always has at least one little glitch, so per the usual, I got way too stressed out. This time we've consolidated enough that we're remodeling four buildings of apartments. I couldn't be more excited to have some fresh digs, but really wish I could get my hands dirty doing some of the work myself.
Lucy's very two years old. At Willis' check-up this morning she refused to sit on the three stairs or stools I offered her. Instead she used the handle to lower the other stool in the room. . . as the nurse practitioner was sitting on it. Gave the poor lady a heart attack. Bless her heart she didn't push it out from under her.
Will's such a pleasant kid I can't get over it. Turns out he has an ear infection. (Are you surprised? The week I stop pumping for him. . .) He's too happy to even hint that he was uncomfortable. We're out of that ugly fourth trimester, too. He sleeps, eats, pees and poops like a champ and I'm better understanding his schedule's cues. My mom is relieved to know that we don't share a bed anymore, also. It's not because I don't want to keep cuddling him at night; the air mattress popped a hole. I was really sad to not snuggle him down, but per this kid's happy disposition, he rolls with that too. Adam's not as content about the change, however. He has to stop sleeping diagonally in our real bed. . .
Speaking of Adam, we're all kinds of confused and sad that he didn't get into the program he was hoping for. During the interview last week he was told he should have applied with higher grades in Anatomy and Physiology. I'm not sure how the committee missed that he received As in both courses and even TAed the following semester, but I'm trying to let Adam take the lead. He told me I wasn't allowed to call and ask myself. . . I would also want to ask why the rejection letter listed a hospital he hadn't applied for, but I suppose that's besides the point. Instead, he's selling Cadillacs and GMCs at a local dealership. I guess I'm learning to be flexible and he's learning how to sell cars?
As for me, the latest news is that I've decide to put the app to midwifery school on hold. It still doesn't feel quite gelled to try for something new yet. I'm not choosing not to, but admitting that maybe there is something about that rule to not make big decisions while sorting out postpartum hormones. I'm spending lots more time at the gym sorting out other postpartum stuff, though. Adam says that mileage logged on a treadmill shouldn't count because it's so much easier than the miles on a street, but I'm still saying they're legit. Right now I'm still stuck at 2 and 3 miles at a time. I'll update on the other side of ten soon enough.
That's it for now. Lata', folks!
14 April 2012
Baby-led weaning.
I was planning on letting Will wait all the way until the big six month mark to start eating. Mostly my decision was based on the fact that he wasn't really needing to; he's almost always pleased enough to drink to his little stomach's content. My reluctance was also based on the fact that I forgot how messy feeding little babies can be and I wanted to postpone it as long as possible. . .
And then last week he turned into a food fiend. For real; one day he couldn't have cared less and then next, the kid was begging for food by grabbing, grunting and whining all over the place. For a little person who doesn't really cry, that's saying a lot. Now that he's worked his way through some strawberries, mangos, carrots, tortillas, and a good mix of other grabables and feedables, he's back to his happy little self. I'm pretty sure that this kiddo, who only three months ago was hanging out at the freaking .48th percentile for weight, doesn't have a problem anymore. (Umm. . . how can he? Have you see the rest of us, his sister included, eat? No pickiness around here.)
03 April 2012
As of late.
I'm turning into a once in a blue moon blogger, but I'm kind of okay with it. There's really no reason for my lapse except that life is busy enough that I don't think about it as much as I sometimes used to. I'm not even sure we've been up to anything particularly interesting, but here's the latest via the list:
1. Will and Lucy are getting along well and I'm incredibly immature. I'm still relieved and incredibly pleased whenever I see those two kiddos laugh and smile at each other. Yesterday, though, as Lucy yelled at him in her "monster" voice the words "diaper" and "poop," I had to leave the room because I couldn't hold the smile back. Then I came back and tried to explain that if she wanted to talk about poop and diapers she had to go into the bathroom because that's not appropriate for all of the house, but I couldn't even make it through the sentence! She kept on saying it . . . and both Will and I kept laughing. So much for teaching propriety around here; I still laugh out loud whenever I think about her ridiculous face yelling those stupid words half like Darth Vader.
On a side note, I think that means two things. A, we must talk about poop far more than is appropriate. B, I must have the sense of humour of a 13-year-old male. Also related, last week Adam and I channel flipped while I power pumped and I made him stop at Jim Carrey squeezing himself out of the rhinoceros in, what is it, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective? I can't remember seeing that ever before, so maybe I was justified in laughing uncontrollably for a full five minutes about it?
2. I'm incredibly anxious about this month's big check-out inspection. We're coming up on two years living and working at this joint, and while I find the work enjoyable and love the interactions I have with our tenants, I hate the place from about March until things slow down in October.
I'm also out-of-control anxious about how to survive the big work weekend with two babies instead of just one. The check-out process with the munchkins hanging around makes me more nervous than flying to Chicago by myself with them did. Please wish me luck.
3. It's kind of exciting how crazy active we've been recently. In addition to waking up really (really) early to work out by myself, I've also been practicing getting out of the house at least once a morning to do something. It doesn't have to be much to count. A walk to the library, the grocery store or up and around the temple counts. That makes my goal sound incredibly simplistic, but I don't know any way to communicate how freaking difficult that can be for the three of us. I still don't get how it's that hard, but it is.
Take the motherhood fail moment of the month as an example of why I feel this is so necessary for my sanity. Despite my new goal, and an old goal to not work in the office attached to my living room while the kids are awake, I had sucked myself into some project and left Lucy at the kitchen table eating lunch. I heard her rummaging through the stacks of groceries left there from the recent stockpiling trip, but naively thought that not much damage could be done. Little did I know that she had climbed on the table, ripped open a bag of cornmeal, and was busy spreading it all over our little home. Because the table and the immediate space all around the table was covered in a full inch of the yellow grainy powder there was no place I could put the girl where she couldn't continue to spread it around, so I brushed her off, stuck her on top of the fridge, and then swept the table, chairs and the floor three times before getting her down, all the while frightfully praying that Lucy wouldn't pee her pants while on top of the fridge and covered in yellow powder. That was the only way I could see the situation getting worse. As you can see, she liked the view.
Now, I might have been too incredibly ashamed to tell you this (and believe me, the mess was cleaned up before my husband arrived home since he doens't read this blog, he'll still have no idea how negligent I can be), except that a couple of weeks away from the incident has made it a little more entertaining and a little accountability might be helpful . . . want to accompany us on some trip out of our house? Fast?
4. Speaking of toilet training, I'm hoping I don't jinx it, but Lucy's been doing great. The hardest part has been my anxiety about her making a mess outside of our home. Usually she'll go when I remind her and is beginning to do better about telling me when she's ready for a trip to the bathroom. It's been a slow process spanning a full year and a half now, which I'm confident is what has made it so easy
I might need a little bit of input about dealing with her when she does have an accident, though. Last week during a brief moment of gorgeous weather, she was riding her tricycle around the complex while I cleaned with all the doors and windows open. I heard her screaming and ran to see her, anticipating that she had fallen over and had spilled all of the rocks she keeps in the small trunk of the trike (some prized possessions, those rocks). Instead, she had peed her pants. We hurried back to the house, changed clothes, and then I sent Lucy out with a scrub brush and a bucket of soapy water to clean up. That must not have been a great idea, because she was liking the scrubbing so much she worked on spots all over the sidewalk. Oh well. I liked letting her clean, at least.
5. We're missing our family. This weekend was General Conference for our church, which meant some really good things. First, it's a weekend where inspirational talks and music are broadcast from Salt Lake. Wonderful. Second, it's broadcast. That's a beautiful thing to me, knowing that I can do church in my pajamas and without dragging Will or Lucy or Will and Lucy through the hallways instead of listening. Third, it meant a mini family reunion of sorts. We saw lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins this weekend. Lucy's missing all of them and Will is wondering why no one is waiting in line to hold him.
We still miss this girl, though. Another reunion soon?
1. Will and Lucy are getting along well and I'm incredibly immature. I'm still relieved and incredibly pleased whenever I see those two kiddos laugh and smile at each other. Yesterday, though, as Lucy yelled at him in her "monster" voice the words "diaper" and "poop," I had to leave the room because I couldn't hold the smile back. Then I came back and tried to explain that if she wanted to talk about poop and diapers she had to go into the bathroom because that's not appropriate for all of the house, but I couldn't even make it through the sentence! She kept on saying it . . . and both Will and I kept laughing. So much for teaching propriety around here; I still laugh out loud whenever I think about her ridiculous face yelling those stupid words half like Darth Vader.
On a side note, I think that means two things. A, we must talk about poop far more than is appropriate. B, I must have the sense of humour of a 13-year-old male. Also related, last week Adam and I channel flipped while I power pumped and I made him stop at Jim Carrey squeezing himself out of the rhinoceros in, what is it, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective? I can't remember seeing that ever before, so maybe I was justified in laughing uncontrollably for a full five minutes about it?
2. I'm incredibly anxious about this month's big check-out inspection. We're coming up on two years living and working at this joint, and while I find the work enjoyable and love the interactions I have with our tenants, I hate the place from about March until things slow down in October.
I'm also out-of-control anxious about how to survive the big work weekend with two babies instead of just one. The check-out process with the munchkins hanging around makes me more nervous than flying to Chicago by myself with them did. Please wish me luck.
3. It's kind of exciting how crazy active we've been recently. In addition to waking up really (really) early to work out by myself, I've also been practicing getting out of the house at least once a morning to do something. It doesn't have to be much to count. A walk to the library, the grocery store or up and around the temple counts. That makes my goal sound incredibly simplistic, but I don't know any way to communicate how freaking difficult that can be for the three of us. I still don't get how it's that hard, but it is.
Take the motherhood fail moment of the month as an example of why I feel this is so necessary for my sanity. Despite my new goal, and an old goal to not work in the office attached to my living room while the kids are awake, I had sucked myself into some project and left Lucy at the kitchen table eating lunch. I heard her rummaging through the stacks of groceries left there from the recent stockpiling trip, but naively thought that not much damage could be done. Little did I know that she had climbed on the table, ripped open a bag of cornmeal, and was busy spreading it all over our little home. Because the table and the immediate space all around the table was covered in a full inch of the yellow grainy powder there was no place I could put the girl where she couldn't continue to spread it around, so I brushed her off, stuck her on top of the fridge, and then swept the table, chairs and the floor three times before getting her down, all the while frightfully praying that Lucy wouldn't pee her pants while on top of the fridge and covered in yellow powder. That was the only way I could see the situation getting worse. As you can see, she liked the view.
Now, I might have been too incredibly ashamed to tell you this (and believe me, the mess was cleaned up before my husband arrived home since he doens't read this blog, he'll still have no idea how negligent I can be), except that a couple of weeks away from the incident has made it a little more entertaining and a little accountability might be helpful . . . want to accompany us on some trip out of our house? Fast?
4. Speaking of toilet training, I'm hoping I don't jinx it, but Lucy's been doing great. The hardest part has been my anxiety about her making a mess outside of our home. Usually she'll go when I remind her and is beginning to do better about telling me when she's ready for a trip to the bathroom. It's been a slow process spanning a full year and a half now, which I'm confident is what has made it so easy
I might need a little bit of input about dealing with her when she does have an accident, though. Last week during a brief moment of gorgeous weather, she was riding her tricycle around the complex while I cleaned with all the doors and windows open. I heard her screaming and ran to see her, anticipating that she had fallen over and had spilled all of the rocks she keeps in the small trunk of the trike (some prized possessions, those rocks). Instead, she had peed her pants. We hurried back to the house, changed clothes, and then I sent Lucy out with a scrub brush and a bucket of soapy water to clean up. That must not have been a great idea, because she was liking the scrubbing so much she worked on spots all over the sidewalk. Oh well. I liked letting her clean, at least.
5. We're missing our family. This weekend was General Conference for our church, which meant some really good things. First, it's a weekend where inspirational talks and music are broadcast from Salt Lake. Wonderful. Second, it's broadcast. That's a beautiful thing to me, knowing that I can do church in my pajamas and without dragging Will or Lucy or Will and Lucy through the hallways instead of listening. Third, it meant a mini family reunion of sorts. We saw lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins this weekend. Lucy's missing all of them and Will is wondering why no one is waiting in line to hold him.
We still miss this girl, though. Another reunion soon?
04 March 2012
"Shh. Cago."
23 February 2012
21 February 2012
Peaceful babywearing.
Will's not always in the wrap, but I am almost always wearing it, ready to load him in whenever necessary or helpful. I heard recently that some people in our neighborhood recognize me by the wrap and I kind of keep a catalog of the interesting comments I hear while wearing Will (and/or Lucy) around town.
My favorite so far, and by far, happened quietly sometime Saturday evening. We were out at a restaurant and then, like many of our good nights out lately, ended at Wal-Mart buying baby stuff. Wipes and bedsheets, this time, I think. Sidenote: I'm now confident that we frequent that store far more than I thought or would like. Lucy, when especially bored, has started yelling "Wal-Maaaart" while wringing her hands frantically. It sounds like a request and an accusation at the same time. Bizarre, this girl.
We returned home, unloaded the babies and the goods (significantly easier with the wrap, by the way) and then discovered that someone had furtively clipped a wooden clothespin just above the knot I had tied at my spine to secure Will in a newborn carry. (He's not a newborn, but the kiddo's still small.) Even better, penned in a light blue marker were a Star of David and the word "Shalom." I don't know if that little note on the clothespin was a commentary on how sweet Will looked in his wrap (he did), how we were breaking the Sabbath by eating out (if so, that person was guilty too. . .) or a kind wish for our little family, but it made me smile. There really are adventures in babywearing, folks.
My favorite so far, and by far, happened quietly sometime Saturday evening. We were out at a restaurant and then, like many of our good nights out lately, ended at Wal-Mart buying baby stuff. Wipes and bedsheets, this time, I think. Sidenote: I'm now confident that we frequent that store far more than I thought or would like. Lucy, when especially bored, has started yelling "Wal-Maaaart" while wringing her hands frantically. It sounds like a request and an accusation at the same time. Bizarre, this girl.
We returned home, unloaded the babies and the goods (significantly easier with the wrap, by the way) and then discovered that someone had furtively clipped a wooden clothespin just above the knot I had tied at my spine to secure Will in a newborn carry. (He's not a newborn, but the kiddo's still small.) Even better, penned in a light blue marker were a Star of David and the word "Shalom." I don't know if that little note on the clothespin was a commentary on how sweet Will looked in his wrap (he did), how we were breaking the Sabbath by eating out (if so, that person was guilty too. . .) or a kind wish for our little family, but it made me smile. There really are adventures in babywearing, folks.
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