What's Good for the Gander

The water coming out of our bathroom sink has become progressively slower over the past few months.

I know why this is.  Our water softener hasn't been working.  For awhile.  Our tiny little hamlet has notoriously hard water.  Water softeners are not optional appliances where I live.

Water softener is now fixed replaced, so yesterday, while cleaning the bathroom, I decided to de-lime the faucet aerator.  I've done this before.  It's no big deal.  You unscrew the aerator, soak it in white vinegar for a few hours, and voila!  Good as new!

And folks.  That's as far as my plumbing "skilz" go.

Well, lime is serious business.  And it was seriously caked on.  So caked on, in fact, that when I finally got the aerator off, it took a rather important part of the faucet with it.  Like the part that keeps the water from pouring right down into the cabinet underneath.

(That green part on the bottom?  Totally supposed to still be attached to the faucet.)

Lovely.

I'm sure I don't even have to explain that not having a working bathroom sink until Friday when Better Half gets home was so not an option.

My first instinct was, of course to call someone.  A male someone.

Plumbing problems = male someone, right?

It's not like we don't have good friends that are nearly like family that build houses and remodel and stuff  for a LIVING.  I know it would have taken 10 minutes, tops, to get someone to come help "poor, lil' ol' me" out.

My second thought was really?  I have a college degree.  I can read.  I can watch YouTube videos. I can follow directions.

 And I expect my sons someday to know how to follow a recipe and cook a meal, run a washing machine, sew on a button...

And you all are my witnesses:  If any future daughter-in-law of mine lets it slip to me that one of my sons EVER calls her with a screaming child in the background (breastfeeding necessities aside) and asks her when she's going to be home, I will personally drive/fly/swim/transport to wherever he is and read him about 500 different kinds of riot acts.

So...if I expect my sons and let's face it--my husband--to be blind to gender stereotypes...well.  What's good for the gander should also be good for the goose.

Sigh.

So I dug out a home improvement book that we bought ten years ago when we bought the house.

I Googled how to replace a bathroom faucet.

I rummaged through Better Half's tools.

I went to Wal Mart.

I bought the cheapest replacement faucet they had (There is a complete bathroom remodel in our "not so distant" future, so I didn't want to spend any more $$ than necessary).

I bought all of the other "stuff" that the back of the faucet box said I needed to install it.

I brought it home.

My dad came for a visit.  I'll admit it.  I was sorely tempted to let him completely replace it.

I did let him help.  I totally let him talk me through it, and I ABSOLUTELY had him check my work after to make sure I wasn't going to flood the house.

And under his tutelage and assistance I went from this:

To this:

To this.

I'm sure it looks like an amateur did it and that we spent  less than $20.  The fixture is plastic.  If I want to be able to use the stopper, I'll have to purchase additional parts.  And use additional tools.  I think I'll be able to live without the stopper.

But we got it done in less than 30 minutes with no alcohol, no swearing, and no injuries.

And it now serves the purpose I need it to serve.

1.  We can wash our hands after we use the bathroom without having to bend over the bathtub or walk out to the kitchen sink like a surgeon ready to perform open-heart surgery.

2.  We can brush our teeth.

I feel just a little bit like Rosie the Riveter today.

Thanks, Daddy  :o)

Making Memories

It's been kind of a week here.

So Thursday afternoon, I was on the phone with my dear friend, Stephanie.

A little bit about Stephanie, dear Reader:
Stephanie is one of my fellow teachers at school. She's the "teacher across the hall." I put that in quotes because I teach for a virtual school, so she's not literally across the hall, but she is technologically. We "pop" in and out of each other's "classrooms" and lives multiple times a day via email, text, phone, facebook...and yet she lives three hours away from me. Technology is an amazing, amazing thing. And Steph is an amazing, amazing friend. But I digress.

Anyway, I was talking to Steph. I'm not even sure what we were discussing. Probably I was whining about my week. :o) When all of the sudden, she says out of the blue,

"You should totally let your kids stay home from school tomorrow..."

(Me thinking to myself...Why would I do that? I have to work tomorrow. They only have one more week of school before break...um???)

"...And surprise your kids tonight by taking them to the midnight showing of The Hobbit!"

My initial reaction was, Okay. Now that's just crazy talk.
1. I can't let my kids stay home from school tomorrow to go to a MOVIE tonight! I'm pretty sure that's not on the list of top 10 things responsible parents do.
2. Take my kids out of town to a movie at midnight? Are you SERIOUS?? It's December. In Kansas. During Daylight Savings Time. It's dark at like 4:45. Which means I start counting the minutes until I can put on my pajamas at 6. And I live a lifetime every night between 6 and 10 when I finally get to think about turning in. I'll NEVER make it until midnight.
3. It's The Hobbit. Any other movie, and I might consider it. But I confess. I hate The Hobbit. I've read that book three times. Yes. Three. Because it's supposed to be a classic. And I hated it every time and I have essentially no recollection of what it is about except a hobbit (obviously) and I think a ring and maybe a dragon.
4. I hated every one of The Lord of the Rings movies that I managed to stay awake for (especially the last one, where I swear it took an hour to get the stupid ring into the stupid volcano and I literally had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from blurting out in the movie theater...Oh FOR. THE. LOVE!! Just get the thing in there already! We all know how it turns out!"

But the more I thought about it, the more I thought my wise friend, Stephanie, was perhaps on to something.

My kids LOVE movies.
They LOVE The Lord of the Rings movies (they totally get that from their dad--weirdos, all of them...
I'm single-parenting three teenagers and a preteen. To say my "wicked cool mom" opportunities are few would be an understatement. Mostly I just get to be the kill-joy.
And let's face it. They love getting to stay home from school.
Hopefully someday it will be one of those great memories that they tell their kids about.

So I decided to do it.
I purchased tickets on line.
I tried to discreetly inquire about test or project or assignment obligations at school.
We went about our "normal evening routine--ha!" and I said nothing (very hard for me.)
I put the youngest to bed. I told the older ones to go to bed.
I drank LOTS of coffee.

And at 11 pm, I roused them all.

The youngest was in a deep sleep. The second-oldest was almost asleep. The oldest and the third child were still awake, texting friends and reading, respectively.

The third child, who has been smarter than I am since he was about four, asked what time it was. When I told him, he said, "You're taking us to the midnight showing of the Hobbit, aren't you?"

So much for a surprise. :o)

The oldest son groaned and whined when I said we were going to a movie at midnight. When I said he could sleep in the next morning, however, he jumped out of bed and exclaimed, "YESSS!" :o)

Even though I had to sit through essentially three hours of hobbits and dwarves and orks and that's three hours of my life I can't ever have back again, it was so worth it.

To see their excitement. To hear my oldest daughter admonish her siblings when voices got a little snarky, with "Hey guys! Let's just have fun tonight. No fighting, okay?" To have my sweet little one tuck her head under my arm in the darkened theater and fall asleep. To hear the whole way home and all the next day how fun it was and how glad they were that we got to go.

And then on Friday. When the unfathomable happened. When a small town in Connecticut began to live every parent's nightmare, I 100% knew my children were safe. I could physically hug each and every one of them in that moment. I didn't have to wait or wonder or worry.

Life is short. Every moment is a gift. We aren't guaranteed another one. Any one of us. I'm so glad we took that moment.

Thanks, Steph, for suggesting it.

And the Darwin Award Goes To...

Small son. My third-born. My Willie Mays.

Who thought this was appropriate school attire yesterday.

When the thermometer in the car that registers outside temperature fluctuated between 10 and 11 degrees on the ride to school.

I won't at all be shocked to see this kid wear a sweater, jeans and a scarf in Southern California.


And the answer to your question is yes. I was purposely 15 minutes late picking him up from school so that he could stand around and be cold in the (heat wave) 25 degree weather at 3:30pm.

And yes. Today, he "dressed for the weather,"--pairing his shorts and T-shirt with a thin hoodie sweatshirt. Thermometer read 25 at 7:50 this morning.

Take that, Foster Cline and Jim Fey.

Text Savvy

Better Half installed a "text free" app on our youngest daughter's iPod touch before he left for the Golden State.

I assumed this was so that he and she could communicate via text, since her mean ogre-of-a-mother thinks that age 11 is too young for a cell phone.

This weekend, she found another *stellar* use for it.

Poor kid did wind up catching some nasty bug.  Fever, chills, headache, cough--the works.

So I did what I always do--set her up in my room with plenty of fluids, medicine, and hours of mindless TV.

Now, my room is toward the back of the house, so usually if my kiddos need me when I'm not routinely peeking in, they have to call for me.  The sound of them mustering the energy to make their voices heard always pulls at my heartstrings and goes along way toward them getting whatever they ask for.

My youngest child decided to be just a little bit more innovative this time and "conserve" her strength:

Yep.  This is what my phone looked like.  All. Day. Long.  Saturday and Sunday.

It took me three hours to clean the kitchen between all of this.

I've discovered that "Mommy, I need you" texts don't tug at my heartstrings.

They grate on my every. last. nerve.

And in the entire two days, I don't believe she sent one text to her dad in California.

Seriously??

Last week it was the oldest.
A throat infection that resulted in a peritonssilar abscess.  One trip to the MD, two trips to the ER and four prescriptions later, and she's back among the living.

Monday it was the second oldest.
Sore throat, cough, and a crushing pain in the chest and lungs when he tried to breathe.  One trip to the MD, OTC drugs and some R&R later and he's back among the living.

Today, it's number three.
Only it's dry-heaves and stuff I won't mention.  The kind of stuff that we don't take to the MD, because if you even look at someone with what this looks like it might gear up to be, you catch it.  And we don't want to be the people that pass that around the waiting room and infect the whole town.

As I write this, the youngest just came up to me with tears in her eyes, complaining because she aches all over.

Seriously??

I have no words.

The Natural Progression of Things

If your birthday falls on a school day when you are in fifth grade, you have to bring treats to school.

If your birthday falls on "National Cookie Day," the treat has to be cookies.

Since it's December, the cookies have to sport a winter theme. Snowmen are always a good winter theme that's not too Christmas-y.

And since the temperatures lately have been in the low 70s...

Happy birthday, Kiddo!

Thank You, Auto Correct...

For actually helping me out for once and changing "thong," which one should NEVER text...to "thing," which is what I intended.

Since the text was regarding my 10 year-old daughter, I am doubly grateful.

I will try not to call you "stupid" again for at least a week.

Dear Santa,

Our local paper has a feature during the holiday season called Santa's Mailbox where kids' letters to Santa are published.

This past Friday, the letter of my youngest daughter's best friend and oldest friend was included:

Brings tears to my eyes  Every.  Time.  I see it.

What ARE we going to do in SoCal without friends like this?

Shooting Hoops

First game of the year!

The Joys of Home Ownership

This is what I used to have.

Okay.  Fine.  Not this exactly, but I didn't get to the basement fast enough to capture the one I did on film.  The guys from Jim's Plumbing work FAST.  But this is a pretty close approximation.

Our house was built in the late 50s.  The furnace was put in...wait for it...in the late 50s.  Now, I like vintage.  I like original.  I really do.  Until I hear things like:

You've NEVER had this thing serviced in the 11 years you've lived here?
This thing is never gonna pass any home inspection.
There's a hole.  It probably won't leak gas because, well, heat rises, but...
I can TRY to make something to cover it...but...
If you wait to replace it until a bank makes you for a loan (and they will), your cost is going to be twice what it will cost now because the efficiency codes are increasing to 90% in just a couple of months.
Really unsafe.
Every day you get with this is a gift.
Carbon Monoxide.

Now as of yesterday, I have this.

It's new.  It's shiny.  It's safe.  It's expensive.  I hope EVERYONE who comes to look at my house to buy it notices the new, shiny, safe, expensive furnace.  My utility bills better look nicer.  There better be less dust in my house.

Because now I don't have this.

My love affair with home ownership is So. Over.