The Taped Door

The doorbell rang and a guy from housing maintenance stood on the other side of it.

“I’m here to replace your door,” he informed me.

He was here to replace this one:



As you may recall, we also have another broken door:



This one happened on purpose when I tried to be Jet Li and break open the knob when I couldn’t unlock it.

As you can see, that didn’t work out so well. The door wound up with a crack and I ended up with a throbbing foot and a bruise.

I had showed the housing maintenance worker that door when they had first dropped by a week before to see exactly what needed to be replaced. I didn’t bother to lie in explaining the crack.

“Yeah so my daughter had locked the door and I couldn’t get it open so I decided to use my karate moves to get it open. But it turns out I have no karate moves so…” and then I trailed off and tried to look sweet and innocent.

The worker had raised an eyebrow and was all, “KARATE moves?” in a shocked tone. Then he had scratched the side of his head as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say next. I suppose I may have been the first occupant in base housing who tried to kick a door in. “You know you’re going to have to pay for this?” he said. “Karate moves or not.” A smile was playing on the corner of his lips.

I nodded knowingly. “Right. I figured. I just wanted to report it.”

Then I had showed the guy the other broken door.

I swear, I had nothing to do with this one.

The kids were playing and I all of a sudden heard a thump. Then Natalie walked out with this piece:



She told me quite seriously, “Door broken.”

“Did you try and karate chop this one too?” the worker asked warily when I had showed him the hole.

I shook my head. “No sir!”

He peered at the door piece that I had handed over. “Is that…tape on the end? Did you try to tape it back on the door?”

My cheeks felt warm. “Well. I might have.”



I didn’t know what else to do! Tape was the first thing that came to mind! As it is, the tape did nothing and the piece just came right off again.

“Tape?” the worker repeated as though he couldn’t believe it. He was probably thinking, “Okay, first she karate kicks a door and then she tries to tape a piece back on. She’s clearly a nutter.”

I am NOT a nutter. I just…well, sometimes my imagination gets the better of me and I start to believe that I CAN be a karate master if I just put my mind to it. Or that tape will surely hold a piece together.

Thank goodness it was a different worker who came to replace the door. (And he only came to replace the door with the hole. They can’t replace the one upstairs because they were worried about damaging our stuff when they removed it.)

Of course when the worker came inside, Tom was emerging from the bathroom. He had been able to come home from lunch and as he walked out he didn’t see the worker. So he said (loudly), “Wow, that was my third crap of the day. I can’t believe it.” Then he noticed me standing there with the guy beside me who had a bewildered look on his face.

“Er Tom?” I said in an embarrassed squeak. “The guy from housing maintenance is here to replace the door.” I gestured towards the worker who had pinched in cheeks like he was trying hard not to laugh.

Tom coughed and went, “Oh. Hi there,” and quickly scurried into the kitchen. I imagine he was appalled.

I mean, I was appalled. I put myself in the worker’s position: suppose I had walked into a home and the owner had been discussing his number twos? This is why I’ve told Tom time and time again that I could care less about what goes on in the bathroom. But he doesn’t seem to comprehend this. Maybe now he will.

"So, um, I'll show you the broken door," I said, trying to pretend like Tom had never spoken at all.

The guy frowned when he saw the hole. "What happened here? And is that tape on the end of that piece?"

Okay, is it SO shocking that I tried to tape it back?

Note to self: never use tape to fix a piece of the door.

The Orange Spray Adventure

Tsssssss. Tsssssss.

I heard the hissing sound as I scrubbed off the refrigerator. It always seems to get covered with crayon or some mysterious residue that’s a cross between mud and yogurt. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I don’t know. All I know is that it always seems to wind up on the handle and that I have to scrub it off each night.

Tsssssss. Tssssss. Tsssssss.

What in the world?

Was that---

Could Tom have---

“Tom! That’s disgusting. Say excuse me!” I shouted to him. He was busy playing his airplane game on the computer which means he didn’t have his headphones on for once.

Tom paused his game and whirled around. “Why should I say excuse me?”

Tssssss. Tssssss.

“Because of that! How gross.” I immediately pinched my nose because if you don’t, you’ll die.

“I’m not farting! That’s not me!” Tom shouted indignantly.

I just gave him a Look and went back to washing the fridge. Then I heard it again:

Tssssss. Tssssss.

“Tom, honestly. If you’re going to fart, own it,” I said sharply.

Tom paused his game again. “I’m telling you! It’s not me.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “How do I know it’s not YOU?” He shot me an accusing stare.

I was aghast. “Why would I accuse you of farting if it were really me?” I demanded.

Tom shrugged. “Who knows? Girls are weird!”

Tsssss. Tssssss.

Tom and I both glared at each other.

“So if it’s not you...and it’s not me...who is it?” I wondered.

Tom scanned the room. “Wait a minute. Natalie isn’t here…”

Crap!

It’s never a good thing when your two-year-old wanders off and is QUIET.

So I immediately shoved aside the Lysol and headed for the stairs.

This is where I found my daughter. Playing with this:



Basically she was spraying herself with Citrus Breeze. And when you spray the thing, it makes a hissing noise.

“Natalie Elizabeth! No!” I admonished.

She grinned at me and pressed the spray button. “I smell pretty,” she informed me as she danced in the droplets of Citrus Breeze.

I scooped her up and nearly passed out from the stench. I hope she doesn’t turn into one of those women who practically bathes in perfume and think that they actually smell NICE.

I carried her downstairs. “Your daughter was getting into the sprayer thing,” I told Tom.

Tom took one look at Natalie and burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny! It’s wasteful. She’s going to smell like oranges for a week!” I said. I ran my fingers through her damp hair. “Suppose her hair starts to fall out?”

Tom waved a hand dismissively in the air. “It won’t. She’s fine.”

I glared down at Natalie. “You owe me $3.99 for the spray stuff,” I informed her.

Natalie fluttered her eyelashes at me. “I smell pretty.”

“You smell like you've been bathing in orange juice for hours,” I said.

“I yike oranges,” Natalie answered sweetly.

“Well, that’s great. Because you’ll probably be smelling like them for awhile.”

A Photoshoot with Natalie

"Hey Natalie? Do you want to take some pictures in your new Gymboree outfits?"



"Oh, don't give me that look. Remember you get to watch Yo Gabba Gabba afterward."



"No, I don't think we'll be watching Snow White afterward. Mommy is a little tired of that movie. Stop giving me that look."



"You can say Princess and Castle all you want. Let's take a break from Snow White today, okay?"



"Okay, now can you smile for the camera?"



*Singing a Yo Gabba Gabba song*



"You want another song? And you want me to jump around like a fool? Oh, fine."



"Okay Natalie. Now picture women actually wanting to have sex with David Letterman!"



"Let's try on your other outfit. Okay?"



"Show everyone the Panda!"



"Yes I know. It's just like on Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan. No, we're not watching it right now. Stop giving me that look."



"Shoot! Run and hide, Natalie. There's the thirty-something-year-old woman who loves to talk about Twilight. She doesn't seem to comprehend that I could care less that New Moon is coming out next month.



"Natalie, I see her. Stop pointing at her or she might come over here!



"Phew, she didn't stop here. Maybe my frightened expression scared her off. Now smile for Mommy!"



"What's that? You're not giving me a real smile until I jump around like a fool again? Ugh, fine."



"Mommy is going to make some chili tonight. Wait, why are you laughing at me? It's going to be edible, I swear.."



"Okay, darling, remember this shirt is white which makes me a little nervous. So you aren't planning on getting it dirty, are you? Why do you look like you're thinking it over?"



"Alright Natalie, last frame! I mean, last picture. Sorry, Mommy may have been watching America's Next Top Model..."

Columbus Day Rants

I’m writing this Monday night.

And I’m annoyed.

Tom was off today thanks to Christopher Columbus. Tommy was off today thanks to Christopher Columbus. Natalie was....well, Natalie was here seeing as she’s only two.

But still. At the moment I can’t help but be a tad irritated at Mr. Columbus.

My husband Tom was stretched out on the couch watching Hi Hao, Kai-Lan with Natalie earlier. He felt the need to answer the television. For instance, Kai-Lan just asked if we wanted to learn a Chinese word. Tom went, “No thanks. No. Not at all.”

Then Kai-Lan asked us why we thought Tolee was upset. Or was in Rintoo? I don’t know. One of the animals on the show was seriously pitching a fit.

“Duh! He’s upset because he can’t roller skate!” Tom shouted. “Amber, is this show serious?”

I had to remind him that the show is intended for children.

Kai-Lan asked what we could do to make Tolee happy.

“Take the skates away and tell the little sh—” Tom began.

“TOM!” I admonished. “You can’t curse in front of the c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n.”

“Children! Why did you spell children?” Tommy wondered.

It really is so much fun now that he’s learning to spell.

Tom frowned. “What I meant to say is…just take the skates away from him! Not everyone can skate. It’s okay, really.”

But obviously the show was about the importance of practicing to get better so Tolee had to keep trying.

Tom was about to open his mouth to say something else but I went, “Look. If you say one more thing about the show I’m switching it to Yo Gabba Gabba.”

That shut him right up because Yo Gabba Gabba frightens him. In fact, at first he thought I was yanking his leg when I put on the program.

“This is on Comedy Central, right? Making fun of extreme children’s programming?” Tom asked as he walked in the room and saw the creatures singing about a party in their tummies.

“No Tom. It’s a real children’s show,” I had said.

Tom stared at me in disbelief. “No it’s not! It’s on Comedy Central! A children’s show wouldn’t have a diseased dildo as a character,” he said, pointing out Muno who I’m sorry, does sort of resemble the male genitalia.

He eventually realized that Yo Gabba Gabba was a real show. And I forced him to watch it before.

And now he’s still traumatized.

So when I threatened to put on Yo Gabba Gabba, he shut his mouth.

Then later Tommy didn’t want to do his homework. Technically, it’s not homework. It’s just some classwork that he didn’t get to finish because he’s pulled out of his regular classroom to the resource room for reading and math. Still, I tell him that he needs to finish his classwork and he was not pleased with this.

“My teacher said I didn’t have to bring it back!” he kept whining.

I rubbed my temples. My head was starting to throb. At that point after being in the house with no breathing space I was beginning to lose my patience.

“Just finish the work, Tommy. It’s important to finish what you start,” I said through clenched teeth.

He did it, but when he was done he looked me in the eye and went, “I’m not your son anymore,” before stomping up to his room.

I put my head in my hands and groaned. Then Natalie came up and tapped me on the arm. “Mommy? I pooped,” she said sweetly. I lifted up my head and peered at her. “Go ask Daddy to take care of it.”

“Okay,” Natalie said and rushed off to Tom. “Daddy! I pooped!”

And then I heard HIM say, “Go tell Mommy.”

Are you KIDDING me?

What I wanted to do was scream, “I just need five minutes to myself. JUST FIVE MINUTES!” But I didn’t. I changed the diaper. I shot Tom dirty looks while doing it. Then I went to unload the dishwasher. And while I was bending down to retrieve the silverware, Tom was suddenly behind me, humping my back.

I don’t get it. Whenever I bend over he’s always there humping my back. Does he sense when I’ve bent over? Is it like a Spidey sense? Like, do men suddenly get an alarm in their brain that goes, “Alert! Alert! Ass in the air. I repeat: ASS IN THE AIR!”

“Tom. Please,” I said, pushing his gyrating hips away. “Not in the mood.”

“What else is new?” Tom grumbled.

EXCUSE ME?

I can’t help that I’m tired. And at that point I was moody because I just needed a little bit of quiet time. I barely get it now since Natalie has been refusing her naps. I used to get two hours of peace. But not anymore.

“Just turn the TV on for her if you want quiet,” is Tom’s suggestion.

But I don’t like to just shove my kids in front of the television. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am not anti-television. No way. Without television I don’t think I’d get a thing done. The kids usually get to watch at least two hours a day and even then I imagine the American Association of Pediatrics would like to pound on my door, reminding me that kids should only get ONE HOUR of television per day and shame on me.

Anyhow, now everyone is in bed and I’m enjoying my quiet time.

I get to watch television without being interrupted!

I can check my e-mail without someone hanging over my shoulder.

I get to—

Crap.

Natalie is crying.

Nevermind.

Four Wheel Drive

Over the weekend, we were dumped with snow.





Most people would stay indoors.

But not us.

No. Tom was all, “Do you want to go to Target? I need to get new headphones since you vacuumed up my other ones.”

Okay, first of all, I didn’t vacuum up his headphones. Just the cord. And it wasn’t totally MY fault. If he had picked up his cord instead of leaving it on the floor, then I wouldn’t have sucked it up now would I?

“Tom. It’s icy outside. I don’t think it’s safe,” I reminded him, peering out the window.

“You forget that we have the power of...FOUR WHEEL DRIVE!” Tom boomed, punching the air as he shouted the words FOUR WHEEL DRIVE.

He startled me, actually. You don’t start speaking normally and then suddenly shout. It’s just poor taste.

“I mean...I guess,” I agreed.

So we all trooped out to the truck. I slipped as I stepped up on the foot rail to get into my seat. There was some ice there so I went face first into the seat. And it’s leather so it smacked me in the forehead.

“Stupid truck,” I muttered as I settled down.

Tom’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Excuse me?” He’s seriously in love with his truck. Sometimes I want to say, “Why don’t I just leave the two of you alone?”

There was a small mound of snow at the edge of our driveway. I wasn’t sure if we’d even be able to get out.

“That looks rather high,” I commented.

“Ahhh. To other cars, it would be too high. But not when you have FOUR WHEEL DRIVE!” Tom yelled, gripping the wheel excitedly.

I jumped again and massaged my ear. “Could you not scream like that?”

We burst right through the snow. We didn’t even skid once.

When we got to Target I started doing my normal Target rounds. For those who don’t know, this means I look everywhere because you never know where you’ll find things for 75% off. Tom found me wandering the towel area.

“I’m confused. Why are we here?”

He always asks me why I’m in a certain section even though I’ve told him a billion times that when I’m in Target, I have to look everywhere.

“Some of the college stuff is 75% off. Look at this comforter! Only nine bucks! Too bad that it’s twin sized,” I mused.

Tom made a face. “We don’t need any comforters. Even if they are 75% off. We have a perfectly good comforter.”

I patted his head lovingly. Poor deranged Tom.

He started to get impatient when I went down another aisle. “Amber. I’m ready to go home. I found what I needed. I had to shovel snow for nearly an hour and I’m tired and cranky and I just want to go home! ”

Geez.

Target buzz kill.

I told him I’d give up looking down the kitchenware aisles even though it pained me to do so. One time I found a new saucepan for only eight dollars! And it was the Cephalon expensive kind too. But does Tom appreciate that? No, he doesn’t.

On the drive home some of the roads looked a little frightening.

“Be careful,” I warned Tom.

“Don’t worry,” he said seriously. “We won’t skid. Because we have the power of FOUR WHEEL DRIVE! Hey. Why are you covering your ears?”

“So I won’t go deaf,” I answered.

Oh, and one more thing. Tom wants me to remind everyone that you must make sure all the snow is removed from your back window and your license plate before you drive. Tom says that if he were a state trooper that he’d pull over all those people with the covered plates. Apparently he counted over ten people who had their license plate covered with snow and this bothered him.

“I’d pull you over. And I’ll pull you over. Oh, and I’ll pull you over too,” Tom pointed to cars as we drove along. “How hard is it for people to take care of their vehicles? How hard is it for people to care about other people’s safety?”

I think Tom has been married to me too long. He was starting a passionate speech. The same ones that I make when I’m trying to explain why I bought a dozen donuts AND Little Debbie snack cakes or where the bag of Gymboree clothes came from.

As we were nearly home, there was another mound of snow blocking our way. I could see Tom gearing up, prepared to say the words.

“I know, Tom, I know,” I said, cutting him off. “We’ll be okay. Because we have,” and I raised my voice at this, “FOUR WHEEL DRIVE!”

The End of an Era

It is early Saturday morning and already so much has been done and yet, there is so much left to do. Friday was such a disjointed day...It started out good...last day of the nine weeks, day before Fall Break begins,...life was not bad...until 7:05. My dear friend Anelia Bruce came to my room yesterday morning and wanted to talk about my dad and Thursday's move to the Healthcare Center. I had so much to do and really sat there wishing she would leave...when Frank walked in...and I knew from the look on his face...my dad's batttle with cancer was over. I felt as if I had been gut punched. I vaguely remember getting from my desk chair to Frank's car(which he parked in the bus line in front of our school...a no no!)...I remember hugging my boss, getting in the car and heading to Dadeville. The normally 15-20 minute ride seemed like hours. My mom did not know yet...they were waiting for me to get there to tell her. She was asleep when we arrived and looking so precious. I had a few moments with my dad and then we woke her up. The rest of the day is a blurr. We held the body at the Healthcare facility until my daughter, Kat got there...my cousin Judy, Kat, our D.S. (District Superintendent), his lovely wife, Jeannie, Frank's mentor, Dee Dowdy, and Blue came...along with Carol and Bill Meadows (Carol is a Hospice volunteer assigned to my dad....and her brother and his wife)all arrived and Dr. Stryker gathered us together and asked if we could lift up Blessed Assurance. I started it off...it felt so natural to be singing. Then he followed up with the sweetest prayer...and then the Healthcare Center called Radneys to come and get my father. The rest of us headed back to the house to begin to deal with the process of my dad's death and grieving. Judy and I, with the help of Kat and Mary picked out the stuff for my dad, got some pictures together, cleaned house and received guests. We went to the funeral home 12:30 to make arrangements and iron out all the details of the rest of the weekend. While we were at the funeral home we viewed the casket my dad chose...picked out books...and those of you who have ever been here....know what this is like. I can't even tell you much about the hour we were there...a sweet young man droned...and I tried to keep up. BUT...when the sweet little girl came in to talk with us about the little programs people pick up at the visitation and other stuff...I nearly laughed out loud. Sitting on a table were something she called memory candles...she talked about them...I half listened...until she told us that they were made from the flowers of the funeral....all of a sudden that seemed like the grossest thing I have ever heard and I looked at all the people at the table, Kat, Mom, Mark, Judy, Frank...and realized that they thought so too...I coughed to keep from laughing out loud...it was just one of those moments...that laughing would NOT have been the right thing to do. Who ever thought of a memory candle...come on! Anyways throughout the day people were called, people called, food showed up, the day came and went. I have to laugh because about 8:30 my mom asked me who all these people were in the house....I told her they were family and friends who loved Daddy and love her....she then followed up with, "Will they ever go away?" I had to laugh...we finally got her to go to bed about 9:45...and my sweet Mary and my sweet Judy told me they were staying the night because my mom might wander off...They talked me into laying down about 12:30. The visitation will be tonight at Radney's....from 5-8. We will all gather at the Methodist Church in Kellyton for lunch on Sunday around 12:45...Daddy will lie in state at the Kellyton Baptist Church from 2 - 3...the funeral will be at 3...and burial will follow at Hillview. My dad will be buried next to my brother. I want you all to know that I am ok. I am pleasantly numb right now. My dad died exactly as I would have wanted him to...he fell asleep and never woke up. He was so at peace when I saw him for the first time...he actually had a little smirk on his face...like "Ha Ha...beat cha!" And beat me he did...yesterday morning...when I got there...my dad was already sipping coffee with Judy's dad Wilson, his two other brothers...Cecil and Drew...and playing catch with my little brother. Mark, Drew's son...said yesterday that my dad, "Never let a lie get in the way of a good story."...so you see...I get it honest...Drew, Cecil, Wilson, Doug....they all had a story for you...and after yesterday I can't wait to share them with you. Bless You Real Good.

The Brownie Trick

The plan?

To trick Tom.

How?

To pretend that I was making his beloved Duncan Hines brownies when in reality I’d be making the Betty Crocker ones.

You see, Tom insists that Duncan Hines are the best brownies on earth. He refuses to eat any other because he claims that all the others are gross.

I don’t agree.

I’ll eat any brownie.

Tom will not.

Once I made the Betty Crocker brownies and he took a small nibble and said that it was awful.

So this is what I did:



I bought both boxes.

And I told Tom I’d make brownies. He saw the Duncan Hines box. But then when he was out in the living room, I switched and used the Betty Crocker mix.

When I slid the brownies into the oven, I brought the bowl out to Tom to lick up the batter.

You know I like you when I let you lick the batter. Usually the batter belongs to me. Salmonella be damned.

“Thanks!” Tom said brightly, taking the spoon I handed over. He took a bit of leftover batter and stuck it in his mouth. He didn’t have any strange reaction so I started to think, “See? He didn’t notice the difference!”

But then Tom made a face and stared hard at the bowl. “This tastes weird. Did you forget to add the eggs?”

He wasn’t being rude. I seriously forget to add things when I cook. Once I made chocolate chip cookies and forgot the chocolate chips. I do not know how it happened.

“I put everything in,” I assured him. Dammit! He figured it out! He--

Tom shrugged. “Hmm. Okay. It’s still good. It’s just…different.”

AHA. It’s STILL GOOD!

When the brownies came out I let them cool and then brought one out to Tom.

“Thanks!” he said again and took a big bite.

This time, there was no reaction.

I practically clicked my heels when I went back into the kitchen.

You see, Tom! You can eat Betty Crocker brownies and be just fine! I was already working out my Ha Ha I Fooled You Speech.

“Amber? I’m not trying to be rude here but this brownie tastes…off,” Tom said, coming into the kitchen.

CRAP!

I froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Um…” I stuttered. Sometimes I can be an awful liar. My face will turn bright red and my tongue freezes to the top of my mouth.

Tom narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you do?” He peered at the last bit of brownie in his hand and sniffed it. “What did you do?” Then his eyes swiveled to the trash can where I had stupidity tossed the Betty Crocker box. Tom and I raced for it at the same time. I stood in front of it, trying to block his view.

“I did nothing!” I shrieked.

“Yes you did!” Tom shouted, reaching his oversized hand around me. It’s not fair that men have longer limbs!

He managed to see the box that I had tried to hide under a paper plate.

“I KNEW it!” he said, pointing at me. “I KNEW it!”

I shook my head. “It’s not what it seems!” I shouted.

“It seems like you pretended to make Duncan Hines brownies when in reality you made Betty Crocker brownies!” Tom yelled, tapping the trash can.

Oh. Well then I guess it’s exactly what it seems.

“Amber. How many times do I have to tell you? Duncin Hines brownies are the best. Their commercial even says that ‘it’s not just a brownie.’ Because it’s not,” Tom lectured.

“If it’s not just a brownie, then what else is it?” I teased.

Tom looked momentarily confused. “Well. I don’t know. But what I do know is that Duncan Hines brownies rule.” He frowned at the Betty Crocker brownies. “And I don’t know what those are. But they aren’t brownies.” And then he stalked out of the kitchen.

I didn’t mind though.

Not really.

Because hey!

It means more brownies for me.