HGTV, Call Me!

This past week we (Tim & I, I mean) have squeezed every last bit of life out of our carcasses to move out of our apartment. Between painting the new place and scrubbing down the old one, we have torn ourselves up to make this move happen. At one point, I was on all fours on the carpet telling my sister, "My lower back gave out!" My 4-year-old niece, thinking I was playing around, hopped on top of me. I slammed face first into the ground as my fingers bent awkwardly beneath me. Through a mouthful of carpet I said, "And now my fingers are sprained."

I resurrected many times after incidents like that because, hey, the closets won't paint themselves, right? Every day as we went to sleep at 2 or 3 A.M. and got up at 6:30, we comforted ourselves with, "It's almost over, it's almost over ..." 6:30 would come, and Rain would wake up all, "Hey, guys! So later I was thinking we could go to the park or that fun bookstore where they leave all those books on low shelves for me, but first, breakfast!"

Her schedule never changed, so she couldn't understand why Mommy's favorite new game was, "I'll Lie Here and You Can Crawl on My Head for All I Care" TM. At times I felt like a terrible mom because I would fall asleep randomly during the day, and I had to drop Rain off at my sister's a lot so I could work on the house. My email is backed up and bills are slipping through the cracks 'cause I'm just too tired to deal. Today we're going to clean up our old place, and hopefully we'll be ready to turn in our keys tomorrow night.

What I need to do is get on one of those HGTV design shows & let the professionals deal with this. You know, those shows where they redo someone's house because the person is like a single mom who is a purple heart war vet and now runs an orphanage. The only problem is I need a warm/fuzzy story, so that I get my name put at the top of the list. But without a terrible disease, bankruptcy, or orphan to my name, my chances of a home makeover are slim.

Unless ...

Do they have a show about new home owners who keep getting messed over by service technicians? If they do, tah-dah! I'm your gal. After the whole AT&T debacle, I was done in by enough bad service reps to surely qualify for a show. Not only did our appliance delivery guys have to return both our refrigerator & washer due to shipping damage (thanks, by the way, for scraping rubber on the laundry room walls I just painted, gentlemen), our carpet installers sliced through the wires connecting our newly installed home security system. Of course they didn't tell me they did this (had to have a Brinks guy check it out) because they probably figured I was mad at them already for not ordering enough carpet to finish the house (see you next week, guys!). And the plumber--did I tell y'all about the plumber that ripped us off? And who cleans a chimney in 20 minutes and charges $150??

Blood pressure rising

Forget Deserving Design; I'm gonna end up on an episode of ER.

The Scene

We are officially moving from our apartment on the last Saturday of this month. Every day until then, I'm going to lose 5% of my hair. The stress, stress, stress is making me a mess, mess, mess. The hardest thing is I can't do a lot of the stuff I need to do to get our new place ready (pack, paint, child-proof ...) when Rain is with me. I want her to hang out with me, but I can't sand wood in one hand and cuddle her with the other, right? So, I've been having my sister watch Rain a lot. I try to bring Rain with me whenever I can, but when I do ... well, here's what happened today:

I took Rain with me to buy paint. She was asleep when I took her out of the car, so I thought, "Sweet! I can shop in peace!" Well, ten minutes into the trip, Rain wakes up. She LOVES going to home improvement stores, because everything dangerous and pricey is out on the floor with no locks. Stacks and rows of toxic sprays, glues, & pesticides? Weeeee!

Well, I tried and tried to keep her in the cart, but she started crying and screaming. I tried carrying her--no go. She wanted to walk, and I was annoying her. After a few minutes, she was crawling all over me as I tried to restrain her. At one point, I sat her down to put on her shoe (yeah, by this time she had lost a shoe and was foaming at the mouth). She screamed, and it echoed along the aisles of metal cans and bounced off all the ears of the retired and childless men shopping at that hour.

"See??"I hissed at Rain. "I'm that lady at the store with a screaming kid who everyone hates! See who you've made Mommy into?"

I was so mad, I got up and walked off. "Fine!" I said. "I'm done with this!" I walked about five feet and peeked behind me. Rain turned her back to me (with a sassy flourish, no less!) and stomped off in the opposite direction. So, I walked another three feet and looked again. Rain had stopped as well. This is the part that troubles me most: after checking to see that I wasn't looking (I was), she hid behind a barrel in the aisle.

"Is she trying to make me believe she really ran off?" I thought. I ran towards the side of the barrel, and looked down on her. She was spying on the spot where I had just been. She was trying to punk me out! My mouth dropped open as she leaned out a bit like, "Now where did that silly woman go?"

"Rain!" I said, annoyed. She turned back and smiled like, "Yeah, I knew you'd be back."

Ugh! I was so mad. Rain knew it, too. For the next hour, she kept reading my eyes in this freaky sort of way. I think she was trying to decipher if I was mad, or if I was amused. She sort of smiled but all fake like. Her eyes said, "What is Mommy thinking? How can I bend these thoughts to my will?" I kept a straight face, but shook my head a few times to hint, "I'm not happy, and this isn't the end of it."

In conclusion: who is available to babysit this week? What--was it something I said?

AT&T'd Off

AT&T.

Where shall I begin, mine enemy? Ye vile, wanton lord of the Internet! How dare ye call yourself an "Internet SERVICE Provider?" Do ye deal in service, or is it not proper to say ye pass your duties to India? Knoweth ye not that the road to Hell is paved with poor connections??

Anger makes me speak King James-ish. Aghh! I am so through with AT&T. Yesterday, I spent 1 hour on the phone with them. All the while, Rain was running around the new house looking for bugs to eat, ladders to climb, and bottled cleaners to drink. Not only was I transferred FIVE times, but each one of them asked me my name, address, phone number, etc. Why doesn't an Internet service provider have, I don't know, a network for its own?? Then I got transferred to India! Now, I love my Indian folk, and the reps are as polite as can be, but I don't understand them and they clearly don't understand me. Do I fault them? Nope. AT&T should stop trying to save a buck & hire some more American reps. At least then I'll understand how terrible the service is. Honestly, why can't they get it together? Do they not have Outlook or Networking for Dummies? I had to talk to them again today, and seriously, this is a sample of yesterday's & today's conversations:

Yesterday (Me & the American rep)
Me: The problem is, someone was supposed to connect our fax line on Monday as well as a main line. But, only our main line was connected.
Rep: I see. Well, or records show someone is coming on Thursday to connect the second line.
Me: Thursday? This is the first I've heard of this. What time on Thursday?
Rep: 8 A.M. to 8 P.M.
Me: I don't live in this home yet, so I'm not here a lot. Could you give me a smaller window of time?
Rep: Let me transfer you to our repair department--
Me: --no! I've already been transferred there before, and they transferred me to you--
*click*
New Rep: Thank you for contacting AT&T. What is the phone number your are calling about?

Today (Me & the Indian rep)
Me: I'm having problems with our email. We can receive email but not send it.
Rep: Ok. To assist you, I need your mother's maiden name for security purposes.
Me: (I give the name, but then realize that the main account holder is Tim, so they probably need his mother's maiden name) Actually, the name is--
Rep: I'm sorry, your initial answer was incorrect.
Me: I know, it's actually--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes, I need you mother's maiden name.
Me: I KNOW. The name is Sor--
Rep: I'm sorry. Because you answered incorrectly, you will have to fax me an ID, proof of your address, and--
Me: What? Seriously? Look, we're not even done moving into this house. We don't have a fax machine set up--
Rep: I'm sorry, because of security purposes ...

Pardon Me

I felt kind of bad for Rain today because most of her toys were packed up. So, when I had to pack or clean, she had to entertain herself with--yikes--her imagination. That lasted about 20 minutes, then she looked at me like, "So ... when are we going to get a Wii like Aunt Gina has?" o I tried out a time-tested parental phrase like, "What am I? Made of money?" and a fresh one, too: "Hey, it was either a Wii for you or a new stainless steel refrigerator with built-in ice maker for us. Would you like a cool glass of water?"


So, it was time to break out the books. Before Rain was mobile, she liked books. When she began to crawl and walk, all of a sudden books were for rocks. I'm holding on to the time where she will love them again. Anyway, so I grabbed 2 books, one for each of us. Rain opened her book on her lap.

I picked up the other book and read a sentence to Rain. She smiled, moved closer to me, and took the book from my hand. Still smiling, she closed the book, and put it next to her.

"You don't like that one, huh?" I said. "OK, let's try this one."

I took the book sitting on her lap and read a page aloud. Rain smiled, took the book from me, and closed it. After a meaningful look, she handed the same book back to me.

I opened it again and started to read. She reached for the book.

"What?" I said, "What's wrong?" Then I got it. "Oh ... you don't want me to read aloud." Rain smiled, and we each looked at our own books quietly. Pardon me, madame.

Abuser

It rained on my way home tonight. Without an umbrella in the car, I was forced to race to my front door barefoot (my dressy shoes would've caused an injury) with my huge diaper bag over one shoulder and a sleeping Rain over the other. I quickly said hello to Tim on my way in (by that I mean I hissed, "It's cold in here!"), and put Rain gently into the crib. I took off her shoes, and she fell back to sleep.

I walked out of the room, and finally go to say a proper hello to Tim, who I hadn't seen all day. A few minutes later, I went to the bathroom. While I was there, I could hear Rain crying. She must've woken up in the dark room and wondered where she was. I heard Tim go into the bedroom to get her. She continued to cry for a bit then stopped. When I stepped out of the bathroom again, Rain was crying.

Tim said, "You want to hear about what kind of abuser she is?"

Sure, I'm always up for that.

"Well," he said, "she started crying, so I went to get her. I tried to walk her around, but she kept crying. So, I took her out to the living room, and when she saw you weren't here, she stopped crying. She started to fall asleep, and then she heard you flush the toilet. Her head shot up, and her face looked like, 'Ha! She's here!'"

So, by the time I opened the door, the waterworks were on. Bad baby! Bad!

100 & Rightiest

Today is my 100th post since Rain was born. That's just madness.

Carry on.

So, a moment of reflection is in order, I'm sure. After an incident today, I thought about what the hardest thing about parenting is. I'm sure it's different for everybody, but for me it's "rightiest." Look, I'm a Type B+ personality (not quite as psycho as an A, but definitely prone to overdoing stuff), and that means I'm always torn between doing what's right and rightiest.

Oh, I know my fellow grammarians (halla if you love semicolons) are shouting, "There is no such word!" But, my syntax-loving brethren, let me explain. Sometimes I find myself debating what I think is right versus what I feel is right. I can't say one is "more right," because then it feels like I'm saying one choice is wrong. Neither choice seems wrong, but one seems rightier. For example, let's say I'm working on a business project at home. After a few minutes, I really get into it, and here comes Rain. She toddles in with her two very cute teeth, a smile, and a look like, "So ... are we going outside now? I've been playing quietly for a while now." She got these big cheeks, right? And she's all giggling like, "How fun am I? Who wouldn't want to play with me?" There I am thinking about all the work I have to do. Don't I want to show her a good work ethic by example? Don't I want her to be independent? Isn't some of the money we make going into her piggy bank (and by "piggy bank" I mean high-interest-yielding online savings fund) after all?
It's not that working is bad. Playing with Rain definitely isn't wrong. But what's rightiest?? Let's say someone always picks up extra hours at work to save for her kid's education or just to buy fun stuff for her. Nothing wrong with that. But, if she starts missing all her kid's ball games and whatnot because she works, well, now she's skipping out on good things. Then I'm thinking, "That is SO me. I could work every weekend to pay for Rain's college, and then when I turn 40, someone will hit me with a car. I'll miss all her Saturday games, and still not see her graduate!"

That kind of thinking is downright dangerous. I mean physically dangerous. Several times in Rain's short life I have made bad choices because I get distracted doing something that I think is best. The choice wasn't bad, but it definitely wasn't the rightiest.

Today Rain & I went out for our daily walk. I did the whole mommy thing & put Rain in shorts, bathed her in SPF 50, & brought a sufficient water supply (plus snacks). I put her in her stroller for 15 minutes, then let her walk beside me. She toddled down the sidewalk and walked all over the grass in her spiffy new leather shoes (softies for newbie walkers). After forty minutes, I decided it was time to come in. The heat was too much, & Rain looked sleepy. We were playing in the grassy field in front of our apartment, so thankfully, the walk home would be short.

I was about to slip Rain into her stroller when I noticed a large spider sitting on the fabric hood. I put Rain down next to me and told her, "Mommy has to get this guy out of your seat, then we'll go home." I shook the fabric for a second, but the spider didn't move. I frowned, shook the fabric again, and the spider jumped to the grass.

"Yay!" I said to Rain.

Who was no longer there.

I looked up, and there Rain was, toddling 12-15 feet from me. In the few seconds I was messing with the spider, Rain had run towards our apartment door. The front of our first-floor apartment is much lower than the surrounding landscape, so it looks as if you're going underground when you walk up to our door. The problem was that to get to our apartment Rain would have go down a stairwell. On either side of this stairwell is a 3-4 ft drop-off. Below that is nothing but cement and stone landscaping.

As I saw Rain toddle towards the edge of the drop-off, 3 things happened:

One, even though I took off running, I knew I would never make it. She was too far ahead of me.

Two, I felt instant guilt. This is the day, I thought, where I screw up our lives. She'll break her neck, and I'll kill myself.

Three, I screamed, "RAINNNNN!"

Now, when I say, "Rain!" from time to time--let's say, when she runs off with my car keys--Rain always runs faster. Even when I'm annoyed because she's spilling something across the carpet, she runs because she thinks it's a game. To her, calling after her is a sign you want to play chase.

But, when I shouted, "RAINNNNN!" I tell you my soul was in it. I screamed that scream that people do when horror is inevitable. Anyone outside probably turned to look.

Rain stopped, looked back at me, and I tackled her. I was thrilled, mad, happy, & scared. "Thank you, God!" I said. I told Rain, "Your Father was watching out for you, because your mommy is an idiot." I know I'm not an idiot, but I felt like one. I was mad for making the right decision to rid Rain's stroller of the spider, but not the rightiest one: watching her. I should've held her hand while I was distracted or kept her in front of me. Every few weeks something like that happens, and I feel lousy. I try to do the right thing but plenty of times it's not the rightiest thing.

... Wowzers, I could never be an inspirational speaker. I'm getting a weight off my chest by tossing it on my back! Yikes. Ok, on the upside, welp, Rain's a pretty happy & healthy kid. During the 99 posts before this, I can say Rain & me have had a great, although unpredictable, time. The only one who could say anything different would be Rain.

And she can't type.

War of the Wills

Rain, honey, put those pants down. We don't touch things that aren't ours. Put those pants down now, please, before--are you trying to match it??


Come on, sweetie, smile for the picture. Your great grandma and auntie were nice enough to send you a gift, so how 'bout a smile? Keep your hat on, please. Smile. Keep your hat on. Smile. Keep your hat on ...


Rain! No more clothes. Didn't I say no more already?


Wait for mommy, please. Wait for mommy. WAIT for mommy. WAIT FOR MOMMY!!