Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Life on Top of the Refrigerator



     Everyone has a clutter spot in their home – one or at least a few. We have a few. In fact, we have more than I care to admit. Ours happens to be on top of the refrigerator in the space between the cupboard and the appliance itself. If there is dust to be found, among other places, this is where one would find it.  Our refrigerator single-handedly, magnetically attracts all or most of the dust in our house towards the back or on top. There is, miraculously, no dust on the front. What IS on the front are lots of grubby fingerprints from starving children who have just come home from school and from the stern mother who has repeatedly slammed the door shouting “No popsicles before supper!”  The following is a summary of what I have found in the catch-all basket that sits on top waiting for stuff to be thrown into it:

The tape – it can usually be found here , but sometimes it is missing altogether. In fact, I’m surprised to find it here today. The wiener dog’s new collar –  Wiener does NOT like the new collar I got him; he likes his OLD collar much better and we all agree he looks much better in red than he does in camo anyway. Last year’s Valentine’s cards from my son’s class – you mean I haven’t thrown those away yet?  My daughter cherishes hers forever, while my son chows down on the candy. Who cares if there’s some girl who writes she loves him forever. He’ll never know…or care. Chapstick – the hubby’s lips are nonexistent, but boy are they smooth. Mine are as parched as the Saharan desert, but I still forget to use chapsick. The nail clipper I keep forgetting to return to the mother-in-law. "Here, clip Wiener’s toenails with this."  I tried that. He gave me his loudest most plaintive dachshund screech ever before I could even clip the first nail. 

The list is endless, but one thing’s for sure. Our clutter is one more reminder that we are fully alive and busy with life and that much of it is lived on top of the refrigerator.

Monday, August 13, 2012

The Paint Wars


Some would say that the truest test to determine the strength of one’s marriage is the birth of a child. This is somewhat true. My husband and I did have our ups and downs as we have raised our children, but apparently we have weathered those storms. But I would say that another source of contention is this…what color to paint the living room. Seriously. Thanks to the ever popular and often quoted book, “Mars vs. Venus,” we know that it is no secret that men and women think differently, and apparently this concept, whether inherently scientific or not, can also be applied to painting the family room. 

For some strange reason, the male species is a varied one on the opinion of paint color. Type 1 husbands or significant others will humbly defer all painting decisions to their wives. The husband merely slaps the stuff on the wall. If the wife complains he can simply say, “It was your decision dear.” This is ideal and wise; however, there is the type two variation who must have a say in every painting decision. He figures he is the expert painter by default and must have a say in what color goes on the wall. My husband belongs to this club. No one could fault him for not expressing himself and it becomes inevitable that we must compromise; thus we, as a couple, have become the bane of paint stores everywhere. 

Paint stores have done nothing to alleviate the Paint Wars between men and women, or couples of any persuasion. In fact, their marketing strategies revolve around and thrive on couple wars. You still must choose from thousands of paint colors as well as a variety of name brands. It’s not just “Country Blue” anymore;” it’s “Just a Hue of Blue,” “Sapphire Surprise,” or “Icy Morning.” How I’d love to be the person behind the desk naming these, but since I’m so disgruntled about too many choices, I might come up with more creative names such “Baby Poop Yellow,” “Booger Green,” or “Barf Brown.” What choices do they have for people who are chronically impaired decision makers as well as perfectionists?  None. On the bright side, they do have samplers for the price of a regular can of paint. You mean I have to buy a can of paint to test it? Yep. At least at Wal Mart they do have paint samplers for a buck, but there might only be three colors to choose from, but definitely not all colors are available.  Geez, thanks.

The first stop for my husband and I upon making our decision to repaint the living room was, ironically, the local Farmers Cashway “Do-it Center.” Before going, I had painstakingly browsed the Valspar website looking for the perfect paint color. I was especially impressed by the “National Trust Historic colors.” Oh my, I could let Martha Washington choose my paint colors! Happy day. I took a photo of my living room, posted it on their Virtual Painter, and Voila, I had the perfect color. But that didn’t quite work as I expected. The puzzled salesperson at the “Doing It Center” had no idea about the colors I had chosen. “We don’t carry that particular line of Valspar paints.” What, may I ask, do you have a website for!?

 In short, we end up buying “Icy Morning,” which looked like a nice, subtle blue. That was easy, wasn’t it? We got it home, put it on the wall and waited for it to dry. It stayed there for a week. A more appropriate name would have been “Icy Blast.” It was sort of like having your first true love. You know, at first we loved it, then we had conflicted feelings about it, and then we hated it passionately. Yes, exactly.

We tried other colors and they all ended up looking as blah as our old color. I asked my sister-in-law, the family style guru, for advice “Why don’t you try some of my paint?” This was a beacon of light. I highly respected her paint color choices in her house. Her advice, “go neutral for the family room.” Oh how wrong was I to think I could paint the room any color I wanted! There must be style considerations and guidelines. I tried my sister-in-law’s colors. They looked great on her walls, not so on mine. She has sunlight; we have cavelight.  It was back to the paint store for us. 

Any time we paint a room together, I end up choosing a light shade, and then my husband, the color inventor, takes it back to get more color put into it. That is how our living room ended up “Brightest Lime,” instead of “Olive Green.” This time, we looked at Sherwin Williams. The Hubby wanted bright, vivid color as always; I wanted subtle color. After much haggling between the two of us, with help from a perpetually perky sales lady with a permanent smile, who was also a pro at not getting involved in marital spats, we ended up going with “Sunrise” with a bit of orange…basically, in a nutshell, beige. Naturally. Is that an end to the paint wars? Not really…never, ladies, go down without a fight!

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Together We Have it All


One of my favorite quotes is "We may not have it all together, but together we have it all." That especially describes our family or as I often quip, "The ADD family." As much as I would like to think that we are somewhat organized, I know that is definitely not the case. More often than not, even my best efforts cannot conquer chaotic mornings. 

On a typical melt down morning, my eight-year-old son and my five-year-old daughter flatly refuse to get out of bed and get ready for school. "Please let me sleep," is the plaintive reply each time I stomp back and forth from my son's room to my daughter's room. Eventually the children do tumble out of bed, but not without one of my tried and true strategies, one of which is to grab onto the child’s ankles and yank.

When brushing my daughter’s hair, I occupy her by dumping all the hair supplies on the floor for her to play with...messy but effective. Even the slightest tug on a stubborn knot will send her into orbit.  "Mommy didn't mean to hurt you," I say in the sweetest voice I can muster. My mother-in-law’s euphemisms run through my head, “You must win.” or “she just needs to know her hair must be done.” But even if I do win, I have lost in more ways than I have won. Her knight-in-shining armor, Daddy, races up the stairs and barks..."What are you doing to her?" My daughter sobs in her savior's arms simultaneously glaring at me, the big, bad mommy. “Let her do it the way she wants!” Hmm…does that mean she will leave the house for school looking like an orphan from “Annie.” It’s definitely a hard knock morning.

One morning, we were running late. The clock was racing ahead of us. When everyone was dressed and each child had a back pack (one item often left behind), we headed out the door to the van. In our rush down the street, we saw flashing lights behind us. Daddy had been stopped for speeding. As my husband sat with the police officer in the cruiser, my children began sobbing. Daddy was in trouble and the cops were going to take him away, despite my reassurances to the contrary. Finally, daddy came back to the car and all was well – he only got a warning. So, now, whenever the kids are slow getting ready for school, I smile, and remind them of the morning daddy got picked up for speeding.  Maybe they learned something from it. Maybe they didn’t. And maybe someday we will have it all together, but I doubt it.  I like us just the way we are…delightfully imperfect.