Matt and I don’t always see eye to eye on decor. For one, he has this weird obsession with themes. Personally, I think the vast majority of themed rooms are poorly executed, but I do love touches of bizarre and whimsical.
So when I found this rug, I wasn’t terribly surprised that he had some objections. One of them being that he didn’t think it “went with the room” (“the room” being our study/guest room/everything room… that hasn’t gotten a formal design plan yet…).
Matt: We’d need to replace the album covers with a… thingy… a wheel.
Me: A wheel?
Matt: Yeah, a ship’s wheel. And an anchor. And you’d need to get. a peg leg.
Me: Me? Why me?
Matt: Because you’re the one who wants the rug!
I still really want to find a place in my house for this rug…
I’m going to steal some formatting from The Bloggess, because it’s just been one of those weeks where I’m just out of ways to describe things.
On Friday I went home sick from work and my stomach declared an emergency evacuation as soon as I made it home.
Matt handled daycare pick and baby-watching like a champ.
Then later that night HE got sick.
But we managed to survive the weekend.
I went back to work on Monday, feeling more or less human.
Then I get a call from Matt telling me he’s taking Wesley to the pediatrician. Turns out Wesley has croup (baby laryngitis) but thankfully doesn’t have any respiratory complications, and is just hilariously squeaky.
Tuesday I wake up feeling legitimately pretty good.
Then a few hours later I get hit with a wave of body aches and awful and have to go home early. Again
Matt comes home learns my temp is 102.1 and convinces me to go to urgent care. They test me for strep, influenza, and throw in a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. Everything comes back negative so they decide to just treat me for the flu anyway.
12 hours after taking my first dose of Tamiflu, I no longer feel like I’m dying.
As of early this afternoon I’ve been fever-free for 24 hours! I can snuggle my baby again!
And then I noticed these rashy spots on my hands.
So I texted a friend and yup, it sounds suspiciously similar to when she caught Hand Foot and Mouth from her son.
So now I really just need to disinfect everything….possibly without touching it.
I’m REALLY hoping I’m just paranoid at this point. Wish me luck?
Update: Woke up with more rashy spots on my hands and made a doctor’s appointment. The nurse took one look at me and asked “Do you have kids?” We have confirmed Hand Foot and Mouth.
Setting the scene: Matt’s upstairs working on putting the latch back on our bedroom door and I’m downstairs with a friend of mine playing along with Only Connect.*
Me: Did you just hear Matt?
E: I don’t think so? …Maybe he was calling for help because he broke his hand.
Me: But if he had a broken hand he could still come downstairs for help.
E: Maybe he broke his leg…. But then he could still at least crawl closer to the stairs and yell louder.
Both of us continue watching Only Connect.
A while later Matt comes down and joins us.
Matt: It turns out this lock has a “feature.” If you push this bit in… Demonstrates and shows that part of bolt will pop out, even if the knob was in the “unlocked” position. Well, I didn’t know this and I closed the door.
Me: And you locked yourself in the bedroom?
Matt: And I locked myself in the bedroom.
Me: Ah… were you yelling for me earlier?
Matt: Yes, I was hoping you’d be able to help me get out.
Me: I thought I heard something. We figured if you really needed something you’d keep yelling.
To be fair, I was snuggling a sleeping baby and didn’t want to disturb him and I didn’t think Matt was up to anything inherently dangerous. I also didn’t realize that locking yourself into a room when the lock doesn’t even require a key was even an option. It was, however, our specific choice of lock that led to the problem in the first place.
The door originally had a deadbolt installed on it and it was just chunky and ugly. “Low-profile” deadbolts apparently don’t exist (except some super-mod and silver varieties), but I did find a pocket-door lock in oil rubbed bronze that would fit the existing hole and blend into the new finish. Instead of a key you can unlock it from the other side with a screwdriver (high security was not a concern of ours for an interior door lock). Because it’s designed for a pocket door however, part of it pops out so you can pull the door out of the pocket in the wall…. but if that bit’s extended it will act like a lock on a swinging door.
*Holy crap the puzzles are hard. It’s even harder because there are a number British and European references that I’m not really exposed to in the US.
Matt’s starting calling Wesley “Wessels” so I came to obvious (seeming) conclusion that he was having a nerd moment.
Me: Nuclear wessels!
Matt: *blank look*
Me: Nuclear wessels! … you do know the reference, right?
Me: The Voyage Home! Star Trek!! THE ONE WITH THE WHALES!!!
Why yes, I did get progressively more hysterical as I tried to explain. I’m pretty sure The One With the Whales is the official alternate title for The Voyage Home. I’m also sure I’m not the only one who would immediately think of this scene after hearing the word “wessels.”
And for the non-nerds out there, if you’re wondering why this is such a well known part of the movie, keep in mind that it came out in 1986.
During the cold war.
And there’s a Russian guy wandering around then-present-day San Francisco.*
Asking for nukes.
*Yes Star Trek is based in the future, they time-traveled because they needed whales, ok?
We had a bunch of family in town for my baby shower on Saturday and Matt’s mom was staying with us. Sunday morning they decided to head to church together before the rest of the family came over for brunch.
Matt: You’re a veteran, maybe they’ll do something special for you for Memorial Day.
MIL: Matt, I’m not dead yet.
I may not agree with our government’s choices, but anyone who signs up to fight for their country and anyone who has lost their life in the process, they are truly strong and courageous, and worthy of our respect and admiration.
We didn’t do anything for Memorial Day, but did have a fabulous weekend and got to see a bunch of family we don’t get to see much of. All the parents trekked over from WI and both my sisters were able to make it (from KS and CA) which was absolutely amazing. I had a fabulous shower hosted by (one of) my BFFs and I’m just feeling so special and loved and thrilled that this baby is going to have a truly awesome community of family and friends around him. #PregnancySappiness
I’ve also hit Pregnancy Level: Hobbit Feet and had some seriously impressive swelling over the weekend. My mom freaked out a bit and demanded my sister give her professional opinion. Sister asked me if I was up to date on my rabies vaccine because she’s a veterinarian and not an MD. I picked up some sexy compression socks took it easy for the weekend and now my feet have shrunk to slightly puffy.
I still have this weird feeling of guilt when I take up the comfiest spot, don’t get up much when guests are over, and ask Matt to do simple things like get me some water because I just don’t feel like being on my feet anymore. Matt, on the other hand, has been scolding me to take it easy since forever. I’ve just been stubbornly resisting because I am not a fragile little flower… only now it kind of hurts to move and I’m tired so I’m giving in. Stubbornness and pregnancy do not mix terrible well.
I’ve got a prenatal appointment on Friday and an onsite Nurse at work if anything seems concerning before that, but I was under the impression that crazy feet swelling was a fairly typical pregnancy symptom. Plus I’m still a bit scarred from the Doctor who insisted my Asthma flair up might be a pulmonary embolism and told me to get to an ER like, NOW. Spoiler Alert: It wasn’t and the ER docs thought I was a little crazy.
Me: I don’t think [brother-in-law] is going to take my crappy parenting advice. He was wondering what to do about an 8 year old who won’t stop asking questions, so I suggested “why don’t you turn it into the game of questions?”
I had my second prenatal visit about a week ago. Kid still has a heartbeat which has got to make us parents of the year or something (don’t set the bar too high and you’ll always feel good about yourself!).
This past week one of the (male) cafeteria employees at work asked me if I was pregnant. I debated for a split second about answering with “no, I’m just fat” but decided not to be a total asshole. I’m growing as a person. Plus, this guy keeps me in french fries so it’s best to stay on his good side. I still need to ask him what he would have done if I had said no… It’s generally considered unwise to ask a women if she’s pregnant, but I suppose I was waiting there with my hand on my 4-month-belly looking like I was about to puke so the question wasn’t totally out of the blue.
Also this past week I had a major pregnancy epiphany. Technically I’ve got 2 hearts at the moment–I’m a Time Lord! er… Lady. Now where’s my TARDIS? I REALLY wish I had thought of this at my first appointment when we got to hear the heartbeat for the first time. The midwife probably would have thought I was absolutely nuts (not that she would have been wrong…).
And finally… we were out at breakfast yesterday and there was a soccer game on that Matt was half paying attention to.
Matt (watching an “injury”): Magic spray!
Me: You’re going to use that on our kid, aren’t you? They bump their head–magic spray!
Matt: That’s brilliant!
Me: We’d really just need a little spray bottle filled with water… I’m not opposed to this.
Matt: No way, I want the official EPL** Magic Spray!
Me: Good lord, I’ll make a fancy label for the bottle.
*If you never watch soccer, pretty much any time there’s an “injury” (ie someone pretends they’ve suffered extreme bodily harm in the hopes that the other team gets a penalty) someone inevitably comes out and sprays the afflicted area with “magic spray.” I think it’s Windex.
Me: rattling off a grocery list… and we still have tonic so we’re set for election night
Matt: You should probably pick up more
Me: We have 4 cans, that’s 8 [gin+tonics]… how tanked do you plan on getting?
Matt: You better pick up more
As you can probably tell, we’re not too excited about the election here. I think a lot of other people feel the same way. This is the first election for me where I’m seriously considering voting for a 3rd party candidate. Not because I think they have any chance of winning the presidency (heck, I’m 99% certain Hillary will win MN), but because I think that if the alternate parties get unusually high support this year (especially if they succeed in taking even a single state) that there will be significant changes coming in the future (because honestly I feel that both parties really need to have a Come-to-Jesus moment).
That’s my logic at least. I can’t tell you how to vote, but I do encourage all Americans to vote. Do your research (if you don’t know where to start you can check out I Side With*), don’t buy into every media shit-storm, and as long as you have a rational reason for your choice you can’t really go wrong.
Oh, and if you’re going to comment with political opinions, just play nice, k? Respectful discussion is great, but referring the candidates as “Killary” and “America’s Angriest Clementine” is probably best left to rants among like-minded friends.
Dang…. I’m going to have to pick up more limes too….
*I think I failed their quiz. I got Jill Stein as #1 and Gary Johnson as #2… I’m either an anarchist hippie or I need to make my own party…. or I have no idea what’s going on in the world. Who knows?
We were supposed to get a new stove today. This was seriously the highlight of my week! Our existing stove is utter crap and we’ve lived with it for over a year before finally breaking down and getting a new one.
Matt worked from home today so he could be here for the delivery. I got a text around noon saying that he had to send the the stove back because it was the wrong color AND the wrong model.
Then I get home and learn the oven is no longer working on our old stove (the pilot light refuses to relight). We’re guessing something got bumped/shifted when they hauled it out and back in again (because why would you be super careful with an old craptastic stove?).
I then get on the phone with Home Depot and ask them what the hell is going on because we don’t even have a new delivery date for the CORRECT stove yet and are oven-less.* While waiting for the appliance guy to call me back with an update we had the following conversation.
Matt: We could do Caprese tonight
Matt: The baguette you got isn’t take-and-bake is it?
UPDATE: We heard back from HD around 7 this evening and the company they contract with for appliance deliveries isn’t given them any useful info either, but they are going to try and get someone over here to get our oven working this weekend.
*I was actually much calmer than that on the phone. Screaming at people is rarely effective… unless they’re your ISP in which case they are already the devil incarnate.
Around 1:30 this morning I woke up to strange sound in our bedroom. One of the cats was running around like a lunatic and occasionally meowing. This is a little bizarre for either of them at 1 am and I was only partially awake so I listened for a few minutes to try and figure out what the heck was going on.
Eventually I turned on the light and peered over the foot of the bed. Schmutz was the one racing around the floor and she wasn’t after one of her toys. Because I had already expected this from the earlier noise I stayed calm, sighed resignedly and said to Matt, who was at least somewhat awake now too, “Your damn cat found a mouse.”
We watched her for a couple minutes while caught the mouse, pranced around proudly, deliberately dropped it, chased it again, caught, pranced, dropped, repeat. Spencer wandered in to see what the commotion was all about and would occasionally bat gently at the mouse with his paw if it came his way, but he clearly didn’t have any idea what to do with it.
Eventually it became clear that the mouse wasn’t going to be put out of it’s misery anytime soon so I decided to step in.
“Schmutz! Get the mouse!” And she did, but ran away with it as soon as I got off the bed. I followed her into the dining room as she continued her game of chase-catch-prance-drop and grabbed a plastic tumbler and a large putty knife to attempt to catch the stupid thing myself.
Sometimes Schmutz and I would be working together and flanking the mouse, but I never managed to shoo it into the cup. The 3 of us kept going around and around the dining table while Spencer watched from under a chair. Occasionally the mouse would rear up or charge Schmutz. “I think it may have toxoplasmosis!” I shouted up to Matt.
After 10-15 minutes of this (and more random things shouted up to Matt who was staying in bed playing a game on his tablet) I finally managed to catch the damn thing. Since it was nearly 2 in the morning, I just dumped it outside, so I’m sure it’s back in by now, but it was the middle of the night and I was all out of fucks to give.
I went back upstairs (Schmutz was still frantically searching for her new favorite toy) and Matt asked if I had given the cats a treat.
“A treat? Why?”
“Because my cat found a mouse.”
“But she didn’t kill it.”
“But she found it.”
“And brought it into our bedroom!”
Matt eventually went downstairs and gave both of them a treat. What Spencer did to deserve it I have no idea since he was even a bigger failure.
Around 5:30 this morning Schmutz sat on my chest and yowled at me for her breakfast.
“If you had just killed the damn mouse you wouldn’t be hungry right now.” I grumbled and then Matt kicked her out the room because she was being pesty and it was still way too early.
So those are our cats in a nutshell. Spencer thinks everything is a friend and Schmutz has currently brought us one well-dead mouse and one far-too-alive mouse. At least this is the first sign we’ve had of rodents currently in the home so I don’t think we have an infestation on our hands.
Looking on the bright side, at least she didn’t drop it in our bed.