The Trivial Pursuit of Happiness

The girls have had off and on fevers for the last two days, and have been overall cranky kids, so I’m willing to bet the spots will show up tomorrow or the next day. I’ve been scouring the girls all day, and there are a few spots on Alice that look likely, but it’s hard to tell since she is having another allergic reaction (to strawberries, we think). Her eczema on her back and legs is also getting bad, so I hope this doesn’t make her case of the pox worse. At least calamine lotion and oatmeal baths are routine for her, when I can get her to stop running in circles long enough. Ella, on the other hand, has inherited her mother’s reaction to the first sign of illness, which is to lay on the couch and lament.  Loudly, and with tears when possible.

In an attempt to curb the whining, we set up the tent on the porch, and they immediately deemed it their castle. It is actually the tent that I lived in off and on for a few years, but they didn’t want to hear stories of Mommy traveling the west coast selling fimo art at hippie festivals with her boyfriend the lovable stoner. They wanted to hear about dragons. I can’t say I blame them. Add some stickers to the mix and I had almost 20 whole minutes alone to read blogs and not clean my house.

We spent the weekend out at the lake cabin, without TV, internet, phones that work, or a stove. I thought it would make me a little batty, but on Sunday afternoon I joked that Tom could come back into town to go to work all week, and I would stay out with the girls. He lured me back into town with promises of coffee and Netflix, but I called and warned him today that we may be out there by the time he comes home. I’m just not really digging city life today.  Of course, the cabin seems a lot more like a retreat now that there is a working bathroom, so there are some modern conveniences that I need. A hotplate may also be useful.

PS The girls are feverish and cranky today, so the pox may be upon us soon.

Life is good, and I need to count my blessings more.

Like these ones:

And the fact that I managed to finally figure out how to rehab these flowerbeds, with 6 inches of riverrocks making shoveling them out impossible. Tip: get the entire area swampy, and then dig all the rocks out of the mud. If you have two helpers with little hands, enlist them. Remove all the plant material (dig and dig in the mud, you’ll find roots), wash off the rocks, and wait for the mud to dry out. This is probably obvious to everyone else, but I was rediculously proud of myself for puzzling this out. These have been a mess for three years, because we couldn’t figure it out, but HA, I showed that rockbed.

Oh, and one more small thing. Does this look like a pox, of the chicken variety, to those of you with experience? Because that is on my HAND. We’re only 6 days past exposure (well, the exposure that we know of, lord knows what we are exposed to at the park) so I hesitate to go there, (14-21 days is the typical incubation period), but that wasn’t there yesterday. Thank goodness I decided against going to Mamas Meeting, and flaked on a playdate with Meg today, on the off chance that it is. I’m hoping it’s just a tiny blister from all that rock work up there, but I guess we’ll only know tomorrow. (Edit in the morning: It’s still there, but it’s all alone. I don’t think the picture shows that it is raised, and seems to have liquid in it – like a blister.) (Edit in the midday: It’s shrinking, yay! It does itch like a bugger though. My sister did comment and point out that I have already had chicken pox twice, so you would think a third time is unlikely.)

Bawk bawk

I love garage sales. Even in this time, when I have vowed to downsize my possesions and move towards simplicity, I still can not resist a great deal. This week I found (for $5 total) three curriculum books for Ella, three pairs of nice work pants for Tom (in his rediculously hard to find size) and the newest love of my life:

A 1946 Hamilton Beach, Model G mixer with the ceramic bowls, beaters, and juicing attachments.

I bought it from a little old lady, who said that she got it as a wedding gift, nearly 60 years ago.

And because I can not have a new toy without trying it out, I decided to add fresh squeezed orange juice to Tom’s Father’s Day breakfast. It will be easy, I said, I have the attachments.

After a trip to the store, a $3.50 bag of oranges (not so quickly) became 24oz of orange juice, which we drank in about 10 seconds. Next up: cookies, which I am confident will last just about as long.

Whoa, sorry if you are seeing 3674747 posts  guys. It seems that while I was fixing the summary/full text issue (make sure your feedburner address is rss2, not just rss!) I also managed to republish a months worth of posts. Oops.

Today, while the realtor paraded yet another group of people through our home, I took the girls to N’s house so they could share sippy cups with A, in hopes of catching chicken pox. Yes, we want the girls to get the chicken pox, and yes, I know some of you are even more convinced that I am crazy now. When Ella was tiny, Tom and I did our research and decided that we  prefer that she acquire natural immunity which won’t wear off, unlike the vaccine which needs boosters every 5-8 years. But, really, who wants their kids to be a itchy, feverish mess? I waffled back and forth about the decision over the last year, as this strain has migrated around town. We’ve always had excuses on why it wasn’t convenient – Alice was a newborn, we were planning to travel, Tom was starting (another) new job, the kids were already sick, and overall, I was just too tired. Yesterday, after N invited us over for a playdate, I realized that the timing is right, and that I would much rather them go through a mild case now than them miss a booster at 19 and face a life threatening illness. God forbid they catch it when they are adults and pregnant.

For what it’s worth, our pediatrician is a proponent of delaying the chicken pox vaccine until a child is school aged, in hopes of them receiving natural immunity. I do not feel the need to defend our choices here, but I have to admit it was encouraging, when I called to ask him if he thought it was a wise choice given the girls’ ages, and he congratulated me on finding “wild pox”. He gave me a few guidelines on what is normal, and what should make me worry, but otherwise had no concerns.

With any luck, in 14 days the girls will break out, and a week later they will be scabbed over. If you are local and want to avoid us at all costs, let me know, and I will give you a wide berth. We’ll be at this week’s mamas meeting (since there is no chance that they will have incubated the virus long enough) but will likely miss a few weeks, out of concern for the mamas and little ones.

Our last minute attempts at a father’s day gift.

Quick question: those of you who read through a RSS reader, does my posts show up as summaries or full text? I have it set on full text, but just realized it is showingup as a summary in my google reader, which is uber annoying. Any tips?

It’s  a universal truth: the longer you go between blog posts, the harder it is to sit down and just write already. Nothing seems like it is worth the time or energy to write about – the kids are having a hard time reacclimating to being home, ie: not sleeping, ever; we are having two open houses in the next three days; Tom is working overtime like whoa; I am trying to workout more and eat ice cream less; I am stressed out about things that I have no control over. So, really, life is normal around here.

I mean, other than Alice taking over the presidency, with Barack’s blessing of course.

“My first act as President will be to abolish sleeping! For many years, my people have been oppressed and forced to waste nearly a third of our lives in bed, and I say no more! Who is with me?! I’ll meet you in the kitchen at 2am, we’ll have a juice box if you can open the fridge.”

Oh, yesterday was also Tom and I’s anniversary, which we celebrated by falling asleep at the movies, and them coming home and drinking more than we have in years. Oh husband of mine, you make every day a giddy adventure. Let’s do this again in 40 years.

The good house news: Everyone who has seen the house agrees that it is clean, well maintained, a little outdated, but priced appropriately.

The bad house news: No one has bought it. Which is a little ridiculous to bitch and moan about at this point, because Hi, it’s been on the market for less than two weeks, but I can’t help feeling antsy. With each showing I try not to get my hopes up, and then we hear good feedback so I feel better getting excited, and then as the days go by I slowly fall into the “OMG my house is horrible, no wonder everyone hates it, we’ll never sell it” panic. Because I am Ivory, and I like to panic.

Keeping the house clean with two toddlers has been.. interesting. On a day to day basis, when we are not trying to sell the house, I would say that I clean for an hour and a half, tops. Laundry waits until the weekend (and is only folded as inspiration strikes), dishes are done once a day (with help), I vacuum the living room/office daily but the bedrooms rarely get more than a quick sock-pickup. I make beds (it’s like my version of The Fly Lady’s sink shine) but I am A-OK with toys on the floor, and a stack of craft projects piled on my desk. I like a clean house, but not a sterile one, so the bread maker stays on the counter, the mail sits on the coffee table, and the tub is full of drying bathtoys. To put it politely, my house looks lived in, which it turns out is a problem when you are trying to sell it. So, the girls and I left, Tom decluttered mercilessly, and the plan is that I just ‘maintain’ the current state of the house.

And I’m trying. Really, really trying. Daily I am cleaning at least three hours, and that is just to stay on top of the dishes, laundry, and toys. Tom, bless him, still comes home each night and clears all the countertops of clutter, empties the dishwasher, and irons his own shirts. I’ve said it many times, but if I had married anyone else in the world, I would have gone insane a long time ago.

So, that is the state of selling the house. We’re headed up to the lake today in an effort to not make messes at home, so pictures eventually when I find my camera cord (again. A stunning example of just how organized I am.)

Tonight is our last official night here at my sister’s, since we plan to leave in the middle of the night tomorrow. When I told Ella at bedtime that tomorrow will be our last day here (in hopes that it would give her time to process), she cried and cried. I know how she feels. As much as I am itching to be home, I also can’t stand the fact that it will likely be another year before we are able to visit again. Chance and I are pretty static any more, but the kids change so much so quickly, and I really loved how well the kids got along while we were here. Last year Ella was barely talking when they came to visit, and this year she spent hours and hours playing in the back yard with the kids. Next year Tillie and Ean may be too cool to hang out with Ella, or Eli may not be as patient with a toddler Alice.

Next year seems so far away.

The drive home is going to be horrible, and that is being optimistic. Today we drove up into the mountains (which, uh, is what my family does. Some families go out to eat, or go to cultural events. We drive on dirt roads and call it an adventure.) and the girls cried and whined the entire time. My sister tried to play interference as much as she could (“Hey, Ella, if you had a pony, what would you name it?” “Taxi!”) but there was only so much that she could do before we just accepted our fate and prayed that they would fall asleep soon. This will likely be my survival method as well.