Kitchen Sink: Woes of the Happy Homeowner

We took the plunge Saturday and bought a new kitchen sink and faucet. The end result is beautiful!
You can never be fully prepared for sink replacement. We were of course, barely prepared, and our Saturday afternoon adventure went from an afternoon of fun to several days of sink-installation joy!
It began Saturday with a trip to Home Depot. We of course, measured our current sink so we knew what we were looking for, size wise. We picked a lovely stainless steel number, a great goose neck faucet with detachable sprayer. We purchased our newest family members and went home to create havoc in our kitchen. Installation was ranked 2 wrenches on our scale of 5 wrenches for difficulty in our home improvement book, with an estimated 5 hour install time for extremely dense beginners. This was not us, of course, I considered us to be intermediate, since we replaced the bathroom sink faucet and we are reasonably intelligent individuals.
My spouse was doubly smart, he took pictures of the current plumbing and connections, so we knew how everything went back together in the end. We broke the seal between our old sink and the counter and lifted out the 1,000 pound cast iron, ugly gray, stained sink, and it is now a fixture on my back patio. The old faucet was corroded and rotting away, it was so nasty, made me feel like bathing in bleach!
As we lift the new sink into the hole in my counter top, to our dismay, the new sink, doesn't fit. Our option at this point is cutting away the counter top. NOPE. Not going to do that, that is like 4 wrenches out of 5 in our handy dandy home improvement book, and frankly, I don't know if the counter top would hold up.
So off we go to the hardware store again, return the sink, and not finding nothing else, we head to another hardware store. It is now 5pm, the kids are screaming in the back, they are hungry, cranky, and sick of being cooped up in the van. We find another sink, stainless steel beauty, more money of course, that should work just perfect.
Kids are still screaming, we head home, stopping at Wendy's to keep them quiet for at least 5 minutes. As my boys are swallowing their dinner whole, and John and I are staring at the hole in the counter, we realized we are about an hour away from the 5 hour beginner mark indicated in our home improvement book. This is no good. Are we really beginners? Can't be.
To top it all off, the water is shut off, so you can't flush the toilet, wash your hands, or bathe the screaming, dirty kids. We stick the water connections in a bucket, because of course, the water shut offs that connect to the sink leak, turn the water on, run a tub for the boys, flush the toilet and wash our hands. Then instantly shut the water off again.
The sink we have now purchased, fits the whole and with a few minor rigging techniques, it'll do! We attach the new faucet, with a 1 year old, climbing in and out of the new sink, and an older brother trying to squeeze in as well. It is now almost 8pm. We started our project about 1pm, we have officially blown the beginner time frame out of the water and we haven't even got the sink set in the counter. Let the fun begin.
With the kids in bed, we caulk the hell out the sink, set in place, connect the plumbing and realize some of the pipes, need to be cut down, to fit. It was supposed to be a 2 wrench project according to the book, it has now turned into a 12 wrench project, which exceeds the 5 wrench difficulty level. We cut the pipe, and it all went together perfectly. John is thoroughly agitated, and now has to run to Wal-Mart, since Home Depot, Lowes, and Ace are closed, at least twice.
10:00 pm, I am so tired I can't stand, John has a bruise on his back from laying under the sink, and we are at the moment of truth. Turn the water on. Yes all, we had leaks! NOOOOOO!!
John spend another half an hour fine tuning the plumbing, and still has at least two leaks. One pipe is so corroded the rim was breaking off. Another trip to the hardware store but not until the next day.
Needless to say, last night we finally fixed the last leak, new pipe, new connections, spiffy! And NO LEAKS! YEAH! Originally this project was a 2 wrenches on the 5 wrenches of difficulty and a beginner time of 5 hours as dictated by our handy dandy home improvement book. We estimate it was really a 5 wrench project and 3 day time frame for those of us with the intellect of monkeys. We will be burning this book later today.
Note to self 1:
Pay someone to install new sink and faucet next time
Note to self 2:
Never follow the handy dandy home improvement guide again
Note to self 3:
It is easier to move than do home improvement

To The Skinny Chicks Out There...You're NOT Fat

No offense to all the skinny women out there...but why is it that skinny women think it's necessary to fast?
Seriously, what are you going to accomplish by starving your skin off? In total, skin only weights 8 pounds (I think I read that somewhere), unless you are pudgy like me, and my skin weighs 15 pounds, but I have more of it, and I'm ok with that.
As I am hearing the conversations back and forth in the office, and the conversations of the health conscious, fitness club, spandex wearing people is making me nauseated. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and a requirement to be a member of this thong wearing club, is fasting the 4 days before, so you can eat 2 ounce of turkey and plate full of broccoli the day of.
This is not my idea of a good time. I am officially taking my name off the list of wanna-be club members. I would rather cover my plate in turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy; AND I want to follow that up with a pound of bread, stuffing, various jello molds, and of course apple pie! What is the point of cooking a 21 pound turkey if you won't even eat it? Why make pie if everyone else gets to enjoy it?
No way not me. Not going to happen. My favorite thing to hear is when the skinny girl, you know the one, the one who ways 115 pounds, is all boobs and washboard stomach, says, I'm SO fat. Makes me want to smack the boobs right off her, furthermore it's a bit of an insult to sit in front of someone who weighs 100 pounds more than you and complain about your fat roll. PS...that is not a fat roll, it's called skin, it's supposed to have some elasticity, so when you sit, it doesn't split off your tiny butt.
Listen skinny chicks out there, check yourself out in the mirror, if you do not look like a cabbage patch kid, humpty dumpty, Roseanne Barr, or Oprah in her fat years, you are NOT fat. If your clothing size does not come close to the double digits, you are NOT fat. If you can see you shoes when you look down, you are NOT fat. When you go to the tanning both and you don't have to lift up a fat roll to tan, you are NOT fat. If you don't shop at Lane Bryant, Catherine's, Ample Dud's, or out of numerous other Plus Size Women's catalogues, you are NOT fat. If you still jogged 3 miles a day when you were 9 months pregnant, you are NOT fat. If dieting is not something you start and stop, but live, you are NOT fat. If the people in the gym know you as the "regular", can call you by name, and they all try to keep up with you, you are NOT fat.
As for fasting, been there, done that. Not sure what the point is unless it becomes a necessity. You know, like a nuclear war or an out break of some toxic chemical that reduces all food products to dust. Until then, I'll be eating.

Accomplishments....Do I have those?

Today was the annual Thanksgiving Luncheon at the boys' school.
I arrived just after 10:30 to find the parking lot full, and the school full of boys, girls, and parents. As I walked into Joey's classroom, the kids were singing and showing off their dancing talent. I couldn't help tearing up as I watched my son, sing, and dance. I tried to look around at other parents to see if I was the only odd ball, from what I could tell, I was the only crier in the group. Go figure.
I watched for a few minutes, then snuck over to Nick's classroom, and once he saw me he was so excited, he could hardly sit still!
Of course it's Thanksgiving and the thing to do is talk about and think about what we are thankful for and what we are blessed with. So I am no different than the norm. I was filled with gratefulness for my boys and how much they have turned my life into something I never did expect it to turn out like.
It was a synchronistic moment. Last night Joey and I were going thru my cedar chest. Looking at old pictures, tons of awards I had received, things I had written, yearbooks, my high school letter jacket, my college graduation cap, and tons of other odds and ends that told the story of my past life.
And of course, I cried the whole time Joey and I looked thru the piles of memories. After Joey went to bed, I cried some more, because I felt as if I had changed. Somewhere between high school and college, I went from the award winning, stellar student, swimmer, writer, and fun loving person, to what I am today. What I am today is not what I was, and I am not what I told myself I would be. So the depression sank in. Now, I can't tell you what I thought I would be, because I have no idea, I always felt special, like I could accomplish whatever I put my mind too. And for some reason, I don't feel as if I have accomplished much. The depression was still with me when I woke up this morning, almost choking the air from me.
Paging thru the memories and pictures, I remember what I was. The smell of my letter jacket, the stack of swimming ribbons, the feel of the pages of my yearbook. The band awards and pictures of our state award winning band, all stuffed into a small cedar chest. I suddenly felt as if I hadn't done myself any justice in the past 10 years.
Then the luncheon today and I watched my oldest son sing, recite the state he lives in, how many stars there are on the American flag, and which two oceans surround the USA. I watched my youngest son laugh, and smile with pure unconditional love when he saw me. The instant joy I felt made all those feelings of inadequacy from the night before wash way.
I realize that we as a society don't consider parenting an accomplishment. When women say, Oh I'm a mom. There is some strange stigmatism to that, that we don't consider that a worthy enough accomplishment. That being a mom is not a way to climb the corporate ladder and be productive members of the capitalistic society we live in. Each day I see that, I swallow down the crap I am fed, that I can't be both, or that I need to choose. Maybe I won't be the CEO of a large company, but I will always be a mom and maybe one day, one of my boys will be the CEO of a large company, and I'd rather be proud of that. Proud to say I raised them right. Raised them to believe that accomplishments are more than what others say they are. Accomplishments are measured by your own self worth and not by the worth that others assign to you.
I still am searching for my place in this world, fighting each day to remember what is important and not what I am told is important. Each day brings new territory to cross, and I should be thankful for each day I have made it thru to the next. I have a hard task in front of me. Just being me each day, and living it well, and raising my kids to be good people, is an accomplishment. In the end, if I had multiple college degrees, a doctorate, or a Nobel peace prize, if I don't have anyone to share those things with, what does it matter? The awards are just paper, the pictures just ink, the memories lost if they are not shared.
My greatest accomplishment today was not crying uncontrollably in front of my son and his whole class and their parents....now that is something I am thankful for! Tomorrow's accomplishment is still yet to be seen.

Sky Blue Blouse

I am wearing a blouse today, that I rather like, but it has a few issues. It is a nice sky blue color with white and navy blue pin strips. 3/4 length sleeves, collar and sleeve cuffs in white. It's cute, got a great deal at Ross, 7 bucks! However, the material is interesting, I am sure it's some poly-blend, but it's on the slick side, so it always slides up. The sleeves cuffs kinda itch me and when buttoned are tight.
SO, I have unbuttoned the cuffs and the 3/4 sleeve slides up my arms even further and makes my elbows itch. I continue to pull the shirt down, and I've tried tucking it into my pants, but it continues to slide out. So after I pull the sleeves down and scratch and rub my elbows and forearm, I pull at the bottom and adjust the collar. Now my hair is short, so my hair falls into the collar each time the shirt slides back. This is an issue for me, I don't like it. I didn't dry my hair all cute for it to be sliding into my shirt collar, and each time I fidget with it, my hair gets static-y.
As I sit here, I am pulling the shirt down, and trying to sit close to my desk, hoping the pressure from the desk and my stomach will keep the shirt from sliding up. No such luck. AND the shirt's material makes noise. Ya know the noise that polyester makes rubbing between fat thighs. Ya know, that sound, shllsh, shllush. SO the whole department knows every time I walk by, or shift my shirt down.
Lunch time has come and gone, and it's taken every ounce of power I have not to go to Wal-Mart and buy a new shirt. I double checked the soccer mom mini-van, and I have no spare clothes in there, except for a onesie for Nick and spare underwear for Joey. Since I don't like wearing my son's fruit of the looms, I am stuck in the blue blouse, that slides up, itches, and cause my hair to go crazy. Now I remember why I haven't worn this blouse in forever. Too bad it's cute! It makes it even harder to put it in the donation bag!
The static the shirt has caused in my hair, has traveled down the shirt to my pants. So not only is my hair sticking out like some 4 year old who just went down a plastic slide, my pants are stuck to my thighs and calves. No good. So I walk and shllsh, zap, and crackle. I am a walking fire hazard. Back up people, I am flammable! Save yourselves! HA HA HA!
As unfortunate as it is, I think this will be the last time I wear my cute blue, pin stripe blouse. I kinda have a feeling that I'll wash it, hang it, and forget about it for a few months. Then one day, I'll say, HEY, that's cute....and I'll have forgotten why it's hung in the back. I'll put it on, get to work, and go thru the drama all over again.
Note to self, do not keep this blouse, it's cute, but there is someone out there who needs clothes more than I do! Salvation Army, here I come!

The Role of June Cleaver

I'm back at work after a long weekend, and I am finding myself with tons of work to do, but not necessarily stuff I want to do.
And as I am working and I see the wallpaper on the desktop of my computer and it's a picture of my boys in their Halloween costumes, and I am sick to my stomach. What am I doing here? Why am I not home with my boys? Why am I not taking care of my house and my kids and my spouse?
I thought I would never say that, but this overwhelming feeling of loss in the pit of my stomach has been growing lately.
That feeling was made worse this weekend with the visit of my dad. I miss him so much. He's moved to Florida and when I dwell on it, it kills me. So here I am at work, trying extremely hard not to cry while I type this. So far, it's not working, and yes, I've cried more than once typing these up, call me a freak.
So why am I here? I am starting to see myself better off being at home, taking care of my family and being a good mom. Instead I am at a job, that is not gratifying, that doesn't have much meaning, and I am spending 40+ hours a week doing it. 40 hours I could be home with my boys.
What's wrong with me? What happened to my women's lib attitude? What happened to me being adamant about not staying home? What about my college degree and my so-called career?
It just seems trivial now. When I was laid off last November, thru the early part of the year, I was content. I actually dreaded going back to work. I knew I had to, and we checked out the all the angles, and deep down, I was really sad that I was leaving my house and my boys, especially my youngest. Heart breaking.
Now here I am, almost a year later, and I am asking myself the same questions, again. Do I dare try to answer the question? Do I really admit that I'd rather be a domestic engineer? Do I look for a way to make the leap to the role of June Cleaver?
I don't know. I just know this morning, when I had to hassle Joey a million times to get dressed, and when I looked at the mess my house was in, and the load of laundry in the wash that will need to be washed again, and the giggling and smiling of Nick, I was depressed. I am sad, weighed down, and not quite the person I am supposed to be. I am trying to stick it out another year or two, until Joey is in school full time, maybe I can go down to part-time, and be there for him before and after school.
Please God, help me make it. Help me swallow my guilt, fear, anger, and my lack of ability to be the good mom and wife I am supposed to be.
Amen