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Archive for the ‘Household Chores’ Category

I hate washing dishes…..

 

Not nearly as much as I hate washing floors, but I do harbor a pretty strong distaste for this particular chore.    And we do have a dishwasher, so it’s not like there are a ton of dishes that need hand washing but, in my opinion, even 1 pan or  1 Tupperware container is too much.    Thankfully most items make their way to the dishwasher (thank god we have one of these or I might be using disposable pot & pans)  But regardless this is a task that I despise…………….

 

Now, if they’d only make an automatic floor mopping device, we’d be in good shape…. But, I digress…………….

 

Anyhow, this particular chore aversion has always been lessened by the fact that hubby doesn’t mind doing this chore.  Now don’t misunderstand, he doesn’t like it, but he does like playing with water (like any child) and he does like to eat – and he DOESN’T like to cook – so, the natural progression was for him to take on the bulk of hand washing dishes, when necessary.  And, they lived happily ever after.

 

UNTIL

 

The baby arrived.

 

As you may know, babies are messy.  There’s more laundry than I ever imagined could come from the addition of one tiny human.   And consequently, there’s a heck of a lot more dirty items in general.  One item in particular is bottles.   It’s amazing how quickly they multiply in our sink, and if you blink too quickly, you may have 6 bottles at the end of the day…. And there they sit; all beckoning, and taunting, and giggling amongst themselves at all they work they have in store for you.

This is only 2 bottles!

This is only 2 bottles!

You see, like any clueless new parents, we wound up with bottles that have like 426 different tiny pieces that all must be assembled, in puzzle like fashion, to come together to prevent excess gas intake, or maybe it’s to improve baby IQ, or perhaps solve global warming.  Ok, I’m not really sure why there are so many dang pieces.  But what I AM sure of, is that cleaning these mother f’ers is a royal pain in my posterior region (and just for the record, these are Dr. Brown’s bottles -and they DO work, even though I’d pay millions of dollars for a full-time bottle washer).     Each tiny, individual, piece must be disassembled, washed, brushed, poked, scrubbed and violated in a way that only long tubular bottle pieces can, to ensure they are clean for our little one.   And, my friends, these puppies can’t go in the dishwasher.  I mean, sure, they can in fact go in the dishwasher but…. once you take them out of the dishwasher, you have to put them back into the sink to clean them.   Cause, with all the contraptions they sell to help make bottles dishwasher-cleanable… the only thing that really works is a bit of elbow grease, some pruny hands and about 4 hours in front of the sink.  Not to mention the day when I tried to wash them in the dishwasher and the bottles all came out with a nice orange-y, reddish hue.  Thank you Mr. Marinara sauce.

 

So, this brings me to the “meat” of my blog post.  What you just read was really just the back story.  And, you were wondering up to this point….. why the heck is she talking so much about baby bottles????  So, stay with me people.

 

As I mentioned earlier, hubby is our in-house dishwasher.  That is of course until the baby arrived – since bottle washing is so daunting – I’ve had to suck it up and wash bottles……… which, in case you were wondering, I still despise!  And, in case you missed it, I will remind you again… washing bottles SUCKS and takes f-o-r-e-v-e-r.   So hubby, in his infinite wisdom, says to me.  “Do ya think you could buy us a kitchen mat to stand on while we wash dishes for 6 hours a day?”  And being the loving wife I am, I respond “Why yes hubby, I certainly can”.  And then off I went to help give us comfy place to stand in front of the sink.    And, if I do say so myself, I found a rockin’ kitchen mat – if you can, in fact, use that sort of terminology to describe a kitchen mat.

"The best thing to ever set foot on!"

“The best thing to ever set foot on!”

This mat is cushy, cozy, comfy and maybe even kick-ass (I was going for another “c” word there – but I ran out of adjectives).  You see, the mat is made of memory foam, and when you stand on it, your feet just melt into it and are nicely cushioned to provide some otherwise not-so-present-comforts, for your tiny toes, while you stand in front of the sink and work your way through your 300th bottle part.  So, this mat sat in place for a day or so before hubby assumed the position to tackle the day’s chore.  And, when he stepped on to the mat, his toes began singing, his lower back started smiling and his mouth started saying….. “holy crap, this is the best thing I’ve ever stood on!!”  And then, in true hubby fashion, he needed to expound on his statement with some of the following:

 

“My feet have never been so happy”

“Why don’t they make shoes out of this material?”

“Every floor, everywhere, should be made of this stuff!”

“This is seriously the best thing I’ve ever felt on my feet!!”

“I’m never moving out of this spot”

 

And finally…. “ We need these mats ALL OVER the house”

 

What he doesn’t realize is that I’d NEVER put that material all over the house…….

I have him right where I want him.  In front of the sink, poised to wash bottles, and never wanting to move.   I’m not nearly as dumb as I look…………………and perhaps, with a little luck,  some incredibly comfy feet, and an equally happy hubby……….. I’ll never have to wash a bottle, ever again!  :-)

 

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Hello my name is The Wife…. And I have a coat addiction.

 

There I said it.  Out loud.  (of course “out loud” is to no one other than the baby  – who is currently sleeping, probably didn’t hear me, and likely wouldn’t care if he did).  But, they say that admitting that you have a problem is the first step…. Right?   Ok, it’s not so much a problem if it doesn’t hurt anyone…. Right??

 

I have been addicted to coats for about 20 or so years.  It probably started right after I got my first job out of college, since this was probably the first time I had enough money to actually go out and feed this addiction.  Coincidentally, this was likely also the time when I started to have enough places to go in order to actually have a need to wear multiple coats.

 

As of this exact moment, I have 35 in total (and, yes I actually did just go and count them – which was sort of eye-opening in and of itself).  Some women have shoe addictions (ok, I have that too… but that’s a post for a different day) but most of my attention is put towards outer wear.  I simply cannot resist a new, fashionable jacket that has a unique cut, or color that might, some day, look cute with a certain outfit (that I don’t even own yet……)  My addiction has grown well beyond the “coat closet” in our foyer.  It’s also taken over almost an entire closet in the spare bedroom, and necessitates a seasonally appropriate swap to ensure that coats downstairs are the right weight for the current weather. 

 

There are a few problems with this.

 

1)      My addiction has oozed over into hubby’s attire.  Now, you may be scratching your head wondering what the heck this means.   Well, my inability to pass up a fashionable, on-sale jacket may have trickled over into buying coats for hubby.  To date hubby has 14 coats….. yes, probably overkill for a guy. But, I can assure you, he looks mighty dapper (dapper –what a fun word, and not easily worked into conversation…..)  in each and every one of them!  If you were to add his coats to my coats, we could probably keep our entire block warm during the winter…. Which brings me to the 2nd problem………..

2)      The sheer # of coats might, just possibly, impact hubby’s ability to put away his coats.  You should probably read THIS POST about the # of coats that are NOT in our coat closet, in order to understand my dilemma.    Could I have created my own challenge here….. NO!! I’m not willing to accept any responsibility…. So, we’ll just move onto the next problem.

3)      Hubby seems to need his own intervention.   You’d think that hubby, who doesn’t necessarily understand my affinity towards outerwear.  Who doesn’t really “get” the need for himself to have 14 coats.  Who needs reminding that he has a different coat that might look better with an outfit.  Who complains that I have too many coats.  Who can’t cram his own coats into the coat closet because I have too much in there (WAIT – I just remembered, I’m not taking responsibility for this…..).  Anyhow, you’d think that he, of all people, would not feed into my addiction…… but you’d be WRONG!

 

With any good addiction, the person suffering from the problem is usually surrounded by some great enablers.  So, I’d like to share with you some evidence.

 

This, my dear blog readers, is a picture of one of my Christmas presents from this year, FROM HUBBY:

leather jacket 

 This, my dear blog readers, is a picture of one of my Christmas presents from 2 years ago, FROM HUBBY

 Red jacket

 

Yes, they are DAMN CUTE coats.  Yes, I will happily wear them.  Yes, I can already envision the cute outfits that will coordinate with my most recent gift.  Yes, I will find-a-way to squeeze it into an already overflowing closet.  Yes, I LOVE my gift… but heck, I ask you this?????  Who has exactly has the problem here??  Me, or hubby who, if he continues to buy me cute coats, will probably have to start moving his entire wardrobe into the shed in the backyard just so I have a place to put everything???!   :-)

 

And.. in honor of the “Why I Love My Husband” link up party at  The Happy Wives Club….  (my list started HERE in case you missed it)

 

Reason # 11 why I love my hubby is….. he buys me stuff that I absolutely do not need, but that he knows I will enjoy!

Reason #12  is…. he really is a good gift buyer (which is a huge complaint of most women) but my hubby has always been really, really good at this as noted here & here!

 

 

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end of the worldWhat would you do?

 

I asked myself this very question when I got up today and I believe it or not I couldn’t come up with a list of things that I WOULD do…. I could only think of things I WOULDN’T do.  I guess, if the world doesn’t end tomorrow, I need to give some new thought to making a bucket list!

 

So, without further ado… here are the things I WOULDN’T do today if tomorrow was the end of the world.

 

  • Wipe up the crumbs that are all over the counter, in front of the toaster oven, from hubby’s dinner from last night.
  • Fold any of the bed sheets that are clean (and have been clean for almost 2 weeks) that are sitting in a pile in my laundry room (did I mention they’ve been clean for over 2 weeks)  – Yep, I sure as heck wouldn’t spend today folding laundry!
  • Take out the trash or the recycling bin ….. or add to the recycling bin, the empty soda cans on the coffee table (yes, folks hubby still does this!)
  • Make any of the beds
  • Pick up any of the dirty clothes from hubby’s side of the bed
  • Pick up the crumbled candy wrappers that are next to the soda can on the coffee table (hubby must have had a few snacks after I went to bed last night!)
  • I wouldn’t wipe up any whiskers in the bathroom sink
  • I wouldn’t move any of the bazillion coats from Every.Single.Chair around my house.

 

And, the last thing I wouldn’t do today is nag hubby about any of the aforementioned items on this list…….Hmmmmmm, WAIT JUST A MINUTE….. I think I just realized what’s been going on all these years.  Hubby has been living his life as if every tomorrow will be the end of the world.   Humpf!  I’m sorry I didn’t realize this until now.   I guess, if he continues down this path, I could quite possibly lend some truth to this style of living since I do generally want to kill him as I look around our house………………..

 

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You might think that the threat of a new baby rapidly approaching would keenly re-prioritize for my hubby.   But alas, if you’ve been reading for any length of time, you probably know that nothing is on hubby’s radar that’s not important (read that as electronics – and apparently baby monitors and breast pumps don’t count!)

 

So, it’s probably no surprise that the new furniture we purchased for the baby’s room has been sitting, in boxes, in my living room for probably over 6 weeks.  It causes me anxiety Every. Single. Time. I walk past it.  My OCD (see hubby, I can admit I have a bit of OCD) screams at me when stuff is not where it belongs… it’s why hubby’s empty soda cans, invisible boxes, and crap on the stairs drive me bonkers!

 

Every day, when I come home I politely remind hubby of his timeline…

 

“Hon, a little over 3 months left”

“Hon, less than 3 months left”

“Hon, only 2 months left…”

 

And every day, hubby employs selective listening to tune me out and his selective vision kicks into high gear as he uses all his special powers to pretend he doesn’t seen the boxes… which equal 5 in total.  One is approximately 4 ft tall and another is probably 5 ft long.  (UHM, I don’t know, kind of hard to ignore – but I guess that’s just me……….)

 

His logic has been that we need to remove all the stuff from what will become the baby’s room, before he can move the boxes.

 

Problem #1:  This is HIS job…. I cannot carry the boxes, nor can I remove the existing furniture.

 

He also wants to paint the room before we put the new furniture in (makes sense but……………..)

 

Problem #2:  This is HIS job…. I cannot paint in my current state.

 

So, under normal circumstances, where I could easily become exasperated and do the work myself, I cannot do anything myself.   So, I’m at his mercy, and on his timeline, if I want to have this done.   UGH!

 

******* UPDATE *******

 

I wrote much of this post last week…. And didn’t have time to get it uploaded until today because my hard drive crashed (back up your stuff people – don’t be me and lose everything!!).   And, here’s a crazy news flash.   I expected to be able to take pictures of the HUGE boxes to illustrate the absurdity of my life but HOLY CRAP, they are gone.   It’s like I put it out into the blogosphere and magical things happened.  They actually made their way to the baby’s room.   The crib is assembled and everything is where it belongs……………HOORAY!

 

Here’s the catch.

 

Now that all the furniture is in the baby’s room, hubby is now questioning the need to paint the room….. “I kinda like the color it is right now”  he says.  Which he quickly follows up with  “But, if you still want it painted, I’ll be happy to do it”.  What sort of ploy is this???   Another 6 week delay and the baby will likely be in the room…. And then, no painting can occur… very sly hubby, very sly…………………..

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I generally consider myself to be a smart woman.  And, for this reason it’s particularly difficult to accept the fact that I will never be able to figure out my hubby.

 

The things that hit his radar seem to hold no particular importance in the universe and conversely, the things that never hit his radar, in my mind, are actually important.

  
 
Take for instance toilet paper.  Pretty important….. No?  Well, only slightly important to hubby.  Meaning we’ve been running so low on TP this week that, every day, I’ve brought up the fact that we really need to make a trip to Costco.  This wasn’t a declaration that I was going to go shopping, but rather a request that someone go shopping.  But alas, the replenishment of household items seems to rest squarely on my responsibility list.
 
 
I’m not exactly sure what hubby would have done had we actually run out of TP.  I shudder to think about what alternate product might be substituted, but thankfully we headed off this tragedy as I forced an errand trip one evening this week…. The solution: we both went to Costco!
 
 
While in the car, I decide to ask a few questions to really try understand my hubby.
 
 
It starts something like this:
 
 
Me:  “I think there are a few other things we might need.  I know we’re running really low on shampoo and conditioner…. Anything else you can think of that we might need?”
Hubby: “Hmmmmm…. I’m not really sure”
Me: “You do realize that you use all the same products I do every day.  You never pay attention to see if we’re running low?”
Hubby: “I guess not”
Me: “I don’t understand how you could pick up the shampoo or toothpaste every-single-day and never notice that we need to buy more??”
Hubby:  “I just don’t.” He states so matter of factly.
Me: “Dare I even ask what you’d do if we ran out of shampoo?” although I already know the answer
Hubby: “I’d figure it out”
Me: “You’d wash your hair with soap wouldn’t you?!”
Hubby: “Probably…… Honey, I’m a guy.”. As if that explains everything.  “Stuff like that just never hits my radar”
Me: “What exactly does hit your radar?”
Hubby: “Well, important stuff……..”
Me: “Just so I’m clear…… Washing your hair and wiping your butt are not necessarily important??”
Hubby: “I guess not in the way they are important to you…..”
 
 
And there ya have it folks.  No matter how hard I try, I will just never understand!!
 

 

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I’m not sure how projects start at your home but in mine, they almost always start the same way.

 

STEP 1:  Get Beer

 

And then, and only then, can the actual work begin.

 

I have never really understood this male mentality.  No matter the task, the required tool for tackling any project is BEER.

 

You’re going to rewire the basement with your buddy?   STEP 1:  Get Beer

You’re going to put together a new piece of furniture?  STEP 1:  Get Beer

There’s a room that needs painting?  STEP 1:  Get Beer

You’re about to build a new gazebo in the back yard?  Step 1:  Get Beer

 

It’s this last one that recently occurred at my house.  Our old flimsy gazebo had seen it’s last day and we had to cave and buy a new one to provide a bit of shade by our pool this summer.  We (meaning I) scoured the internet looking for options.  We (meaning I) shopped at every local store trying to find the sturdiest choice for the best price.  We (meaning I) settled on a couple of options and then, I dragged a cranky hubby out for final inspection before I made the purchase.  If you’ve been reading for a while, you understand how these shopping excursions go because hubby despises the shopping process.  I need to do all the pre-work when we buy large ticket items and then hubby will begrudgingly get involved to see the finalists.  This is of course unless we are shopping for electronics, in which case all the grumbling and whining goes out the window as he merrily researches stuff on the internet and happily skips in to Best Buy to make a purchase!

 

Anyhow, back to the gazebo.  It’s this monstrosity that comes in 3 separate boxes, and the instructions declare that it will take up to 9 hours to build.   Now remember, I am pregnant so I’m not much help.  Normally, I would be there alongside hubby holding up pieces and helping with the project…. but, that didn’t happen this time.  So hubby invites over a buddy, with the enticement of beer (of course), to help him build.

 

Now, I can’t think of a better time to involve beer than in a project where you need to clearly read instructions, or use power tools (unless, of course, you consider my earlier example of an electrical project – where it’s obviously a fantastic idea)… but alas, hubby disagrees (as do most men!).  And the assessment of how the project is coming along now seems to be evaluated by the # of beers consumed.  So, when my powerful team of brain surgeons finishes constructing our gazebo, they proudly declare (with their chests puffed out).  That it only took them 6 hours to complete AND a 12-pack of beer.

 

I’d have to guess that the length and/or quality of a project is inversely proportionate to the beer consumption, but I suppose I can’t knock it since the project did indeed get completed… I can only imagine what the gazebo would have looked like with 9 hours and say, 24 beers consumed.  I shudder at the thought.    The only time I may have to put my foot down is the painting of the baby’s room….. I may just have to enforce a no consumption rule until the project is complete.

 

Ladies, imagine how much more work might get done if we could hold the beer as a reward for job completion rather than a tool for job execution!!

 

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