groggy monday

There are times when I want to sit down with Emma and explain some things for her. Reason with her, and shape her little will to mine. Today is one of those days. I would kindly explain that the night is for sleeping, and although I understand completely how frustrating it can be to wake up and have a hard time getting back to sleep, the correct behavior is not to yell about it. There will be no yelling before 7:00. Unfortunately, there is no such luck. I have to just stick it out. It's hard to be truly upset with the little thing, she is so sweet and lovable, lucky for her. Between her and my crazy pregnant body, I may have some very restless nights. Oh well, I can always get up at 4:30, have some cereal and read a little of my husband's magazine. So many things I have to be thankful for, cereal, air conditioning, Tylenol, and a whiny daughter to keep me in line.

My husband rocks. I must have won the cosmic lottery to have claimed him. He made me eggs on Sunday as I slept in, out of exhaustion, not pampering (that was last weekend), and brought them to me. And as I came downstairs, I see the coffee :) He doesn't even drink coffee. I hope I am able to love people like he loves me.

A few weeks ago our vacuum died. So yesterday we went vacuum shopping. There is little chance that I am going to pay for a vacuum that costs nearly what our couch did, unless it is guaranteed to add years to my life or sleep to my nights. That narrowed it down a bit. We found one that has the option of popping the canister out and carrying it, so you can do your stairs, or tights areas, or whatever. We went back and forth a little bit, because it was quite a price difference. But I have heard a few people say if you get the cheapest one, you'll have to get a new one anyway. And a well timed phone call came, and it was confirmed that the canister option was worth it. We loaded it up, we carted it around, and we brought it home.

When I was in fifth grade, we got a new kitchen. My parents live in a farm house that is a hundred years old or so. We moved into this house while my grandpa was still living there, and although many renovations had been made, he was a simple man who lived, well, a simple life. I distinctly remember laundry day with my mom and my brother. The washer was an automatic, but it didn't have a spin cycle. It must have been 30, 40, 50 years old. So the clothes would wash, then you would put them in a big tub, and the was a ringer that you used to ring out the water. Some car washes have them for your shammies. After the ringing was done, we would hang them on the clothes line to dry, because there was no dryer. He must have had an indoor clothesline for the winter, but I don't remember that as well. He was simple.

So the kitchen was equally inadequate for a family. There was this weird green carpet, and a little sink on a stainless steel counter, and a table against one wall. I don't know that there were any cupboards or real storage. A big pantry is located right off the kitchen, so I suppose he kept everything in there. After a time living there, the time had come to update. So, out went the sink, in came some cupboards, and a new fridge. And, alas, the weird green carpet was replaced with a beautiful laminate floor. We had it delivered, and it was a big day when the men carried it in and sat it in front of our couch (which we won't discuss here). My father put it in, with the help of his children, and my grandpa, I suppose. I don't remember a lot of that, other than a blue line that was put on the floor by a long string that came out of a thing like a tape measure, and you would stretch it way out and then snap it, and the line would appear, showing them where to cut. It was truly a work of art.

So months later, christmas came. Although we never really celebrated christmas, we usually got a few gifts. I think my parents were really conscious of not wanting us to feel odd when we went back to school. There was this long package for me. It was wrapped and standing upright, leaning against the buffet in the dining room. I was a bright girl, and it didn't take me long to figure out what it was. Oh, they knew me well! I humored them, of course, and went along with the ritual of "what can it be?", "what is it?", "just tell me!". I "settled" on a pogo stick, yes, it must be a pogo stick. Of course, when the time came, I acted very surprised when I opened it, and found a new mop. A brand new nice mop for the beautiful floor. Now, it was of course a gag gift, meant to get a few laughs. But I really liked it! I have always had a little mutation that allows me to enjoy cleaning, and things being clean. So on this day, I was tickled to get a mop for "my" new floor. I would bet I didn't go to school and announce that I had gotten a mop, however.

That feeling of delight was revisited when our new vacuum arrived in our living room. Although I had decided that Sunday night was no time to vacuum, it wasn't much time before I dug into the box, put it together, and took it for a test drive. Oh, it was glorious. The brush that is so strong that it feels self-propelled, the light (that I once scoffed at) that allows you to see into the dark and dirty corners, that raw power of clean. Nothing prepared me for the canister though. I popped that baby out and went for the stairs, and I vacuumed them with such elation! Because my husband was still outside busy with something, I took my new apparatus to the garage and embarked on the van. I'm telling you, there is little else like the feeling of really cleaning, and seeing the results. I folded seats, I moved jumper cables, I crouched, I stretched, I found a tape measure belonging to my father-in-law, hidden away. (Both an excitement, and a feeling of uh-oh, we thought we didn't have that) I momentarily forgot I was carrying a child. The van, the van is very clean too.

So I am reminded of the days of youth, when I would get so bent out of shape when I had just mopped the floor and some lug would come trampling dirt, or muck, all the way across it. I believe some siblings of mine would remember those days also, although they may have a different rendition of it entirely.