Interesting things I have learned from watching (too much) Treehouse TV
- Chuggington is NOT the red train. He’s not even a train at all. I thought it was like Thomas, and the show was named after the one train in particular. But Chuggington is actually the name of the train STATION … I think.
- The birds on 3rd and Bird make me wish my baby was British. Their accents are delightful, and I find myself singing “Do the Muffin” and “It’s Baby Jordan” on a daily basis, just because I like to “sing British.”
- Guess with Jess? It’s just a cheap imitation of Blue’s Clues. Where is Steve? He was cute in a goofy way. I seriously used to have a crush on him. Now there’s just a stupid animated cat, and I always find myself looking at Baby Boy and saying, “‘Allo!” in his stupid Cockney accent.
- The voice of Ruby on Max & Ruby is actually Pam from The Office. What? It’s not??? But seriously, it must be. It’s got to be!
- The commercials for The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That bug me. REALLY bug me. I don’t want to dilly OR dally with friends Nick and Sally and their “thinga-ma-jigger.” How is it possible that I love Dr. Seuss books but want to down a whole bottle of Advil when I hear this commercial?
- Caillou might be whiny, but his parents are cool. I get them. They are tough but fair, and always so pleasant. I want to be Caillou’s mom … minus the baggy green sweatshirt. I don’t think I’ve worn a sweatshirt since 2001.
- I watched Roary the Racecar only once, but I’m sure it featured a lazy mechanic guy in a shed who was very happy to have the day off, and he may have been intoxicated. Weird show.
- I like you, Emily Yeung. You sometimes visit places I know in Canada, and I like that. You do fun things, and you ramble on-camera, and it’s funny because you’re just a kid so they don’t cut you off, and I’m like, Oh, Emily!
- Waybuloo is just Tellatubbies. They make the same creepy “Ooooohhahhhhhh” noises and run around with their arms in the air, and stuff lights up, and mushrooms cry, and kids pretend to see stuff that isn’t there. Tellatubbies did not deserve to be re-made.
- I am eerily entranced by 4 Square. I know the movement segment guys have socks stuffed in their unitards. I know the cross-eyed puppets in the singing segment look like they’re on LSD. I know the chick reciting the stories is a whackjob. But damnit, I like it! And Baby Boy does, too. We hear the music and both run for the TV. We follow along with Captain Hupette religiously. It is some kind of government plot, possibly.
Not Me Monday: Worst wife EVER edition
- I totally didn’t stay out until late on Saturday night (knowing Father’s Day was the next day)
- I wasn’t dancing nonstop at my cousin’s wedding, indulging in
a fewfive or six cocktails (really for the first time in TWO YEARS, thanks to pregnancy and breastfeeding) - I didn’t pour myself out of a cab at 2:30 a.m. and stumble into bed, next to my sweet sleeping husband who had been with Baby Boy alone since noon
- When Baby Boy woke up at 7:30 a.m., I didn’t stuff my aching, overfull boobs in his mouth and feel so relived I felt like sending him a thank-you card
- When Baby Boy was bursting with milk (and ready to start the day), I didn’t whine and cover my head with the pillow and, um, let Darling Husband get up with him
- I did not get out of bed at noon, and proceed to try desperately to salvage Father’s Day by making Darling Husband some bacon
- I am winning some kind of Best Wife Ever award for this, I think …
Not Me Monday: What’s yours is mine edition
- I don’t order kiddie meals for Baby Boy based (somewhat) on what I want to eat.
- At dinner on Friday, I didn’t eat his entire portion of fries (while he ate the macaroni and cheese). I would never steal food from my son.
- On Sunday, I didn’t gobble down half of his bedtime bowl of Cheerios — while exclaiming, “Holy crap! Multigrain Cheerios are good! They’re like ALPHABITS! Mmmm!”
- Goldfish crackers? Totally his. I would never eat them by the handful on long car-rides.
- Drink water from his sippy-cup? No! I was just … testing the temperature. You know, to make sure the sun hadn’t heated it up …
The price of a sale
The condo is still for sale.
I was very excited last week, to be able to tell you that we had sold it.
But it fell through.
Again.
Yes! Two sales falling through! What are the odds? As I have lamented to Darling Husband, “we have shitty luck in real estate.”
To make matters worse, we found out Sale #2 was falling through on Baby Boy’s birthday. Depression City, population: us.
And so our lives continue to be consumed with booking showings and answering phone calls and answering emails and rescheduling showings and booking last-minute showings. But mainly CLEANING FOR SHOWINGS.
I am so tired of our plans being cancelled at the last minute because someone wants to see the place RIGHTNOW, and we have to clean like mad. Of having to reschedule our plans because someone wants to see the place in three hours, and we need to clean first. Of having absolutely no idea when someone is going to call or email to book a showing, and turn everything upside down.
The thing about trying to sell your place is that you are always “trying.” You can’t turn down showings, because what is that person is “the one”? And so you show. And show. And show.
It is a beautiful Saturday — the kind of day where everyone on Facebook is buzzing about the gorgeous sun and warmth and blue sky — and we are stuck here, cleaning. We have a showing in just over an hour.
We are trying to deal with mounds of baby stuff, mounds of our own stuff. We have taken countless carloads of crap to store in my mom’s basement. Occasionally, we need to bring stuff back. It is an endless cycle of trying to move, hide and arrange our crap.
And the bloody CLEANING.
The CONSTANT cleaning.
Cleaning on a DEADLINE.
With a BABY UNDERFOOT.
This is very hard on our marriage.
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Heather's Handmade Life 