Waiting for the Paint to Dry, Literally

Well, I'm at it again.  Painting furniture that it.  However, this time, inspired by a post from Lindsay at Living with Lindsay, I'm painting a laminate dresser.  I've had the dresser for about 8 years and I've thought it was hideous for exactly that long.  My grandmother purchased it for me when I moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment in college.  Did she know I thought it was ugly?  No way.  She took me to a furniture store and told me to pick what I like, but plagued by fierce independence and reluctance to accept charity, I made sure to choose the absolute cheapest thing I could find that would serve the function I needed.  So now, 8 years later, I really want a NEW dresser, but I'm also obsessed with painted furniture, so I figured why not?  I forgot to take before pictures, but I'll be sure to post after pictures.  Right now I'm at the step in the instructions where I'm supposed to let the primer dry for 7 days.  Auugh!  I do NOT like to wait an entire week when I have a bee in my bonnet.  And I'm not loving my plastic-drawer replacement while my dresser is in the basement.

This painting experience is almost a perfect metaphor for my life right now.  My life has been signed over to the US Army by my association with my husband.  However, I do not yet have a military ID, nor have I been given power of attorney by said husband.  What this means to the Army?  I can do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to help facilitate our move (or PCS- see I can learn the lingo).  It is aggravating to have to rely on Jason for this. I've always been in charge of moving, and until the Army gets back to him, I don't even know what day they are going to come pack us up.    This means I can't schedule carpet cleaners, a maid service (because I have enough to worry about), or turning off certain utilities. I can't schedule our lease check-out.
Being out of control is really not my favorite status, nor is having to depend on others whose priorities may differ from mine (yeah, so what if he's exhausted after PT and a full day of school).  But this is my life, so I'm just going to sit here until the paint dries and I can pick up my brush and roller and get back to work.

Wow, I just realized that stress causes me to write some pretty poorly constructed sentences.  Oh well, I refuse to apologize for this.

The Silent Treatment

I know I've been really quiet- I haven't blogged in almost a month!  To tell the truth, this is because I was allowing myself time to have a little pity-party.  Jason reported for duty in Ft. Lee, VA on Feb. 7th, and I've been single parenting for most of the last three weeks.  This is pretty much the reason why I told Jason (just months into our relationship) that I would leave him if he ever joined the military.  Well, never say never.  I find that those types of ultimatums don't generally work in a marriage (at least in a marriage that lasts), and so now I find myself being something I thought I'd never be, an Army Wife.

I'm adjusting to this idea (slowly) and realizing that I actually don't have it so bad.  Jason is now in Charlottesville for the next 10 weeks and should be able to come home most weekends.  This is certainly much better than not seeing him at all for the full 18 weeks of JAG training.  He came home last weekend and we had a nice time, although I think he was a bit disappointed that I vetoed so many of his weekend plans: buying a new car, buying a new computer, getting a dog.

Hopefully I'll get back to taking pictures and writing regularly, but until then, feel free to check out some of the blogs of Jason's classmates:
Earl Wilson
Bobby Luyties

You Turn Around For One Second/ Stop, Drop, and Roll

I have a boy.  And he's a boy's boy.  He put the "boy"  in boisterous.  Anyway, my favorite little hooligan is quite a handful, and recently, I've had to wonder if I'm teaching him enough about safety.  I am definitely not a "helicopter parent," and sometimes I think I may swing too far in the other direction.  Today, Dominic and I had the pleasure of making a little outing with five stops.  We went to Target to return something and pick a few things up, then Trader Joes, Home Depot, Harris Teeter, and a stop to pick up some things I got through Freecycle.

Dominic was pretty well behaved, with the influence of the bribe-threat combo.  And I was very impressed at how patient he was at Home Depot while we waiting for a staff person to retrieve some totes from a high shelf for us.  We had one more thing to pick up and he was sitting so nicely in the approved position for the shopping cart.  But I turned around for one second and this is what I found:

 

 Quietly and quickly he had unbuckled himself and climbed out of the seat and into the totes.  I laughed and took a picture, but thought, briefly, how easily he could have fallen and smacked his head on the hard concrete floor.

Now the stop, drop, and roll part.  Dominic has taken to throwing his ooubi and dish towels up on the stove top.  I've warned him about doing this, and thankfully, the stove has never been on when he has done it, but I decided that I had better give him a lesson in fire safety.  He is a rascal, and genetically predisposed toward pyrotechnics... from... um... his father.  Okay, that's a pretty big lie, I've always enjoyed playing with fire and it seems to run in my family.    The good news is, he took to "stop, drop, and roll" like a duck to water.  All night I've been running up to him and yelling, "You're on fire, what do you do?"  Is that wrong?  I figure better early, after all, I was calmly able to smother the fire on my breadspread at the age of 13.   Still, I probably shouldn't have showed him how to put out a candle with my fingers last weekend...

On a completely unrelated note, how cute is is that whenever he is getting a piggyback ride he likes to say, "Oink, oink, oink."

Child Labor

It's been a while since I posted, so this is just a quick one during my lunch hour.  I grew up doing chores, and I have been doing them for as long as I remember.  I have to admit, I still feel the same way about chores that I used to, I just have no authority figure to complain to, so I'm a lot less vocal about it.  I remember calling my mom a "slave-driver" as kid, partially in jest, and partially with the firm belief that she and my dad had kids so they would never again be forced to set or clear the table.

Continuing on in the grand tradition of child labor, I have been instituting chores for Dominic at home.  Since he was a baby, he has "helped" me in the kitchen.  He has always cooked with me, first in my sling, then, when he reached out and cut himself on my knife, from a walker safely on the floor.  For a while he simply played in the kitchen, but then he became much more interested in helping me.  For about a year now he has been pushing chairs up to the counter to "help" and has been thwarted in most of his attempts.

At first, I would only let him help me mix baked goods, but he quickly graduated on to stiring pots and pans full of hot food.  Don't worry, I don't leave the room and I'm never more than an arm's length away from him.  In other words, don't report me for abuse or negligence.  But Dominic has wanted to do more and obeying that first instinct, keeps reaching for my knives.

Last night I was hit with a memory of what I used to do for my mom before I was allowed to trim beans. 

I peeled!  Carrots, potatoes, cucumbers.  Thankfully, these vegetables make pretty regular appearances in our home, especially the carrots.  So, I tested it out and Dominic did a beautiful job!  I'm still feeling a bit guilty for letting my 3-year old handle what could be considered a sharp implement, but he didn't come even close to hurting himself, so he'll be my official peeler from now on.

Other chores he does: putting silverware on the table, clearing the table, cleaning up his toys.  Now if only I could teach him to make his bed... but he may still be a little to small for that.  It's hard to make a bed that's on the same level as your chest, or at least, I imagine it must be.

It's Growing

I have thick hair.  Very thick hair.  I also used to have very long hair that one of my dear friends described as "beer commerical hair."  I've been pretty vain about my hair in the past, but I gave up vanity when it started falling out in clumps shortly after I weaned Dominic. I was sick of pulling hair out from drains and vacuuming it up, so I chopped very short.  It wasn't the most flattering hairstyle I've ever had, but boy was it easy, just wash'n go.  I let it grow out to a bit of a bob and have kept it that way for about two years.  But, I decided to start growing my hair out about a year ago (alright, I didn't so much decide as I just got too busy to go get it cut) and now I'm pleased that my locks are getting long again.  Today I discovered I can return to my favorite whoops-I-forgot-a-rubberband-and-I'll-never-make-it-through-the-day-with-my-hair-in-my-face do. 

Yay!  I can now bun up my hair using only a writing implement, and this gives me plenty of opportunities to grab the pencil while gently tossing my head from side-to-side in that beer commercial way.  I <3 having long hair.

New Year's Resolutions

I try to only resolve one or two things each year, this makes those resolutions more attainable.  Last year, in addition to making exercise a regular part of my life, I resolved to learn to crochet.  I kept thinking about it all year, but I had so many other things going on.  The first two months of the year found me working madly on a quilt for my great-grandfather-in-law.  Alex DiSanto is the wonderful patriarch of my husband's family (father's side), and I feel blessed to have been so accepted by him and his clan.  Anyway, Papa always hosts the family, whoever can make it, at a beach house in the Outer Banks, NC every summer.  Each year a new t-shirt is made up for family members, and I had a great idea to make a quilt with all those t-shirts.  Unfortunately, I had the idea in the late fall and his birthday is in February.  But, I worked hard and diligently in all my free hours and got it done, and I'm pretty pleased with the result.

After that I finished a quilt for Dominic (something I had started in college for somebody else), but I don't have any pictures of that one.

Meanwhile, I started a new job, Jason graduated from law school, and my other life events happened, providing me with ample excuses not to get on with my resolution to learn to crochet.  Well, along comes November and I decided it wasn't too late.   I got myself a book, a hook, and a ball of yarn and sat down one weekend.

This is as far a I got.  2 rows of a really long scarf chain, and I haven't picked it up since. (Also, I lost my crochet hook).  I hope to get back to it this weekend as I'll be going to a meet-up with my good friend, Suzi of the Stars.  I should have a replacement hook to as she is making me one of her wonderful felted crochet hooks.

Technically, I would say I kept my resolution, I did learn... a little... about how to crochet.  Hopefully, this year  I'll actually complete a project.  I'd love to do a baby afghan and maybe some booties and a hat- I know a lot of people having babies, so these are good items to start with, as soon as I finish my scarf.

Wish me luck!

So Darn Tired!

Well,  today was my sixth consecutive weekday to get up to work out before 5am.  I must admit, by Thursday and Friday of last week my workouts got a little bit short and rushed because *somehow* I managed to take a really long time to drink my coffee.  But, I kept up the program and did a long-ish run (outside in the below freezing wind) on Sunday and got up again this morning.

I'm pretty happy with myself, but I'm also so tired.  I feel like I could fall asleep while typing this...



Whoa, what? (wipes drool from corner of mouth)  I guess I should take myself up to bed so I can face tomorrow when it arrives... at 4:30 am.