Buying Her a Washing Machine

My father believes in having a soundtrack to his life. When he cooks, one can hear, along with clanking pots and pans, sizzling onions, and the occasional frustrated exclamation, classic rock playlists that have been carefully arranged for cooking spaghetti or frying taco shells. No car trip, whether it be to the grocery store or a six hour road trip, is complete without his mix CDs made especially for the occasion. On my wedding day, as he drove me through grape vines to walk down the aisle, he had, of course, picked the perfect song to play. As a testament to his devotion to music and everlasting love of the Grateful Dead, I was named after the song “Cassidy.” He’s told me that, as he walks down the stairs to make coffee in the morning, he hears the lyrics to Johnny Cash’s “Sunday Morning Coming Down.”Before I was born, he played the song “Ready or Not” by Jackson Browne for my mother. Twenty-five years later, he played the song for me and my unborn daughter:

Someone’s going to have to explain it to me
I’m not sure what it means
My baby’s feeling funny in the morning
She’s having trouble getting into her jeans
Her waist-line seems to be expanding
Although she never feels like eating a thing
I guess we’ll reach some understanding
When we see what the future will bring

This past week, Tim and I moved into our new home. One thing that we both agreed on when we were looking at somewhere to live is that it must either come with a washer or dryer, or have full connections to install one. The house we found didn’t have a washer and dryer, so that meant we got to go shopping for one. Which meant that, being the weirdo that I am, I was elated; I was going to get my first washer and dryer. It also meant that I was humming a different part of that same Jackson Browne song all week long:

I told her I had always lived alone
And I probably always would
And all I wanted was my freedom
And she told me that she understood
But I let her do some of my laundry
And she slipped a few meals in between
And the next thing I remember, she was all moved in
And I was buying her a washing machine

See, in the song, he makes it sound like buying a washing machine is so freaking easy. He should have talked about having to go from Home Depot to Lowes to Costco to Sears, and everywhere in between. In the end we settled with Sears, and I am in love with our new washer and dryer. I think I have already done twenty loads, and we haven’t even had it a week. Something that I never knew about washers: if you buy a front load washer, it will provide hours of entertainment for the whole family. The day it was delivered, we all sat in front of it, watching the first load spin around. Now, if Rose is a little cranky, I can throw a load in, and she’ll watch the colors spin ’round and ’round, while I write lyrics and steal a new melody for a washing machine soundtrack:

The clothes in the wash go ’round and ’round. ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round, all day longggg. 

The water in the washer goes whish whish whish, whish whish, whish, whish whish whish all through the wash.

There’s more to that soundtrack, but I’ll spare you. I blame my father, and his need to have lyrics that fit every occasion.

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In Which I Show Off My Awesome Photography Skills

Let me begin the post by saying, yes, I am aware of my fantastic photography skills. I’m professionally trained, and never even edit my photos. They are that good. And, also, yes, I am available for hire. Anyway… 

We moved into our new home last week. Friday we got our keys, and we spent our first night in our new house on Saturday. It was, with only one glitch, the most amazing, calmest, easiest move I have EVER made. I now know that the secret to a smooth move is that my husband and I are not together at all on moving day. He can take care of the heavy lifting, while I play games and eat cake (seriously, this is what I did- it was awesome). So, while I enjoyed myself at a lovely baby shower, my husband moved everything into our house. Karma kind of sucks though, since when I got home from having a good time, an hour before my daughter’s bedtime, nothing was ready for her to be put to bed, and my husband was nowhere in sight. Literally. His car was gone, along with the dog. After trying to reach him, I convinced myself that he had died and left me to be a single mother with no income and a living room filled with everything we own. So, so rational, I am. Then, my happy, even tempered, go with the flow baby had a complete meltdown. She cried, and cried, and cried. I carried pieced of the crib up to her new room. I found the screws to put her bed together. I stood and stared at the crib. I sat and stared at the crib. I cursed myself for throwing out instruction manuals, and for not having internet set up THE SECOND WE MOVED IN. All the while my daughter cried. And then… I cried. I cried, and screamed, and stomped around the house. I pouted. Called my mother-in-law, told her that her son was dead to me. She offered to come over and help (I think more to check on the safety of her son and grandchild and the sanity of her daughter-in-law than to help with the crib). My phone was almost dead. So, I screamed some more (note to self: always keep a cell phone charger in the diaper bag). And then… I manned up. I am a grownup. I don’t need my husband to put the crib together for me. I have a child. I did not need to be throwing a tantrum like a child. 

So, I searched through boxes to find the right tools. I spent some more time staring at the crib parts. I put the child in her swing and let her cry. And I built the damn thing. And, was almost finished when my brother-in-law and husband (alive, surprisingly…) walked in the door. I was finished, and damn proud. I was happy. The baby had stopped crying, and the boys had food and puppies and soda. My husband came upstairs to inspect my handiwork. He looked at me. Looked back at the crib. And then told me that I hadn’t put it together right, but that it would work for the night. He put in the last few screws, and I am sure was thinking that my screws needed tightening too (get it? I have a few screws loose… hahahaha). Moral of the story? Get crib put together before doing anything fun (like baby showers, or, you know, whatever the boys were doing). Also, screaming, crying, and stomping around does not put a crib together, and, does make one look rather crazy. 

Now, without further ado, welcome to our new home. These photos took hours to take, and I made sure to have the right lighting, and I also made sure everything was in place and looking perfect. 

Where I apparently watch Dr. Phil… No comment…Image

Cuz all the cool kids have bed pillows on their couches (futons)…ImageImageCurrently, the dining room has been dubbed the “messy room.” This is driving me bananas, and must change soon.ImageImageUpstairs… oh, yeah.ImageImageImageImageImageImageMissing: more wine on the rack, and ice cream in freezer. I take donations.ImageImageWhere I wash the dishes. And spy on the neighbors. Sometimes I save dishes until there are neighbors to snoop on. Creeper right here.ImageRose has a ton of toys, but still thinks the most entertaining things are Maggie’s bowls. That girl army crawls like a madwoman to get her hands in those dishes. Maggie is not amused. 

The end. I know you are dying to have me take some photos, so hit me up. Also available as an interior decorator. But, really, I do know a few awesome photographers, so if you are looking, contact them (I didn’t ask them if I could link to them, so hopefully they don’t mind, if nothing else, check out their photos!):

In California: Wendy Baker (she did my wedding)

In Texas: Emily Alexander (my sister-in-law’s sister-in-law… yeah… is there a title for that?) 

 

The One Where it All Comes Together

You know how sometimes, you are living your life, going about your business, and all that fun stuff? You know; when it is crazy stressful, and you have a million things going on at once, a million tasks to complete, a million thoughts running through your mind? And then, just like that, all those things that you are stressing about just collides, but in, like, a good way? You know, and then everything comes together and works out perfectly, smoothly, and stress free? You know exactly what I’m talking about, right? Yeah, me neither. I wish this could happen, you know, like, once in my life. Maybe if I was relaxed, and able to roll with the punches, this would happen, but, usually, I just end up with a gazillion more things to worry about. So, as you may or may not have gathered from my last post, we are moving, and, gulp, moving day is (well, was) today. And, yes, we did get our keys, but we are so, so far from moving in. So, in addition to worrying about moving, I’m also worrying about:

-Rose has been teething. Actually, she now has a tooth. She had exactly one rough day, and then went back to her normal, happy, agreeable self. She woke up the next day, and had a little nub peeking through her gums. I am torn up about the fact that my little tiny baby has a tooth. Pretty soon she’ll be in school, and then… yep, not going there, actually.

-I had a dream that I had another baby. AHHHHHH. It was scary. Luckily, in the dream, the labor was easy, and ended with the baby just kinda falling onto the ground. Easy peasy, compared to the thirty-six hours of fun that I endured in real life. And, just to avoid confusion, no, I am NOT pregnant now, but I DO want another seven baby someday.

I guess that is really all. The week is pretty busy, full of such difficult activities as going to my first concert since before I was pregnant, Oktoberfest, and, on Saturday, a baby shower. All fun things, but I’ve been so distracted from all the fun that I haven’t gotten much done. Oh, well, maybe it will all come together tomorrow, right? HA. Yeah right.