Month: March 2019

Forget Your Troubles, Come on, Be Productive

I will be the first to admit, being productive is not my strong suit. I’m entirely too distractible. But, before Justin kicks me to the curb for not pulling my weight (or any amount of weight, for that matter), I decided I really better step up my game today.

I was off to a good start! The laundry was folded, I showered and got dressed (don’t judge me). Then on to the big tasks: returning library books before the military police arrest Justin for being related to a book-stealing hooligan–ok, I don’t actually know what happens when books are returned late. I’m just guessing it includes water boarding or some other form of torture. “Tell us where your books are!”

With books in hand, I hop into my van, and…she won’t start. Very well, I can only assume someone left a light on, or a door ajar, or whatever. Anyway, the library visit is now off the table. No big deal, there’s plenty more to be done!

On to the next big task: mowing the lawn. This task normally takes around 2 hours. I threw on workout clothes, put sunblock on my head scar (spf 100, per the dr’s orders. My forehead is going to be super pale this year). And away I go!

Just about 45 minutes in, there’s a loud BANG! And the mower stops. Ok, I probably hit a dog toy hidden in the grass–nope, it’s a chunk of burnt wood the size of my fist (leftover gifts from the previous owners, which Emma carries around the yard like they really are prized possessions).

Now would be a good time to mention I’m mildly terrified of lawnmowers. Irrational fear? Perhaps.

That chunk of wood was so far stuck on the blade, I didn’t even know where to begin. I kicked it a couple times, but out of fear that the blades would kick, I gave up on that rather quickly. Using my hands was absolutely out of the question–have you paid any attention to the month I’ve had?! I was not about to tempt fate.

Next idea: bang it with a log until the chunk of wood dislodges itself. This worked like a charm, and after I threw both pieces over the fence (not to worry, the overgrown wilderness on the other side of our fence is not owned…or, at least not by anyone who lives there). Of course now I realize that the mower is dripping oil from the top bit (the motor? I have no idea how any of this works). I’m assuming it’s because I had the mower flipped upside down while I was beating on it, but for now, it’s in a time out.

And my lawn is only 1/4 mowed.

And my library books are overdue.

I’m just not cut out for this “productive” biz.

The Friday Misadventures of the Steevesies

I should start by saying that after my head wound, the following week our cat, Jessie, had a massive abscess on her belly that required 13 staples. Justin said, “is this going to be a weekly thing? Are we just going to keep having bad Fridays?

Bad things happen in 3s, so this should be the last of it.

I will start by saying we are all ok.

Yesterday, Xander had gymnastics. Justin and I take turns driving him, but since Shea wanted to go dress shopping (she’s decided she wants to wear more dresses), we all went, so we could stop at the mall after gymnastics.

Dresses were purchased. Bracelets were purchased. We were on our way home. Since we live pretty far off the beaten path, our drive home requires around 15 miles on a country highway. As we were coming up to a church, I saw a car waiting to take a left turn from a side street. When suddenly, a gold SUV came flying up on the car’s right side and…HOLY SHIT IT’S TURNING LEFT!

I swerved as best I could, without ending up in oncoming traffic. But it was no use. We were hit. And spinning. Or rolling. I wasn’t entirely sure. It felt like we were a pinball, being shot between other vehicles on the road. It turns out we were actually rolling across the highway. We slid a bit. And finally stopped. Upright (which is probably why I thought we had only been hit a lot). “Is everyone ok?!?!”

The kids were in the back. In car seats. Folks, if there was ever a reason to keep your children in car seats as long as possible, this is it. Our children were in high-back booster seats, with seat belts, and they have cuts and bruises. That’s it. They asked if they could please get out of the car.

Justin was in the passenger seat. That’s right–I was driving (insert “female driver” jokes here). And he was hyperventilating. “Are you ok?!” One part of me was thinking, “oh my God, he’s been impaled, or seriously injured,” and the other part of me was thinking, “stop making that obnoxious noise!”

“Are you ok!?” He finally responded. “I can’t breathe. It hurts to breathe.” But as fast as he was saying it, he was unbuckling and jumping into the back of the van.

Outside the vehicle I hear, “is everyone ok?!” I finally took it all in. We were sitting upright, in the grass on the opposite side of the road. “We’re fine!”