How do two people use this many dishes?

Published November 14, 2016 by Malia

I officially became a homemaker at the end of January.  Since January, I’ve discovered that I officially suck at being a homemaker.

Our house is a disaster.  When I moved in, the boy already had the house filled with his things, and I liked his things.  Big problem, though, I had boxes and boxes of my own things, and I happen to like my things too.  Right now, 75% of my things are still in boxes in the room that we don’t talk about.

Oh, the room.  Picture Monica’s secret closet, and just imagine it as a whole room.  Okay, it’s not that bad.  It’s not packed full to the ceiling.  There are just stacks of boxes everywhere.  We don’t talk about the room, because every time I go in there to try find something, I end up wanting to cry and then spend hours beating myself up because I have ZERO clue how to organize this house.

Both my mom and my mom-in-law have offered, many times, to come and help me make sense of the nightmare.  And I know that I should accept their help.  I need their help, but I’ve yet to take them up on it because I’m embarrassed.  It’s humiliating to be almost 32 years old, and be incapable of making your house look like grown-ups live there.

I’ve tried.  I honestly have.  It always starts out well.  I do the dishes.  And by that, I mean, I empty the dishwasher of the dishes that have been sitting in it for two or more weeks, and then fill it up from the pile of dishes that has been growing in the sink for weeks.  Then, once the dishwasher is filled and running, if I’m feeling really gung-ho, I’ll wash a bunch of dishes by hand.  Once the sink is empty I’ll turn my attention to the ever-inflating mountain of laundry, and I might even get the bathroom cleaned.

So, it probably sounds like I’ve pretty much got everything under control, and there should be no problem.  My house should be spotless at this point, right?

Wrong.

See, I’ll have a super productive day, and then the boy comes home from work, and I’ll make food.  Making food leads to the sink being filled with a bunch of dirty dishes.  When I look at that pile of dirty dishes, I just absolutely shut down.  I’ll have been so proud of myself for getting things done throughout the day, and the new pile of dishes seems to cancel out everything else I got done and I feel like I’m back to square one.  And, instead of just being an adult, I go into avoid mode…for days or sometimes weeks.

I don’t know why I go into avoid mode.  I know that there are no faeries that are going to come in the middle of the night and clean my house.  And yet, I apparently believe that is exactly what is going to happen.  There’s just something so defeating about doing a chore and  within a few hours you’re back to square one.

I have no idea how moms do it everyday.  Take my sister-in-law, for example.  She’s mom to the two most precious, adorable, energetic little boys on the planet (nope, I’m not biased at all).  She works full time, is always helping out with things at church, and her house is gorgeous.  I am just in awe of her, and I wish I could be half the amazing woman she is.

The challenge here really is just sucking it up and being a grown up.  And now I’m going to go put another load of laundry in the washer because we are officially out of clean underwear.

Also, there’s only ten shopping days left ’til my birthday.

Never complain that you don’t have anything to write about, because your car will die. 

Published September 29, 2016 by Malia

Okay, I can’t guarantee that’s the reason it happened, but it is kind of suspicious that on Monday I was feeling annoyed that I had nothing interesting to blog about, and then on Tuesday the good car died.

There are two cars in my life.  The boy’s car, which is a beautiful Subaru, is the good car.  My car, a 23-ish year-old white minivan I call the pregnant cow, is the bad car.  The bad car gets me around town, is very temperamental (it works correctly when it feels like it), and isn’t exactly what I’d call trustworthy.  The good car does everything that’s asked of it and more.

So, the boy’s job requires him to work long hours driving around the eastern side of the state.  It’s nothing for him to put in 150-250 miles in a day.  Obviously, he takes the good car, because if he tried that with the bad car I’m pretty sure it would just freeze in the driveway and go, “Nope, not happenin’.”

I went with him on Tuesday.  I do this occasionally.  If I don’t, then the majority of our married life interaction is him coming in between 11:30 p.m. and 1:30 a.m. and collapsing on the bed to sleep.   Funnily, enough, I like to have conversations with my husband that don’t involve snoring.

His work had sent him up to the Sioux City area for the day.  He had done the lion’s share of the driving, but by the time we grabbed supper and were ready to head home, he was absolutely dead on his feet and he asked me to drive.  So, there we were, headed home on I-29, when the car began having problems.  About five miles north of Onawa, the car began vibrating violently.  We agreed to try to make it to Onawa, because at least then we’d be able to park at a gas station.  Unfortunately, the car didn’t agree with our decision.  Instead, not quite three miles north of Onawa, I heard a “ping” like a snapping rubber band, all the warning lights briefly flashed on, and the the car had no power.  I glided us to the shoulder of the road, and there we sat with a dead car.

That’s Onawa circled in red.  We were so close, and yet so vey far away.

We sat there for about an hour trying to get the car to come back to life, but it was all for naught.  Fortunately, the boy got a hold of his folks, and they willingly drove up to where we were  and rescued us from the side of the road.  We finally got home just a little after 2 a.m.

The car was towed into Omaha yesterday, and we found out that that “ping” was the car throwing a rod.  Apparently, for a car to run, it needs a working engine; and for an engine to work, the rods need to be not thrown.

I spent the better part of today with a phone glued to my head, calling one auto shop after another.  My spiel of, “Our car threw a rod, and now the engine doesn’t work.  Is this something you guys can fix?” came out of my mouth so many times, I began to work on autopilot.  I got a pile of estimates (starting $2500 and going all the way up to $8000.  Apparently, there’s no standard price list that everyone works off when it comes to this sort of thing.), and then had to sit down and relay all the information to the boy as he was at work.

Ultimately, we narrowed it down to two places, and the boy left the final decision in my hands.  A very scary thing to do to someone who struggles with decision making as much as I do.  I did make a choice, though, for better or for worse.

So, off good car went this afternoon, to a place that will make it all better!

I’ll be honest, I’m scared right now.  I have absolutely no idea how we’re going to pay for this.  We’ve already sunk a ton of money into maintenance of this car this summer, plus we had to replace our house a.c., and I’ve had some “fun” with my health.  Please, please, keep us in your thoughts and prayers (and if you want, check out our GoFundMe: Help Fix Our Car).

Did you know they keep the nuclear wessels in Alameda?

Published September 8, 2016 by Malia

Guys, look what I found at the bookstore today!

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It’s a novel that’s a sequel to my all-time favorite Trek movie (Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home)!  I didn’t even know this book existed, and I stumbled across it by accident.  How awesome is that?!?  I’m hoping that this novel will answer some questions I’ve always had.  Questions like: Where did the probe come from?  What did it and the whales say to each other?  Did the whale scientist from 1984 thrive in the future, or did it all turn out really bad for her?  Also, did the whales survive in the future, or was it too much of a shock to their system?

It’s crazy that Star Trek is 50 today.  I feel really fortunate that I grew up with a mom that loved Star Trek (and a dad that loved Star Wars).  When I was really little, it started when I was two or three, I would sit on my dad’s foot and when he would try to walk I’d gleefully announce that I was a Klingon.  Okay, I didn’t quite understand the concept of alien races when I was that young, but I was convinced that they were called Klingons because they clung on to other people.  I agree, my brain is an odd place…

Last year, when the boy and I took a mini-honeymoon we fulfilled a bucket list item of mine:

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Look at that, I had my own personal Redshirt with me.

Happy Anniversary, Star Trek, may you continue to teach the importance of using your brain, being a compassionate, tolerant human, and making me wish I had access to a holodeck.

I wonder if it comes alive when it’s alone?

Published September 7, 2016 by Malia

So, this dummy is kind of freaking me out…

And believe me, it’s not helping my “shy bladder” to relax.  

I had an interview for a seasonal job this morning.  Part of the hiring process is having to do a drug test, which is fine…except for the fact that my bladder basically shuts down when it has to work on command.  I’m like, “Really, bladder?  You can wake me up five times a night to pee, but now when I actually need to pee you’re just gonna sit there and laugh at me?”  Since I wasn’t able to provide an adequate sample, I have to sit in this room with the creepy dummy while I drink water attempting to convince my body it can do this.  

Brown Thumb vs. Green Thumb

Published September 6, 2016 by Malia

Ever since I got married, I’ve wanted to grow some of our food.  Unfortunately, my thumb is pretty brown.  Which means that my efforts over the last two springs were quite pathetic.  I think I successfully grew a single green bean and one tiny tomato.  After this past spring, I shelved my dreams of growing food.  Then, about a month ago the boy was playing a podcast and they were discussing various gardening options.  (Know How)  

So, I’m not shelving that dream quite yet.  Let me introduce you to the beginning of my new garden.

These are the smallest Aero Garden units you can get.  I’m using the red to grow salad greens, and the blue to grow herbs.  I’m so excited about this.  No dirt to mess with, which I am perfectly fine with.  Plus, I can do all of this inside, avoiding sunburn and bug bites.  

If this first round goes well, I’m planning to get more units so I can grow berries, peppers, tomatoes, and other awesome foods!  

Nice coffee tables are for holding Lego’s, right?

Published August 30, 2016 by Malia

An actual conversation that happened last week:

Me: I was out today running errands, and LITERALLY  every single woman I saw was either pregnant or had a pile of small kids or both.  I honestly think we’re having all the sex, and everyone else is getting pregnant.

The Boy: That’s not how it works.

Me: No, I’m pretty sure it is.  Like, three people announced on Facebook today that they’re pregnant.  So, yeah, I’m sticking with this argument.

The Boy: You’re saying that the sperm and the egg leave here and go elsewhere and other people get pregnant?

Me: Yes.

The Boy: Again, that’s not how it works.

Me: You don’t know!  I’m the medical professional, this is totally how it works!

After that, the conversation slipped into further nonsense.

Here’s the thing, I honestly am happy for all y’all that are gettin’ preggers and poppin’ out babies.  I really am.  Please don’t think that I’m not.  I’m sorry if I  cry or seem not as enthused as everyone else (I try really hard not to do that except when I’m alone or with the boy).  And please, please, please don’t ever keep it from me that you’re expecting because you’re afraid it’ll make me sad.  I’m 98% happy for all you expectant mamas.  There’s just this annoying 2% of me that is a little jealous and a little sad.  That’s fair, though, right?  I can be 2% selfish.

So what do you do when your baby making parts aren’t magic?  You build Lego sets.  Lego sets with dragons and elves.  Seriously, it’s excellent therapy.

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And now these sets are living on my coffee table, because they’re pretty and they make me happy.

They’re NOT Just Like Us

Published July 29, 2016 by Malia

Okay, guys, bear with me.  I’m about to break my rule about not talking about politics.  And for the record, let me just say, I have not yet decided who I’m voting for, and even when I do decide, it’s my personal decision, and it’s my choice not to share it with the entire world.

I’m not a fan of politics.  I hate that politics bring out the absolute worst in people, and just seem to stir up so much hate and anger.  However, there’s something about politics that just really, REALLY annoys me…

Celebrity Supporters

What’s a celebrity supporter, you ask?  It’s anyone famous, or kinda famous who steps up and says, “I’m voting for so and so, and you should too because I’m just like you.  I’m a hard working, red-blooded American who only wants what’s best for this country; and this candidate shares all of our core values and beliefs.”

What’s absolutely amazing to me is that people would rather listen to a celebrity tell them how to vote, instead of actually sitting down and educating themselves about the candidate in question.

The thing is, no matter what the magazines may tell us, celebrities are NOT just like us.  It doesn’t matter how many times they’re photographed wearing yoga pants or getting Starbucks or walking their dogs.  The truth of the matter is, they live in a very different world than most of the rest of us.

Don’t believe me?  Here’s a few examples:

-This year’s Oscar nominee’s received a gift bag valued at $232,000 (Harper’s Bazaar).  Sure, it wasn’t sanctioned by the Academy, but that didn’t stop the nominees from receiving it.  Maybe it’s just me, but that number seems mind boggling for a “goodie bag.”  To put that in perspective, with that much money, I could pay off our mortgage, car, my student loans, and have a bit left over to give my parents to help pay down their mortgage.  To even make that much money, I would have had to work nearly twelve years at my last job to make that much money.

-Think about the last time you got a hair cut.  How many hundreds of dollars was it?  Yup, while you may pay between $15-$35 for a haircut, there are celebrities paying $350 and up for a cut that every stylist in America hopes they can recreate when an obsessed fan comes in wanting to look just like their favorite star.  (Forbes)

-What did you spend on your wedding?  Probably at least a couple thousand, right?  Even the most expensive weddings I know of, among my peer group, didn’t top $60,000 (and yes, even that number seems super high to me).  However, when celebrities get married, it’s not unusual for that price to jump into the millions.  (USA Today)

Are celebrities bad people because they have this kind of money?  No, not at all.  Having lots of money has little to do with what kind of person you are.  It’s how you choose to spend that money that reveals what your true nature is.

The point I’m trying to make is that these people don’t live a life that’s anything like that of the “average” American.  Now, I can appreciate that celebrities have quite a bit of power.  They can send out a tweet saying that the best tacos in the world are at a pretty unknown bar in Dallas, and not only will their millions of followers let all of their followers know, but the previously unknown bar will suddenly be famous.  And even if their tacos suck, most will never admit it because their favorite celebrity made the claim of best, and they just know that the celebrity couldn’t possibly be wrong.  With that kind of power, what politician wouldn’t want a celebrity in their corner, tweeting to the masses that their candidate is the one with true vision for the future?

So, here’s the deal, as we head into the next few months of this insane political circus, famous people are just people.  Meryl Streep is a very talented actress.  Willie Robertson is a successful businessman with an entertaining “reality” show.  Patton Oswalt is a entertaining comedian (and perfect narrator for The Goldbergs).  Wil Wheaton was in Star Trek: Next Generation and has been a pretty positive supporter of nerds and geeks.  Mike Tyson is a former boxer.  Mark Ruffalo makes an awesome Hulk.  Chuck Norris has a very specific set of skills, and it’s been said his tears cure cancer (but, sadly, he never cries).  Okay, the list could go on and on, but I’ll spare all of you.

Celebrities are people.  Most of them are rich people.  They’re people with their own opinions.  Guess what…you’re a person with your own mind.  It’s okay to listen to the celebrities, but don’t make your decisions based on what they tell you.  Research for yourself what is actually true, and in November go to the polls and vote.  Vote for what you believe is right.  Not what someone, using 160 characters, told you to believe.