Tuesday, August 28, 2012

I have wheels.

The case of the missing keys is closed. Not solved, but closed. In fact, I'd like the file sealed permanently. You see, we had the van towed to town today, and we had the dealership make us two new keys. We don't get a keyless entry remote. That would have been an extra $300, apparently. So we just have two keys. And now that Mike has wasted nearly a whole day sitting around town waiting for the keys to be made, and we have spent a ridiculous sum of money replacing something that should never have gone missing, I don't ever want to find the missing keys. You see, my sanity may just completely dissolve if I turn around this afternoon and find that they are sitting somewhere in plain sight, mocking me. If we spent over a week searching for them and did not find them, I don't ever want to find them. I want them to be so well hidden that there is no way we could have avoided spending the money to replace them. Well, other than avoiding them getting stolen in the first place. But even that is a stretch. It seems that nothing is safe in this house, or even in this yard. There is nothing our boys cannot get to. It reminds me of the movie Ocean's 11. They broke into the most highly secure casino imaginable, but they did it. Any barrier can be broken. Any security can be breached. Nothing is impossible. My boys have taught me that.

I suppose the good news is that the van is home and is now drivable. That means I'm slightly less trapped than I have been for the last week. Slightly. Lauren has me pretty tied down right now. If she isn't eating, she wants to be held, so I can't get much done. The boys are testing me and fighting each other, and it is a challenge. In fact, I'm not doing that well at it, to be honest. The house is still a disaster, and not for a lack of effort on my part. But imagine having several hours' worth of work to do and only a handful of five minute increments to do it in. That's what it's like with a young baby. Yesterday I was proud of myself because I decided to "wear" her. ("Baby wearing" is a fancy term for using a sling, wrap or other baby carrier to strap your baby to yourself and go about your daily life carrying the baby, but with your hands free to do other things. I'm not sure why there is now a term for it, as people have been doing this for decades and I'm pretty sure even centuries. But it's a very trendy thing to be doing these days, and people who do it refer to themselves as "baby-wearing" moms, or dads.) Anyway, I have a carrier called a Trekker, which I have had since I had Cody. None of my babies liked it when they were young, and perhaps that is why I have never been one to constantly wear my babies. But yesterday I had to, so I got out the Trekker and put Lauren in. I was met with instant resistance. She did not like it, and so I got to listen to her scream into my face as I tried to make cookie dough. Eventually, she fell asleep against my chest. It was very cute, actually. But, all good things must come to an end. I had to take her out because I could not have her in there when I was putting cookies in and out of a hot oven. I tried to move her carefully, but she woke up and was once again hysterical, which meant it was then time to feed her. I baked one pan of the cookies before that happened, and then I had to feed her while the hot oven sat empty. Sigh.

I love my baby, and I love holding her. But there is always a certain element of guilt when I sit around doing nothing, watching my house get messier and messier. That's where you're at an advantage with your first baby. If you have to sit around holding the baby all day, but you have no other kids, there is nobody running around adding to the disaster, which means that you don't get further and further behind. Sure, you might fall behind on the dishes, and maybe you don't make any delicious meals for your husband when he gets home from work. I haven't made supper in months. Wait, that's not totally true. Twice since Lauren was born I tried to make lasagna, but both times Mike ended up having to take over because I needed to feed her. Once I made pizza dough, but Mike did the rest, including rolling it on the pans (the worst part), and doing all the toppings and the actual cooking. I made a roast once. But all I did was put it in the oven. Mike did the rest, including the potatoes, the gravy, and carving the roast.

You see? I am tied down. But now I have wheels, and even though realistically I will still be just as useless as I have been this last four weeks. (Or more like two months.) But now I can go get the mail if I want to, or just go for a drive. I have to take four kids with me, because Mike is too busy to watch them right now. But with the van, that is actually possible. So I am just a tiny bit less trapped than I was, and for now, that's enough.

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