Today, I am reminded of how keeping a sense of humour at life’s little slip-ups helps to maintain one’s sanity in the grand scheme of things. And it all begins with a dirty diaper. A cloth dirty diaper, no less.
I decided recently to use the cloth diapers at home, after she poops into a disposable diaper, in order to a) start the toilet training process and b) save a bit of money. But for a variety of reasons things didn’t progress in the usual fashion this morning so she had on a cloth diaper before she pooped. In my defense, I thought she wasn’t going to poop at all given the amount of time I spent sitting there WAITING and ANTICIPATING a sign of things to come.
Anyway, DH doesn’t like dirty cloth diapers. Wet he can handle, but the poopy stuff gets him all weird. Dirty disposables are just so much easier to deal with, I guess. And quicker.
So she poops during breakfast and soils the cloth diaper. I give it to DH to scrape off since he’s in the bathroom anyway, and it’s obvious he’s none too pleased. And what is my reaction to his reaction? Shit happens. That is my reaction. Deal with it.
Ok, so I put the soiled diaper, along with the wet cloth diapers from previous days, and some underwear in the washing machine, close the washing machine door, and go upstairs to take a shower. I purposely don’t turn the machine on because I want an uninterrupted, warm stream of water on my body during my shower.
Fast forward several hours.
I go downstairs to turn the machine on and find it empty. The dryer however is running. DH is in the office next to the laundry room.
I ask “did you wash that load with hot water and green bleach?”.
He says “I thought it was washed, I just put it in the dryer.”
I said “didn’t you notice the wash wasn’t wet when you put it in the dryer?”
You can guess what his answer was to that.
So I took the hot, dry and still soiled laundry out of the dryer, put it in the wash, turned on the hot water, added bleach and detergent, turned the knob to extra rinse, and washed the wash.
* * *
During my time away from home this morning sans kids, thank you very much, I visited the local No Frills grocery store. I go there once a week, sometimes once every two weeks, for a big portion of our household needs. We never buy meat there, and rarely baked goods including bread, because we prefer to purchase those items from the local butcher and bakeries or delis.
When the cashier told me the bill was $277.96 I nearly had a heart attack.
Our average bill is in the vicinity of $100-$150.
Today’s bill was almost 300 smackaroos!
I look around me to see what the heck I purchased. About 40% of the total is produce, the rest are things like toilet paper, diapers, dog food and similar items.
Easy come, easy go, paycheck.
* * *
So I get an opportunity to mow the back lawn today. Something my 3yo loves to participate in (with his own lawnmower, handed down to us from a kind neighbour). The baby is asleep for probably a short nap, the sun is shining, the 3yo is in a good, non-whiny mood, and I’m energetic enough to actually do the job.
It’s not a big lawn. Shouldn’t take long.
The lawnmower starts fine. I do about half of it until the front left wheel stops turning. I stop the motor, turn the lawnmower on its side, and investgate.
There are several issues, but most are easily fixable with a stick to unclog the clogged stuff.
I turn it back on its normal side and realize the cap for the gasoline was a little crooked. Some of the gas has leaked out.
I go into the garage/shed, marvel at how that f%$#@)* racoon managed to get back in, climb over bins and boxes that still require sorting, and reach for the gas tank.
Manage to get at it, but the back exhaust thingy cap was loose, and some of the gas leaks on my shirt and jeans.
Good thing no one smokes in our family.
I deal with the mower, fill up the tank, bladibla, try to turn it on, it doesn’t work.
Repeat a few times, get pissed off, leave the mower in the driveway and go dig out the push manual mower from way at the back of the garage/shed.
Marvel again at how much disruption there is in my newly organized garage/shed because of said racoon.
Finish the damn lawn with the push mower, go inside, wash up as much as I can, still smell like a gas station, go into my bedroom to get a change of clothes, and promptly wake up baby.
She’s been asleep less than half an hour.
The rest of the day wasn’t horrible because of a kindly neighbour and a walk with the kids, but it really didn’t leave me feeling all warm and fuzzy.
At least the back lawn is mowed. Nothing worse than picking up dog poop on grass that is too long.