So yesterday, after months, possibly years of my parents’ not-so-gentle prodding, I finally cleaned out my bedroom at their house. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I am only 30, so why should I have to box up and bring home all my books and journals and old letters and photographs -you know, from back when we actually printed out photos instead of leaving them on the computer, un-backed up, risking the chance of losing those precious memories FOREVER. Wait, what was I saying?
But my parents want a guest room, which seems kind of silly because they have a perfectly good couch downstairs in the living room that is pretty comfortable to sleep on.
So grudgingly I dug through boxes and boxes of junk, also known as my childhood-slash-teenagerhood, and determined what to save, what to throw away, and what to give away to people who are just dying for that generic Lisa Frank folder that had never even been used. But it had dolphins on it so I’m sure someone will pay at least 25 cents for it.
And let’s not forget the alcoholic glasses from prom that caused such a stir because, of course, they were promoting alcohol usage among teenagers!
I threw two of them in the giveaway box, one from my junior prom where I went with a good friend, and the one from Chris’ prom where we had one of our worst fights ever and almost broke up. Remind me to tell you that story sometime. It involves boobies. And hurt feelings. But I kept the one from my senior prom where we actually had a good time – ish. I don’t think proms were our thing.
We also found my old box of Barbies. Don’t tell Sebastian but I think I’m going to get rid of them. I cut all their hair in my ‘I’m a barber’ days plus they all look kind of whorey.
And what makes all of this work and effort worth it was this awesome find:
Apparently I liked to write down my feelings, or something. Actually, apparently I liked to write my feelings down on 10 or 12 pages, then go find a new journal. But rest assured there is enough blog fodder in there to last FOR YEARS. I’m thinking of starting a bi-monthly tradition of ‘Jaime’s embarrassing journal entries about boys she loved and also how much she wanted to get her period.’ What do you think? Obviously I would change the names to protect the reputations of those mentioned. Except Steven. I’ve got lots and lots of pages devoted to him.
So it was a busy but productive day. I managed to bring home three totes full last night because that’s all that would fit in the car with my children and myself. Maneuvering them down my windy steps and out into the car was awesome. And by awesome I mean awful because not only did I have to trek down the spiral-ish stairs, I also had to dodge the hyperactive dog on crack that likes to knock people down. And these boxes were heavy, as they were full of books and unrealized dreams.
I left around 5, which was later than I wanted but I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop. But that meant that I didn’t have time to cook anything before the kids started gnawing on my legs Walking Dead-style. So we stopped at McDonalds (yes, I gave my 1 year old fast food chicken nuggets. Don’t judge me. I pretended they were organic.)
Oh, I forgot to mention that before I even got to my parents I had to take Adele to the doctor at 8:30 in the morning because she has another double ear infection. So she had to get a stronger medicine in the hopes that it will clear up this time. Her regular doctor, who we all adore, wasn’t there so we saw another one who didn’t understand, even after I told her repeatedly, that Adele despises the paper on those tables. So I was forced to hold Adele down while Doctor Insensitivity jabbed her in the ear with the cleaner stick thing. And you know what she said? “Wow! I do this to kids all day long and I can tell you that this one is STRONG.” That’s because she’s pissed off at you, lady! But she was nice, even though she had just admitted to me that she tortures babies all day. And I know she was just doing what she had to do to be able to see Adele’s ears properly and it was probably the easiest way to do it. Still. Kinda sucked.
Anyway, after all that I’d done I was exhausted, yet still had to carry those heavy totes inside my house and also bathe the filthy children. I was thisclose to calling my neighbor and asking if he could carry them in for me, but then thought I was just being stupid and also kind of wussy and since I’d carried them out to the car in the first place I was more than capable of carrying them the 10 feet from my car to my back room. But I did curse my husband again for being out of town on a business trip where he got to sleep and eat food that someone else paid for and cooked.
So at bath time I put a show on for Sebastian since I can’t make Adele stay up past 7 and it’s just easier at this point to bathe them separately. And Adele loves the bath. LOVES IT. She heads right for the stairs when I say the word ‘bath’ and starts trying to take her clothes off when she gets to the tub. She was having a blast, playing with the countless toys and splashing in the water. And she started laughing, like the full, rolling giggle, possibly even a guffaw, but she pooted (I thought) so loud that it shocked her. (Yes, we say ‘poot’. I hate the word ‘fart.’) And then she laughed EVEN LOUDER. And then pooted AGAIN. And then, of course, I realized what had happened. (Poop.) It was probably because of her new medicine, which causes stomach issues, and I had no idea how to handle the situation as this was my first poop in the bathtub-tastrophe. Adele still needed to be washed, so I opened up the drain and started running the water so I could use the fresh water to wash and rinse her. She was freezing and kind of pissed at not being able to play in the water anymore, but at least she was clean.
And, of course, Sebastian still needed to be bathed, which meant I had to clean and disinfect the bathtub right away. (I mean, I totally would have done that anyway and not left it to the following day because I was so exhausted. Really.)
And so after spending the entire day filtering through the dust that has collected over my childhood, I also had to deal with that. I handled it about as ungracefully as you’d imagine.
And that is why I deserved the two beers I drank last night.
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