The Educational One

What, you say, two posts in a row??  Are you a machine or something?  Why yes I am, thank you for noticing.

I am a fan of making attempts to learn from less-than-awesome experiences, and there were many things I learned over the course of the weekend.  I thought others might benefit from the knowledge I have recently acquired.  Cheers.

1. You should not keep a gas can in the trunk of your car.

If you are lazy enough (and/or busy enough) as I unfortunately was to literally drive you car to the point where it dies due to lack of fuel, by all means, feel free to walk yourself (or if you’re lucky enough to have someone come get you, drive, since it’s cold out) to the nearest Stewart’s and purchase an over-priced gas can to fill with approximately enough gas to get you to another Stewart’s where you will proceed to again pay too much to fill your gas tank.  But at least your car won’t be dead.  ‘Cause again, it’s cold out, and no one wants to be walking about amidst the “polar vortex.”

If you manage to leave some gas in the bottom of your $13 can, you should not leave it in the trunk where you originally stashed it once you finally get home, lest you spill gasoline all over the trunk of your car 3-5 days later taking a sharp turn.  For the love of god, just take the can out of the trunk.

2. If you do decide to leave said gas can in your trunk, you should not also have your favorite blanket since 8th grade in the trunk with it.  Or for that matter, anything really that you care enough about to not want doused in gasoline.

I think that line pretty much explains itself.

3. If you smell gasoline in your car while driving (knowing you have been lazy enough to leave the can in the trunk), you should probably remove the can immediately rather than waiting several days, unless you enjoy headaches.

“Huh, why does my car smell like that?  It’s probably nothing.”  Then, later that day:  “Wow I sure have been getting a lot of headaches lately.  And I’m kinda nauseous.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”  No, it is something.  It’s that ridiculous cubic-foot hunk of plastic emanating fumes throughout every crevice of your vehicle, and solving the problem is fairly simple.

4.  Upon discovering your favorite blanket has been saturated in gasoline once you finally do get around to taking the can out of the bloody trunk, you should not proceed to put said blanket in your washer.

You know where this is going.  For anyone wondering, it takes approximately 8 hot cycles with detergent and oxyclean to remove the smell of gasoline from the inside of your washer.  And incidentally, close to that many washes even to get the smell out of your blanket.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I am a brilliant human being.  So, dear readers, remember this advice if you find yourself in a similar predicament.  And if nothing else, just don’t put the blanket in the washer.

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Catharsis

So as most of you know, I work at a youth shelter.

Part of my responsibility as shelter staff is to share in the on-call rotation.  For the most part it’s not really that bad.  This week, however (and the weekend in more concentrated form), was a total nightmare.  It was non-stop, and so naturally by this morning, I was just about elated to be passing off the phone.

Why, you ask, did you title your blogpost “catharsis” then?  I will tell you.  Because last night, I had the most fantastic dream about taking a hammer to the on-call phone.  It was kind of like Office Space except somehow even better, because though our fax machine/printer really doesn’t like to cooperate much of the time, it doesn’t follow me home at night like the dreaded phone.  I smashed that phone into oblivion, and afterward I had a drink to celebrate.

And then at 7:00am, I awoke to the sound of a phone ringing.  Endorphin rush suspended, I went back to the unfortunate reality that the on-call phone was in fact, alive and well.

Sigh…

a not so glamorous confession

I try to be pretty patient as a parent.  I know kids are kids and sometimes they will make messes, and have tantrums, and be generally tough some days.  There is something about the age of 2 though, that I have to admit I really don’t know what to do with all the time.

Some days, I am not as patient as I would like, and I find myself feeling bad about it.  I have to remind myself that if we are a few minutes late for something because he wanted to stop on the way down the stairs to point out the squirrels and a plane, it really isn’t the end of the world.  or if we are in a store and he takes a couple minutes to ooh and ahh over something on a shelf, that maybe I should just stop and do it with him.

He won’t be this little forever, so I should probably enjoy it even when I am feeling inconvenienced; I realize this is probably not the romantic way of saying it, but it is what the frustration that comes during rushing around can be boiled down to.

I am fairly guilty of not taking a deep breath and relaxing a little when he’s thrown peas on the floor for the 15th time.  And I haven’t always been that way!  I used to find it infinitely easier to roll with things when he was a little smaller.  Maybe it’s the simultaneous exercising of independence/strong will that makes some of this harder?  I’m not sure.

But there are some days where it seems like one or both of us may have gone ’round the bend.

I keep seeing these funny little articles popping up lately about being the parent of a toddler.  Most of it is boiled down to a simple message: 2-3 year olds are freaking hard, and sometimes at the end of the day an early bedtime and a glass of wine for mommy is what is going to keep everyone sane.  I usually giggle a little at these writings and then move on, but perhaps I should be granting them a little more weight.

If I do, maybe it will serve as a reminder to practice a little more patience in moments where I’m not sure how much patience I have left (hyperbole, anyone?).

I am not really into “doing” new years resolutions, however I have decided that when it comes to K, I am going to try to be in a little less of a rush all the time and try to enjoy the toddler crazy a little more.

Maybe I’ll find that I’m a little less tired and a little more easy-going that way.