I'm not gonna lie folks, this reno has beaten me down a bit. I'm a changed person. The Little Dynamo has been broken. More about my reno trauma in a later post.
For now, let me do some catching up. We spent a glorious week at a rental cottage with Momma D and Ehmdo and it was lovely. Going to the cottage was adding to my stress, initially. It was finally looking like we would have a fully operational kitchen and then - BAM! - we had to pack everyone and everything up and head out of dodge and our house was going to lie fallow with no one around to tie up all the finicky loose ends for a week. Also, while we were dealing with (to be detailed later) reno issues (the use of the word "issues" is a bit of an understatement) we were ALSO interviewing nannies and the Dotytron was teaching summer school and the Big Yam is home with me 3 days a week instead of just 1 and it was just...a lot.
I just wanted to be home, you know? Home in my beautiful new kitchen, cooking on my beautiful new stove and using my beautiful new fridge, and chucking the mess in my beautiful new dishwasher. But no, I had to go to the cottage and oh, did I resent it. At first. We drove up, unpacked all our boxes and once the initial frenzy of arrival-at-the-cottage wore off, all of this happened:
Yes, that is Lindsay unabashedly stuffing his fat face with sand.
That grin kills me (my lower half edited out for unapologetic vanity purposes)
Naked dockside snacks
Our neighbours tipped us off to a reconditioned steam train that runs in Huntsville so we took the Big Yam on a rainy day. It was pouring and we were drenched and cold to the bone, but that smile made it so worth it.
Near the tail end of the week, this little nugget realized that you can go swimming naked at the cottage and he ran around with his gitch out thereafter.
Things that have been making my summer so far:
- hangs with a very pregnant, due-any-day-now Dr. Rei, where we reminisce about old times (like, the time she wondered what life would be like if Evan Dando's real name was Evan Anne Dando), or older times like back in the raving days when everything I wore was basically a pocket square tied together with dental floss, or when the Dotytron is impersonating Prince and his adroit and uncanny ability to erase his internet footprint: "Police officers are always coming into schools and telling you that everything you put on the internet is forever, but Prince is all like, 'nuh-uh' *click*"
- Micelli Mondays. Last year, we set up weekly themed movie nights with Lolly and SMcKay that involved a movie and an appropriately themed meal. These eventually turned into just watching episodes of Who's The Boss. The 2014 edition has been dubbed "Micelli Mondays" after the proto-feminist protagonist of the series and actually has never taken place on a Monday, but I love alliteration so there. We've gone swimming and then to Country Style Hungarian and Baker Bots (which was supposed to be tied to a viewing of the Grand Budapest Hotel, but we couldn't squeeze that in). We have made meatballs and watched Meatballs. This past week's iteration was a mixed bag featuring: AYCE Japanese, a trip to Pacific Mall for the iPad mini cover pictured below, a random grab bag of fridge-clearing snacks for dinner, and a viewing of Divergent.
- The continued and progressive awesomeness of the Big Yam. Quotes from this summer:
While watching one of his BBC Blue Planet documentaries - "'Meet the manta ray' means the manta ray eats meat."
After going to the beach, insisting on bringing rocks from the beach home despite the lack of pockets, shoving them into his underwear, and walking bow-legged back to our bikes - "The rocks are talking to me. They're saying, 'I want hot dogs!'"
"Nana misses us." Me: "Yeah, she does." BY: "She's saying, 'I wish they would come back so I can poop on them!'" The day after we moved back home after the renovation.
- General good times with our friends and family and the neighbours. The usual good stuff: swimming in the pool, wading pools, beach, backyard, etc.
These are the things that have been sustaining me while I think about the imminent BASEMENT UNDERPIN in our future. UGH! My mantra is: "it's cheaper than moving. It's cheaper than moving." My actual coping mechanism is to ball up all the associated stress of 4 weeks of jackhammers and concrete and more dirt and dust and no laundry into a stress singularity that sits in the pit of my stomach, ignored except when the reality of packing up a whole floor of our house in the next three weeks comes to the fore.
Excuse me, I have to go curl up into a ball and cry silent tears of anxiety.