when life hands you a broken door knob

You know the phrase "when life hands you lemons ..."?  I prefer the ever more practical variant which mentions salt and tequila because when did lemonade ever make anyone feel better?  But I found a new application for this phrase over the weekend.

For the last couple of weeks both of my bathroom door knobs have been biting the dust.  Both of them.  Seem fair? No.  Not fair, because the bathroom is about the only place I can guarantee alone time anymore and its not even a full guarantee.  Anyhoo, door knobs sent a little memo to each other and agreed to simultaneously have the little sticky-outy-part (I know there is probably a name for this part, but who cares) stay stucky-inny.  So the doors can close but not latch, much less lock.

So on Saturday St. Paul of Bunyan and I were furiously cleaning, storing, throwing out and swearing at stuff.  As we were wrapping it up I needed to "powder my nose" so to speak.  Go into the bathroom and do my business and was about to leave when it happened.

The sticky-outy-part that has been stucky-inny for like 3 weeks?  Popped out.

But could it pop out in a miraculous door-is-healed sort of way?  Hello, this is me we are talking about!  What are the odds that the exploding smurf, plastic wrap warrior will have the good luck to have something work in my favor like that?!

So the thingy pops out and I can't open the door.

I try turning the knob.  Turning it fast, turning it slow, pulling on the door, pushing on the door, speaking to the door nicely, calling the door a few names, smacked the knob a few times (not advisable, hurts you more than the knob) ... no change.  Finally I take a deep breath, try once more and I hear a strange clicking snapping type noise then feel the knob go slack.  I can now turn it in either direction with no resistance or effect.  Yeah, not good.  Fortunately, I wasn't home alone, or home with just the baby.  More fortunately I happened to have my cell phone in my pocket so I didn't have to yell myself horse until I was heard.

St Paul came back, starts running through the procedures I already did from one side of the door.  Then goes and gets tools. Lots of loud noises come through the door.  I sigh and realize I am not going anywhere for a little bit when the hubs has to go back to the tool box for some new tools.

And it hit me.

I am locked in a bathroom, alone.  As in by myself.  Just me.

And the shower.

And the clouds parted and the rays of sunlight shown down while the angelic chorus of "hallelujah" blasted through my brain.

That elusive beast that evades all moms, especially those of younger children, is mine for the taking.

I took a long, hot shower ... by myself.  Uninterrupted, if you don't count the loud noises resulting from St Paul eventually breaking the door down.  After 20 minutes I emerge from the steamy bathroom with my hair clean, skin scrubbed pink and moisturized, all relaxed and calm to a frazzled husband and crying baby.

So the next time you hear that tired old phrase about life handing you lemons just remember, when life hands you a bad door knob you can have yourself a somewhat peaceful shower.

You got a long, hot shower to yourself? You're welcome.

well, at least its not *you*

Somedays you just need a pick-me-up. Some days, you can redily find them in the loving actions of friends and family, random acts of kindness from strangers, or you just manage to perk yourself up with a special treat somehow.

Some days, though, you need to laugh at some one else's expense to remind yourself "hey, it could be worse!"

On these days, when fate hasn't presented you with anything better and in-person I suggest to you this: People of Walmart.

The silver lining will be that its not you in that picture, its not someone you are an immediate blood relative of ... if however, you find that either of those things may be true, then the whole silver-lining-pick-me-up thing may have an opposite effect of the desired one. So be prepared to get yourself that special treat JIC!

(Warning: the pictures on there may not be appropriate for work, children, the easily queasy, or anyone living in Arkansas where it may only depress you more to have to see your neighbors)

the pregnant waddle

I am not normally so fixated on pregnancy related stuff, but it is bound to happen when you haven't seen your feet or been able to roll over in bed with any ease for the last 4 months ...

But lets take a look at the pregnant waddle, shall we? Many moms will tell you that pregnancy prepares you for motherhood just about as well as anything can. For example:

• You have people who touch your stomach, no, they don't just touch your stomach, they hold it and rub it. Helloooo, awkward! But it prepares you for the fact that for the next several years, if not the rest of your life, you have no personal space. That "bubble" of you-ness is officially gone. You are no longer you, no longer the property of you. You are public property, at best.



• You can't sleep for more than an hour at a time without waking up to pee. You won't have to pee every hour for the next 18+ years, but a full REM cycle is a luxury you will briefly get to dream about anyway whether its the crying baby keeping you up, or worrying about your teenager making sleep an impossibility.



• The embarrassments of pregnancy prep you for the embarrassments of the toddler years and beyond. If you can handle the gas, the hemorrhoids (which I would like it noted, I have not had), the wetting yourself, and the whole labor and delivery process where your girly bits are distorted and out on display like a buffet ... you can totally handle the moment your 4 year old asks you (in their best outdoors voice) why that lady in the grocery store line behind you is so fat.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea. Humiliation, pain, lack of sleep, its all part and parcel to prep you for the rest of your glorious wonderful life of parenthood.

But the waddle? Really, why must we suffer this indignity? I have to feel like a whale, but move like a duck? I get the medical logic, I get that it is a physical process, yadda yadda, blah blah blah. Sooo not the point! My husband assures me that I do not waddle, but really, the poor guy is trying to survive these last few days with his limbs still in place, so in all fairness I realize he is not a reliable source of information. But I have seen the waddle, if not on myself, on countless of others and it just seems a touch cruel on top of everything else that you have to list like a ship while you walk.

But I realized something the other day that brought a smile to my face, and therefore is a silver lining in my book: you know the really "cool" guys with their sagging pants? The ones who have either really baggy pants or (the even less logical IMO) "skinny" jeans sagged down past their butt cheeks? Yup, those guys in all their infinite coolness and stylish sensibility -- they have to waddle in order to move/stay dressed. Seriously, watch one of them move sometime ... saggy pants boys have the pregnant waddle! Just like the prego must accommodate the ever lowering head of her unborn and walk with a slightly wider gate, these dudes have to keep their pants in place in much the same way.

So the next time you see someone so gangsta and totally faboosh they have to show their boxers off to the world, have a small silver-lining giggle at their expense on behalf of all the miserably waddling women due to pop any second!

Shaving ... 9 months pregnant

In trying to maintain my positive attitude, the same one I have increasingly clung to as of late, I found a silver lining while shaving today.

You see, the negavitves of shaving while nine months pregnant hardly bare repeating as they are both numerous and obvious. So even though I mentally counted these while changing positions thirteen times per leg, I did discover an upside of being ready to pop while needing to shave. Ah, yes, the positive side to this is less obvious and really is worth sharing. I could only think of one, so please indulge me with more if you can:

The silver lining to being nine months pregnant while shaving your legs is that with the permanent cankles pregnancy has so graciously gifted you with you have a complete lack of boney, tendony curvature to your feet, ankles and knees. Therefore, you can shave much quicker with zero cuts because your whole damn leg is like your calf -- smooth, flat, and easy to whip through with a razor!

See, there is even an upswing to swelling!