Monthly Archives: January 2014

Why Can’t My Kids Change a Roll of Toilet Paper?

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Before you get too grossed out, rest assured, they will get a new roll of toilet paper from under the sink when the old one runs out.  But apparently there is a great deal more effort involved to actually complete the process than they are capable of.

When they were younger, I never noticed this competency gap with my children because, well, because I changed the toilet paper roll for them.  Even after they had been reliably potty-trained and were taking care of business on their own, I changed the toilet paper just like I changed the sheets and the towels and anything else that needing changing and tidying.  And then it struck me that changing a roll of toilet paper was a task that given a not too complicated holder, even a young child could master.  In our house, there is only one toilet paper holder that is difficult to use and even I am tempted to leave a fresh role on the back of the toilet out of frustration when the rod keeps popping out of the grooves and goes “sproinging” onto the floor.

So, several years ago, we had a lesson in how to replace an empty roll of toilet paper.  We covered the basics:

  1. Push in on one end of the rod to make it smaller so it pops out of the grooves,
  2. Remove the empty roll and place it in the waste basket,
  3. Take a new, clean roll from under the sink,
  4. Slide it onto the rod,
  5. Get close to the holder and push in one end of the rod so that you can fit it back in the grooves,
  6. Line the rod up with the grooves (while still holding the end in),
  7. Release your grip on the end of the rod so that it returns to regular length and the little prong parts extend into the grooves in the holder

All three of my children tried the step by step process and I’m proud to report that they all mastered it in all the bathrooms except the one with the challenging holder.  We didn’t even try on that one.  And I figured we’d stick with the basics for years.  They were children for heaven’s sake and didn’t need to learn the advanced techniques such as whether or not the paper should roll off over or under the roll.

Early on, they seemed to enjoy these “big kid” responsibilities.  But somewhere along the way, the excitement and novelty wore off.  And now, despite the success of those early lessons, my daughters are unable to replace a roll of toilet paper.  When one roll is empty, they will get a new roll from under the sink and leave it on the back of the toilet, on the floor, propped on the old roll or balanced on the lid of the waste basket.  No amount of teasing, needling, nagging, punishing or yelling has changed this behavior.  I’ve timed it and we are talking another 6 seconds max to actually put the new role in the holder.   I’m sure it is possible that they are doing this as a game to push my buttons.  But I think instead that they are caught forever in sibling score keeping “I changed it last time, it is your turn” or “I wasn’t the one who finished the roll” (Note that indeed there are a few torn shreds still clinging to the cardboard roll — these are the same people who leave a thimble full of milk in the carton so that they don’t have to get another gallon of milk from the garage refrigerator.

Don’t Wash Your Car When You Have to Pee

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Yesterday I was on my way home from meeting a girlfriend for coffee.  My car was so filthy from all the snow and ice we’ve had lately I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I’m sick and tired of getting gunk and road salt on my winter coat.  I feel grimy every time I get in or out of my car.  I’ll never understand it but no matter how clean the interior might be, if the outside is dirty, the inside feels dirty.  But with the weather we’ve been having, the interior is just as bad — road salt, ice, rocks, leaves, mud, dust, dirt, sand and crumbs.  The crumb thing is another one of life’s mysteries…why are there more crumbs in the car in the winter?

Anyway, I decided the increasing pressure of nature’s call, I had enough time to get through the drive through car wash near my house.

And I did but it was torture!  Cycle after cycle of water and soap and more water and double bonded wax (how does that work on a wet car?) and more water going back and forth from the front to the back of the van.  Sometimes a hard spray.  Sometimes a gentle spray designed to leave no spots but it always looked and sounded like rushing water especially running down the front windshield.

I found myself focusing entirely on the digital display telling me about each step in the process.  And what exactly is “Spot Free Water”?  Is it different from regular water?  Wouldn’t it still spot if my car was covered in silk bunting?  Was I just trying to distract myself?

The overhead door couldn’t open fast enough.  The heck with my 60 seconds of industrial hair dryers for cars.  I had the Spot Free Water treatment so I was good to go!

When Two Jeans Were Too Many

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Early in my professional career, every day was “business attire”.   I don’t want to date myself but for a woman business attire meant a dark suit (navy blue usually) with a skirt (no pants) and a jacket with large shoulder pads, pantyhose, dark pumps and a light-colored blouse with a floppy bow at the collar.

My first job after graduate school introduced the concept of “summer hours”.  We worked an extra hour Monday through Thursday and on Friday, we could wear “business casual” and leave at noon.   The HR people had to send around a memo to explain what “business casual” meant.   I’m pretty sure it did not include the skimpy white knit number with a mid-drift top and cutouts down the outside of the Capri pants that one young lady tried to wear to the office one Friday.  I suspect she wore the same outfit out on the Thursday evening before and probably never made it home to change.  In any event, the office manager (a matronly woman) snagged her heading over to her desk and sent her right back home before any of the executives (all men) saw her.  I’m not sure if this was for the young lady’s benefit of the rest of us that would surely lose the Friday “summer hours” for this one infraction.

The next place I worked did not have “summer hours” but was slightly more casual.  Pants suits and skirts with blouses and blazers more the norm.

My most recent employer was business casual all the time.  Which meant jeans and T-shirts to some people and suits to others.  For years, we always wore suits when we traveled to the corporate headquarters in NYC.  And, if a contingent from NYC was at out offices in the Midwest, we’d wear suits as well.

At the time I owned two pair of jeans.  Well actually four.  Two I could fit into.  One pair were my “skinny” jeans which I could fit into on certain days but was never really comfortable in them.  And one other pair that were my “incentive” jeans.  They were there to motivate me to exercise more and diet so that I could fit into them.  (I never did wear those jeans and recently gave them away in a clothing drive because I was just kidding myself and better that someone else could get some use out of them.)   And so, I essentially had two pair of jeans.  And that was more than enough.  I traveled a fair amount on business, often over a weekend.  And half the year, on the weekends, I would be in shorts or Capris.  So two pair was plenty.  Especially because I don’t really have a jeans body.

But over the past year, things got more and more casual at work.  While Monday  Thursday was “business casual” for most executives (Dockers for the gentlemen and skirts or dresses for the women), when Friday rolled around, everyone pulled on a sweater and a favorite pair of jeans.  Executives essentially adopted their own “casual casual” Fridays.  And I discovered that even though it’s not the best look for me, I really like jeans.  With a nice sweater and boots or flats.  You can dress them up or down as the mood strikes you.  And so long as it’s not my “skinny pair”, they are comfortable.

 

 

Resolution

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Whenever I hear of a friend, colleague, family member or acquaintance that is going through some kind of rough patch, I resolve to always reach out in some way to let that person know that someone is thinking of them and they are not alone.

I was recently informed that my position was being eliminated.  I am so grateful and touched by all the wonderful people who have said something encouraging to me in the hallway, stopped by my office or dropped me an email or left a voice mail message just to let me know they are thinking about me and in many cases pledging offers of assistance or propping me up by saying that they were shocked when they heard the news.  Something so little, so simple and it means so much.

I know that most people are uncomfortable and because they don’t know what to say, they end up not saying anything at all.

With experience and empathy comes wisdom.  I resolve to always reach out.

Working Together

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My husband and I are spending a lot of time home together.  He is recovering from major surgery and I am, as they say, in transition.  My position was eliminated.  What we are finding is that my career transition is coming at a great time because, regardless of how much it pains him to admit it, he needs me to do things for him.

We find ourselves practicing the definition of insanity on a daily basis.  You know the one. It’s where you do the same thing over and over again but expect different results.

My husband has always been very active and physically fit in his daily life.  He’s a general contractor and has been his entire life.  He can add fractions faster than any calculator on the planet.  Now, while I try to get on the elliptical every day, I have a desk job.  I have a Master’s degree and like to think of myself as relatively smart.  But when something minor is broken around the house and he is talking me through the repair, not only do I feel physically at a loss, but also incapable of understanding the simplest directions.  Or maybe he just stinks at giving instructions.

Here’s an example of a recent exchange…

Him:  “You need to push Up on this end”

Me:  pushing in the direction that most seems like “Up”.

Him:  “No, you aren’t pushing Up.  You have to push Up.”

Me:  pushing a little harder in the same direction that I thought was “Up”.

Him:  “You aren’t listening.  I said to push Up.  Push Up.”

Me:  stopping for a second, taking a deep breath and resuming pushing in the same direction.

Tomorrow will be the one week anniversary of his surgery.  And to think we only have five more weeks to go!

Slow Down

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Slow is…

Waiting for a call when he says “I’ll call you”

Waiting to see if the pregnancy test is a plus or minus

Waiting to hear his first cry

A deep well-worn recliner, soft throw covering legs, feet in slouchy wool socks and slippers, cradling a sleeping infant

An animated movie for toddlers that you didn’t want to see and played “Rock, Paper, Scissors” with your husband to see who would go

Practicing math facts at the kitchen table

Refusing to eat dinner because you don’t like it even though you haven’t even taken a bite and it’s getting cold but you aren’t going anywhere until you take a bite and everyone else is finished and the dishwasher has already started

A holiday concert of first time musicians

The last three days before Christmas

The last three days before Summer vacation

Traffic when you are running late and need to pick your child up from practice

A roast that refuses to reach temperature even though your guests have been there for hours

Going there…returning is always faster

Watching the patient number board in the surgical center waiting room to see your husband’s number move from Green/Procedure to Blue/Recovery

Following someone using a walker after hip replacement surgery

Sitting together before dawn, sipping coffee and waiting for the pain medication to take effect

 

Backseat Driver

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My husband recently had hip replacement surgery.  He’s relatively young for the procedure but was in such intense pain and getting virtually no relief from medication, there really was no choice.

Well, the plan was that he was going to be released from the hospital today.  I went to the hospital early today to be there for his physical and occupational therapy sessions.  I wanted to know everything about his recovery exercises and how they wanted him to get in and out of a chair so I could provide the right kind of physical support and reminders once he was home.

We decided he would ride in the back seat of our car for the ride home.  So, one of the things they had him practice was how to get in and out of the back seat using a trash bag on the seat to help him scoot across the seat.

And for some reason, once he was in the back seat, he seemed to think he was required to critique my driving ability.

When we ride in a car together, he does the majority of the driving.   I’ll take my turn at the wheel during long road trips and if he needs me to drop him off when his car is being serviced.  And, for the most part, when I’m driving, he keeps his mouth relatively shut.  But on this trip home from the hospital he had a comment on nearly every block.  “Why are you breaking?”  “Why are you in this lane?”  “You can go faster, you know.”

I counted to ten and held my tongue and decided that the critiques weren’t really because of my driving.  I decided that he knows for the next six to eight weeks, he’s going to have to rely on me and the kids at a level he’s not accustomed to and which makes him uncomfortable.  He, the man who always takes care of everyone else, is now the one who needs the care.

Adieu 2013, Hello 2014 – Life with Teenagers (LwT) 1

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Last night, at the stroke of midnight I was standing in our living room with my two daughters.  The youngest had grabbed a frying pan and wooden spoon as was banging away — and to think she’s had 4 1/2 months of percussion lessons at school!  My older daughter was counting down the seconds to midnight but for some reason was off by one second…Ryan Seacrest and the crowd in Times Square were counting down “10, 9, 8…” and my daughter was counting “11, 10, 9…”  I think she somehow thought this was funny.  I didn’t get it.

Earlier, between the TV shows that recapped the best and worst of 2013, I had informed my daughters that I wanted them to help me “stay current”.  This meant that every week, I wanted them to share what topics they and their friends were talking about, what was trending, videos and vines they were watching (see I learned about vines last night!) and music and artists that were hot.  They asked “why?” and I said I didn’t want to be a “fuddy duddy”.  They fell off their chairs laughing.  I suppose in hind sight, I might have picked a different word or phrase that a bit less telling as to my state of hipness (or lack thereof).

I was filled with dual conflicting emotions.  On the one hand I was immensely relieved that my husband would now have release from the pain of arthritis in his hip — he had just had hip replacement surgery.  I was so proud of my kids.  Their posts about their father and the relief they felt for him brought tears to my eyes.  I was with 2 of the greatest joys of my life and we were getting along and being silly (at my expense but that was okay).  But I was worried too because my son was at a party.  I had no qualms about the party or his behavior.  But New Year’s Eve is called “amateur night” and it was the other drivers that had me on edge.  Usually my husband is the one to wait up until everyone in the house was home and safe.  But he was resting in the hospital and so it was my job to stay up last night until everyone was accounted for.

I heard the garage door open and close.  I heard the back door open and close.  I heard footsteps down the creaky back hallway.  And then my phone buzzed with a text from my son and one simple word…”Home”.

 

Daily Project — Life with Teenagers

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I’m not sure I want to call it a New Year’s Resolution.  Too much commitment.  Too much disappointment if I fail.  I like the idea of “personal challenge” better.  Maybe that is splitting hairs or rationalization.  But if it works, then that is what I’m going with.

So, I’m personally challenging myself to write everyday.  I’m now following the Daily Posts feed and I downloaded the 365 writing prompts to help me along.  There are so many projects and topics that I could choose – a couple of the obvious contenders:

  • My husband’s recovery from hip replacement surgery — but that is problematic for a couple of reasons:  1) It is his project; 2) I hope it doesn’t take 365 days; and 3) I’m sure it will work its way into some of my posts but just the inspirational ones and the funny ones
  • My professional journey to find a new career that is meaningful and impactful:  1) Whoa, that is really personal and maybe putting myself a little too much out there (yikes); 2) Again, hoping this one also does not take 365 days; and 3) Also I am confident this subject will work its way into numerous posts
  • My personal health and fitness goal to lose 50 lbs by the time I’m 50 years old: 1) Whoa, and I thought the job thing was a little too personal; 2) I don’t have 365 days until that lovely milestone; and 3) I envision a lot of cranky posts that won’t have the inspirational impact I was hoping for

So, I’ve landed on the idea for my 365 writing project as being about Life with Teenagers.