(at the commissary, on the laundry detergent row)
Scott: Do you need anything off this row?
Me: Uh, oh yes, I need bleach!
Scott: Bleach?
Me: Yes, bleach. We haven't had any bleach in, like, 3 or 4 days. Haven't you noticed the whites have looked dingy?
Scott: Whites?
28 May 2010
25 May 2010
Help yourself
We have a self-help store here on post where you can go and get various household items for free. Apparently they have these types of places on all military installations, but the only one I've ever used was in Hawaii, when I used to go get mouse traps to use to catch mice that we would then feed to the wild pigs that routinely hung out in our yard. That sounds mean, I know, but what else are you supposed to do with the mice once you catch them? I mean, they were snap traps, so the mice were most of the time still alive, so you couldn't really put them in the trash can. Plus, the pigs were hungry, so it was win-win. Another reason? We were bored. We were on an island in the middle of the ocean. And contrary to what that show would have you believe, the smoke monster didn't live there in 2002.
I would like to take this opportunity to say that I love Hawaii and everything about it, I miss Hawaii and everything about it, and I pray really hard every night that the Army will call and say "Oh, we made a mistake, you're supposed to be in Hawaii, so go there RIGHT NOW."
Anyway.
So we live in field grade housing now, which is military housing for Majors, Lt Colonels, and Colonels, and I am feeling a little bit of pressure to make the yard look presentable. And by "presentable" I mean I make an effort to get out there around twice a week to pick up all the dog shit so the Chaplain who lives next door doesn't have to smell it. But here lately I decided we needed to plant some flowers.
I've never been one to plant flowers in the yard. In Hawaii we had beautiful flowers, because the weather in Hawaii is perfectly conducive to beautiful flowers, so basically you plant them and then you're done. The weather there never changes, so the flowers just live and live. But I can't remember living any other place that was nice enough to make us want to do anything in the yard. Though there was this one time in Texas I let some Hispanics cut a few branches off a tree in the front yard that were touching the power lines. So maybe that counts.
Well guess what? Self-help here on post has free flowers. You just go over there and pick your flowers and they give them to you to beautify your yard with. Everybody here has them. And you can look like a pulled together family, or rather I can look freaking awesome, because not only, NOT ONLY, do I have three kids in school, I have a disagreeable toddler I stay home and take care of, a dog, a cat, andfarmville various household tasks like cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc. to do, not to mention Owen's baseball practice, and I can still manage to plant beautiful flowers in the front yard.
(I have now totally gone off subject in two sentences that I wrote, erased, re-wrote, and re-erased because I have the distinct feeling I will offend someone. There are a few of you who probably have an idea of what those sentences probably said. Yes, it was mean of me. Whatever.)
Last Saturday morning Scott and I went to self-help and picked out some lightbulbs, a sink stopper-God we are so wild it's barely legal-, three bags of mulch and 14 flats of flowers. Which, in case you don't know, is 168 individual flowers to plant into the ground. There was a limit, the guy said, of 10 flats per house, but that was only for the first little bit they had them, and now we could get however many we wanted. Well, I wanted to get ALL OF THEM, all 2 million, but Scott was all "Jennifer, they won't fit in the van and I'm not making two trips blah blah blah" so we only got 14. And when we left there I was absolutely giddy with the thoughts of just how domesticated I was going to look outside planting flowers for everyone to see.
Saturday afternoon I halfway killed myself. So what eventually ended up happening was Sunday afternoon everyone got to see me sitting in a chair on the front patio while Scott planted all the flowers. And that's fine, just fine, it was all some crazy pipe dream anyway, and I did manage to get one wife to comment "Now, THAT'S what I call gardening!" which she probably said because Scott had his shirt off. haha! Not really. Though it could have been the huge margarita glass on the table right beside the bottles of percocet and valium.
Wednesday my cell phone rang, and after I said "Hello?" a distinctly Korean man said "Hello?" so I said "Hello?" again and kind of held my breath, because this is what Koreans do on the phone. They repeat you. They are thinking so hard about what point they want to get across and how to speak it in English that when you finally answer it all goes right out the window and you kind of just greet each other for a while until they snap out of it. And the Korean man says "Starr?" so I said "Yes. Starr." This is another thing they do, they have a problem with first and last names and which order they write them and which order we write them and which order the Army writes them and really, it makes SO MUCH sense to have a bunch of Koreans doing so many of the civilian jobs here.
And the Korean guy says "Where the ho at?"
And for a few seconds I am speechless; I am trying to figure out what he's trying to ask me, because really, WHAT IS HE TRYING TO ASK ME, and finally I'm all "uh, I'm sorry?"
And he goes "We self-help. Where the ho? The ho your husband got from self-help."
WHAT THE HELL? Self-help has hos? I mean, I know Itaewon does, but self-help? ALL I SAW WAS LIGHTBULBS AND FLOWERS. My husband got a ho from self-help? So I say "Uh, ho?"
And then he goes "Yes. Ho and shovel."
OH. HOE. As in garden hoe. To plant flowers with.
And suddenly I lost all interest in the conversation.
So Scott comes home from lunch, and I tell him, and he thinks it's hilarious of course, so he goes out to get the hoe and shovel and put it in the van and I ask "Don't you think you should clean it off, it's kind of dirty."
BECAUSE EVEN AFTER 14 YEARS, I STILL HAVEN'T LEARNED.
Because of course Scott says "Nah, she was dirty when I got her, and it was all good. Hey, thanks for making sure she gets back okay."
haha. He's so funny. It's too bad he has a day job.
So we took them back, and while Scott was signing the receipt another couple walked in and the guy was all "LIGHTBULBS!" and went running in that direction. And the wife just kind of shrugged and said "He gets all excited about free lightbulbs." and I was all "That's nothing. WAIT TIL HE FINDS LAWN AND GARDEN."
I would like to take this opportunity to say that I love Hawaii and everything about it, I miss Hawaii and everything about it, and I pray really hard every night that the Army will call and say "Oh, we made a mistake, you're supposed to be in Hawaii, so go there RIGHT NOW."
Anyway.
So we live in field grade housing now, which is military housing for Majors, Lt Colonels, and Colonels, and I am feeling a little bit of pressure to make the yard look presentable. And by "presentable" I mean I make an effort to get out there around twice a week to pick up all the dog shit so the Chaplain who lives next door doesn't have to smell it. But here lately I decided we needed to plant some flowers.
I've never been one to plant flowers in the yard. In Hawaii we had beautiful flowers, because the weather in Hawaii is perfectly conducive to beautiful flowers, so basically you plant them and then you're done. The weather there never changes, so the flowers just live and live. But I can't remember living any other place that was nice enough to make us want to do anything in the yard. Though there was this one time in Texas I let some Hispanics cut a few branches off a tree in the front yard that were touching the power lines. So maybe that counts.
Well guess what? Self-help here on post has free flowers. You just go over there and pick your flowers and they give them to you to beautify your yard with. Everybody here has them. And you can look like a pulled together family, or rather I can look freaking awesome, because not only, NOT ONLY, do I have three kids in school, I have a disagreeable toddler I stay home and take care of, a dog, a cat, and
(I have now totally gone off subject in two sentences that I wrote, erased, re-wrote, and re-erased because I have the distinct feeling I will offend someone. There are a few of you who probably have an idea of what those sentences probably said. Yes, it was mean of me. Whatever.)
Last Saturday morning Scott and I went to self-help and picked out some lightbulbs, a sink stopper-God we are so wild it's barely legal-, three bags of mulch and 14 flats of flowers. Which, in case you don't know, is 168 individual flowers to plant into the ground. There was a limit, the guy said, of 10 flats per house, but that was only for the first little bit they had them, and now we could get however many we wanted. Well, I wanted to get ALL OF THEM, all 2 million, but Scott was all "Jennifer, they won't fit in the van and I'm not making two trips blah blah blah" so we only got 14. And when we left there I was absolutely giddy with the thoughts of just how domesticated I was going to look outside planting flowers for everyone to see.
Saturday afternoon I halfway killed myself. So what eventually ended up happening was Sunday afternoon everyone got to see me sitting in a chair on the front patio while Scott planted all the flowers. And that's fine, just fine, it was all some crazy pipe dream anyway, and I did manage to get one wife to comment "Now, THAT'S what I call gardening!" which she probably said because Scott had his shirt off. haha! Not really. Though it could have been the huge margarita glass on the table right beside the bottles of percocet and valium.
Wednesday my cell phone rang, and after I said "Hello?" a distinctly Korean man said "Hello?" so I said "Hello?" again and kind of held my breath, because this is what Koreans do on the phone. They repeat you. They are thinking so hard about what point they want to get across and how to speak it in English that when you finally answer it all goes right out the window and you kind of just greet each other for a while until they snap out of it. And the Korean man says "Starr?" so I said "Yes. Starr." This is another thing they do, they have a problem with first and last names and which order they write them and which order we write them and which order the Army writes them and really, it makes SO MUCH sense to have a bunch of Koreans doing so many of the civilian jobs here.
And the Korean guy says "Where the ho at?"
And for a few seconds I am speechless; I am trying to figure out what he's trying to ask me, because really, WHAT IS HE TRYING TO ASK ME, and finally I'm all "uh, I'm sorry?"
And he goes "We self-help. Where the ho? The ho your husband got from self-help."
WHAT THE HELL? Self-help has hos? I mean, I know Itaewon does, but self-help? ALL I SAW WAS LIGHTBULBS AND FLOWERS. My husband got a ho from self-help? So I say "Uh, ho?"
And then he goes "Yes. Ho and shovel."
OH. HOE. As in garden hoe. To plant flowers with.
And suddenly I lost all interest in the conversation.
So Scott comes home from lunch, and I tell him, and he thinks it's hilarious of course, so he goes out to get the hoe and shovel and put it in the van and I ask "Don't you think you should clean it off, it's kind of dirty."
BECAUSE EVEN AFTER 14 YEARS, I STILL HAVEN'T LEARNED.
Because of course Scott says "Nah, she was dirty when I got her, and it was all good. Hey, thanks for making sure she gets back okay."
haha. He's so funny. It's too bad he has a day job.
So we took them back, and while Scott was signing the receipt another couple walked in and the guy was all "LIGHTBULBS!" and went running in that direction. And the wife just kind of shrugged and said "He gets all excited about free lightbulbs." and I was all "That's nothing. WAIT TIL HE FINDS LAWN AND GARDEN."
17 May 2010
Pain in the neck
It's no secret I spend a lot of time at various ERs around the country with all these kids. We've had 5 broken bones (3 arms, 1 finger, and 1 toe), two sets of stitches, and one encounter with some face glue. There was also the near broken bones (twice) and the to-this-day unexplained body rash that I'm thinking was some type of allergy to Korea in general. I'm not going to count the fever/ear infections or anything like that because, well, I've blocked a lot of them out. So, needless to say, I'm some kind of expert at knowing exactly just what to do to jump to the front of the line and drastically cut into the amount of time spent waiting around.
The top two ways to jump to the front of the line are:
1. Go into the ER covered in blood, holding a child that is covered in blood, wrapped in a towel that is covered in blood, and be screaming. I cannot even guess how many people we jumped ahead of in Hawaii that time when I did that.
2. Go into the ER holding a child who has an obvious bone deformity, like, say, having a wrist bone where NO ONE should have a wrist bone. This worked one time in Arizona and one time in Georgia.
Saturday night Scott had to take me to the ER. I would like to preface this entire story with I AM NEVER SICK. I never get allergies. I never get colds. I never get stomach viruses. I leave that up to all the sicklies I live with. I do, however, get sick when I'm pregnant. Terribly, violently sick. And now that that's taken care of, KNOCK ON WOOD, I don't plan on being sick anymore.
So. Saturday. Well, it all started when I said I was going to take a shower and Scott followed me upstairs, like he always does, JUST IN CASE I'M JOKING when I tell him to leave me alone and play with the four kids we already have that are all his fault. And of course the AFN movie channel had some crap movie on, and it just sucks you into it, so instead of taking a shower I decided to watch the movie, and I laid down on the bed and one of our bajillion remotes was right under my back. So when I tried to reach for it I felt a little twinge.
And everything was a-okay until about an hour later, when we were trying to leave for Owen's baseball game, and he had no idea where his cleats were. So I came bouncing into my room and dropped down onto my hands and knees to look under the bed and you know what? I couldn't get back up. And I couldn't move my neck. So I whined for a minute, then somehow got back downstairs and told Scott Hey, you know what? I just really hurt my neck. And Scott was like Whatever, go get in the car, we're going to be late.
So while we were at the game my neck got stiffer and my shoulder started to hurt a little and I started to whine more. After the game Scott and I had to go to the commissary because we had no groceries. We had no groceries because I usually try to go on Friday, but Saturday morning the people in charge of the all the electricity here decided to shut all the power off from midnight to 6am. I handled the commissary beautifully, so I mistakenly thought I was okay. Plus, whenever I started to mention that my neck or shoulder hurt, Mr. Compassionate would roll his eyes and tell me for God's sake to just put the loaf of bread down if it was too much for me to handle. When we got back from the commissary we decided to walk over to the electronics market.
There are several reasons I thought this was a good idea. Firstly, I don't know if you know, but Friday I went to get my hair done and while I was gone Owen smashed my laptop. And guess what was on my laptop? My bodystep music. Yes. The music I need June 1st when I start teaching bodystep to all the soldiers during PT. So I really, really need that music off the hard drive. Secondly, I seemed to be able to walk fine, it was just sitting that was causing me pain. Thirdly, it was supposed to rain the first half of the week, plus it'd just be me and Skylar, and she sucks the fun out of EVERYTHING so I wanted Scott to go with me.
Well, we got over there and the guy who knows all about MACs was closed, which figures, so we kind of walked around a little bit looking at all the crap they have spread out all over the streets over there and then turned around to come back. And while I was walking fine, I was not able to really move my head side to side or up and down, which wasn't a problem until I stepped kind of half on-half off a curb.
I wish I could tell you that I handled the trip with grace, that in one fluid move I caught myself and just went along my merry way, but no, I didn't. It was ugly. And OH MY GOD it hurt. And it was so bad I immediately started crying from the pain and I think I might have blubbered a little bit about separated ribs and a punctured lung. People, I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to make it back to the gate. With every breath I felt like someone was twisting a knife in my back, and my entire right arm was numb and I couldn't move it.
So things were sucking really really badly, and then, THEN, Skylar peed all over herself. And you know, I'm not sure how that happened, because at one point I'm pretty sure I blacked out from the pain while we were walking, but Scott was yelling and there was crying (but that could have been me I'm not completely sure). After the fact I was told it had something to do with her shoe, that she couldn't get her shoe on, and she was fussing with it and all of a sudden she peed. I mean Gawd. Have you ever in your life?
So we get back home, and I try to sit down and I can't, because it hurts so badly, and I'm crying, and the kids are freaking out because Mama is hurt, and Scott? Scott is cleaning the kitchen. You know, unloading the dishwasher and getting the house straightened up. AND I'M DYING ON THE LEATHER COUCH. Then, when he realized I was crying uncontrollably he took me to the ER, which brings me to the #3 way you can jump to the beginning of the line at the ER.
#3: Hobble into the ER with your husband and when they ask you "What happened?" look uncomfortably over at your husband and just kind of mumble "I don't know, I just hurt myself." Because you know what they think happened? They think your husband has beat you up, and the reason you can't answer what happened is not because you're embarrassed that you honestly don't know what on earth you did to make the right side of your body st0p working, but because you are afraid to say "My husband beat me up" while he's standing right beside you. Also, when they ask you to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst, and you say "Well, as long as I stand very still I'm fine but if I move ever so slightly I'll either throw up or have diarrhea." THAT HELPS TOO.
And I didn't realize the part about the spousal abuse until we were back in the little curtained area, and Scott was of course bored so he was acting like he was going to poke me with his finger, which was making me tense up, hurt more, and call out STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT. Because that's then the nurse came back in immediately and asked me if I ever felt threatened at home and if I wasn't comfortable answering in front of my husband they could make him leave. So, you know, we all got a good laugh out of that one, because no, I don't feel threatened by my husband. Embarrassed? Um. Kind of. On a scale of 1 to 10? How about 19.
The doctor decided it was strained muscles and pinched nerves and here, have some percocet and valium. Which normal people would have probably thought was AWESOME, but I immediately started freaking out, because celebrities take these pills all the time and you know what? THEY DIE. These pills aren't safe, and you can't mix them, and what kind of doctor are you, giving me pills that will kill me? NOBODY EVEN WEIGHED ME. How do you know the correct dosage if no one weighed me? I know how it works people, I OWN STOCK IN EMERGENCY ROOMS. And they assured me, repeatedly, that it would be ok, that they were safe to take together, or apart, or however I wanted to take them, and I shouldn't worry about it. And I must not have looked convinced, because then the nurse told Scott he might want to start out with two valium, that it might help EVERYONE get some sleep. And I was still arguing when Scott drug me out of there; I was still double and triple checking exactly how to safely administer the narcotic drugs. BUT I TOOK SOME ADVIL THREE HOURS AGO. Did you count that? Nobody asked me about that. CAN YOU MIX IT WITH ADVIL?
And I'm pretty sure the nurse and doctor think I'm crazy. And I'm also pretty sure if I went back in claiming spousal abuse they would probably side with Scott.
The top two ways to jump to the front of the line are:
1. Go into the ER covered in blood, holding a child that is covered in blood, wrapped in a towel that is covered in blood, and be screaming. I cannot even guess how many people we jumped ahead of in Hawaii that time when I did that.
2. Go into the ER holding a child who has an obvious bone deformity, like, say, having a wrist bone where NO ONE should have a wrist bone. This worked one time in Arizona and one time in Georgia.
Saturday night Scott had to take me to the ER. I would like to preface this entire story with I AM NEVER SICK. I never get allergies. I never get colds. I never get stomach viruses. I leave that up to all the sicklies I live with. I do, however, get sick when I'm pregnant. Terribly, violently sick. And now that that's taken care of, KNOCK ON WOOD, I don't plan on being sick anymore.
So. Saturday. Well, it all started when I said I was going to take a shower and Scott followed me upstairs, like he always does, JUST IN CASE I'M JOKING when I tell him to leave me alone and play with the four kids we already have that are all his fault. And of course the AFN movie channel had some crap movie on, and it just sucks you into it, so instead of taking a shower I decided to watch the movie, and I laid down on the bed and one of our bajillion remotes was right under my back. So when I tried to reach for it I felt a little twinge.
And everything was a-okay until about an hour later, when we were trying to leave for Owen's baseball game, and he had no idea where his cleats were. So I came bouncing into my room and dropped down onto my hands and knees to look under the bed and you know what? I couldn't get back up. And I couldn't move my neck. So I whined for a minute, then somehow got back downstairs and told Scott Hey, you know what? I just really hurt my neck. And Scott was like Whatever, go get in the car, we're going to be late.
So while we were at the game my neck got stiffer and my shoulder started to hurt a little and I started to whine more. After the game Scott and I had to go to the commissary because we had no groceries. We had no groceries because I usually try to go on Friday, but Saturday morning the people in charge of the all the electricity here decided to shut all the power off from midnight to 6am. I handled the commissary beautifully, so I mistakenly thought I was okay. Plus, whenever I started to mention that my neck or shoulder hurt, Mr. Compassionate would roll his eyes and tell me for God's sake to just put the loaf of bread down if it was too much for me to handle. When we got back from the commissary we decided to walk over to the electronics market.
There are several reasons I thought this was a good idea. Firstly, I don't know if you know, but Friday I went to get my hair done and while I was gone Owen smashed my laptop. And guess what was on my laptop? My bodystep music. Yes. The music I need June 1st when I start teaching bodystep to all the soldiers during PT. So I really, really need that music off the hard drive. Secondly, I seemed to be able to walk fine, it was just sitting that was causing me pain. Thirdly, it was supposed to rain the first half of the week, plus it'd just be me and Skylar, and she sucks the fun out of EVERYTHING so I wanted Scott to go with me.
Well, we got over there and the guy who knows all about MACs was closed, which figures, so we kind of walked around a little bit looking at all the crap they have spread out all over the streets over there and then turned around to come back. And while I was walking fine, I was not able to really move my head side to side or up and down, which wasn't a problem until I stepped kind of half on-half off a curb.
I wish I could tell you that I handled the trip with grace, that in one fluid move I caught myself and just went along my merry way, but no, I didn't. It was ugly. And OH MY GOD it hurt. And it was so bad I immediately started crying from the pain and I think I might have blubbered a little bit about separated ribs and a punctured lung. People, I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to make it back to the gate. With every breath I felt like someone was twisting a knife in my back, and my entire right arm was numb and I couldn't move it.
So things were sucking really really badly, and then, THEN, Skylar peed all over herself. And you know, I'm not sure how that happened, because at one point I'm pretty sure I blacked out from the pain while we were walking, but Scott was yelling and there was crying (but that could have been me I'm not completely sure). After the fact I was told it had something to do with her shoe, that she couldn't get her shoe on, and she was fussing with it and all of a sudden she peed. I mean Gawd. Have you ever in your life?
So we get back home, and I try to sit down and I can't, because it hurts so badly, and I'm crying, and the kids are freaking out because Mama is hurt, and Scott? Scott is cleaning the kitchen. You know, unloading the dishwasher and getting the house straightened up. AND I'M DYING ON THE LEATHER COUCH. Then, when he realized I was crying uncontrollably he took me to the ER, which brings me to the #3 way you can jump to the beginning of the line at the ER.
#3: Hobble into the ER with your husband and when they ask you "What happened?" look uncomfortably over at your husband and just kind of mumble "I don't know, I just hurt myself." Because you know what they think happened? They think your husband has beat you up, and the reason you can't answer what happened is not because you're embarrassed that you honestly don't know what on earth you did to make the right side of your body st0p working, but because you are afraid to say "My husband beat me up" while he's standing right beside you. Also, when they ask you to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst, and you say "Well, as long as I stand very still I'm fine but if I move ever so slightly I'll either throw up or have diarrhea." THAT HELPS TOO.
And I didn't realize the part about the spousal abuse until we were back in the little curtained area, and Scott was of course bored so he was acting like he was going to poke me with his finger, which was making me tense up, hurt more, and call out STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT. Because that's then the nurse came back in immediately and asked me if I ever felt threatened at home and if I wasn't comfortable answering in front of my husband they could make him leave. So, you know, we all got a good laugh out of that one, because no, I don't feel threatened by my husband. Embarrassed? Um. Kind of. On a scale of 1 to 10? How about 19.
The doctor decided it was strained muscles and pinched nerves and here, have some percocet and valium. Which normal people would have probably thought was AWESOME, but I immediately started freaking out, because celebrities take these pills all the time and you know what? THEY DIE. These pills aren't safe, and you can't mix them, and what kind of doctor are you, giving me pills that will kill me? NOBODY EVEN WEIGHED ME. How do you know the correct dosage if no one weighed me? I know how it works people, I OWN STOCK IN EMERGENCY ROOMS. And they assured me, repeatedly, that it would be ok, that they were safe to take together, or apart, or however I wanted to take them, and I shouldn't worry about it. And I must not have looked convinced, because then the nurse told Scott he might want to start out with two valium, that it might help EVERYONE get some sleep. And I was still arguing when Scott drug me out of there; I was still double and triple checking exactly how to safely administer the narcotic drugs. BUT I TOOK SOME ADVIL THREE HOURS AGO. Did you count that? Nobody asked me about that. CAN YOU MIX IT WITH ADVIL?
And I'm pretty sure the nurse and doctor think I'm crazy. And I'm also pretty sure if I went back in claiming spousal abuse they would probably side with Scott.
05 May 2010
It's the thought that counts. I think.
My birthday is April 18th. The kids started talking about it around February 23rd, when Ashlyn had hers. After that there aren't any until mine, and that was discussed at length: "Guess who's got a birthday coming up?" and "Guess who's getting presents soon!" and "Can we buy Mama that wii game I want?" So anyway, it's not like the day actually snuck up on anyone. How can people say that anyway? "Well, it snuck up on me." What? It's the SAME DAY every single year, and the calendar works the SAME WAY every single year, so it's not a trick to fool you into missing it. That's a bad excuse. Instead of saying it snuck up on you why not just man up and say you weren't paying attention, or you procrastinated to the point of where it was too late? Or that you flat out don't care one?
We live in Korea. At Christmas we found that Korea doesn't have a lot to offer in the way of gifts. I thought at the time that it was because we didn't have a car, and there was all that snow everywhere, and we just didn't know where to look. The PX here is bad, really bad. The toy section is bad and the clothes section is bad and the list just goes on and on. I had a hard time, a really really hard time, coming up with stuff to buy for the kids for Christmas, and I had a hard time finding things for Scott. And when Scott went out on December 23rd to pick up some gifts for me, he had a hard time too.
We talked about it at Christmas, how we were going to have to start birthday shopping weeks in advance because whatever we bought would have to be shipped from somewhere other than Korea, so for it to get here in time it needed to be ordered about 2 weeks in advance and shipped priority so we could then sit back and cross our fingers and hope and pray it got here. So for Skylar's in January I found a really cute doll house online and told my mom about it, she ordered it from ToysRUs and then I ordered all the extra rooms along with a couple other small things. They got here in plenty of time and I wrapped them up and all was good. And Skylar plays with that doll house every single day. Good call, Jennifer!
As we perused Korea and the various shopping establishments off post Ashlyn found a really soft, really warm blanket for her bed. She'd take one of those for her birthday, thanks, unless we wanted to buy her an iPod touch, which I thought about for about half a second before saying ARE YOU CRAZY? I mean seriously, do you even know where you DS is right now? Or your digital camera? Or the charger to either one of them? No? Well then, let's by all means go out and spend several hundred dollars on another piece of electronics you can lose; now, how about a blanket? We also did go ahead and get her a cell phone, the prepaid kind, with something like 1000 minutes for $9 that I gave to her along with a threat that I would absolutely string her up by her toes in the closet under the stairs if she started texting people or giving out the number to her friends. We will not, I told her, buy minutes more than once a month (the way Korean pre-paid cell phones work, or the way I understand them to work, is your minutes keep adding up but you have to renew each month for $9, for which you get an additional 1000 minutes. I could be way off here; the guy spoke very limited, very broken English.) Because the second she used all her minutes doing that kind of thing and I went to pick her up from someplace and she wasn't where she said she'd be and she couldn't call because she'd been yakking to all her buddies an her minutes were all gone was the same exact second she would start walking everywhere she needed/wanted to go. Scott said under no circumstances would we be spending more than $9 a month on a phone for an 11 year old who only needed to use it to get in touch with me when chorus got out 15 minutes early. There was also that other time it came in really handy though, that time Skylar, Lisa and I accidentally got on the wrong subway train and didn't realize it for a little while, and didn't get back in time for school to be let out. So, other than when her mother does something stupid, she doesn't really need it, and of course most of the time she doesn't even carry it. Like MOST OF THE TIMES I TRY TO CALL HER.
Then. My birthday. I imagine a window opening up in the sky and a ray of light shining down onto that specific date on the calendar. Not really. But anyway, Scott's mom came to visit and she left the morning of the 17th, which was a Saturday. So that afternoon we all went to the PX so I could browse a different aisle from the rest of them, who were going to be buying PRESENTS!! Well, it didn't go as planned, because there's just nothing there to buy for you, mama, we just couldn't find anything. And they decided not to buy something just for the sake of buying something, which I can't argue with and won't argue with. I appreciate not being given something they don't like, that they aren't sure I'll like, just so there will be a present there. At one point though while we were in the PX I was looking at a rack of earrings, not "real" jewelry mind you, just the costume stuff and I pointed out to Ashlyn a couple of pairs I thought were cute, so that's what they bought.
And Scott was in a bad mood for the rest of the night, because he was in Iraq last year so I basically bought my own presents and this year he was back and he wanted to buy me stuff and he couldn't find anything to buy. And he didn't even like the earrings, but he wasn't going to not give me anything at all, and the girls were upset because they thought the earrings would be fine, so he just bought them until he could find something else, something better. This was just like at Christmas, when we found that shopping the day before was a bad idea because when you couldn't find anything to buy it was already too late to look on the internet.
The next day, my actual birthday, we went to the food court here to eat dinner. There are no restaurants here that you can count on, they don't understand consistency here, so rather than go out and spend a lot of money on bad food that isn't satisfying, we went to Subway, because have you had their new flatbread? It's so satisfying. And you can count on it to consistently taste the same, so there are no awkward surprises and tears and shouting. Afterwards, we went over to the Baskin Robbins counter to buy an ice cream cake. Have I mentioned how much I love birthday cake? I love it. Love, love, love it. I like cheesecake, and peach cobbler, and stuff like that, but nothing beats birthday cake. Nothing. Well we walked over to get one and they didn't have any. So we just went home. And for two days Scott apologized about not getting me any presents, and not getting me a cake, and giving me a crappy birthday, and not putting gas in the car the last time which made me think I was going to run out, and that one time two years ago when he said my hair looked bad and I cried about it.
Five days after my birthday is Scott's birthday. And you know what? Scott loves meatloaf. Now, I think meatloaf is one of the nastiest things on the face of the earth, along with coconut, feet and the sound of someone brushing their teeth. I don't know why, because isn't it basically just a hamburger shaped like a loaf of bread? It just seems so heavy, I guess, that I don't care for it at all. You know what else Scott likes? German chocolate cake. You know, with coconut frosting. So guess what we did. I got Becky The World's Best Baker to send me recipes for meatloaf and german chocolate cake, went out and bought all the stuff, and started at 2:00 in the afternoon on Scott's birthday cooking and baking. Oh, and the girls made cupcakes, because nobody else was willing to commit to eating the german chocolate cake and we needed something to enjoy too.
Let me tell you, this meatloaf was the bomb. I had to finely mince carrots, and onions, and celery, and put in various sauces, and hamburger meat, and italian sausage, and spices, and then, THEN I had to put my hands in the bowl with all of it and mix it up. With my hands. And I think it was at that point Ashlyn said "Oh I feel so sorry for you, mom." and even Haley teared up a little bit and asked what the other choices were for dinner, like, what side dishes were we having again? Because maybe she needed to have another after-school snack.
Oh, and I have to add that right in the middle of all of this water started coming out of the bottom of the refrigerator so I called the housing people and they sent a small Korean man to my house, who proceeded to take all the food out of the freezer and the top two shelves of the refrigerator, spread it out on the counter, and then start working on the refrigerator with a screwdriver and a hair dryer. So there was me, Ashlyn and Haley, and the Korean man all in the kitchen, with both the refrigerator and the freezer door wide open, and every dish I own out on the counter, along with all the food we had that needed refrigeration.
Then we made a german chocolate cake from scratch. With flour and cocoa and buttermilk, which, oh by the way, they don't sell at the commissary, so we had to get the next best thing, some powder in a can, and MAKE OUR OWN FREAKING BUTTERMILK. I am not even joking. And after that we had to wash all the beaters and mixing bowls and then make two batches of strawberry cupcakes, which we did not make from scratch, and looking back we should have because it would have made the story so much better. Then we had to let it all cool while I finished up mixing the meatloaf and peeling 10 pounds of potatoes because I have a lot of kids and I didn't feel really secure in the fact that they would be eating meatloaf. Next was the huge fight over how many cupcakes SHE was icing, and how SHE did two more than I did, and how SHE was hurrying so she could do the most, and where are the sprinkles, LOOK MOM, SKYLAR IS EATING THE SPRINKLES STRAIGHT FROM THE SPRINKLE JAR, and Owen came in wanting to help, so he and I made the coconut pecan frosting, after we TOASTED THE STUPID PECANS because there's nothing half-ass about me and DON'T YOU FORGET IT, and Owen decided that this couldn't possibly be the stuff I was going to put on that chocolate cake over there cooling on the racks, because it didn't look anything like frosting and he wasn't going to eat any of it, he'd just have a cupcake. So basically I'm making a meatloaf that no one is going to eat besides Scott, and a cake that no one is going to eat besides Scott. And I'm sweating like nobody's business, so on top of the onions and the celery and the cocoa smell I also smell like feet.
HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY, EAT YOUR MEATLOAF AND YOUR CAKE AND YOU'D BETTER FREAKING LIKE IT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER LIKED ANYTHING BEFORE IN YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE FREAKING LIFE.
We also went and got some presents, some new nike running shorts and shirts because Scott runs off post in the mornings and you're not supposed to be advertising Army PT off post by wearing the uniform. Actually, you're not supposed to advertise Army anything here off post, you're supposed to blend in. Which is difficult for us because we don't really look Asian. Or speak Korean. We also got him some dark jeans, which look so awesome on him I've asked him to wear them every single day when he gets home from work and takes off his ACUs, and a computer game for his computer, because I have the same game on my computer and he hogs it all the time, which cuts into my Facebook time. And I mean, come on. I HAVE TO HARVEST.
Five days after Scott's birthday is Owen's birthday. And Owen is really into nerf guns and shooting nerf darts at that cat we got, so he had one already, Meena bought him one while she was visiting, and I bought him another one and lots and lots of darts, along with a movie and a wii game. Then, we made a brownie pizza on the pampered chef pizza stone (hint: if you put parchment paper on the stone and spread the brownie batter on it the batter won't run off when it cooks and you can make a big brownie pizza!), topped with marshmallows and chocolate drizzle. For dinner Owen had his choice and he chose...wait for it...Taco Bell. He's going to make a great husband one day. It's my birthday. Taco Bell and brownies, please.
Five days after Owen's birthday is our wedding anniversary. Are you starting to see a pattern? (Amy, I know you see it and I know I'm making you absolutely giddy with all my "tendencies") So, two days before my anniversary Scott takes Owen to the PX to "try to buy a new Wii". This whole "we need a new Wii" thing is a totally separate story, but a good one nonetheless, and I will be featuring all of THOSE sordid details in an upcoming post. When they got home they didn't have a Wii, and Scott looked dejected again, saying Oh well, I was gonna try to get you a picture from the PX but it's not going to work.
--(there's a guy at the PX annex who takes a picture and then burns it into wood, and it's absolutely amazing. i cannot believe the detail he gets into them, and I comment every time we pass them about how pretty they are.)--
Scott took my favorite wedding picture to the guy, along with a poem the girls helped him pick out online somewhere, for the guy to burn into wood. It turns out it would take him 2 weeks to get it finished, so there's no way it'd be ready anytime near our anniversary (2 days away), and also the picture Scott took had that "soft glow" look to it and the guy said he couldn't get enough detail from it to make it look right. Scott apologized for striking out, again, and made the executive decision that we weren't buying each other anything for our anniversary this year, because he couldn't find anything to buy me. We also didn't go out to eat, instead I made taco salad, so the hamburger meat wouldn't spoil.
So, you know, it kind of started off on a slight downward slant and by the end it was a flat-out free-fall. And Scott has been in a continuous state of apology, and I can't figure out if I'm sad, hurt, mad, or indifferent to the whole situation. He's a male, after all, and he understands the planning that goes into birthday/anniversary present buying about as well as he understands the planning that goes into getting all the separate food dishes to be ready to eat at the exact same time when you make dinner. What? It's all going to be ready at the same time? Without one or two parts having to sit in the microwave for half an hour? WHAT MADNESS.
Yesterday Haley came home from school with a flower she planted for me for Mother's Day, one that she was supposed to keep in her classroom and bring home Friday, but they apparently planted these flowers on Earth Day, last month, because her teacher thought it would be easier to only get the potting soil out with all the 3rd graders ONE time. So these flowers had just about lived out their life expectancy in the classroom, and the teacher was shocked they had started dying, and everyone was afraid they were going to die before Sunday so she sent them all home. Even better, to ruin the surprise even more, she sent out an email BEFORE school was out, letting us know our children, our sweet little 9 year olds who absolutely live for surprises, had patiently and lovingly planted us flowers and they were now half dead so they were bringing them home today, Happy Mother's Day, SURPRISE!
(last night, when Scott got home:)
"Daddy! Look at the pretty yellow flower I planted for Mama at school."
"Why did you plant a flower for her?"
"Because Sunday is Mother's Day!"
(looking rather alarmed and looking at me) "Sunday is Mother's Day?"
"Yeah! Didn't you know?"
"Sunday is Mother's Day. Shit. I CAN'T CATCH A BREAK."
And he's already apologizing for how badly Sunday is going to go.
Well, there's something to be said for NOT living in a state of anticipation, I guess, for not wondering what's inside all the nicely wrapped PRESENTS!! Needless to say, since moving to Korea, I've lowered my bar. Actually, you can't really even see the bar anymore, because it's covered in dirt.
We live in Korea. At Christmas we found that Korea doesn't have a lot to offer in the way of gifts. I thought at the time that it was because we didn't have a car, and there was all that snow everywhere, and we just didn't know where to look. The PX here is bad, really bad. The toy section is bad and the clothes section is bad and the list just goes on and on. I had a hard time, a really really hard time, coming up with stuff to buy for the kids for Christmas, and I had a hard time finding things for Scott. And when Scott went out on December 23rd to pick up some gifts for me, he had a hard time too.
We talked about it at Christmas, how we were going to have to start birthday shopping weeks in advance because whatever we bought would have to be shipped from somewhere other than Korea, so for it to get here in time it needed to be ordered about 2 weeks in advance and shipped priority so we could then sit back and cross our fingers and hope and pray it got here. So for Skylar's in January I found a really cute doll house online and told my mom about it, she ordered it from ToysRUs and then I ordered all the extra rooms along with a couple other small things. They got here in plenty of time and I wrapped them up and all was good. And Skylar plays with that doll house every single day. Good call, Jennifer!
As we perused Korea and the various shopping establishments off post Ashlyn found a really soft, really warm blanket for her bed. She'd take one of those for her birthday, thanks, unless we wanted to buy her an iPod touch, which I thought about for about half a second before saying ARE YOU CRAZY? I mean seriously, do you even know where you DS is right now? Or your digital camera? Or the charger to either one of them? No? Well then, let's by all means go out and spend several hundred dollars on another piece of electronics you can lose; now, how about a blanket? We also did go ahead and get her a cell phone, the prepaid kind, with something like 1000 minutes for $9 that I gave to her along with a threat that I would absolutely string her up by her toes in the closet under the stairs if she started texting people or giving out the number to her friends. We will not, I told her, buy minutes more than once a month (the way Korean pre-paid cell phones work, or the way I understand them to work, is your minutes keep adding up but you have to renew each month for $9, for which you get an additional 1000 minutes. I could be way off here; the guy spoke very limited, very broken English.) Because the second she used all her minutes doing that kind of thing and I went to pick her up from someplace and she wasn't where she said she'd be and she couldn't call because she'd been yakking to all her buddies an her minutes were all gone was the same exact second she would start walking everywhere she needed/wanted to go. Scott said under no circumstances would we be spending more than $9 a month on a phone for an 11 year old who only needed to use it to get in touch with me when chorus got out 15 minutes early. There was also that other time it came in really handy though, that time Skylar, Lisa and I accidentally got on the wrong subway train and didn't realize it for a little while, and didn't get back in time for school to be let out. So, other than when her mother does something stupid, she doesn't really need it, and of course most of the time she doesn't even carry it. Like MOST OF THE TIMES I TRY TO CALL HER.
Then. My birthday. I imagine a window opening up in the sky and a ray of light shining down onto that specific date on the calendar. Not really. But anyway, Scott's mom came to visit and she left the morning of the 17th, which was a Saturday. So that afternoon we all went to the PX so I could browse a different aisle from the rest of them, who were going to be buying PRESENTS!! Well, it didn't go as planned, because there's just nothing there to buy for you, mama, we just couldn't find anything. And they decided not to buy something just for the sake of buying something, which I can't argue with and won't argue with. I appreciate not being given something they don't like, that they aren't sure I'll like, just so there will be a present there. At one point though while we were in the PX I was looking at a rack of earrings, not "real" jewelry mind you, just the costume stuff and I pointed out to Ashlyn a couple of pairs I thought were cute, so that's what they bought.
And Scott was in a bad mood for the rest of the night, because he was in Iraq last year so I basically bought my own presents and this year he was back and he wanted to buy me stuff and he couldn't find anything to buy. And he didn't even like the earrings, but he wasn't going to not give me anything at all, and the girls were upset because they thought the earrings would be fine, so he just bought them until he could find something else, something better. This was just like at Christmas, when we found that shopping the day before was a bad idea because when you couldn't find anything to buy it was already too late to look on the internet.
The next day, my actual birthday, we went to the food court here to eat dinner. There are no restaurants here that you can count on, they don't understand consistency here, so rather than go out and spend a lot of money on bad food that isn't satisfying, we went to Subway, because have you had their new flatbread? It's so satisfying. And you can count on it to consistently taste the same, so there are no awkward surprises and tears and shouting. Afterwards, we went over to the Baskin Robbins counter to buy an ice cream cake. Have I mentioned how much I love birthday cake? I love it. Love, love, love it. I like cheesecake, and peach cobbler, and stuff like that, but nothing beats birthday cake. Nothing. Well we walked over to get one and they didn't have any. So we just went home. And for two days Scott apologized about not getting me any presents, and not getting me a cake, and giving me a crappy birthday, and not putting gas in the car the last time which made me think I was going to run out, and that one time two years ago when he said my hair looked bad and I cried about it.
Five days after my birthday is Scott's birthday. And you know what? Scott loves meatloaf. Now, I think meatloaf is one of the nastiest things on the face of the earth, along with coconut, feet and the sound of someone brushing their teeth. I don't know why, because isn't it basically just a hamburger shaped like a loaf of bread? It just seems so heavy, I guess, that I don't care for it at all. You know what else Scott likes? German chocolate cake. You know, with coconut frosting. So guess what we did. I got Becky The World's Best Baker to send me recipes for meatloaf and german chocolate cake, went out and bought all the stuff, and started at 2:00 in the afternoon on Scott's birthday cooking and baking. Oh, and the girls made cupcakes, because nobody else was willing to commit to eating the german chocolate cake and we needed something to enjoy too.
Let me tell you, this meatloaf was the bomb. I had to finely mince carrots, and onions, and celery, and put in various sauces, and hamburger meat, and italian sausage, and spices, and then, THEN I had to put my hands in the bowl with all of it and mix it up. With my hands. And I think it was at that point Ashlyn said "Oh I feel so sorry for you, mom." and even Haley teared up a little bit and asked what the other choices were for dinner, like, what side dishes were we having again? Because maybe she needed to have another after-school snack.
Oh, and I have to add that right in the middle of all of this water started coming out of the bottom of the refrigerator so I called the housing people and they sent a small Korean man to my house, who proceeded to take all the food out of the freezer and the top two shelves of the refrigerator, spread it out on the counter, and then start working on the refrigerator with a screwdriver and a hair dryer. So there was me, Ashlyn and Haley, and the Korean man all in the kitchen, with both the refrigerator and the freezer door wide open, and every dish I own out on the counter, along with all the food we had that needed refrigeration.
Then we made a german chocolate cake from scratch. With flour and cocoa and buttermilk, which, oh by the way, they don't sell at the commissary, so we had to get the next best thing, some powder in a can, and MAKE OUR OWN FREAKING BUTTERMILK. I am not even joking. And after that we had to wash all the beaters and mixing bowls and then make two batches of strawberry cupcakes, which we did not make from scratch, and looking back we should have because it would have made the story so much better. Then we had to let it all cool while I finished up mixing the meatloaf and peeling 10 pounds of potatoes because I have a lot of kids and I didn't feel really secure in the fact that they would be eating meatloaf. Next was the huge fight over how many cupcakes SHE was icing, and how SHE did two more than I did, and how SHE was hurrying so she could do the most, and where are the sprinkles, LOOK MOM, SKYLAR IS EATING THE SPRINKLES STRAIGHT FROM THE SPRINKLE JAR, and Owen came in wanting to help, so he and I made the coconut pecan frosting, after we TOASTED THE STUPID PECANS because there's nothing half-ass about me and DON'T YOU FORGET IT, and Owen decided that this couldn't possibly be the stuff I was going to put on that chocolate cake over there cooling on the racks, because it didn't look anything like frosting and he wasn't going to eat any of it, he'd just have a cupcake. So basically I'm making a meatloaf that no one is going to eat besides Scott, and a cake that no one is going to eat besides Scott. And I'm sweating like nobody's business, so on top of the onions and the celery and the cocoa smell I also smell like feet.
HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY, EAT YOUR MEATLOAF AND YOUR CAKE AND YOU'D BETTER FREAKING LIKE IT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER LIKED ANYTHING BEFORE IN YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE FREAKING LIFE.
We also went and got some presents, some new nike running shorts and shirts because Scott runs off post in the mornings and you're not supposed to be advertising Army PT off post by wearing the uniform. Actually, you're not supposed to advertise Army anything here off post, you're supposed to blend in. Which is difficult for us because we don't really look Asian. Or speak Korean. We also got him some dark jeans, which look so awesome on him I've asked him to wear them every single day when he gets home from work and takes off his ACUs, and a computer game for his computer, because I have the same game on my computer and he hogs it all the time, which cuts into my Facebook time. And I mean, come on. I HAVE TO HARVEST.
Five days after Scott's birthday is Owen's birthday. And Owen is really into nerf guns and shooting nerf darts at that cat we got, so he had one already, Meena bought him one while she was visiting, and I bought him another one and lots and lots of darts, along with a movie and a wii game. Then, we made a brownie pizza on the pampered chef pizza stone (hint: if you put parchment paper on the stone and spread the brownie batter on it the batter won't run off when it cooks and you can make a big brownie pizza!), topped with marshmallows and chocolate drizzle. For dinner Owen had his choice and he chose...wait for it...Taco Bell. He's going to make a great husband one day. It's my birthday. Taco Bell and brownies, please.
Five days after Owen's birthday is our wedding anniversary. Are you starting to see a pattern? (Amy, I know you see it and I know I'm making you absolutely giddy with all my "tendencies") So, two days before my anniversary Scott takes Owen to the PX to "try to buy a new Wii". This whole "we need a new Wii" thing is a totally separate story, but a good one nonetheless, and I will be featuring all of THOSE sordid details in an upcoming post. When they got home they didn't have a Wii, and Scott looked dejected again, saying Oh well, I was gonna try to get you a picture from the PX but it's not going to work.
--(there's a guy at the PX annex who takes a picture and then burns it into wood, and it's absolutely amazing. i cannot believe the detail he gets into them, and I comment every time we pass them about how pretty they are.)--
Scott took my favorite wedding picture to the guy, along with a poem the girls helped him pick out online somewhere, for the guy to burn into wood. It turns out it would take him 2 weeks to get it finished, so there's no way it'd be ready anytime near our anniversary (2 days away), and also the picture Scott took had that "soft glow" look to it and the guy said he couldn't get enough detail from it to make it look right. Scott apologized for striking out, again, and made the executive decision that we weren't buying each other anything for our anniversary this year, because he couldn't find anything to buy me. We also didn't go out to eat, instead I made taco salad, so the hamburger meat wouldn't spoil.
So, you know, it kind of started off on a slight downward slant and by the end it was a flat-out free-fall. And Scott has been in a continuous state of apology, and I can't figure out if I'm sad, hurt, mad, or indifferent to the whole situation. He's a male, after all, and he understands the planning that goes into birthday/anniversary present buying about as well as he understands the planning that goes into getting all the separate food dishes to be ready to eat at the exact same time when you make dinner. What? It's all going to be ready at the same time? Without one or two parts having to sit in the microwave for half an hour? WHAT MADNESS.
Yesterday Haley came home from school with a flower she planted for me for Mother's Day, one that she was supposed to keep in her classroom and bring home Friday, but they apparently planted these flowers on Earth Day, last month, because her teacher thought it would be easier to only get the potting soil out with all the 3rd graders ONE time. So these flowers had just about lived out their life expectancy in the classroom, and the teacher was shocked they had started dying, and everyone was afraid they were going to die before Sunday so she sent them all home. Even better, to ruin the surprise even more, she sent out an email BEFORE school was out, letting us know our children, our sweet little 9 year olds who absolutely live for surprises, had patiently and lovingly planted us flowers and they were now half dead so they were bringing them home today, Happy Mother's Day, SURPRISE!
(last night, when Scott got home:)
"Daddy! Look at the pretty yellow flower I planted for Mama at school."
"Why did you plant a flower for her?"
"Because Sunday is Mother's Day!"
(looking rather alarmed and looking at me) "Sunday is Mother's Day?"
"Yeah! Didn't you know?"
"Sunday is Mother's Day. Shit. I CAN'T CATCH A BREAK."
And he's already apologizing for how badly Sunday is going to go.
Well, there's something to be said for NOT living in a state of anticipation, I guess, for not wondering what's inside all the nicely wrapped PRESENTS!! Needless to say, since moving to Korea, I've lowered my bar. Actually, you can't really even see the bar anymore, because it's covered in dirt.
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