Little boxes

I had a dream about the little bungalow we bought when we moved back to Georgia the other night. In my dream, it was enormous on the inside and the rooms kept going on and on. In reality, it was a teeny place, barely a three bedroom. The closets were so small, that in one of the bedrooms, the hangers had to be placed in on an angle. We ended up selling it before Little Guy came along, but for a while it was just the two of us and our baby girl, and it was perfect.

A few years after we got married, we lived in a tiny apartment where there were always cat fights echoing in the back alley at night. Some crazy lady left food out, so it became the city cat hang out. Still, we loved that place because it was super cheap and centrally located in the hipster part of Atlanta. We could literally step out of the front door and be in a restaurant, bar, or coffee shop within two minutes. It had one bedroom and the only closet in the entire place was off of the living room, but somehow, it was perfect too.

Don't get me wrong, I love the house we are in now. It isn't huge, though sometimes it seems like more than we really need. Still there is a part of me, that looks forward to the time when the kids are out of the house and Hubs and I can cozy up in a little place again. I don't know where we'll be, but I can totally picture it.

Small and perfect, just like it used to be, except maybe with a little more closet space.

Lost

We are packing to go camping this weekend. We have been considering taking the kids camping for a while and when Girlie's class planned a family trip, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go.

The truth is, we haven't been camping since Girlie was born. Over the weekend Hubs pulled out our camping boxes, a couple of over-sized plastic tubs we have been lugging in and out of storage and the garage every time we moved from Georgia to South Carolina back to Georgia and finally across country to Arizona, all without opening them once.

It is strange to think of who we were back then, just a couple with a coleman stove and a cheapie tent. We sorted through everything, tossed out some of it, and made a list of what we needed to replace. Our sleeping bags have gone missing and we needed some new propane for our lantern. We had to replace the batteries in our flashlights and pick up some firewood. I did find a deck of cards, though I am not sure how much time we'll have to use them.

And while it was exciting to get ready make this trip with the kids, it also made me realize how much I miss is the way it felt to just be the two of us. I'll add it to the list, but I don't think we can really ever replace it.

Home improvement

Over the weekend Hubs and I embarked on a minor home improvement project.

I decided to move a West Elm filing cabinet into our family room and re-purpose it for toy storage. The change was initiated by the purchase of a fantastic set of lockers that I got for our office/art room (the lockers are red and I love them so much, an entire post kind of love). The addition of the lockers displaced another smaller storage piece, also from West Elm, and it wound up in the family room. Once the smaller piece was gone, the file cabinet looked enormous and out of place. Since I sold my business, and I don't really need so much filing space, and it didn't really match, out came the file cabinet too.

The home improvement part came up because the cabinet is so heavy that when the drawers are all the way out, it tips forward a little. We are not in the habit of going overboard with the childproofing, but it needed some anti-tipping brackets if we were going to use it in the family room and allow the kids to open and close it regularly.

This is where things started to break down.

You see, Hubs and I cannot seem to work together on any task requiring tools without bickering. We usually get along pretty well. I like the guy. Really I do. But put a screwdriver in his hand and it's on.

It starts out innocently enough, with him trying to find a stud, and me hovering in the background. Then words are exchanged about the method he has devised for securing the cabinet. A second trip to the hardware store is made and a real patent-pending childproof anti-tipping bracket is purchased. More searching for the right place to secure it to the wall and a heated discussion over whether the cabinet has to be taken apart. The cabinet is moved three times.

Then he mentions something about his engineering degree.

And I am all, did you just call me stupid?

Finally the cabinet was fixed in place. But then, at the end of it, our relationship is the thing at risk of tipping over, threatening to crush him or me, or one of the kids.

And I wonder where they sell the kit to fix that little problem?

Ending the cold war

I am fighting a little cold this week, and by fighting I mean that I am ignoring it and pretending that my scratchy throat, stuffy nose, and tightness in my chest simply don't exist. Both of the kids are getting over the same thing and Hubs has it too. He has it so bad, in fact, that he worked from home for a couple of days.

The first day, when he called in sick and went back to bed, I felt so annoyed. How come he gets to be sick? I thought to myself as I grumpily made him some tea with honey. But lately I have been working on changing the dynamic between us, so I didn't say a word and resolved to try to nurture him a little without letting him know how put out I felt about it. As I busied myself with breakfast, it occurred to me that I could have a sick day too.

I just don't ask for one.

When I wake up with an illness, I weigh the possibilities. I try to figure out if I am really sick, whatever that means. I mentally calculate the number of the things the kids will need and the effort it would take me to translate that information. And finally, I feel so guilty about asking Hubs to rearrange his day, that I usually just pull myself out of bed and get on with it. And you know what? That has everything to do with me and nothing to do with Hubs.

So I am drafting a peace accord with myself. I have been waging a one-sided battle and really, how ridiculous is that? The next time, I promise myself I am just going to surrender and ask for help.

I mean, you know, if I am really sick.