Two Ruschmeiers and a Renovation

Marriage itself is a daily adventure, but you throw a home renovation in the mix, and you will find out quickly just how compatible you really are.  I’m not going to say that my husband is lucky to have me, but I really am pretty awesome, if you can look past the raging ADD and occasional (read frequent) selfishness. The selfishness really isn’t my fault, though.  I was an only child, and I did get my way A LOT. Thanks for that, Mom and Dad.  Nonetheless, despite my self-proclaimed “awesome wife” status, it turns out that I am not, in fact, an awesome construction helper, and through this experience, I have discovered that my husband, despite his inability to put a garbage bag back in an empty can, really is a saint. 

This man singlehandedly put new flooring in our entire house.  Note:  He actually has two fully-functioning hands, so I have no idea why anyone uses that expression, but I digress.  He would work all day at his regular job, then come straight home to work for hours on our new flooring, and while I am proud that I am not married to one of those men who drags his feet while doing projects, I have to admit he was wearing me out. Mama needs her sleep.  The sad part was that I wasn’t even working during the day, so I really had no excuse for any of my complaining, but I’ve never let that stop me before, so why start now?

 Yes, I tried to be as helpful as possible, but anyone who knows me knows that my attention span is virtually non-existent, and we were working at a time of day when my ADD meds had long since worn off.  And it was not my proudest moment, but there was at least one occasion when I gave him the wrong measurement and then blamed it on his penmanship, knowing good and well I’ve been teaching high school for fifteen years and can read anything short of hieroglyphs or Mandarin Chinese.  You see, another problem with only children is that we hate to be wrong.     

There was one thing I was not wrong about, though, and that was marrying David Ruschmeier.  I have yet to find too many things that the man can’t do.  Not many men would stay up until 3:00 in the morning to put a bedroom back together if they had to work at 7:00 the next day. I don’t tell him as often as I should how much he impresses me (mainly because I always want him to think he married up, so I can wear the pants), but every time he pulls off something like this, I am in awe—in awe not only of his ability to do things that a lot of people would never even try, but also in awe of his patience with his well-intentioned, but spastic wife, who tends to be more of a hindrance than a helpmate.  I love you, babe.  Thanks for simultaneously putting down flooring while putting up with me.  I know it was no easy task.  

Musings from the Brink of Insanity

I look forward to summer break just as much as my students do. In April, I start my countdown to the days of no alarms or work clothes, and I make a to-do list that is a balance of deep cleaning and outings with the kids. During this time off, the house stays neat and tidy, Pinterest-inspired dinners are cooked, and everyone has clean underwear all the time.  Summer makes me feel like a modern-day June Cleaver, fueling in me the desire to be a stay-at-home mom (a desire usually snuffed out by mid-July.)  This year was no exception as I eagerly awaited the end of May, marking the close of a great school year and the beginning of an even better summer.

However, June is now almost over, and nothing from my summer to-do list has been checked off. In fact, summer break has been the complete opposite of what I had envisioned.  The rain has been incessant all month, so beach trips and other outdoor excursions have been replaced with inside activities. Trips to the grocery store have been few and far between, so lavish meals have been replaced with sandwiches and chips, fish sticks and tater tots, or anything else I can find in the pantry that will keep the family alive another day.  

When he gets bored, he climbs walls.

For some moms, rainy days at home inspire productivity, but rain acts as a sedative to me.  When it is rainy, I don’t fancy changing out of my pj’s or brushing my hair- much less scrubbing toilets and organizing closets. In fact, I wrote on my to-do list “binge watch a show on Netflix” just so I could mark something off. In the last two weeks, I have become a fan of Survivor since Amazon Prime has 20-something seasons for me to watch, and I now know exactly how I would make it to the final three if I am ever chosen as a contestant. (Wouldn’t a season of mothers against their teen children be fun to watch?! Tribe names could be exotic sounding words that translate to ungrateful and under appreciated.)  

VBS kept us busy a few nights!

Many moms would use these rainy days to spend much-needed quality time with their children. The first three days were exactly that.  We cooked together. When I did my Bible study, Olivia read hers. We hung out on the couch and watched movies, and Asher even did chores with no complaining at all.  But just as fruit rots and milk spoils, the harmony in our little tribe soon turned to discord. The bickering and complaining began and I longed to leave camp for some peace and quiet. If only I could be voted off the Island. 

At this point, my momming now resembles less of June Cleaver and more of Rosanne Conner. Dysfunction has reached new levels in our home, and I don’t know how many more rainy days I can take before I enroll them ALL in daycare.  I came to this epiphany a few days ago when my three-year-old, wearing only a pull-up and a superhero cape, stood at the back door licking the glass like it was a cotton candy flavored sno-cone (his favorite).  As I yelled, “stop licking the door!”, I knew that if Mother Nature didn’t lay off with the rain soon, delirium was going to overtake me.

 Here are some things that I never imagined I would utter this summer, but ashamedly I have:

• Stop trying to light your sister’s hair on fire.
• You can’t put the dog in the dishwasher.
• Have you bathed this week? 
• Why do you have lip gloss on, son?
• Did you just scratch your butt and then grab watermelon out the bowl?
• Please stop feeding the dog your boogers.
• Who put coins in my glass of water?
• You can’t go to the mailbox in your underwear. Put on pants before you open that door!
• Do not put another Ramen noodle up your nose!
• Stop asking your brother to smell your feet while he is eating tacos! He can smell them after dinner. 

Luckily, the forecast shows a little sunshine heading our way, and nothing will help me regain my sanity like salt water in my hair and sugary white sand between my toes.  But I know that, although our shenanigans may move outdoors, the craziness that makes us us will continue, and I look forward to it with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

As I sit here on the couch at two in the afternoon- still in my pajamas with unbrushed hair- my toddler is sweetly nestled up beside me watching the Spanish version of PJ Masks, which neither of us understands, and he is eyeing a booger on the end of his finger that he discovered on his cheek from a recent emotional meltdown he had over having to share a toy with his sister…..and the list of ludicrous things I must say to my children this summer continues.