Friday, December 11, 2020Day Two Hundred Sixty-Six
March 2020 can absolutely go die in a fire as far as I'm concerned, but it didn't just take things away. It did hand us a few small gifts. Like, it handed us a hail storm.
What's that? A hail storm doesn't sound like a gift? OH, BUT IT IS. First it was a gift because I didn't even know it happened. It was apparently in the middle of the night and I truly had no clue, which means it didn't wake up the small terrorist that still sometimes ruins my nights. While causing no disruption to life, it managed to trash our roof.
What's that? It still doesn't sound like a gift? It is when you're all caught up on your insurance payments and a replacement roof is covered. Even better, the roof was 3-4 years away from needing to be replaced no matter what, so thanks, March 2020! I much prefer a covered-under-insurance roof than an out-of-my-pocket roof.
2020 being what it is, though, that new roof didn't get installed until this week. I don't know why it took nearly nine months, but there it is. What is time at this point, if not irrelevant? So, months after it should have happened, a large crew of very loud humans descended on our home.
They did it on the same day that the wood floor in our living room was getting installed. That's a whole other level of delayed gratification, for what it's worth. The carpet in that room has been a special kind of disgusting since we moved into this house 9 years ago. It never got replaced because dogs, cats, kids ... there were a lot of very messy and destructive reasons we never got to it. But better 9 years late than never? We'll go with that.
So, there was an army of sasquatch on the roof pounding and hammering and clanking and slamming. I work from upstairs, by the way. The sasquatch were directly over my head proving that my children aren't the loudest humans on earth. Downstairs there was pounding and air compressors. Throw in two REALLY freaked out dogs, the normal cacophony that Mila carries with her everywhere she goes and ... ugh. UGH.
So frustrating.
I literally couldn't hear myself think, which was great because I had meetings to attend. I didn't have advance notice that the marching band and sasquatch and all of that were going to collide in one day, so I had to roll with it. I was doing mostly okay until I heard it.
A chirp.
And then a minute later, another chirp.
A smoke detector chose that exact moment to have a low battery.
Under normal circumstances, it takes FOREVER to find the chirping smoke detector. When sasquatch are stomping and nails are being slammed, it takes FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER.
I found it eventually, but not until I had about 20 new grey hairs and a desire to commit several acts of violence. At least I didn't end up in jail?
Day Two Hundred Sixty-Five
One of the things that has to be done for Christmas Crazy every year is to open all of the boxes and sort all of the things. There's a tedious bit of organizing that goes on, which is how I keep track of making sure everything arrives safe and sound, and Mila likes to help.
Wait, that should be "help." She thinks she's helping. Really she is just entertaining me.
Mila is the kid who is enthusiastic about absolutely everything. EVERYTHING. She can open up a box of boys underwear and still find joy. It proves my point that it's the act of opening the surprise that makes her happy, not the actual surprise itself. Which is fine. Because joy.
Still, sometimes she opens a box that has things in it she genuinely likes. This year she is extremely enchanted by all things baby Yoda, which AREN'T WE ALL? There are 2-3 baby Yoda figures and two stuffed baby Yodas and Mila says "Hi" to them every single day.
(No worries. I already bought her one of her very own. I'm hoping to make the "Hi" a daily event for the next several years.)
Other than that, though, not much has sustained Mila's attention this year. She thinks all of the Kindle Fires are cool, but she already has her own tablet, and the Paw Patrol toys have earned a lot of singing, but nothing major.
Until today.
Today we unpacked a baseball bat. Mila instantly grabbed it and ran over to the pile of collapsed boxes so she could whack it. A lot. All told, she spent an hour whacking the boxes. There's no real harm in that, but then she wouldn't put the bat down.
You guys, she carried the bat everywhere tonight. EVERYWHERE. She is currently sleeping with the bat. I will take it and it will end up at Center for Victims as it should, but for now Mila has declared a baseball bat her best friend.
COVID really is messing us all up.
