My first and last project of 2018

Sooooo, I was playing with the boys in our already cluttered toy corner. At one point, my youngest, Thing 2, goes to the small, sad-looking plastic play kitchen set I bought about a year and a half ago, and starts cooking up a storm. Probably trying to recreate what he saw daddy cooking the day before (all the while chatting away in his unique toddler-speak. I understood “yummy” and “chicken”.) He was perfectly happy with this cheap little toy, but I no longer was. Motherly guilt sets in, and I hear two tiny voices say: should get them a proper play kitchen

…yeah, with a fridge

…and a microwave

…yeah, and buttons that actually move!


Now mind you, that all happened in the space of a second, without consulting me, the actual conscience entity in charge. But since my mind had already been made up for me, by me 1 and me 2, I thereafter became obsessed with play kitchens for the next week until I actually bought the darn thing.

What my otherwise clever brain failed to realize while perusing and obsessing over the thousands of kitchens that I googled was that they don’t come assembled. I mean, I knew it, but my brain, I think, actively kept that information hostage in my subconscience in order to shield me from the trauma to come. What followed once the package had been delivered was a 10-hour ordeal which I would have gladly exchanged for either one of my two, painful labour experiences.

I exagerate, I know, but just let me have this.


Husband had been in a mood for days, so I decided to tackle this project on my own. I wasn’t daunted. I had singlehandedly put together furniture in my college days. I could handle a tiny play kitchen, no sweat. Be done in 3 hours.

Remember when I mentioned something about 10 hours?! Yeah, so…

With Thing 2 down for a nap, and Thing 1 enjoying his screen time (Husband out of my hair grocery shopping), I decide to familiarise myself with the manual and start looking for the pieces to this ginormous puzzle.


About five hours (and an incident with Thing 1) later, this is what my efforts had amounted to…

Not much to show for, except a nice mess that I now had to keep my youngest from stepping all over. He had awoken in a foul mood, so guess how that went! Husband was put in charge of rallying the kids which helped …some…


The punishment continues. You’d think I was almost done, but this is when all the little detail pieces with the tiny screws rear their ugly heads. Screws that need to be screwed in upside down. Wait, what? Yeah, you read that right. In the end, it was easier caving and asking Husband for help to flip the whole kitchen set upside down. Luckily his mood improved when he realized he, I mean the boys, were getting a new toy.


I take charge again. Getting tired and making stupid mistakes. Just a few screws and bolts to go and the tiny screw driver that came with the package slides…under…the fridge. What the!!! Fridge is too heavy to move. All my MacGyver tricks to try and shimmy it out fail miserably. I could just kick myself, until I remember…


My trusted Swiss-army-knife-like IKEA-screw-driver thingy. Thank goodness I wasn’t too tired to remember where I kept it. โ™ฅ๏ธThe temporary love of my life.โ™ฅ๏ธ


It’s done. It’s really done! No, wait. Am I just dreaming? Did I fall asleep? Ouch, no, I’m awake. Woohoooo๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽŠ๐Ÿ†


…What the heck is that! Oh, Pringles, did I forget a bunch of screws?!?! I bet it’s gonna cave in like a house of cards. I bet it’s …oh, just spare parts. O.k., mini heart attack subsiding. Need to change my undies.


I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t go above and beyond my already exhausted mental limits by staying up just a bit more so I could dress it up a little for them. I even added some dishes in the sink to get them started on the right path to kitchen chore management. O.k. boys, go follow in your daddy’s footsteps!๐Ÿฅž๐Ÿง€๐ŸŒฝ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒฎ๐Ÿ—๐Ÿณ๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿ˜›


Showered and in bed. Yeah, I’m getting too old for this…

So boys, I love you guys, but this has been my first and last project of the year. Well, until me 1 and me 2 get me me in trouble again. Those meddlesome Monas better learn to keep their trapholes shut!๐Ÿ˜’

Anniversary presents

So yesterday was my 5-year anniversary. As you may have gathered from my previous post, my husband is not big on gifts, and I’m not really bound by occassion. This year, however, I decided to get a gift for the men who do appreciate me, my boys.

The idea came to me one morning. I had just woken up and was laying in bed watching my youngest. He had cried himself awake sometime in the dead of night, and per usual refused to stay asleep unless next to me, and so he ended up in bed with me.

So I’m laying there, examining his face by the early morning light, overcome by love and all the sappy motherly emotions you hope could last all day. Then he wakes up and gives me the cutest smiles and sweetest hugs, I feel so blessed and I realize, this tiny human being, this is my gift. Every year, him and his brother are my anniversary gifts, and I love and cherish them so much I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Then, in his loving play, he whacks me in the eye and I think, maybe I should have saved the receipt, hrmpff.

I bought them a wooden picnic table for kids with built-in basins for water or sand. My eldest is hypersensitive, so it was recommended he play in/ with sand to help him desensitize a bit. I didn’t know when I bought it that the gift for a 5-year anniversary was wood, but that was a fun coincidence. And we had fun using it, the four of us sitting at the table messing around in the sand. So in the end, our bonus gift was quality family time. No fighting, just fun and laughter.

Until it was naptime. 

Five years of fun times and headaches, happiness  and heartache. And I honestly don’t know how the next five will be, only that I’m in it for the long haul. You know the expression, you made your bed, now you have to lie in it. Well, the first year of marriage was like sleeping in a nice, cozy, new bed. But as the years go by, there’s some wear and tear, and then the lumps appear. My bed’s a little more lumpy than I thought it would be (figuratively, but also literally because of the tiny bodies that keep appearing in it). 

But what do you do with a lumpy bed? You change the mattress, you don’t throw out the whole frame. And even though at times I get so frustrated with my husband that the only thing that helps me through the long hours of the day is fantasizing about being a divorcรฉ (or widow), I think of the commitment we made and what that means to me. 

I search deep and usually come up with a reason to stay in the game. Sometimes it’s a speck of love hidden away in the deep crevices of my heart. Other times, it’s a panick attack like fear of having to raise two small boys on my own. In any case, I usually find a good enough reason to stay married, is what I’m saying.

But after five years, it’s time for a new mattress, a new mindset – time to keep reminding myself and my husband of the reasons we married each other. And since no mattress stays new forever, I just hope the lumps take a little longer to develop this time. The figurative lumps. No more literal ones for me. 

Thing 2 managed to dump a cup full of sand in his diaper