What’s Comin’ Will Come, an’ We’ll Meet it When it Does

Those words up there are the title of a blog post I had swimming in my head last night as I was making a much dreaded trip to Wal Mart to buy cold supplies.


With alll the snucking and snorfelling and trumpeting into tissues that some of my kids were doing, we were running low; and there were more of us coming down with it.  I could feel myself going downhill yesterday, so I knew I’d wake up feeling like garbage today.  I knew what was comin’.  I was right.  It did, and I do.

But people!  There is so much more comin’ today!  Like a new stove, and a new fridge, and a new microwave!  Incidentally, I won’t cook with a microwave, but we can’t leave the old one that doesn’t work hanging above the stove because it won’t match, so we’ve spent hundreds of dollars to buy a matching appliance that will not be used) (but will help with the resale value of the house should we move).  Exciting stuff!  Right?

Why, yes!  So exciting, in fact, that the person who did the measuring for the new refrigerator, a person who shall remain nameless and relationship-less for purposes of this post (speaking of relationships, did you all hear that Brangelina is divorcing?) found that the soon-to-be-old fridge was standard width, depth, and height.  When we picked out the new fridge and this person saw that it was the same standard width and depth, this person, unbeknownst to the other person, made the assumption that it was also the same standard height.

We all know what they say about assuming.

So what’s comin’, what we’ll meet when it does, is a brand new refrigerator that is about two inches too tall to fit under the over-the-fridge cupboards.

The way we see it, we now have two options: send the sucker back and probably pay some “yes, we’re idiots” fee, or raise the cupboards — all of the cupboards — about two inches.  We have 2.5 hours until our delivery window starts, so naturally my grandmother’s china is currently sitting on my bedroom floor, and The Husband is in the kitchen, with nothing but his power tools and ingenuity, trying to raise cabinets two inches all by himself.  We all know this means that ours will be the first appliance delivery in the history of appliance deliveries that occurs at the very beginning of the delivery window, if not earlier.

I’d help The Husband, of course, except I have to write about it all to avoid having some kind of heretofore never experienced nervous breakdown.  I did ask him what I could do to help.  He told me to pray.  Vigorously.  Does typing count?  Probably not.  I don’t think God reads my blog.

Are you there, God?  It’s me, E.

I hear the sound of power tools coming from my kitchen.  I can feel the cortisol pulsing through my body.  I don’t think the fight or flight response was designed to make a sick person want to flee her own house, was it?  I need chocolate.

You know what else is comin’?  What with the cupboards all being raised a couple inches?  Painting.  I’m going to have to repaint the kitchen.  I still have some of the paint from the last time I painted it, so maybe I’ll only have to paint the new exposed swaths of wall.  But still.  Paintin’ is comin’.


T-1 hour now (I actually did go help a bit), and guess what???  The delivery guys called.  They’re running early.  They’ll be here in HALF an hour.  On the up side, the necessary cupboards have been moved up the requisite space and nothing got broken in the process.  That’s a tender mercy right there, I tell you.  Who knew we, mostly him, could do that that quickly?  On the down side, the necessary cupboards have been moved up the requisite space which means the unnecessary cupboards now also need to be moved so that our kitchen doesn’t give everyone vertigo, and we?  Are not particularly tall people.

Some of the younger kids are rather happy that they can finally reach to get their cups and their bowls.  What kind of parent raises the cupboards two inches shortly after that milestone has been hit?  The kind who doesn’t thoroughly measure for a new refrigerator, apparently.

“Hey, Quinn, how about you go get cups for you and Spuds.  Ha ha!  You can’t anymore, shorty!  Whatcha’ been doin’?  Drinkin’ Miracle-Shrink?”

As I’ve said before, we’re not saving for their college.  We’re saving for their therapy.

But L~ came home during The Raising of the Cupboards, and I gave her a grocery list and my credit card.  So you know what else is comin’?  Chocolate.  And I’ll meet it when it does.

So will Tewt the Newt.


Three Years ago on Facebook . . .

Sept. 16, 2013

Yesterday I learned that almost-nine-year-old boys apparently find it hilarious to silently pass gas in church and watch their mother’s face contort and eyes water until said mother informs the boy that if she can smell it, so can the people sitting in front of her. It’s amazing how wide with mortification almost-nine-year-old-Korean-born eyes can get. Why can’t little boys figure this stuff out on their own?

Maybe We Talk About Harry Potter a Little Too Much?

Tonight at bedtime, Spuds, who has a cold, came to me and said, “Mom, we should get a deluminator.”

“You mean like the one Quinn has?” I asked, because Quinn does, in fact, have a deluminator which turns a little lantern off and on.”

“Yeah,” said Spuds, “but a real one. ”

“Ummm . . . a real one?” I asked tentatively and with a little surprise.  I thought the boy already knew those things aren’t real (in the sense that they don’t work on any and every light built by mankind).

“You know,” he said.  “A real one.  Not one that’s like a cow or a lizard or anything.”

“You want a deluminator but not a cow deluminator?” I asked in complete confusion.  “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.  I’ve never seen, let alone heard of, a cow deluminator.”

The mind boggles.  What would be the purpose of a cow deluminator?  For the love . . . please don’t tell me it would be to turn cows on (and off, obviously).  I mean, I used to know someone who collected bull semen for a living, so maybe it would have come in handy in his line of work, but that seems like a lot of magical inventing for a very limited use, no?  Anyway, back to the conversation . . . 

“You know,” he persisted.  “Like the one we took out of Quinn’s room when we were cleaning it”

At this point we were walking up the stairs toward the boys’ bedrooms.

“We took a cow deluminator out of Quinn’s room???  I really don’t know what you’re talking . . .”

And there, at the top of the stairs, was the trusty husband waiting for us next to:

“Do you mean the cow humidifier?”

“Oh, yeah.  That’s what I meant!”

Thank the stars!  Because I did not want my kid asking Santa for a magical device that does nothing more and nothing less than get our bovine population’s hopes up only to profoundly disappoint them moments later, over and over, with the flick of a switch.  We live in the country.  We buy local beef.  I’m thinking that would have to affect the meat in some way.

Tewt the Newt would like to clarify that he is not a lizard.