Friday, July 20, 2012

Creative Workarounds

Miah found a half-blue, oxidized penny while out for groceries with Aaron this week. She was thrilled, and brought it home, full of plans.

"I'm going to wash it and clean it and it will be so shiny and it's my lucky penny!"

After several attempts, it became clear this penny was permanently altered. Try convincing her of that, though...

7:00pm, and I'm still hearing the water in the bathroom intermittently run. I called her into the room with me and instructed her to "be all done" with the penny washing.

"But it's not clean yet!" she protests.
"I understand, but it's time to be done."
"Mom! It's not all clean!"
"I know, baby, but it's not going to get clean, so I want you to-"
"But mama, I need to finish!"

Deep breath.


"Miah, this is your last chance. Do not turn on the water again, understand?"
"I understand." She left the room dejectedly, and I went back to my work.

Roughly four minutes of silence followed. I hear a loud bang and her cries. The littlest, her sister, who has been snuggling up to me on the couch, crawls off my lap and toddle-runs down the hallway to check on the big one, with me just behind. What I saw was straight out of a comedy scene.

Miah was sprawled out, limbs askew, on her back in a puddle of water, her penny on the floor at her fingertips. Crying, of course, but not in extreme pain--more in shock and discomfort.

"Hi sweetie. Are you okay?"
"(sniffle) Yeah."
"What happened?"
"I... I... I WAS TRYING TO WASH MY PENNY!"
"Yes, I understand, but it looks like you slipped, right? How did all this water get here?"

Then I spotted it. Aaron keeps a small spray bottle in our bathroom for styling his hair. It was on the counter, not the high shelf where it's usually stored.

"Did you spray your penny with the water bottle since Mama said you can't use the sink anymore?"
"Uh huh."
"Does your head hurt?"
"Yes. Do you wanna see it?"
"Yes, I do."

We ended with kisses, snuggles, and discussions about how bathroom floors are slippery when wet.





Wednesday, July 18, 2012

My four-year-old's 'Body Issues'

It's become a bit of a beloved tradition as of late. My Miss M will wander into my bathroom when I'm in the shower, plop herself on the (closed) toilet seat, and announce:
"Mom, let's talk."
We talk about all sorts of things, usually related to which cartoons we've been watching, what books we've been reading, what kinds of cool toys her friends have, or which new name she's assigned to any of her dolls (or herself). It always puts a smile on my face - she seeks me out for conversation; she wants us to know each other. I'm a lucky mama.

Today, though, she opened the conversation with a statement a bit beyond our usual topics.


"Mom, I really like one part of my body that's my favorite, but there's one part of my body I don't like."


Curious, and with a touch of trepidation, I ventured, "Oh really? What don't you like?"


"My bladder." 
Interesting choice.

"Oh? Why's that?"


"Because it's not tickly, so I decided I don't like that." 
Hmm, a surprising offense to hold against an internal organ, but reasonably logical, I suppose.

"I see. And which part of your body is your favorite?"


"My powerful, powerful brain." 
That's. My. Girl.

"What does your brain do?"


"Lots of stuff. Like, smell flowers, and moves the muscles so I can pick flowers; it does everything!"


A simple book about human anatomy, shared with my little one when her interest piqued (her trips to several doctor's offices, which often display posters of anatomical drawings - like the one of the eye in her Opthamologist's office, for example - probably helped to encourage this fascination) has defined, for now, what it means in her world to have body issues. How long can I make this last? Oh dear Lord, let it go on forever.



Sunday, July 15, 2012

Rice, rice, baby.

After roughly a week of death, my iPhone now lives again. I feel like I lost an appendage and it grew back. I might not wish that feeling on my worst enemy, let alone any of you, my friends. So without further ado, I give you:

STEPS TO REVIVING THE iPHONE YOUR DAUGHTER DROPPED IN A TOILET

1. Die a little inside.
2. Reassure daughter that the look of death on your face is not directed at her.
3. Search the screen for signs of life. Try not to cry.
4. Power down.
5. Take the phone to the nearest air compressor (e.g., your grandfather's garage). Apply liberally.
6. Stick the phone in a bowl or baggie of uncooked rice.
7. Mention the fiasco on facebook, asking for advice. Get 1053 responses recommending the rice plan.
8. Wait 36 or more hours. Pray a lot.
9. Hold your breath as you try to turn on your phone again. 
10. Try not to cry as it does nothing in response.
11. Attempt to charge.
12. Try not to weep as the screen still looks dimmed, flashy, full of lines, and vaguely destroyed while charging.
13. Power down again and place in your computer bag. Attempt to avoid an empty, despondent feeling every time you notice in there again.
14. Let it sit in said bag in hot weather for a week. Hot, as in, Redding, Ca., 108° hot weather. I don't know if this a necessary step, it's just what I happened to be doing.
15. Pack bags for the next morning's planned departure. Crash in bed when finished.
16. Have a vivid dream about someone's Kindle being dropped in a pool, in which you respond with "Oh, let me help. I have lots of experience saving electronics from water damage."
17. Wake up from said dream, having understood the message. Plug in and turn on your suddenly completely revived iPhone. Dance and cry and celebrate like an idiot.


Also, probably don't let your daughters go to the bathroom for tissues to wipe their faces while they are still playing games on, and holding, your iPhone. 


Wednesday, July 4, 2012

iPhone in ICU

This. Is. Terrible.

My biggest Little dropped my iPhone in a toilet today.

She was playing a game on it, and had dripped something on her shirt, and asked for a tissue. I told her to grab a bit of tissue from the bathroom, and didn't notice her taking the phone along with. She quickly came out with the drippy device, and explained in an apologetic tone where it had fallen. She hadn't even gotten around to wiping her face.

sigh

I am not a woman of excess. I buy the cheapest version of the nice things I want, sometimes waiting months to save up enough cash to make my purchase. I read reviews and study specs, so that I avoid most buyer's remorse. Once the long-waited for thing is mine, I do a great deal to keep it well maintained.

My phone, for example, is a 3gs... purchased long after the 4 was released. It was super cheap that way.  In the two years I've used it, I, like many others, have relied on and grown attached to my phone. I have no scruples about this.

The funny thing is, in all the nearly 24 months I have had my phone-turned-personal assistant, I have had an irrational fear of it falling out of my back pocket (where it nearly always resides) and into the dirty drink. I envisioned the scenario more than fifty times, at least. Now, today, in the hands of my sweet preschooler, it met its match.

It is currently resting in a small vat of dry rice, having been air-compressed out first.

The prognosis is not necessarily good. I have done a lot of research at this point, looking for miracle stories--it seems about fifty-fifty. Sayin' a little prayer for my phone tonight.


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