Warning: as far as this post is concerned, there isn't any "there" there. As in, there's really no topic, or event, or news contained herein. I just wanted to post some mundane daily details by which to remember this interesting time in our lives. So here's "A Day in the Life of the Remodeling Heatons"...
This [morning] Tyson and I were slumbering blissfully on our air mattress/memory foam "bed" when we heard our doorbell ring, followed quickly by knocking. (Bed shouldn't really be in quotes, since it is in fact our bed, but unnecessary air quotes are sort of a trademark of mine. This time I'm using them to highlight the fact that our bed is somewhat lacking in true bed attributes such as elevation off the ground, comfort, and ability to stay in one shape or in one place while being slept upon. Most beds don't walk several inches during the night, right? But anyway, I digress.) The doorbell and knocking commotion was followed by a brief pause, then we heard the bell and the knocking again. Then another, shorter pause, and then the knocking became consistent, insistent. Bleary-eyed and croaky-voiced, we each tried to convince the other to answer the door. My main thought was that someone from the HOA was finally coming over to tell us the neighbors were complaining about the noise from our remodel, or that we could no longer leave on our porch 1) Our black garbage can, 2) Our water heater box filled with additional garbage, and/or 3) Our ShopVac. (All three items have been residing on said porch intermittently for the past six weeks -- well, not-so-intermittently in the case of the box from the water heater. It's more of a permanent fixture.)
No one wants a visit from the HOA, but that would be much better than my second thought -- that someone had called the Division of Child and Family Services. Could happen for any number of reasons, such as...we have our children living in a house that is probably not currently up to code in many and various ways...I let my three-year-old and my two-year-old watch "Thor", twice consecutively, the other night...any passerby could wonder what kind of abuse is being inflicted on Beck, who screams like a banshee whenever he is not allowed to do something he wants to do (like play with the matches for the camps stove we used to heat the garage ("kitchen") and which we occasionally cook on). But the most recent questionable even had happened yesterday when I had told Tyson not to let Sawyer play outside in just his underwear! It was only 65 degrees or so, and aren't kids supposed to be dressed by noon? Tyson reassured me that Sawyer wasn't cold. No, he was keeping warm by sunning himself, lizard-style, on the large, metal electrical box right next to the street. At least Beck was warmer, since he was still in his pajamas. And what was I doing, you ask? I was painting cabinet doors and couldn't leave my station right at that very moment because I was in the middle of smoothing out my brushstrokes, and brushstrokes must be avoided at all costs. BRUSHSTROKES MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS!
Then again, maybe it wasn't the HOA or DCFS. Maybe it was our backyard neighbor coming to discuss the present I had left for him a few days earlier. The present being a FULL grocery bag of his dog's feces, which I had gathered from the grass directly outside my patio gate (the grass which belongs to neither of us, but rather to our condo HOA and his apartment community) and left on his back porch along with a note requesting his compliance with the pet waste policy of the community...namely that owners should promptly clean up after their own pets. The apartment renters face steep fines if they disobey this rule, but he has been skirting punishment by directing his golden retriever to venture up the hill and do his business on the HOA property, which is not patrolled by the apartment management.
We were still bickering about who should go to the door ("I'm not wearing a bra" "Well I don't have any pants" "Pants are quicker to put on than a bra" "Well I can't find my glasses" "Well I can't find my glasses either and it's going to take me longer to find mine because my vision is way worse than yours" "What time is it anyway?" "Yeah, and who is at the door?!?") when we heard Sawyer running downstairs. I heard him say, "Maybe it's my Sawyers!" (explanation later, perhaps) but soon he was opening the door and speaking to the male-sounding visitor. "Mommy and Daddy are sleeping," Sawyer said. By this time Tyson had located his pants and glasses, and also his phone, which he glanced at and told me the time. Noon.
Yes, Sawyer was in his pajamas. Yes, Mommy and Daddy were sleeping. Well, technically that's only half true. Daddy was sleeping, but Mommy had in fact been up for an hour between nine and ten a.m., feeding the kids breakfast. She had also been awakened numerous times during the intervening two hours by Sawyer, who alternated climbing into bed next to Mom with pestering Mom with requests for assistance opening yogurt, arranging blankets, using the bathroom, etc. After fulfilling each request, Mom would stumble blindly back to bed again.
The visitor turned out to be a UPS delivery guy, and Tyson did eventually make it downstairs to sign for the package -- a present I had ordered for Sawyer's upcoming birthday. Sawyer brought the small box upstairs and said excitedly, "A man knocked on our door and I opened it and he gave us this box, and Dad wroted his name on the machine," like it was all the most wonderful thing that had ever occurred.
So that's how our day began, I guess, but if we are doing "A Day in the Life" maybe it should begin at midnight instead. So let's rewind twelve hours. At midnight Tyson had been at work at Schreiber for about five hours, and Sawyer was inexplicably still awake. I was painting. Or grouting. Or painting. Or taping. Or grouting. I finished my grouting right around 5:00 a.m., and Tyson soon arrived home from work. He had stopped at Rancherito's on the way home, and he shared with me the remaining quarter of the most fabulous breakfast burrito ever constructed. I ate it ravenously, even though I was in bed and had just brushed my teeth. It had been hours since I had eaten. We both drifted off to sleep around 6:00 a.m., but like I said, I got up three hours later to feed the kids.
Okay, so now it's noon. The kids had been in their room watching and Elmo video for two hours. We let Beck out of his baby jail, showered, dressed, and finally began the day in earnest. Tyson went to lunch with his dad at a new sushi place in town, while the kids and I ate at the Old Grist Mill next door. We made our daily pilgrimage to Home Depot and began work for the day. For me, more painting. For Tyson, laying wood laminate floor. For Beck, napping. For Sawyer, playing computer games or "helping build the house". Soon Beck was awake again and therefore paint work had to cease. We all helped with the wood floor chatted with a couple of our neighbors, and then, before we knew it, it was time for Tyson to go to work again. The kids and I went to D.I. to look at Halloween costumes and play with toys, then we dropped a sandwich off to Tyson at his work and ordered our own dinner from both ChickFilA and Wendy's. (Sawyer claimed that he wanted a hamburger, but once we returned home with our food he clarified that he wanted a hamburger made out of chicken. Okay. We finished dinner and I put the kids in a bath, where they played for a good, long time. By the time they got out it was almost 10 p.m., and I figured surely they would fall asleep quickly. No such luck, though. Sawyer was awake till almost midnight again. I can't start grouting or painting when I might be interrupted, and that's how I ended up staying up so late last night. And here it is again, 2 a.m., and I should go downstairs and finish the grouting. But I don't wanna! Daddy is going to be working night shifts for the foreseeable future, but Mommy can't work night shifts because she has to work day shifts too! Boo!
So really I didn't get all that much done on the house today. I should go finish the grout...