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Little Monster Late Fees

Last week, I paid a late fee to daycare.   I neverpay daycare late.

little monsters
Image by sekundo via Flickr

Except last week.

As I’ve said before, I work 80 hours a week.

For the last couple of weeks, my three year old has decided that she needs to sleep in every morning.   No getting up at 6:30 for her.  No way.  That little prima donna wants to lounge in bed until 8, then watch a movie while eating breakfast in bed.   She’s never gotten that treatment, so I don’t know why it’s become her goal.

Last week, she decided to throw a tantrum when I woke her up.

Followed by a tantrum when I reminded her she doesn’t get to wear diapers during the day.

Followed by a tantrum when I dared to pick out clothes that didn’t have horses, or didn’t look right, or weren’t sweats, or weren’t picked out by Mom, or this, or that or….

I’ve been the one to get her ready almost every morning for 3 years and she has never been catered to that way.

Me: overtired, with 1000 things  on my mind.

Her: diva training, trying to wake up.

Her sister: teasing, asking questions, and generally doing her best to stand under my feet.

Her brother: gets himself ready, but tries to avoid combing his hair before school, and can’t be relied on to put on clean clothes.

Me: overtired.  Juggling getting three kids and myself ready to leave.  1000 things on my mind.

Daycare: What check?

She finally got paid on Thursday.    Over the 12 years we’ve had kids there, we’ve paid late maybe 5 times.   I hate late fees.

What’s the fix?

Checklists don’t work for me, when I’m rushing around.  I tend to ignore them while I’m herding children.

Selling the monsters to the gypsies is out.   They are far too difficult to succeed working in the salt mines.

We need to start picking out clothes the night before, to short-circuit most of the tantrum.  We also need to enforce bedtimes better, but that’s hard to do Sunday night if they are allowed to nap too long on  Sunday afternoon, which happens when I nap with my kids on Sunday afternoon.

Maybe the best solution is to switch schedules with my wife.  I’ll go in to work between 6 and 7.  She can herd monsters while trying to get ready for work.

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The End of Litter

In honor of Earth Day (a day late), I’m going to talk about ending litter.

kitty toilet training phase 3
Kryptonite?

Not the stuff you find on the street or throw from your car window.  I don’t mind that because, on a long enough timeline, everything is biodegradable.  Mother Nature is tougher than I am.  She can handle my McDonald’s wrappers.

No, I’m talking about the real scourge: cat litter.

We’ve got four of the things, and let me tell you, they make poop.  Everyday.  I keep telling my wife that they are going to continue making poop as long as we keep feeding them, but she continues to give them food.

For those of you who don’t know, most cats use a litter box, which is a fun pan full of a sand-like mixture of diatomaceous earth and bentonite clay, which trains your cat to use the neighbor kid’s sandbox if you let the little potsticker go outside.

Thanks for that.

So, everyday, our four cats crap in a couple of pans full of sand. Until the sand pans get too full of cat crap.  Then, they use the couch.

Who decided this was a good system?  Is it a conspiracy of Big Couch to force people to buy new furniture on a regular basis, the way Big Oil suppressed the 1000 mile-per-gallon carburetor, Big Pharma suppressed the cure-all hemlock pill, and Big Sword suppressed world peace during the Dark Ages?

There’s got to be a better way.

Right?

Enter the CitiKitty.  It’s the miracle cat potty trainer featured on The Shark Tank.

Here’s how it works:

  1. Move the litter box to the bathroom and start using flushable cat litter.
  2. Once the cats are comfortable with that change, put the CitiKitty on the toilet, under the ring and add litter.
  3. In a week or two, when all of the cats are comfortable with the setup, pop out the center ring of the CitiKitty.   This gets the cats used to doing their business over water.
  4. Every couple of weeks, pop out another ring until the cats are used to standing on the slippery ring and crapping directly into the water.  Praise the cat when it happens, because cats give a crap about your opinion.
  5. Throw the litter box away and brag to your friends.

Because I love testing things to make my life easier, and I hate cat crap, I gave the thing a try.

It worked great until step 3.  Apparently, pooping directly into water is similar to trapping a vampire with running water and causes the cats to panic and find somewhere else to poop, never to return to the bathroom.

There’s really nothing better than stumbling into the living room half asleep, turning on the news and flopping onto the couch, only to find a little lump, still warm, under your butt.

Don’t get me wrong, step 2 was a pain in the neck, too.  In order to use the toilet, you have to take the stinking sandbox off of the toilet without spilling litter all over the bathroom, find a place to set it that isn’t disgusting, do your business, put the litter pan back on the toilet, and wash your hands really hard.   If you’re a friend of my son’s sleeping over, it’s easier just to not notice the litter box sitting there and top it off in the middle of the night.

It’s a heck of an idea.  The best execution I’ve seen for getting a cat to crap in the toilet.

But it doesn’t frickin’ work.  If you’ve got a cat using the toilet, I’m guessing you had to sacrifice the neighbor kid to some kind of evil Lovecraftian entity to make it happen, because the CitiKitty didn’t do it.

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Failed Side Hustle: Scrapping

Last week, the washing machine in our rental house died.  It was older than I am, so this wasn’t really a surprise.  It was one of just two appliances we didn’t replace before we moved the renters in.

English: Melting metal in a ladle for casting ...
English: Melting metal in a ladle for casting Deutsch: Metall wird in einer Gießpfanne zum Schmelzen gebracht. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My wife–bargain shopper that she is–found a replacement on Craigslist.  We got it in, then left the dead washing machine next to the replacement, as a warning to any other appliance that thinks it can shirk its assigned work.

This morning, we went over to pull the corpse of our washing machine out of the basement.

Now, I am an out-of-shape desk jockey, my wife is considerably weaker than I am, and a 40 year old washing machine weighs more than 200 pounds.

In the basement.

I’m Superman.  Although at one point, I did trade 10 years of the useful life of my right knee in exchange for not letting that thing tumble down the stairs on top of me.

What do you do with a dead washing machine?We could have the garbage company pick it up for $25.  Or we could leave it on the curb and wait for some stinking scrapper to take it.

Or…we could join the dark side and scrap it ourselves.

For the uninitiated, scrappers are the people who drive around looking for fence-posts to steal out of other people’s yards, or cut the catalytic converters out of  cars parked at park-and-ride bus stops, or steal all of the copper pipes out of your house while your on vacation.  Sometimes, they get scrap metal from legitimate sources, I’ve heard.

We decided to go the legitimate route and take the washing machine to the scrap metal dealer in the next town over.

It was pretty easy.  We pulled in with the washer in the trailer.  A guy on a forklift pulled up and took it, then handed us a receipt to bring to the cashier.  She paid us in cash, and we were on  our way.

$7.50 richer.

200 pounds of steel, and we made less than $10.

There are people who pay their bills by recycling scrap metal, but I have no idea how.   Driving around looking for things to scrap would seem to burn more gas than you’d make turning it in.

Some people scour Craigslist looking for metal things in the free section.

Some people have an arrangement with mechanics to remove their garbage car parts.

Some people are only looking to supplement their government handout checks enough to pay for cigarettes.

Us?  We’re going to leave scrapping to the scavengers.

 

 

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$1500 Luxury

I’ve got some expensive habits.   Not like Charlie Sheen snorting $2500 of blow of a hooker’s boobs, but still expensive.

Charlie Sheen in March 2009
Charlie Sheen in March 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My latest one is dancing lessons.  Linda surprised me on one of weekly date nights a few months ago.  She found a Groupon for the dancing studio we used before we got married.  It was $69 for a month of unlimited group lessons.

When the month was up, we signed on for their beginner cycle of lessons, which cost another $400.

And now we’re starting the Social Foundation program.

Social Foundation is a series of classes that teach some advanced moves, but also to teach dancers how to lead and follow properly and how to dance socially and look respectable on a dance floor in any number of situations.   Leading and following are important because every single dance move out there has specific cues that tell your partner what’s coming next.  If she doesn’t know, you both look clumsy.

So we chose the four dances we’re going to learn better and signed up.   We’re going to learn the Rumba, Waltz, Tango, and Swing.  We’re already pretty good at Rumba and Swing, but we’re going to get better.  Personally, I’m hoping to also figure out how to use the Tango on an open dance floor without crashing into people.  That way, we can pretend to be Gomez and Morticia, my heroes.

Now, the thing is, dance lessons aren’t cheap.  They cost about $100 per hour, where an hour is defined as 45 minutes.   We’re rolling the last half of our beginner lessons into our social foundation lessons and paying $1400.

Ouch.

They gave us the option of financing it over 3-4 months, but I didn’t want to pay an extra $200 for the privilege.   I think we’ll be tapping the vacation fund to pay for the lessons.

Why am I willing to pay this much?

Dancing is one of the very few things Linda and I both enjoy.  We’re pretty good at it, it’s great exercise, it’s fun, and (shhh!) it counts as foreplay.  It also doesn’t hurt to have the sidelines of the dance floor lined with people watching us dance, wishing they could do what we’re doing…or wishing their husbands were willing to learn how to dance.   This also isn’t just something we’re doing at the studio.  We are out on a dance floor dancing to a live band almost every week.  That usually comes with about $25 in cover charges and drinks.

Fun, exercise, have sex, and inspire jealousy.  That’s a winning combination.  And finding things to do that we both love to do is difficult and easily worth the $2000 we’ve paid the dance studio this year.

Happy Father’s Day: The Benefits of Being a Parent Can’t Be Measured

It’s true that the benefits of a parent cannot be measured or quantified in any meaningful way. It’s hard to put a price on the emotional commitment and special experience of raising a child as a parent, some of which may not even be realized by the parents themselves until afterwards. But it is undeniable that the experience of parenthood is a rewarding and special time in someone’s life.

An icon illustrating a parent and child
An icon illustrating a parent and child (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
For one thing, being a parent can you relive your childhood through your child. There are very few experiences in the world that are as intimate and vicarious as a parent who is raising their newborn child into an adult. Your child’s experiences become your experiences, their safety and learning becomes your priorities, and their success, ultimately, become your own success as a parent. You can rediscover the parts of your childhood that you may even have forgot as your child experiences them for the first time.
As a parent, you are also the center of the world for your child. This can be a tremendous source of self-confidence as well as incentive for self-improvement, to know that another human being sees you as their ultimate role model and will grow up in your footsteps. Just imagine the sense of wonder and awe with which you regarded your own parents when you were a child, and apply them to your child. That is the way they will see the world for a long time, with a constant sense of amazement and curiosity. The mundane becomes extraordinary and fantastic to a child, and a parent is part of the magic and the child’s discovery of the world.
In addition, parenting is a rewarding experience because you involved in the creation of a life and the raising of your child with your partner. There is a great amount of pressure, but also a sense of pride as your child’s characteristics and worldview will, in a large part, be derived from your interaction and education of them. All the things that you wish you had done in your childhood, or wish you had experienced or learned about earlier. These are all things that you can teach your child. As a parent, you are your child’s most important friend, teacher and role model. That is a tremendous source of empowerment and responsibility. But the reward you can get out of being a great parent is a new life in the world that you shaped with your words and actions. What you teach them becomes their most important life lessons, and your actions as a role model becomes the standard by which they live the rest of their lives.
So yes, the benefits of being a parent cannot be measured in conventional terms. But these benefits can definitely outweigh any worldly possession or unit of valuation. Parenthood is an emotional, spiritual, intellectual and educational experience that very few other experiences in the world can replace or even come close to imitating.
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