My washing machine is pretty new. (my other one was the same, just an older model, and it had some problems) It has not dispensed Downy like it is supposed to and my clothes do not smell like I like them to smell. I put the Downy in the proper place, some of it drains and the rest turns to a thick slime in the receptacle. I bought the Downy crystals, which I love, but I just missed the softness and smell of my Downy/Tide combo. I called the appliance store where we buy everything and he sent a repairman over today.
|front of machine (I don't use half the features)|
|cup with Downy residue (after I wipe it out each time) notice the words "Fabric Softener * Select Fabric Softener Button" that I see ever time I wipe the gunk out|
I explained my problem and he calmly pointed something out to me.
I had the button turned to off. I did not know there was a button. (my old machine never had one)
|the magic button|
There actually was a loose washer plate in the washer which the other reason for the call (a funny clicking noise) which is under warranty so the entire visit didn't cost a thing.
And my husband got a good chuckle.
I wonder if he will ever get used to my idiocy?
Last week I lost my mind.
I realize there was very little left of it at that point but the teensy bit that I had disintegrated.
Let me clarify.
My husband got a phone call from the blue and gold officer assigned to "groom" the little one for the Naval Academy. He said the code next to our son's name indicated that he did not get in to the Academy. The little one had a medical exam with the assigned physicians for the Academy and these doctors had forgotten to fill a few things out so there was a concern that the proper paperwork didn't get submitted on time. Then they ordered a pulmonary test (the little one had some slight asthma issues when he was young, nothing recent though but they don't allow people with asthma into the Academy) and his officer told us that there might be a lag in the acceptance letter. I didn't worry. This was Thursday night.
Friday morning we got the phone call.
He did not get in.
There would be no waiting, no more tests, no more hoops to jump through. It was over.
A year of exhausting research and exercise and meetings and visits with politicians and people who know politicians. Of paperwork, and exams and letters of recommendation.
To say I was devastated is an understatement. We were having coffee at our cute little bistro table on our bedroom deck. It was a gorgeous sunny day and already almost 75 degrees and I listened to my husband tell me about the phone call he had just received.
I felt like the breath was knocked out of me and my mind went black.
I spread out a towel and layed on the deck in the sun for a couple hours just trying to breathe and absorb this information.
I never, for one minute, thought he would not be accepted. He is brilliant, witty, funny, athletic, studious, driven and grounded. He always goes after what he wants and is always a success.
He taught himself to read, to speak (with help from a speech therapist when he had hearing loss from too many ear infections and never heard the words correctly), to play many instruments, to excel at music, to drive a 6 speed (when we bought him a car with a standard transmission), he tutors in Calculus and writes for the newspaper and the yearbook (editor in chief) and knows all the elements in the periodic table forward and backward and all of the reactions and the kid knows pretty much everything about everything. He can fly an airplane, shoot a gun, run a mile in no time, do chin-ups and pull-ups and sit-ups that would kill most people. He keeps his car full of gas and spotless, keeps his phone charged, keeps us informed on where he is and will be and works at the restaurant for us cooking and whatever else we need. He can save more money than anyone I have ever seen and he is generous, buying thoughtful gifts for Christmas and birthdays with his own money. He asks for very little and is a quiet addition to our crazy and noisy house.
I dreaded telling him.
The letter came that same day. There were others that were more academically qualified.
When he came home, I handed it to him. He read the first 2 lines, tossed it on the bed and got dressed for a district competition he had that night for band. I asked him how he felt and he said very simply, "I don't care".
While I mourned the entire weekend, he had friends over and laughed and ate pizza and acted like a teenager. He left messes and slept late and played video games and watched movies with his best friends and cousin. He sent in the online admission for the college he had as his backup plan and got accepted right away.
I thought that we had it all planned and there wasn't really any other way to do it.
But there is.
I am sure that the little one is disappointed. It sucks not being picked. But unlike his mother, he didn't make it about him. He knows he can be somebody no matter what. A different somebody. Because he is important. Maybe not to the US Naval Academy (their loss) but to his friends, and his family, and his dog, and his teachers and himself. And that kid taught me something. And he teaches me every day. And when I feel like I am a loser and I cannot get it together, I look at what my husband and I created and I know everything is how it should be.
Our kids, even if they aren't doing what was originally intended, will make it in this world. Like we did. And they will make mistakes and make us angry and frustrate themselves and others. Like we did.
So here we are.
I have had some time to think and I am both sad and relieved. I think he is too.
He will not be leaving next month for 5 years of non-stop rigorous training in Officers school.
He will hang out with his friends, drive his new car, pick out a computer for college, go to the lake with friends, play XBOX Live, watch movies, go to graduation celebrations, shop for dorm supplies, get his pilots license and fly all over, walk his dog, grill on the deck with us, turn 18 in June and just finish being a kid.
He has the option to go to college a year and then re-apply to the Academy. Maybe get another year of Calculus or Physics or another semester of Chemistry under his belt.
He says he won't do it.
He will be at a college an hour from us.
I can live with that.
At some point, I realized that blogging wasn't keeping me from doing the things I needed and wanted to do.
It was ME.
All the things I had been worrying about came tumbling down and suffocated me and I ran away from my mind and just was still. I found out that I had made a huge mistake. (Add pms to all of this and WHOA!)
It all became very clear to me.
And I need my blog to help me sort through the things in our lives that cause bumps and bruises and disappointments. And I need my funny stories (which I will bring back) and my life experiences and my fashion and makeup and bad hair days and most of all: my blog friends who care about someone they don't really know.
So you can take me or leave me, I will be what I am.
And I will be here until I cannot do it anymore.
I heard this song a few months ago and it reminded me of the little one and his brave future in the military. And I listened to it all the time and loved every word of it.
It still stands true, these words.
Whether he is an engineer, a pilot or an officer.
He is a champion.