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The Real Good Luck Charlie, Chapter 3: What are we going to do with all this stuff?

24 Sep

So Charlie, we’ve got a few weeks until you’re supposed to show up and we’re drowning in stuff.  Your stuff.  Would you mind cleaning your room?  Please.  We’ve got strollers and swings and clothes and diapers and bedding everywhere.  Two pack-and-play’s, a crib, AND a bassinet.  Why does someone who is estimated to be about 7lbs at birth need all this stuff?  Oh…  Right.  You’re a baby.  That’s how you roll.

So you’ve got a lot of stuff.  Huge thanks to everyone who gave, bought, borrowed, and/or possibly stole all the stuff that we have received for you.  We’ve been given a great start, seeing as we had given away all your siblings stuff when they were no longer babies.  It’s such an odd thing to go from having absolutely nothing to having almost no room to move, and stubbing my toes on all your stuff.  It’s a great feeling, but an odd feeling.

Some Tips:

– Your aunt and uncle bought your all your crib stuff.  Make sure you thank them by being so cute that they get a jump start on this whole baby thing.

– Your grandmother bought you one of your cool strollers (dad basically stole the other one, more on that later).  Make sure you thank her by making her take you on walks with Mr. Parker.

– Your other grandmother bought you tons of clothes.  Make sure you always look cute and don’t throw up, poo, or pee in/on any of them.

– Many of our friends and family bought you all the cool stuff you’ve got.  Make sure you thank them by actually USING it, not just playing with the box.

So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, HURRY UP!  But not until after this weekend.  Mom’s in a wedding.  It would be very rude of you to attempt show up while she is on the middle of the dance floor.  However, seeing as you’re my kid, well….

Good Luck Charlie, you’re going to need it…

The Real Good Luck Charlie

6 Sep

An Introduction, or an Open Letter to Charlotte “Charlie” Ruth:

First:  Nothing

Then:  Blam!  Stars, planets, you know what?  That’s too far back.

Let’s skip ahead:  Dinosaurs, ice age, people, horse and buggy, the automobile, computers, cell phones, 1999.

1999, a year of firsts.  First time your mother and I were married (also the only time).  First year your sister was present on this planet.  No, I’m not sure if she was ever alive elsewhere.  Knowing her, probably.  So mom tells me she’s pregnant.  I flipped my cookies.  We were both in college at the time.  We got an apartment, started working while also going to school (I switched colleges), and got hitched.  Everything was great.

Then 2002 rolled around and your brother was born.  We were still both in school and working AND raising your sister and brother.

Fast forward to 2004, the year we moved to our new house.  We moved in January on the coldest day of the year.  In October of 2004 we got Sally.  You know her.  You know the one whose ears you’re always pulling.  Yes the old one.

We were continuing to be a happy family in our tiny house with our 2 kids and 1 dog.  Then we got Bailey.  Yes, the one who wakes you up from naps with her howling.  That’s mom’s fault.  I didn’t want a beagle.  She did.

Let’s fast forward to 2011.  During the summer of 2011, Mam and Pops decided that our house was too small.  That we needed more space.  We started cleaning EVERYTHING, and throwing away tons of stuff.

Then we started the addition.  We added mom and dad’s bedroom, you and your sister’s bedroom, and redid the whole house.  Don’t you love the kitchen dad built?  Yes, of course you do, it’s awesome.

By this time, your sister was 13, your brother 10.

One night at bedtime, mom slapped me in the chest and says, “Don’t freak out, but I’m pregnant.”  Yeah.  Right.  So I freaked out.  All.  Night.  I didn’t sleep a wink.  I was so worried about what to do.  Eventually, I came to be happy that our family of 4 was to be a family of 5.  Now I’m super excited to meet you and to see what person you will become.

That’s about as far as I can go with this since you’re not yet born.  All I have to say is:  Good Luck Charlie.  You’re going to need it.

When Good Enough Isn’t

27 Jun

I am by no means a perfectionist.  “Good Enough” might as well have been my motto.  I am SLOOOOOOOWLY starting to realize that “Good Enough” is NOT Good Enough.  For me it all started with a table.  Yes, I know how weird that sounds.  I started to make a coffee table for my living room out of reclaimed wood from an old mill.  The top and apron came out just about perfect.  The legs?  Not so much.  They wobble.  Not badly, not dangerously, just a little bit.  I know what I need to do.  It’s not a huge deal to fix, I’m just not sure I can be bothered.  Rather, I’m not sure I should.  I’m thinking that I should leave it alone as a reminder that “Good Enough” isn’t.

I recently completed a second coffee table.  This one is made from old pallets, hand cut nails, and a reclaimed 4×4 for the legs.  This one has no wobble.  This one is “Better Than”.  It’s built better than the other.  It’s stronger than the other.  It’s all around a better table.  As soon as I figure out what sort of finish I’m going to apply to it, I may put this one up for sale.  Should it sell, I plan on starting on a dining table.  Eventually, I think I’ll start a shop on Etsy or something to sell custom reclaimed tables (just like the other 9,647* people currently doing exactly that).

At the moment, I am slowly working my way through some old barn wood to build a table for my dining room.  I know I probably shouldn’t be focused on a table for me, when I could/should be making tables to sell to others.  However, I feel that I need to get my “Good Enough” dining table out of the way, so I can start making a bunch of “Better Than” tables for sale.

Here’s a song I love titled “Better Than”:

*number MAY be exaggerated.  Slightly.

Happy Mothers Day: Hope you don’t get a colander!

6 May

Wait, what?  What does a colander have to do with Mothers Day?

Quite simply, my dad did something very stupid.  Very, very, VERY stupid.  A very stupid thing in a long line of stupid things.  And people wonder where I get it from….

The Colander Incident or: How mom got super mad on Mothers Day

One Mothers Day when my little brother and I were smart enough to know what to get our mom on Mothers Day, yet penniless to contribute financially, our dad bought her a colander.  But wait!  There’s more!  A colander, a fancy plastic mounts on your cabinet paper towel holder, dish towels, and wooden spoons!  All these things can be yours and more for your crappiest Mothers Day ever!

I can remember telling my dad that mom was going to be super mad if that’s all we got for her.  His reply:  “No she won’t.  She’ll love these things.  Trust me.”  Yeah…  About that…  You know how there are some people in this world that you should automatically trust?  At that point, I realized my dad was not one of these people (Now much later in life, I realize that of course my dad is to be trusted.  Just not with gift buying).

Mothers Day arrives and mom opens her “gifts”.  Is it any wonder why my brother and I both apologized on our cards?  Mom goes BALISTIC!  From that moment on I knew the meaning of: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

He can be taught!

Ever since then, my dad has been awesome at buying Mothers Day stuff for my mom.  Usually he gets her jewelry, or lets her pick or what it is she wants.  She gets something shiny, bright, and often useful.  Sort of like a colander.  Huh, maybe I should get my wife one for Mothers Day?

Who says we actually learn life leasons?