Washing Machine

Yesterday I had a friend over for lunch. She brought her three adorables with her. I told her "come hungry 'cause we're making pizza". I have a soft spot for homemade pizza.

So in the process of letting the children spread the sauce and put cheese on the pizza she admitted that little children + pizza making fun caused her some anxiety, to which I thought, "Oh, I don't want her to feel that way" while at the same time thinking "This ain't nothing, girlfriend."

Yesterday the morning started poorly. Mondays tend to do that. Eve gave herself an oatmeal facial and then decided to hydrate her pants as well. "I go potty," she told me. "NoNoNoNoNoNo," I pleaded as I watched the evidence drip on the floor.

At exactly the same moment, Morgan had a meltdown because she is at a very sweet and sensitive age and because her mother doesn't know what to do with this. *calm, calm*

And then our washing machine decided to die. It was that kind of day.

So last evening, Dan and I decided to go on a date. Normally we go out to eat, but this time we decided to buy a heavy appliance and install it ourselves that evening. Heave ho.

I told the salesperson that I didn't care for digital readouts, that I'm a bit of a techno-phobe and prefer the old "clunk, clunk, clunk" sound of knobs turning on my washer. He convinced me otherwise. I bought a Whirlpool Cabrio. On a whim I looked up the defintion of "cabrio" and Google asked me "Did you mean cabrito? Because it means goat meat in Spanish."

I didn't think that boded well.

I went upstairs to check on my machine and the digital readout said "LF"... and I thought "LF? What the heck does 'LF' mean?" Plus, it sounded foreboding and somewhat mean. If I told someone to "LF" I don't think they would take it well.

In a nutshell it means we put the hose on wrong on the washer, which is a relief because my first thoughts were only evil and I began to emote like a tarnished old lady, "This grim crackery is driving me nuts... When I was young we didn't need digital readouts... We used the good old low-efficiency kind of machines. And we were happy." Lots of "har-umphing" followed.

When I get to heaven, weary and full of life, I'm going to ask God why motherhood was so hard and He'll just smile and say, "It's okay, hon. You're home now. There are no digital readouts here."