Don't say I didn't warn you!!! I broke down and did something today that has I have been putting off for a LONG LONG LONG LONG time! I cleaned my oven!!!
My oven isn't self cleaning. Not by my choice. THis stove/oven combo came with the house when we bought it. HOwever, I tried to convince the oven that it was self cleaning. But it must have a Man personality because it just kept insisting that it wasn't self cleaning, and it never would be self cleaning. WE all know how much men hate to clean for themselves.
I even hoped that if I left the spilled nasty crusty stuff on the bottom of the oven it would eventually burn itself off. But no, it just gets worse. And then starts to smoke and smell everytime you bake something. WHich then makes your family ask "Are you burning dinner? Again?" (Not that I burn dinner all that often, but it has been known to happen.)
I prayed that the Cleaning fairy would come and clean it while I was away or sleeping or reading or at some point. But alas, that crazy cleaning Fairy keeps skipping over my house. So today I broke down and FIRED HER SORRY LAZY BUTT!!
Which means I had to break down and clean the oven myself. SIGH!!!! I sprayed the cleaner in the oven. ALL OVER the inside just like it said. By the way, EasyOFF LIES!!! FUme FREE oven cleaner STILL SMELLS BAD!!! I closed the door and let it sit for 2 1/2 hours. It was only supposed to be 2 hours, but I needed the extra time to work up my nerve to actually clean it out. Again because the oven REFUSED!! Sooo I put on my plastic cleaning gloves and old clothes. I took a deep breath. I stared it down. Finally, I opened the door. EWWWWW IT'S REALLY GROSS IN THERE!!!!
I can't remember the last time I cleaned the oven. It was sometimes in the last 9 years because I remember trying to clean the oven and wrestle Wyatt away at the same time. But really, how often are you supposed to clean your oven? (DOn't answer that. Really I don't want to know.)
I get down to work. I can put it off no longer. I wiped. I scrubbed. I worked my way through 1/2 of a roll of paper towels. THen I wiped it out with sponges and warm water. Then I CURSED!!! (Hey, no one was home. I could curse if I wanted. Mom, dont' worry I didn't use REALLY bad words..... much... )
Again this oven must be MAN made because it just refuses to let go of the last bit of filth. Yep, I still have a STUBBORN nasty spot on the bottom. *(#$&Q)#*#& SO Now I have to RESPRAY and wait a few more hours before I attempt to wipe it out again. EASY off!! Yeah right. Nothing easy about this process. Pizza delivery for dinner. Oven's out of order. Til I can get it finished. Wish me luck. Oh and does anyone know where I can rent a hazmat suit?
One last warning: Don't kick the oven when you have no shoes on. It hurts your toes and makes you curse again.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Reasons I am Proud of My Son
As a parent, we all try to teach our children right from wrong. We try all sorts of things to ensure that our children grow up to have good morals, strong character, and just to be "good people". As hard as we try, we all from time to time wonder if all of our words of wisdom and efforts are getting through their (what at times seems to be) incredibly thick skull. We sometimes see the results of our actions. But then we wonder, "did that happen because he knew I was watching?"
Yesterday, my son did several things that let me know that yes I am getting through that thick skull of his.
Let me set the stage: Walking around Gatlinburg, in and out of shops, for most of the day. I am sure that to a 9 year old boy, hours seem more like days. It's hot. He just wants to go check into the cabin and shoot pool. At least his whining is at a minimum level. But he is slowly lagging behind, claiming "my legs hurt" and "it's hot" and (the one ALL parents hear no matter where they are) "WHEN ARE WE GOING TO BE DONE?" So of course, I was constantly trying to make sure I didn't lose him in the crowd. All of a sudden, he is not in front of me. I turn around to see what has distracted him and to "urge" him to catch up (as in "get your butt up here or you will get left). But I couldn't fuss at him. He had stopped and held the door for someone to enter the building we just left. (and of course, he's too polite to let go of the door until the LAST person in Tennesse goes in). But I just wait, and then he catches up.
Finally after HOURS and HOURS and DAYS and DAYS (okay only 4 hours or so, but still he is 9) the "adults" decide to head back to the car. Poor little guy, we get to the trolley stop and wait for the trolley to arrive. Trolley's come, load up and go.. but alas, they are not the PURPLE line trolley. We need the purple line to get back to the car. Apparently everyone else does as well. Finally HERE is the purple trolley. WE are at the front of the "terminal". BUt wait..... it stops at the BACK. Which means that EVERYONE behind us gets on first. Ummm... sorry Wyatt, that one is full. We have to wait for the NEXT Purple trolley. Don't worry. It will only take about 20 minutes or so. (traffic is horrible of course so it takes about 30 minutes). Poor guy is hot and tired and thristy. Look a vending machine. He perks up. Umm.. nope broken. He is doing his best not to whine. I know his feet hurt, because mine are hurting too. I know his little legs are tired. He sits down to wait. He's not whiny, but one look at his sad little face lets me know that he is not a happy camper. FINALLY YEAH the trolley is here. Purple (yes!) STop right in front of us (yes!!!!) Unloads (yes!!).. and the crowds start to push in. (ughh, he's so not a crowd person). But we board, and grab a seat. He's soo relieved to be sitting on a seat in the air conditioned trolley. Slowly more and more people crowd on. Standing room only. People are packed in like Pickles in a jar. Off we go. When we make one more stop and a few more people board the crowded trolley. My son does something that makes me extremely proud. My son, (the same one with tired legs and achy feet), offers his seat to a grown up. :) The gentleman did say "no thank you". Wyatt did get to stay seated for the 10 minute ride back to the car, but my heart swelled with pride at the fact that he offered!!!!!
Times like this I realize that my son is going to be a good person.
Yesterday, my son did several things that let me know that yes I am getting through that thick skull of his.
Let me set the stage: Walking around Gatlinburg, in and out of shops, for most of the day. I am sure that to a 9 year old boy, hours seem more like days. It's hot. He just wants to go check into the cabin and shoot pool. At least his whining is at a minimum level. But he is slowly lagging behind, claiming "my legs hurt" and "it's hot" and (the one ALL parents hear no matter where they are) "WHEN ARE WE GOING TO BE DONE?" So of course, I was constantly trying to make sure I didn't lose him in the crowd. All of a sudden, he is not in front of me. I turn around to see what has distracted him and to "urge" him to catch up (as in "get your butt up here or you will get left). But I couldn't fuss at him. He had stopped and held the door for someone to enter the building we just left. (and of course, he's too polite to let go of the door until the LAST person in Tennesse goes in). But I just wait, and then he catches up.
Finally after HOURS and HOURS and DAYS and DAYS (okay only 4 hours or so, but still he is 9) the "adults" decide to head back to the car. Poor little guy, we get to the trolley stop and wait for the trolley to arrive. Trolley's come, load up and go.. but alas, they are not the PURPLE line trolley. We need the purple line to get back to the car. Apparently everyone else does as well. Finally HERE is the purple trolley. WE are at the front of the "terminal". BUt wait..... it stops at the BACK. Which means that EVERYONE behind us gets on first. Ummm... sorry Wyatt, that one is full. We have to wait for the NEXT Purple trolley. Don't worry. It will only take about 20 minutes or so. (traffic is horrible of course so it takes about 30 minutes). Poor guy is hot and tired and thristy. Look a vending machine. He perks up. Umm.. nope broken. He is doing his best not to whine. I know his feet hurt, because mine are hurting too. I know his little legs are tired. He sits down to wait. He's not whiny, but one look at his sad little face lets me know that he is not a happy camper. FINALLY YEAH the trolley is here. Purple (yes!) STop right in front of us (yes!!!!) Unloads (yes!!).. and the crowds start to push in. (ughh, he's so not a crowd person). But we board, and grab a seat. He's soo relieved to be sitting on a seat in the air conditioned trolley. Slowly more and more people crowd on. Standing room only. People are packed in like Pickles in a jar. Off we go. When we make one more stop and a few more people board the crowded trolley. My son does something that makes me extremely proud. My son, (the same one with tired legs and achy feet), offers his seat to a grown up. :) The gentleman did say "no thank you". Wyatt did get to stay seated for the 10 minute ride back to the car, but my heart swelled with pride at the fact that he offered!!!!!
Times like this I realize that my son is going to be a good person.
Why?
I started a new blog. Why? To share my thoughts about whatever comes up in my head. WHY? So I can talk to myself. Why? Because I can. WHY? I'm grownup that's why.
See It is scary inside my head.
Seriously, I started this new blog beacause I was bored. Not a good enough reason? Oh well, tough. It's my thoughts inside my head. What can you do about it? Yeah, not much huh?
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