Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Here is the latest.
It's a bit on the dreary side. Sometimes it's just hard to keep up the cheerleader-like enthusiasm if you know what I mean. I'm just sitting here wondering when and where and how, exactly, I ended up so painfully, embarrassingly dependent on my husband. He does everything for me. And I let him. I carry around a little minidriver and he wields a Bosch electric drill. It's no contest really.
You see our car came dangerously close to expiring recently due to extreme dehydration. That is to say I have been driving it to and fro, over hill and dale-- from mall to school, to hockey rink, to supermarket-- without ever once stopping to check the oil. I guess I just assumed that Ian had been doing that. You know, able, already-dirty hands fiddling around under the hood in that oh so manly way. But, alas, he had assumed I, the one who drives the car the most, had had the presence of mind to check it now and again, since I was passing through the gas station anyways. Hah. He was wrong. And I am ashamed.
Aside from all that, we have also recently turned a corner, or I have recently become aware of this change in direction, towards irreversible tedium. What I mean is: we are mired in the mundane swamp of domesticity. With just one child, we could fool ourselves into thinking we were still the cool, world traveling, interesting, sporty, social, fit, people we always were. We took Esther to England, Austria and Germany at whim. We carried her up mountains in a backpack and took her to the rock climbing gym.
Enter Isla. I am afraid to fly with her for fear she will alert the armed guards with her incessant pounding on the cockpit door. I actually heard myself ask Ian, in all seriousness, the other night to put the silverware face down in the dishwasher because it saved time when putting it away. Help.