I recently went all Velveteen Rabbit on my daughter's toys. She only has two small boxes of stuffed animals and things, and maybe four or five other bigger toys. Instead of setting everything on fire, I wiped it down with vinegar.
And then, because I was on a roll, I cleaned the couch.
We bought our couch in early 2008, for the living room of the house we own in Arizona. It's beige. Because we painted two walls of the living room strawberry red and with that you need neutral furniture.
I think I started requesting a new one three years ago. I really wanted a new couch while I was pregnant, but instead I got a new mattress. I don't regret that choice. I love my mattress.
And the couch isn't awful yet. The pillows on the back haven't kept their shape super well, and the arms had gotten gross, but it's not actually a bad couch. In rentals (other than the one we own, which still has red walls), the beige is really dull but not terrible.
It's one of those cleanable-by-solvent-only microfiber couches.
So, I decided to wash the arms of the couch. And I figured the worst thing that could happen wouldn't actually result in it looking any worse. I mean, if the fabric disintegrated, I might have to replace it with a cheap futon or something. That's probably as bad as it would get.
But, realistically, worst case, the arms with the water rings and miscellaneous accumulated gross might end up with the gross in a new pattern, or with the smashed nap totally destroyed. Which didn't actually sound much worse to me.
I went with a spray bottle of 50/50 rubbing alcohol and water. And a soft dish cloth. And I spent basically a whole naptime scrubbing and dabbing and rubbing until the nap of the fabric came back up and the water rings were gone.
I bet if I put two more hours into it, or used a white sponge like the instructions suggested, it would look practically new again. Instead, it just looks a lot better.
I had to direct his attention to it twice before he noticed, but I think my husband was also impressed with what I accomplished.
The dog is maybe getting a little better. On Thursday, I took her out fourteen times in two hours. Things have gotten better since then, almost certainly. She's still not all better.
I need to call and make an appointment to take her to the vet. Everyone has recovered from the probable food poisoning. It took my husband several days to get back to 100%, but hooray we all eventually did. And then yesterday, I swallowed a dental bridge. Just two teeth's worth, but that molar part was a big one. This morning I went to the dentist, got some prophylactic/palliative care and scheduled a three hour appointment for about three weeks from now. In the meantime, I'm under orders to take ibuprofen and be sure the bridge does pass. Also I'm more or less on the baby food diet if I want to use the left side of my head. Fortunately, I already prepare three meals a day that could be eaten without molars. This has been five years in the making. But it involves an extraction and a crown and eventually maybe an implant, but that's complicated with OI. I'm already anxious about it. Speaking of teeth, the baby's got three protruding on top. We'll see how many make landfall how soon. And the magnets in our tires attracted another nail. AAA came to put the spare on in less than half an hour, which has never happened for me, But I need to get that tire patched as well. Yesterday, at ten to five pm, I found myself lying on the closet floor outside the bathroom, texting my husband about when he thought he might be home. From my vantage point on the floor, I could see the baby in her play pen and make it back into the bathroom very quickly.
By ten past five, I had amended my previous request and he was taking a car home. At five forty-five, it was clear we were both suffering from probable food poisoning. Fortunately, our baby is a gem. Last night when the non-cooking plan of "spoon something out of a jar into her mouth" turned out to be too much, I basically handed her a peeled banana and a pitted nectarine and she took care of the rest. (I chopped them a bit; I'm sick, not an idiot.) And then I basically let the cat put her to bed. They spent more time on laughing and chatting and standing around than when I do it, but no one cried and I just had to observe. She slept like an angel. Her father and I did not, but she was seriously no trouble. I ran out last night for Gatorade and ginger ale and other supplies during the refractory period after a peak of the illness. We are almost finished with those. Today has been a lot of one adult lying down/napping and the other tending dog and baby. I hesitate to say it, but I think we've turned a corner. I hope we've turned a corner. I ate an eighth of a grape earlier (off the baby's lunch tray) and that was a mistake. Let's not go nuts, but I think we're improving anyway. The baby is officially moving at will on the horizontal plane. She looks like she's swimming across the floor - almost all the work is in the arms and the rest is in her left leg, belly and elbows on the ground. She keeps her right foot in the air for some reason. Anyway, she's moving where she wants, without struggle, if you set her on the floor.
And she's got a pretty good little pincer grip. What this means is that she scoots her belly to the nearest single dog hair and then ever so delicately picks it up and puts it in her mouth. Grains of quinoa get the same treatment. I feel like I ask people this about quinoa and they look at me like I've lost my mind, but... does it get everywhere? Can you ever really be sure you've cleaned up all the quinoa? It's like sand. Sand that you have to scoop on your kitchen counter and then rinse and then get into a pot and then wash the pot, the rinsing receptacle and possibly the scoop. And then you have to get the errant grains down the sink. I feel like there's always quinoa everywhere. (I also feel like a caricature of a suburban stay at home mother belonging to a certain demographic, but there you are. I'll just be over here worrying about how to clean up quinoa. Geez.) I also feel like this baby is going to get a third tooth soon, but, you know me; I'm the mom who cried teething. Also, we think maybe she's saying "cat". I mean, we can hear that she's making sounds that amount to "cat" and she says it while looking at the cat (and most other animals). Her grandmother and at least one aunt agree that it's non-random, after watching a video. Yesterday, she was playing on the floor with her father and she climbed on his head and looked in his ears and laughed and laughed and laughed. Today, she looked in my ears (it felt fair; I'd just trimmed her nails and brushed her hair, and I was going to be brushing her teeth shortly, after all) and didn't laugh. I'm very curious about that. I'm worn out. It's time for a weekend.
We had to miss swim lessons this week which is disappointing. I loaded up the car to run a bunch of errands but that didn't work out either. We left the house briefly this morning and now we are not driving anywhere until the car seat cover gets washed and I haven't even taken it off the seat yet, so... That'll keep for my husband to do. I have walking errands on my list too. I am hopeful that I will get my energy together after afternoon nap and then I will load up and at least get those done. It feels doubtful though. I think one of the umpteen orders of Kentucky treats will arrive today. I'm pretty sure it's one of the ones I can't dig into yet. My derby party is going to be delicious. For me at least. Last Friday night, I wanted to go out to dinner, but we dragged our exhausted heels and missed the window and then I was super unhappy. Successfully going out to dinner is the one thing I am determined to get right today. |
Mary
I'm actually trying not to be negative, in general, but... Archives
June 2016
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