Typing One Handed

Parenting is a game where only the kids know the rules.

Pack Your Bags December 31, 2009

Filed under: blogging,moving — Kelly Jo @ 10:21 pm

We’re moving kids!

Sorry to do this to you, but my web address has changed.  You can now find Typing One Handed at:

www.momstypeonehanded.com

By getting my own domain I am able to have so much more control over my blog, and I like that.  I really enjoy control.

If you are currently a subscriber, rest assured that you will still have this option.  I know that if I took that ability away from you that life just wouldn’t be the same.  As I don’t want to be the one responsible for changing your world, I put the subscribe option toward the top of the page, on the right.  I hope you will still read along.

Thank you for the overwhelming support you’ve provided this last month, as I’ve been starting up.  I’m really excited to continue sharing my stories and thoughts with you.

Happy New Year!

(And speaking of the new year, why don’t you swing on by my new place to check out my latest post, A Long December.)

 

Man-Chore Powers December 30, 2009

Filed under: super powers,Writer's Workshop — Kelly Jo @ 12:12 pm
Tags: , ,

One thing I have enjoyed since starting up my blog is checking out other blogs.  I have spent many hours holding Baby Maya in my left arm while alternating my right hand back and forth between the mouse and keyboard, checking out all kinds of interesting reads.  One I came across is called Mama’s Losin’ It.

Every Wednesday she hosts a writer’s workshop where she posts topics for bloggers to choose from, and encourages you to choose one topic and blog about it.  So for today’s blog I present to you my Writer’s Workshop Post:

You wake up one day with an unusual super power that seems pretty worthless—until you are caught in a situation that requires that specific “talent.”

For the record, I chose this prompt for my husband.  Even though I really like all of today’s prompts, I figured I could write something he might actually enjoy, since he is such a loyal reader.  And because he puts up with a lot of my postpartum moodiness.  He deserves a good laugh.

Man-Chore Powers

It’s the chore that must be done, but nobody likes doing it: cleaning the gutters.  Luckily, as a woman, I get out of this one.  It’s a man job.  Just like taking out the garbage, mowing the lawn, and doing the laundry.  No?  Not that last one?  Shoot.

I was just as shocked as my husband was when the words came out of my mouth.  “Why don’t you stay inside and watch the game?  I can go clean the gutters.” 

Crickets.

Before I could claim insanity, the Seahawks were on.

As soon as I got outside, the realization hit me: I had no idea what I was doing.  I knew I needed a ladder, but what else?  A hose?  Gloves?  A little hand shovel?  (You can probably tell I spend a lot of time doing gardening and other outdoor home improvements.)  I got out the ladder and went up, figuring I could see what was up there and then determine what tools I needed.  As I SLOWLY climbed the ladder (one can never be too careful) I wished I had Spiderman’s powers and could just quickly scale the side of our two-story house.  Then I could just get right up there, clean the crud out, get right down, and feel safe the whole time.

Well, Spiderman powers weren’t there for me, but that doesn’t mean I was left without powers.

When I got up to the gutters I almost gagged upon seeing the sopping wet mess of leaves, pine needles, and miscellaneous Northwest sludge that was waiting for me.  But as I grabbed on to the edge of the gutter, the strangest thing happened: a shot of air came bursting out of my left ring finger.  It had more pressure than the air hose at the Chevron.  But more exciting yet, all the sludge came shooting out of the gutter, and disappeared into thin air.  And my hands were still clean!

This was too good to be true.  I quickly finished cleaning the gutters and then set out to see what my air-hose finger could accomplish.  Leaf blowing, tire pressurizing, hair drying?  The possibilities seemed endless.

As I tried all of these tasks, however, I came to a sad discovery.  My air-hose finger only worked while it was in contact with a gutter.  I went back into my house, head hung low, upset that I all I could do was a man-chore.  But as I sat down to watch the rest of a typically pathetic Seahawks game, I was (thankfully) interrupted by some breaking news.

A family just down the road from my own house was trapped inside their home.  A gust of wind, so strong, had blown the gutters right off their house, blocking every exit and vent.  Not only were they trapped inside, but they weren’t getting any oxygen!  And the gutters were so full of nasty Northwest sludge that they were too heavy to move.  If someone didn’t clean their gutters, and fast, this innocent family would soon be meeting their maker.

I knew my time had come.  This was the moment I had been waiting for my whole life.  Today, I was going to become a hero.

I ran down the road as fast as I could (which isn’t very fast, but I did my best), to where a crowd was starting gather.  “Let me through!”  I yelled.  “I can help these people.  I clean gutters.”

Several of them sneered.  “How do you expect to help them?  You’re a 5’3″ tall woman with no ladder, and gutter cleaning is a man’s job.”

“I WILL help them,” I stated boldly, “with my gutter cleaning super-powers.”  The crowd gasped.  And with that, I reached out my hand to the ground level gutter.  My air-hose finger took care of the rest.

The strong man (every super-hero story needs a strong man, right?) tossed away the gutter, and the family came bursting out through the front door.  “Thank you, Gutter Cleaning Hero!” they exclaimed, as the news crews from all the major networks began interviewing me.

That night, my husband was so proud that he bought me extra-spicy chicken pad thai for diner (hint, hint… I know you’re reading this).  He talked about starting what would be a very profitable gutter cleaning business.  I stopped him shortly into the conversation.  It was a good idea, and of course we could use the money.  But I just couldn’t take advantage of people like that.

Some powers should only be used for good.

 

May I Offer You Some Plastic Peas? December 29, 2009

Filed under: Cooking,holidays,kids — Kelly Jo @ 2:00 pm
Tags: , ,

Now that my oldest is two, and old enough to be aware of who Santa is and what he does, I realized this year that Christmas really is for the kids.  In years past I have always put together my list and waited anxiously to see what Santa (Mom and Dad) would bring me.  Except the year I looked in Mom and Dad’s closet and knew everything I was getting.  Best. Christmas. Ever.

This year was different though.  As my husband and I were putting together the kitchen that Grandpa and Grandma Santa had gotten Zoey, I realized that I was more excited to see Zoey’s reaction to her new kitchen than I was to see my own gifts.  Does this mean parenthood has made me less selfish? That can’t be right.  Anyway…

The kitchen was the biggest hit of Christmas.  Bigger than Uncle Tyler’s smoker, Uncle Brett’s iPod, or Mommy’s new Keurig (which, obviously, was a close second).  It was such a big hit, in fact, that she didn’t want to continue opening presents, she was too busy playing with her new kitchen.  She finally finished opening her presents around three that afternoon.  And I opened most of them for her.

It’s really cool when your two-year old has her own kitchen.  And I’m not at all jealous that her kitchen is nicer than mine.  Really.  In her kitchen with (plastic) stainless steel appliances, Zoey has cooked for us many fine dishes, such as (plastic) roast chicken, (plastic) corn on the cob, (plastic) pink carrots, and (rubber) fried eggs.  She has also tempted our taste buds with some imaginary culinary treats, such as microwave popcorn from an empty cardboard box, coconut milk from a can that can’t be opened, and apple juice from a sealed carton which Zoey insists you drink from a teacup with a spoon.

Occasionally she lets us cook with her.  “Mommy, do want to cook?”  “Daddy, do want to cook?”  (This isn’t a typo, she doesn’t say the word “you”.)  But mostly she is busy working by herself.  She spends so much time in her kitchen that I am tempted to give her real ingredients and see what she comes up with.  If I hated myself even a little and hadn’t had the carpets shampooed just last month, I might actually do it.

In the meantime I am enjoying watching her face light up as she serves me her latest concoction.  Little smokies with oregano and cinnamon?  Yes, please!

I am also considering re-wrapping the unnoticed presents.  Maybe her birthday won’t cost too much next year.

 

 
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