Why All Ambassadors Should Be Parents

First off, sorry for the absence.  It is amazingly difficult to post to one’s blog when one’s house is under a major construction project.  In case I haven’t whined about this of late, during this horrendously cold weather (dating back to before Christmas…and it is now February!) the entire southern side of my already rather drafty house has been torn off and replaced with a very she-she blue tarp.  Nice, eh?  It wouldn’t be so bad if this were the Amazonian rainforest, but when it is snowing on you and all that stands between you and the elements is a sheet of drywall and a blue tarp, the whole process loses a bit of its “good idea-ness”.  And, of course, there has been a couple of opportunities to have some meeting of the minds and try to figure out the best way to fix this whole project (which was preceded by a major find not of gold bullion in the walls, but dry rot and more dry rot).  It would be different if we had unlimited resources available for this home repair, but we’re living in the same economy as everybody else.

We have now progressed to the “demo out the lath and plaster in the living room so we can update the wiring and add insulation” part of the project.  And while there are now technically new walls between me and the elements, it is still cold as hell in here.  That and all the living room furniture is now in the dining room.  Too bad we didn’t think to take a few plates and glasses out of the cupboards before we moved all the stuff in there.  It does add a certain level of adventure to setting the table.  The whole thing has just really added to my innate crankiness.  Which, if you have trouble imagining it, is not necessarily a good thing.

Anyhoo, we are getting to the point that I think I am seeing some slight light form off in the distance, but it is such a tiny little light at the end of this tunnel that who knows if it is real or a figment of my imagination.  Like other forms of “progress” there has been way too much of one step forward, one step back.  Rather like potty training.  Including the “poopy” part.

Last night my husband and I headed into PDX for a night out while I performed at The Mamalogues.  The best part of the whole thing was the babysitter got to deal with my crabby kids.  Yesterday it was a good thing I’ve been getting all this negotiation practice with my builder and all that, ’cause my children were definitely in need of serious mediation.  However, after about the 18th time my DS2 pushed my DD and told her that “no, my mama, not yours” within a 15 minute window, I was ready to chuck my mediation skills and just crawl in the first bottle of adult beverage I could find.

Seriously, parents spend so much time trying to help their children navigate the world and find “win-win” situations, I think parenthood needs to be a job requirement for government officials.  You know, like if you can get your kids through childhood without needing therapy, you can send in your resume.

Needless to say, I just about sprinted to the car within minutes of the world’s best babysitter arriving at my house.  I’m not even sure I shouted complete instructions to the poor woman who was trying to hear me over the screams of my youngest child.  

Yah, last night I was only worthy of being the Ambassador of a Calgon-Moment.  But hey, at least I knew how to garner a bail-out for myself.