Elevator Men

Being in the Elevator Industry is a strange cult like environment. Aaron has had this trade since before I met him, which is going on 10 years. But only in the last few years have I developed a better understanding of these men. I thought it was just my husband, but it’s not. They seem to be very similar to each other and I’m sure all his coworkers who regularly read my blog will vouch for me, right guys? Ummm, sure!

I’ll share a few tidbits with you about these men. And yes, I will categorize them all in one lump sum. I will be making stereotypes and generalizations. But that’s my first amendment right. 

I can spot an elevator man a mile away. I know their uniforms, their black/navy pants with usually a Nextel hanging out the pocket, and a set of ridiculous amount of keys hanging out the other one, and the look that they’re doing something really important on their face. Usually that face has some kind of facial hair, generally one area, usually the chin, and depending on their age, that hair length can vary. A shaved head is typical, but not necessary. And tattoos are a must. My husband is the exception here, and let me tell you, the ONLY exception I have met to this rule. I have been to a place with hundreds, okay, thousands of these guys, and the ink is insane. This is one exception I don’t like, I wouldn’t mind a tattoo on him. . .but that’s another post.

Surprisingly, the vast majority are married and have children. And you’ll often see an elevator van or truck with a carseat booster in the front seat. Speaking of their vehicles, my husband is oblivious to everything, but not an elevator vehicle. He can spot those blocks away and tell you which company’s truck it is and half of the time the driver of the vehicle. It’s a small, tight trade and very incestuous. It’s crazy, but I could not tell you which companies my husband has worked for or the last 3 names of his bosses. Everybody knows everybody. And they’re the prima donnas of the construction world. And yet. . .they think they can really do anything. Because they have the word mechanic in their title they think they are a mechanic of all things. Autos, plumbing, electrical, I bet my husband thinks he can fix a Boeing 747 too. 

Another tell tale sign you’re in the elevator with an elevator mechanic is when he holds the door open to check the door locks out or tells you the brand of elevator it is, or which company services it, and why it’s a piece of crap since it’s not his company. 

They are also really into each other. Seriously. On Monday I met my husband for a quick lunch across the street from my job. We were waiting in line and these two guys were totally checking me out. I kind of ignored it and looked the other way, and then one guy said something to the other and then they both were staring. At this point I went to go get a latte next door and when I come back I find my husband sitting next to them chatting it up! Yep, they weren’t checking me out. They were checking him out! That’s right, I guess they are bosses at the company my husband used to work for and they totally recognized the elevator uniform he was wearing. And like all incestuous relationships they offered him a job back at their company. They check out each other’s uniforms, what truck are you driving, what kind of meter are you using, what phone do you have. . .I can go on. 

Lesson learned, don’t think any man is checking you out, they very well could be checking your husband out, especially in L.A., and especially if he’s an elevator mechanic.

Music to My Ears

Fridays are pretty laid back, we usually do one of two things. We go to the mall, play for awhile, get a strawberry mango smoothie, check out the boutiquey toy store, eat lunch, come home. . .or we stay home, do laundry, play, draw, fold laundry, play, put laundry away, play, eat lunch. Today we added music to the staying at home list. We practiced the Freeze dance and surprisingly Greta got it pretty well and was a good freezer. Some freeze shots. . .

Scurvy. . .

is not something we are ever going to get in this household. We buy 2-3 boxes of Cuties a week from Trader Joe’s. We go through about 2 per kid per meal/snack, averaging about a dozen a day. No scurvy here. . .one more thing I can cross off my list. 

Multicultural Show

Here are a few pictures from Sawyer’s Multicultural Show last week. The 3 year old class did Italy for the boys and Thailand for the girls. And the 4 year old class did Argentina and Ethiopia. They spent over a month learning phrases in the native language, working on maps of the country, practicing music and songs, and learning about famous people from that country.

Sawyer was one of the artists and he was Italian sculptor/painter Bernini, check out the mustache! He learned phrases like Ciao, Buon Giorno, and that Italians like gelato. They sang O Sole Mio and rode in on a gondola. The rest of the boys from his class were Opera Singers, Gladiators, and Chefs. I really wish I had permission from the moms ahead of time to post all the photos of them in their costumes, it was too cute! The four year olds did a tango to an Argentina song and the boys were adorable in their Zorro costumes. 

Capable?

I think all moms have their times, days, weeks of feeling totally incapable of doing anything. From raising their children to be the best human beings possible, to keeping their home the way it should be, to being a good wife, to looking your most put together, and I think I can go on. . .Well, yesterday was my day. For some reason (I think that stupid ticket set me up for a horrible week) I have been pretty much a wreck in my husband’s most descriptive and sensitive words. 

Sawyer was in a show at his preschool, which I will post video or photos from later, and it just made me so sad that he is growing up so fast. I can remember when Gunnar was in that exact show 2 years ago, and now he’s a little man. My minutes are ticking by where he is most impressionable and everything I do on a daily basis will form him into the man he will be for the rest of his life. A little pressure, no?

Probably having another child when he was just a baby himself has put into reality how precious my time is with each one of my kids. I savor the minutes we spend alone and those are far and few between. Really, should your quality alone time with one of your kids be when they are on the toilet and you’re reading them a story? Not to me. I am from a family of 2 and everything was always very equal and very easy to feel close with your parents. I seriously don’t know how my husband, from 6 kids could grow up with a connection to his parents. I asked him last night, do you think having more children does an injustice to the ones you already have? To him, giving your children a sibling, a playmate, is a gift. Not a burden. I totally agree. But I regularly feel like my kids are not getting what they deserve as far as time because of each other. Aaron’s point was just because children are deserving of something doesn’t mean they necessarily should have it. I disagree. 

I asked him what memory he has of himself and his mom, just the two of them. He stood there thinking for a long time, and came back with nothing. But it wasn’t something he was ever sad about either, it was the way it was. I think I strive to make each of my kids feel like they are the only one sometimes. Because to me, to feel like you are it when you really aren’t is important. But it’s a lot harder of an undertaking then I realized. It is easy with Greta, her brothers are in school and she gets me to herself a lot. But her brothers only get me when they get all of us as a group. And I have a feeling that that will continue as they get older. More important things will crowd out our time and thus I feel everything slipping through my fingers. 

Last night after I put Greta to sleep I came downstairs and walked in the boys bedroom. Gunnar of course was already asleep and Sawyer just lay there holding Foxy to his chest. I could not remember the last time I was with him, next to him while he was going to sleep. I didn’t even know exactly how he goes to sleep. Does he fidget, does he fall asleep on his stomach, side? Does he talk or lay with his eyes open or shut? I decided I would find out. I took a spot next to him on his bunk bed and just laid there. He snuggled in close and I could tell this was something that would we would both savor. 

I found out why he never wakes up with socks on and there’s a little sock pile under his covers. He rubs his feet together when he gets sleepy and he starts with his toes up around his ankles and takes turns switching from foot to foot. Thus come the socks. I also discovered how those boogers get on the wall next to his pillow, it’s like he uses cement to stick them. I’m serious, I need a razor to scrape them from the wall! It’s about the time the socks come off that he checks out his nose for any unwanteds. He’s not a squirmer, quietly lays on his back. His animal held tight. His eyes fight the sleep though. Slowly his blinks get a little longer each time, his eyelids a little heavier, until they just stay. 

It was nice to be there. A bad habit? I don’t think I can call it a habit, just something I think I needed at the time. Maybe I’ll do it again, sometime. 

This having three kids thing isn’t really that much harder physically, or more difficult mentally, and really financially even you don’t notice the change, but emotionally I think it takes a toll. That’s three children now that you have to protect from everything bad, horrible, unkind, it’s three little people you are responsible for molding them to be the best that they are capable of being. And you know how capable they are, it’s your own capableness that is the question sometimes. 

Bath Time

What’s worse?

What’s worse than getting your first traffic violation after almost 13 years of a clean driving record?

How about getting that ticket, not for something dangerous and bad like a DUI, speeding, going through a red light, no. . . how about the reason being that you were in the far left lane on a busy street and didn’t use your psychic powers to know that on the far right curb a pedestrian stepped into the crosswalk and you proceeded to continue driving, thus inevitably preventing a collision behind you?

Or how about while you’re being given the ticket the police officer also informs you that since you handed him your insurance card that expired last month because you have too many more important things on your mind than putting your most up to date insurance card in your glove compartment, that you will have to go to court and appear before a judge and show him your current insurance card and also at that time request traffic school?

Or how about after being informed of this you proceed to cry and the police officer becomes concerned for your welfare and asks if you’re going to be okay, tells you that he doesn’t enjoy giving these tickets out, and asks if you need to be escorted to work?

Or how about while all this is ensuing your husband drives by and sees you getting a ticket!!!?

Yeah, can someone please tell me what could be worse?

Drawing

One day last week I was cleaning out our hall closet and came across a horrible looking large piece of red wrapping paper. I was going to recycle it but then I had an thought epiphany and flipped it over and broke out some brand new ever exciting crayons. It became a huge canvas that Sawyer worked on throughout the whole day. Every image had a story behind it and the stories, I wish I could’ve recorded them because they were pretty interesting. You will notice a large beanstalk in one, there is a drawing of Aaron, myself and Sawyer near the beanstalks. Also, you’ll see the cow, and the other animal I was informed is a lama. He was so involved with all the details and really took time to choose which colors to use. I love that his little stick figures now have full legs and arms, and those are ears by the way on the sides of the head, in case you were wondering why we all look like Princess Lea. 

Thursday Afternoons

Thursdays are a challenging day for us. It’s not quite the weekend and usually Aaron has to do a lot of things on Thursday afternoons so he’s kind of useless busy. We had a really fun project one Thursday afternoon, a generous friend gave these sets as gifts to the boys. First you put the planes together and glue them. Once they’re dry we painted them with acrylic paint. It was a fun, not too complicated, and just a little messy activity that they really enjoyed. Imagine that, a basketball player on Gunnar’s airplane! Who would’ve thought. This boys’ obsession with sports is over the top. Just when I thought we’re done since football season ended, nope. . .there was golf. . .basketball. . .it never will end.