Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Winter of Our Discontent

The cruel Los Angeles winter has hit us hard here at Dictator headquarters.

For nearly a month, we've been trapped inside as the icy rains* of misfortune have raged around us. But, judging by recent events, it would seem that Winter decided to save the worst for last this year.

Allow me to take you through the past week day-by-day.


Determined to get a jump on the week, first thing Monday morning I attack the gigantic pile of laundry that has been piling up for several days! I've written before about my relationship with laundry, but in case you missed those entries I'll just sum up:

My relationship with laundry, much like Snoodie's relationship with naptime, is very, very hostile.

Our washer/dryer is located in a detached garage, which adds a degree of difficulty when the icy rains* come. On wet days, in order to clean a load of laundry, I must first attempt to occupy both children with activities that I can only hope will amuse them for the duration of my outing.

This done, I squish out across the soupy lawn. Inevitably, a few socks come loose from my basket during the journey, and I watch them float across the lawn. I know they are lost to me until the dry season comes and I find them moldering under the swingset, so I continue on without them.

I hastily throw handfuls of laundry into the washer, toss in some detergent, and hit the 'on' switch. That done, I wade back across the lawn to comfort whichever of my two sons has inevitably harmed himself in some way during my sixty-three-second absence.

This process repeats itself a half a dozen times throughout the day as I switch loads and eventually bring the clean (though no longer dry, thanks to the icy rains*) clothing in from the cold.

Time to fold? 

Don't be silly! Not with Snoodie the manic un-folder roaming about! Nope, folding will have to wait until 8:30 or so when I've gotten both kiddos into bed. No worries, I should be finished by midnight at the latest!

*LAUNDRY!* (shakes fist angrily at the heavens)

So, that was Monday.


Time for a little fitness! There's a brief break in the icy rain*, so I decide to pop the kids into the double stroller, put on my iPod, and like Fergie says, start "workin' on my fitness". Snoodie happily devours treats from his snack trap and Crink makes adorable, "Yay, I'm outside!"  noises as I make my way up the hills of Beverlywood in an attempt to convince my butt to reduce itself in size.

Everything's going swell until I hit the final straightaway for home and pick up speed, like a horse heading back to the barn. I'm moving so fast, in fact, that I don't see the uneven section of sidewalk in front of me... until I hit it.

The stroller stops dead, but I, sadly, do not. Instead, I go flying over the handlebar as the stroller jackknifes like an out-of-control 18-wheeler, sending kids, blankets, water bottles, and sippy cups flying in all directions.

Cars screech to a halt and passers-by rush to render aid. Luckily, the kids have not been harmed in the "episode". Snoodie's only concern seems to be the retrieval of his snacks from a concerned stranger, and Crink maintains his usual good-natured calm throughout. I dust myself off, right the stroller, thank the Good Samaritans, and limp back towards home with my bruised calves and ego in tow.

Yeah, Tuesday wasn't great.


I don't want to talk about Wednesday. It's too soon.


Oh look, it's raining the icy rains!* Time to head to music class! I pack up the boys and we head off to groove to hits like, 'Trot, Trot to Grandma's House' and do a little recreational egg shaking. Due to every human in Los Angeles' go-to rainy day driving methodology (apply brakes at random intervals while honking angrily), it takes us almost forty minutes to make it to class. We finally arrive and find a parking space, and only then do I remember that music class is over for the session.

I bring the children home. Tantrums ensue. Naps do not.

*WAH-WAH* (Bassoon sound effect indicates the overall failure that is Thursday.)


Time to round out ye olde horrible week with a trip to the accountant to do our taxes!

Taking a cue from Thursday, Friday delivers the old switch-a-roo. We arrive at the accountant's only to discover that when I had called to confirm the appointment the receptionist misheard me and cancelled it instead.


But since the kids were already with a sitter, my husband and I decide to go out for impromptu sushi and cocktails.

OK, Friday wasn't all that bad.


Please see Wednesday.


Ah, look, it's a fresh round of icy rain*.

Just as things are looking their darkest in this dark, dark week, suddenly there is a glimmer of light.

My husband, sensing that I have been perilously close to changing my name to Celeste and relocating to Guam without leaving a forwarding address, leads me to the kitchen to reveal a surprise gift.

The gift of clean laundry without exiting my house!

Yes, that is a brand new washer/dryer.

*cue celestial choir of angels*

Take that week from hell!  And while we're at it, take that icy rains*!

(Of course, I'm only kidding icy rains*.  I beg you to go away. There's no way I can make it another week.)

* Please note: The term "icy rains" may be used in the greater L.A. area to denote any rain that occurs when the outside temperature dips below 65 degrees.