Treadmill death watch, day 2

Because I don't have a long enough list of things I would spend money on if I actually HAD ANY, the treadmill is on life support. This is the treadmill that we acquired from the ex-wife after the last one was fried in the great flood of 2008. Bob has had this particular treadmill for almost 10 years, and it had spent the last 4 years or so living at the ex-wife's house. So when we got it, it was "free" which is a good price when you have fried not one but two practically brand new treadmills in the previous 3 years in basement floods. The basement has been flood free for a year now, KNOCKING ON WOOD VIOLENTLY, because of the law of the universe that says if you spend $2100 on a sump pump system to prevent flooding in the basement, it will not be needed. Much like carrying an umbrella will prevent it from raining. Unless you live in Boston right now. So ironically we are having one of the wettest summers in recent memory, and yet, the sump pump has not been needed.

Anywho, back to my tale of woe. The past few days the treadmill, while being used by Bob because he doesn't feel like running in a thunderstorm and who can blame him, suddenly, around mile 3, decides to go to a 12% incline and then stop. It has some sort of seizure, and gasps for air and stops. Now when I am on the treadmill, I am using it at a polite 3.2 miles per hour, and mostly not inclined. Bob on the other hand is RUNNING, for 4 - 6 miles at a time. I think that is probably asking a lot of 10 year old treadmill. I would have a seizure too.

After resting for a day and having incantations chanted around it while sprinkling it with holy water, it seems to come back to life, only to do the whole thing all over again the next time Bob uses it. I have not been able to use it because it is still laying on the couch with a cool cloth on it's forehead when I need to use it. So I think we are witnessing the demise of the treadmill. Which is decidedly counter productive to my ongoing quest to lose more weight. I am on track, but I really do need to lose another 20lbs to be in a healthy weight zone for my paltry 5'4" frame. I have dropped one clothing size so far, which is AWESOME, but there is more to go.

If it does die, which I think it will, the question will be do we try to get it fixed, or perhaps buy one off of Craig's list for half the price a new one would be. Or live without one and figure out another way for me to get a good cardio work out. I have a rowing machine and hand weights, but I am unable to row for 30 minutes which is how long I am usually on the treadmill. It is something I can do for maximum 10 minutes at a stretch, then things being getting really tight in my back. Right now walking outside is as difficult as running - I am NOT doing it in a torrential downpour/thunderstorm.

I know this is such a mundane concern compared to real problems like poverty and starvation. So I will count my blessings and be grateful. Are there healers out there for exercise equipment?

What they will be like when they are old men...or in a fraternity

This weekend was kidapalooza. We had a get together at our neighbor's house, with the bouncy house and everything. There were a few truck ownership negotiations to be worked out among the 2-4 year olds, but all in all it was a lot of fun. We also went to IKEA and found an appropriate first pillow for Cooper along with a froggy blanket. He is officially very happy.

The next day was kind of rainy and gross and we spent most of the day inside. Until late afternoon when we all, and I mean ALL hit the street. There were no less than 9 kids under the age of 6 on bikes and scooters and running around, along with all of their parents. At some point Cooper had gotten his hands on some drinking straws in our house, so he came out with them in his hands. Soon he had his buddies Liam and Carter hanging out with him sharing straws.





I can't help but think if you replaced the straws with cigars, you would get an idea of what they will look like when they are old men, or in a fraternity.

Cooper checked out a scooter for the first time. He is a super cautious kid, so there was a lot of standing on it, but not moving.


There are so many times I look at Cooper and I see no sign that he is my child. He looks so much like Bob, and like his much older brothers and nothing like me (he so did NOT get those curls from me) I wonder if I contributed anything at all to his genetic makeup. But then he does something like gets upset by a change in his routine, or sighs this deeply contended sigh and says "naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap" when I put him down for his nap and I realize that sometimes genetic contributions come in forms other than looks. My mother will tell you that I LOVED my routine (still do) and I truly love sleeping. And we finally got in the pool today for more than 5 minutes. The kid LOVES to swim. That is truly my child.

It's not as futile an idea as one might think...

So in an effort to not be a lay-about and keep busy, the Bob, husband/father extraordinaire, has reactivated his real estate license. He got it some years ago, during another layoff period. He has joined a Century 21 office in Newton MA, and is ready to become a real estate mogul.

In the greater Boston area houses still sell, so this is not as futile a job prospect as one might think in this economy. In our neighborhood houses used to sell the week they went on the market. They take a little longer now, maybe a month or so, but they still sell pretty quickly and for close to asking price. The problem with our particular neighborhood is Hans. He is a Coldwell Banker realtor who lives in the neighborhood and pretty much has a lock on all the business. Not everyone uses him, but most do. If I am not mistaken, in the last 6 or 7 years he has sold the house behind us three times. Each time he made at least 3% but more like 6% on each sale I am sure. That house alone could have meant around $80,000 in income to him over three sales.

Even if Bob found a software engineer job tomorrow, I think he will still do the real estate thing on the side. Why not? Having more than one revenue stream is never a bad thing. We have any number of things we should be actively saving for, like a college fund, retirement, a new table and chair set for the deck. Seriously, we need a new set. The one we have I bought at the grocery store 4 years ago. It was a good buy, but now the chairs are falling apart. It is on the short list of things we would like to purchase once we are out of layoff hell.

But who knows. Bob is a pretty self motivated and directed person, and if anyone can be successful at this I think he can. So maybe this will be his new career.

In Cooper news, he has been obsessed with his harmonica. He has insisted on taking it to school with him, but I only let him as long as he puts it in his cubby once we get inside, so he is not annoying the heck out of everyone, or worse, he loses the thing. The other day I picked him up and they were playing outside for the 10 minutes it wasn't raining. So after I went in and got his stuff and he retrieved his harmonica, we went back outside through the playground to leave. He came out onto the playground playing his harmonica, and in about 5 seconds he had at least 5 kids gathered around him, staring at him with big smiles on their faces. He has FANS already and he can't even play a real song. I think he realized how cool it was that they were staring at him in awe. My kid, the rock star.

What will her cell phone bill be like?

A friend brought this video to my attention. Seriously, they are in so much trouble when this kid is a teenager.



That is all. And I think enough for today.

Thoroughly Random Tuesday

Right. What has MidLifeMama been up to....

Had my yearly mammogram today. Don't expect any untoward news, but need to have the girls checked once a year now that I am OVER 40. And since two people I know have dealt with breast cancer recently, I feel even more compelled to get things checked. Although every time I have this done I am reminded that if men had to have this done, MRI's would be STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE and insurance companies would pay for it because no man is going to tolerate having his good squeezed in a vice grip like that on a yearly basis. I mean, I am pretty sure that nice lab tech owes me dinner or something now.

In other news, Cooper POOPED on the potty. Wheee! This is a major step on the potty training trail.

It has been raining for daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays. Mushrooms are growing in my yard. We had to get out today for a bit, to burn off some extra energy. Since it had stopped raining for half an hour, every kid on our street was outside, stomping in puddles and generally giggling and screaming and running. It was a beautiful thing. My kid was covered in mud and I didn't care.

Something took place at work recently that kind of pissed me off. It is hard to talk about without being really specific, but the abbreviated version is that a colleague got a title change. Previously this position had the same title I have, director. Now this position has the title of Dean. It is not an academic position. There has been no change in reporting structure, or seniority, but it supposedly reflects the level of work being done in the position. Which means that Dean is better than director. Which to me reflects some sort of value judgement on that position vs. any other director level position. Which left me feeling a little "What the freakity frack" because my job responsibilities are equal to, at LEAST, those being done in this other position. I manage an overall budget of close to 30 million dollars. While my staff is less than half of this individuals', we process aid for 90% of the students at the college. I do my job. Effectively, efficiently. My staff likes me, my coworkers like me, the students and parents love my office. We get compliments from people who have had contact with other aid offices at other colleges along the lines of "You guys answer the phone, or You are so responsive and helpful unlike this other college." I don't want a new title for the sake of a new title. But if that position warrants some level of acknowlegdement, so does mine. But I don't see that happening anytime soon. For the first time in 9 years of working there, I am disappointed.

The flip side of this is that I am supremely grateful for having a job. My quality of life is good at this job, and it is a great community to be part of. So I am trying to keep it all in balance in my head and heart and continue to do the good job I know how to do. In the meantime I shall now be known, at least in my own head, as Supreme Goddess of Financial Aid.

Because I forgot to blog at all about Mother's Day

Some how in the process of living life, I forgot to blog about Mother's Day. Which I remembered eventually, but way to late to really go back and say anything about it until now, Father's Day.

So, to both of my parents: Thanks for being my parents. It's not like I had a lot of choice in the matter. But all things considered, what with the random assignment of genetic information and luck of the draw etc. I think things worked out pretty well.

I was born in 1964. Despite the fact I grew up during a few decades of major change, right on the cusp of the Vietnam War, women's rights, with hippies to the left and Nixon to the right, and then the 80's with Madonna and preppies and high school and college, my parents managed to provide a relatively quiet and stable existence for us. There were fun adventures and interesting experiences. We had stuff like bikes and pools and dogs and even a canoe when I came home from summer camp raving about how much I loved to canoe.

From my dad I learned things like loving to garden, the value of regular maintenance on my car, and how to wash a car correctly.

From my mother, I learned the art of problem solving, the value of laughing until I can't stand up and to love reference books.

Those are not extensive lists by any means, but they are the items I feel like mentioning today.

I also say Happy Father's Day to the Bob. You are a great dad. If I had to get knocked up by accident and raise a child with someone, I am glad it was you. You are funny and kind and you didn't mind getting up in the middle of the night with Cooper when he was in that phase of his life. You walk the dogs in all manner of weather and are a mighty fine painter of rooms. You appreciate my cooking and baking efforts. You are a keeper.

Do you feel oriented? Orientated...whatever. Or this blog is about farts.

I want so badly to blog about farts right now, but since mocking my dear husband for that is not nice, I am going to write about something else. But let's just say that Bill Cosby's description of his father changing keys as he came down the stairs in the morning has NOTHING on the Bob.

This week began the orientation sessions for the new incoming students. We do four orientation sessions over two weeks. So it is a parade of parents asking the same questions. It is normal, I am used to it. But this year we have the economy adding a new layer of anxiety over the normal "my kid is going to college for the first time, living away from home for the first time, it costs HOW MUCH" anxiety. Today was the second parent session, and I am always fascinated by the capacity to ask a question regarding something I JUST TALKED ABOUT. In depth and at length. With pictures and diagrams and graphs and arrows. OK, maybe not arrows or graphs, but a powerpoint presentation, which I print out for their take home benefit. Sigh. Like work study. This is a financial aid award that the federal government gives us money for, to pay students to work on campus. They have to work to get paid the funds. It never appears as a credit on the bill. Never ever ever ever ever NEVER. I say that at least three times in a presentation, it is in BOLD LETTERS on the screen and on the paper in front of them. Then the director of student accounts speaks about the bill, and reiterates that it is never going to be a credit. We don't know if a student will actually work or how much they will earn. So no credit. PAY CHECKS. FOR HOURS WORKED.

But without fail, someone will ask about work study and the bill. SIGH AGAIN. I will grant them it is all very overwhelming, and it is almost like learning a foreign language when you begin the financial aid process. Which is why I work very hard at making it as clear and simple as possible. I will assume that I must be helping some people. Or else there would be more questions.

And it is raining here, again. It is supposed to rain for a solid week. Seriously. I may never actually swim in my pool. ARG. Cooper wants to be in it badly, but it is hard to help him understand that 64 degree water is ccccccooooooooollllllld. I suppose I could let him find out how cold it is, but then he might never go in the pool or any body of water again, and that is counterproductive.