Halala Mama

“You didn’t put milk in the eggs.”

Whaaaaa?  My husband cooks an African sauce by boiling tomatoes, peas, and chicken in oil.  He blew up an egg in the microwave.  He has made hotdogs  by boiling them in oil. He will grill and eat beef HEART.  He pours the hottest pepper and sauce possible over everything I put in front of him and rarely declares my cooking good or bad.

This morning I made him eggs with seasoned salt, garlic powder, black pepper, and feta cheese.  I did not, however, put milk in them when I whipped them up.  An oversight that I didn’t think made one bit of difference.

How the hell did he know?
Happy Valentine’s Day!

I love a good snow day.

The feeling of getting an early morning phone call from your partner teacher with the beautiful words, “School is cancelled,” can best be described as delicious.  It’s akin to being given a totally unexpected vacation day at a time when the wind is howling and the ice and snow are coating everything in sight.

It’s wonderful.

Except when the snow bearing down on the state and the subject of the winter storm warning we’ve been under since last night, does not start until 1 PM.

That my dear friends is a horse of a totally different color.

That means cleaning off a snow bound car in the cold with my bare hands because God knows I wasn’t prepared enough to find the snow brush, driving to pick Adam up from the sitter, and battling my way home in the ick.

The most entertainment I’ve had tonight were my phone conversations with my mom and Lorie.

• Mom:  The power came back on and somehow it messed up my Facebook page.
• Me:  Ummm mom…the electricity didn’t change your page, Facebook changed your page.

Later Lorie calls and Ismael answered my phone.  After answering a battery of questions that must have felt like a police interrogation, including where are you? When are you coming to Indiana? Are you IN Indiana? Are you coming here to watch the Super Bowl? she finally gets him to give me the phone.  (Bear in mind, he hasn’t asked me that many questions all week , let alone in one conversation).

Our conversation: loosely summarized…

• Me: I’m sorry about that, it must feel like a penance just to get me on the phone.
• Further noteworthy conversation about how the Catholics are to blame for Mardi Gras and the powdered delight that she ate this afternoon, how my husband is like the FBI, her burnt dinner, and their household fish who kicked the bucket today and sent her son into spasms of wrenching sorrow that were only solved by renting a new video game.

Then Ismael gets into the act:

• Me:  Yeah, hang on…did you check your blood sugar?
• Ismael: Why you ask me that?
• Me:  Because you are diabetic?  (ummm…..obviously.)
• Lorie: ::snicker::  How is he doing on the job front?
• Me:  He starts a new temp position on the 15th.
• Ismael:  Why you talking about my business?
• Me:  Umm….duh …. I talk to Lorie every single day.  What else do we have to talk about but our husbands??

Because, obviously.

I definitely prefer that snow day to a snow evening.

By far, the biggest change in our lives so far this 2010 was the decision that Ismael would not go back to driving a taxi.  The company he drove for did not cover his medical expenses when he was hit by an uninsured driver.  Thankfully, the accident was minor, while the bills were not, and we determined that it was simply too much of a risk.

So he is job hunting… in this economy…and it sucks.  There is no other way to put it.

He has cobbled together some temporary assignments to get us through until he finds something full time and more suitable.  The current assignment has him working from 7 AM to 3:30 PM.

The same hours as me.

For the first time in YEARS we are on the same schedule!

Which means, HOLY MOSES I no longer have the house to myself in the evenings but someone else actually does live there…hmmmmm.

Though I long for the security of a full time permanent position with benefits for him, I am finding aspects of this new life to rejoice about along with the struggles of sharing a television with someone who wants to watch nothing other than 24/7 coverage of the Haiti earthquake.

Something that has been difficult to manage is that Adam now goes to the babysitter all day.  Working different hours meant that Adam had the luxury of sleeping as long as he needed and wanted every day, sometimes up to 13-14 hours a night.  Now I have to wake him by 6 AM in order to have him dressed, fed, and out the door so that I can get to school on time.

After a week of adjustment, he doesn’t seem to mind.