I Dropped My iPad in a Bathtub Full of Water

So many people post random things on the internet that other people find especially useful. I always wonder what inspires them to even post that stuff and then I wonder why I am such an information sponge...never giving back to the information superhighway.  Here. I am going to give back right now.

So here's stupid me, sitting next to my patient who is merrily taking a bath. I suppose that sounds like a strange job but hey, it's a  paycheck, right?  I'm working on my iPad in my lap when it neatly slips off my lap, slides down my legs and fully submerges itself alongside my patient's naked body.  Nice.

I instantly plunge my hands in and snatch my iPad quicker probably than I would have if an infant child had fallen in.  I had a moment to recognize that it was still on as I leaned over the edge to reach in and get it out.

I pull it out and as I grab the first dry towel I see, I again notice that it is responding to my touch. It is still on. I'm still hyperventilating too much to fully grasp that it is still on after submerging itself in water (ok, it didn't submerge itself...I submerged itself with my stupidity).  I dry the iPad off completely and then look at it not really sure what to do. So I turn it off.  From experience only do I know that water and electronics do not mix. I didn't want any random app to cause my iPad to do some alert that would fry its internal workings.

I had to finish my work day so I just put it in my bag. When I got home I put it in a gallon sized zip lock bag full of rice and left it until noon the next day. Overall it spent about 18 hours in rice.

When I got the iPad out of the rice, I blew all of the rice particles out with compressed canned air. Then I turned it on. It took a long time on the screen with the grey apple but eventually it went away and it came just fine. A few days later, I see no residual deficits from the incident. And I'm amazed. Such I guess is my luck.

Bugs On A Bike

Growing up, 6th grade was the only year I lived within a short enough distance to ride my bike to school. I lived in Southern California, a much different place than it is now from what I'm told. I walked the mile to and from school by myself in an area now that I'm told "a white girl don't wanna show her face, girl!" I would have ridden my bike but we were poo' folk and the only bike I had access to was a huge men's ten speed that was so big I had to jump off of it in order to stop. I was too short to even straddle it. 

For every other grade, I had to take the bus, sometimes great distances. In Maryland, although distance is exaggerated in youth, I think it was 7-10 miles away, most of that freeway. In junior high in California, I was bussed to an inner-city school for program where they try to assimilate the races. It was about 20 miles away but all my friends were bussed on the same bus so it just a big happy hour for us. Free of adults and responsibilities...I remember those days.

High school again, although it wasn't cool enough to ride the bus, still I lived 7 miles from my school and never had a car so if nobody thought me worthy to pick me up, I was riding the bus. I certainly didn't ride my bike or walk.

My small family now lives about a block from the elementary school. There are lots of crossing guards, sidewalks and safe routes to get to the school. I let Bugs walk home from school every day and she usually finds friends to walk with.  She is in 3rd grade now and today, for the first time has asked me if she can ride her bike to school.  The mother hen in me shrieks. Her route will have to be different than that of walking, giving her more exposure to crazy people and texters. I worry so much that one of my most valued possessions won't return home to me at the end of the day.

Of course I said yes, however. Teaching children independence and responsibility will be stunted if I show her I don't trust and believe in her. She's my responsible child and will listen to instructions and do what I say. I taught her about locking it up, and using her helmet and we went over the route again. I feel this is a new beginning but I'm so glad that we live in a place that I can offer her this little bit of independence and not feel I'm compromising.  I'm sure she'll be fine but it's amazing all the ways that a mother can worry!

My Marshmallow

Tomorrow is my 12 year anniversary to The Marshmallow, the name I gave to my hubby many years ago when he failed to live up to the rock hard exterior he'd always touted to be.  He's more like an M&M with marshmallow inside of it, truth be told.  He's all the gruff and grouchy until one of his girls gets hurt of she says she wants something. Then the chocolate melts and we can boing liberally on the marshmallow center.

Marshmallow people...not marshmellow.

Anyway, at this point in my life my reasons for valuing and cherishing my husband have changed since I was first married. Back then I wanted a strong provider, someone who was trustworthy, caring and a good listener. Someone who would be home each night and take me to breakfast on Sundays.  I also needed someone to support me through graduate school but that's a little truth we don't say out loud at the dinner table.

These days however, my needs are vastly different as they should be after this many years. I still need to know he'll be home every night but it's mainly so I can thrust the casserole serving spoon at him thereby transferring domestic responsibilities, tell him how horrible his children were all day, and finally feel like I'm not doing all of this alone. I exaggerate a little...I don't really "thrust", I give.

But more than a transfer of power at the end of the working day, I need him to be a good father to my kids. I need him to want to be here, to be engaged with the family and support me as the mom, the Supreme Being of All.  I need him to be "one" with me as we parent our kids. I still need him to be the provider but not in the ways I needed him to before. Now I need him provide the majority so I can do my best with our kids.

I know we all gripe about our spouses from time to time and we have our little "issues" that we deal with ongoing throughout the years.  But for the most part, what I have to gripe about is minimal and pretty inconsequential for the most part when viewed in the grandest scheme.

The Marshmallow has put forth a significant amount of effort this year in creating a safer and more fun haven for our kids.  Long has he wished for a sunken trampoline and a re-vamp of our back-back yard space.  In the spring, he dug a 12' diameter hole (4' deep) to sink the tramp, a feat which he did with a shovel, no less.  Today, he finished the little area by creating a large 12x8' sandbox next to the tramp. He hauled all of the sand by wheelbarrow down from the front to the back and if you know my yard, you know there is no access front to back besides stairs so using a wheelbarrow to transport load after load of sand isn't for the feint of heart.

Tinker loves the sandbox and she was instantly covered in sand the minute the sandbox was finished.  I happened to walk by a window a short time later and caught a glimpse of what I love about the Marshmallow summed up in one moment.  

What I love about this picture is that if you could have heard The Marshmallow talking this morning, you'd have thought the world was on his shoulders. He had "so much to do" today and it was going to take him forever.  A few minutes before this picture was taken, he was out front mowing the lawn and I assume he came 'round back to begin working on it and saw this little critter enjoying her new sandbox and he sat down to soak in her fun.  He does stuff like that...stops to "see" and experience those kids in ways I never do, or at least I don't think I do, not like I see him doing.  He genuinely experiences pleasure just in watching that kid play.  And so I love this picture because Tink is adorable in her little red glove (protecting her finger because she got a 2nd degree burn from touching the truck tailpipe earlier when we got home), as she plays in the new sandbox, Dad is enjoying his baby, and I get to look at all of his labors of love for the kids we made.

I included the below picture so you could also see the tramp better since that was the greater part of the battle.

 

I am so amazingly proud of this man not because he knows how to work, although for that I should be grateful also. But because he's not afraid to work hard for his family to make them safer and happier even for a short period in their lives. Sandbox lifespan: eh maybe 5 years??? Done.

I rarely tell him how awesome he is because I'm rude and horrible and he mades suggestive remarks about what we're going to do when the kids go to bed and it embarrasses me...wait, where was I?  Point is, I value him. My life would be awful without him. He is exactly who I needed when I didn't know what I needed at all.  How does that happen - we're so young and naive when we make these choices and amazingly they turn out to be the best choices we could have ever made.  It's almost like we're not making them on our own.....deep!