Foodie With Family ~ Life Happens!

Meet Maggie.  Maggie is the daughter of my dear friend Alison.  Alison and I are such good friends that we cherish a not-so-secret hope that we will one day be legally related.  In fact, despite the fact that I moved to our high school a year and a half after she did, had different last names, and different accents many teachers thought we were sisters.  Evidently the Michigan accent is indiscernable from the Canadian one to a New York ear.

Remember Leif and the blueberries?

Say 'hi!' to Mags, Leify...

This morning, Alison heard Maggie shuffling around in the bathroom.  When Alison asked Maggie what she was doing, Maggie responded with something along the lines of, “Not playing with your biptick, Mummy.”  You judge:

Did she or didn't she? (I actually think she did a bloomin' wonderful job applying it for a 3 year old. She does better than I do...

Did Miss Mags get into the biptick and did Leif get into the blueberries?

Clearly, Maggie and Leif have a similar personality.  This led Alison and I to arrange their marriage.  Skip all those dreaded heart-breaking teen years and whatnot.  I think we’re onto something.

When my devilishly sweet little fourth born rolls out of bed in the morning, this is the look he sports.

I don’t know how in the world this happens, but it does.  Every single morning.  Without fail.

And I have not discovered the hair care product yet that can tame it.  Most days it’s easiest to let it fly.  Sundays before church I try to tame his horns just a wee bit.

The hair starts creeping back up midway through the service and by the time everyone is gathering around the refreshment table they’re back up and flying. 

He has a devilish sweet tooth, this one…

In the interest of passing along much too much information, I’d like to point out that there was much rejoicing over here last night. Our tankless water heater is working again after 6 days of no hot water.

Now you might not think 6 days is a big deal. Heat water on the wood stove or the stove top, sponge bathe, go all “Little House on the Prairie”, etc… But I’m here to tell you that in a home with 6 males you’d better hope your water heater never fails. Ever. Because after 24 hours the smell cloud is overwhelming.

But here’s where my inner Pollyanna is going to speak up. The folks at Rheem were awesome. They had amazing technical support people available on the phones. These people were (a) sympathetic and (b) competent and (c) understandable. It was the best customer service experience I’ve had in years! They overnighted the parts to us and stood by on the phone to talk us through the repair.

The Evil Genius installed the new electronics board and fan and programmed the chip per instructions. I then skipped up to the shower and threw it on full blast. I was good and wet when the water went cold. I believe my reaction went something like this, “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Because let me tell you, unheated well water in January is very, very bracing. He went downstairs, reset the heater and told me to try the shower again. I did. The water was great for five minutes and then turned into little daggers of ice all over my head again. This time I believe I was pretty colorful in my reaction. All those people who tell me I must be a saint for raising five boys should’ve been around to hear my little dissertation. I made it abundantly clear that I’m not in the running for canonization…

Monsieur le Evil Genius ran downstairs and called the technical services division for Rheem again. They told him the error code we were getting was a fuel sensor problem and that he should either check his connections or bleed the lines. (And doesn’t THAT just sound violent?) He checked his connections and -lo and behold- there was one little baby connection that was not where it should’ve been. Rheem and Evil Genius to the rescue once again.

I had my shower. I feel human again. I can handle life again. Bring it on.