Burn Out

Not me. I'm not burned out. No, but my refrigerator was.

A few weeks ago, we discovered that the freezer had kicked into hyper-mode (kind of like warp-9 or something) because the internal vents had been covered. This caused the temperature in the refrigerator to plummet, ensuring the destruction of many (farm fresh, extra large brown!) eggs, and the thorough freezing of things like mayonnaise and butter and grape jelly. Easily fixed, but certainly a pain in the rump roast, we were just happy that it didn't mean replacing a major appliance.

Well, after having been gone all day Friday and again Saturday, my Darling discovered upon our return that the temperature in the refrigerator, rather than plummeting, had taken our foods on a tropical vacation. It was about 50 degrees. Yep. Food goes bad quickly above 41 degrees. This is particularly good to know if you use your garage or back porch as extra food storage in the winter. But I digress...We were sensible enough to know that things like jelly and butter and lots of produce were probably fine (which is good, since we buy whipped butter in a big 5 pound tub from Sam's), but again with the eggs, the organic yogurt, all the meats, all the leftovers (which we actually eat around here, for Pete's sake!), the mayo....and about $300 worth of other groceries--these all had to be tossed out like so much compost (no, of course we don't put meat/animal products into the compost). That was the cheap part.

Apparently the compressor was the one that decided it needed a Tahitian beach to relax upon, and it took the rest of the group hostage while it trounced off on its foray into tropical paradise. So at 9:30 on Saturday night, as I had gone straight to bed when we got home--blissfully unaware of the impending events, mind you--my Darling came upstairs after much banging around in the kitchen, carrying a glass of water for his beloved (because he is just that kind....), and with a rather defeated expression on his usually relaxed (and otherwise very handsome) face. I asked him, "Are you ok??"

He shook his head, and proceeded to tell me what had transpired in our kitchen whilst we gallivanted (actually he and the Pickle were on a father-son retreat, and the rest of the kids and I were with friends holding a garage sale). The nerve of the refrigerator. The wretch didn't even have the sense to do the research into our finances to see if we had a budget to replace it. Ha. We didn't. Have the budget, that is. Of course, when something like the refrigerator decides it no longer likes it's current surroundings, immediate replacement is mandatory.

So on Sunday after Mass, we shopped. I believe we finally arrived home at about 4:30, hauling the new monster behind us. Please understand, I am the least picky person on earth when it comes to things like matching my appliances. I could care less about color, finish, or any of that nonsense. At this point, if it meets the job requirements--big enough to hold the food we need to have on hand and actually keep it cold--I'll take it. This means that I now have an almond and black stove, a white dishwasher, and a brushed stainless refrigerator.

The other secret that I love about appliance shopping is that if you look for clearance--display models, preferably slightly dinged (on a side or something), and discontinued--you can do what we did: you, too, can be the proud owner of a $1700.00 appliance for the trifling amount of $850.00. Ok, this is about $200.00 more than we really wanted to spend. No, actually it's more like $850.00 more than we wanted to spend. But this is one sweet appliance. Side-by-side, of course, with water and ice in the door, but with the ice maker in the door, giving us (the salesman was kind enough to point out) almost 20% more room inside the freezer. We need this. Most big families need this. Actually, we need a chest freezer the size of our van, but we'll take the 20% more business for the moment.

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The major excitement for the week had nothing at all to do with appliances. That was just a bonus. Our major excitement was our first visit with Chris, our midwife!

We arrived at her house late on Thursday afternoon. It was a gorgeous day, so the kids headed out to her back yard to bounce their brains around on the trampoline and watch the horses and birds. Meanwhile, we had a lovely visit with Chris. We talked and laughed, we heard the Bean's heartbeat (!!!!)--after a fashion....I ended up having to drink a big glass of water to lift the uterus up out of the pelvis so she could find the little thing. And we discovered that my blood pressure was 90 over 50! She asked me, "Um, can you even stand up?" I said, "Not for more than two minutes..."

I love this. I love that Chris said, "Well, call me when you're feeling good movement that you know isn't just digestion and we'll get together and do this again." I love that my Darling said, "It'll be so nice to have her come back to our house..." I love that my kids are welcome in her home, and can crowd around the bed while she listens for their little sibling. I love that my Monkey listens intently to her voice, with a look of familiarity on his little face...and that when she used the Doppler, he was so attentive, and when Chris asked him, "Do you remember that sound?" he said, "Mm-hmm...." with a far away look in his eyes.......

I love that getting together with my midwife doesn't feel like a sterile, impersonal session of repetitive questions, but a visit with a dear friend. And that going to her house feels like going to the home of a close aunt. And that our time with her was well more than an hour, and ended with hugs all around and excitement in everyone's eyes--even Chris.

God has blessed us so well, and Chris is one of the best blessings a Mama could ask for.