>
sunday, april 6th at around 7ish in the evening dutchie and i fell asleep watching “go diego go.” it was supposed to be for a quick nap, but i was sooooooo tired and apparently he was too. it was one of those days where he had been bouncing around all freakin’ day without a nap and it was time for him to just lay back and chill. even if it meant napping at 7 o’clock. i kept waking to look at the clock and as it neared 8:30 i just kept telling myself…”okay, 30 more minutes and then you’ve gotta get up.”
silly, i know.
i admit i had fallen a little deeper than planned, but then i heard him. it was my husband yelling, “NIKI, GET UP!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!!” i was half sleep, but as he pushed through the door yelling i could see a thick cloud behind him. and that amber glow.
the amber glow.
i grabbed dutch, who only had on a t-shirt and diaper and ran out of the bedroom door into the living room. the ceiling was covered with smoke. it was sort of like a cloud in the living room only not nearly as pleasant. as i looked to the right i saw that my bookcase was on fire. the bookcase where a candle had been lit hours before i laid down for a nap.
my husband yelled, “where’s the fire extinguisher??!! where’s the fire extinguisher??!!” i told him where it was and flew out of the front door with my child in my arms. i stood in the hallway of our building as the fire alarm and smoke alerted our neighbors of the fire that was happening in my home.
MY HOME.
i really couldn’t believe any of it was happening. a neighbor who lives above me, a woman with whom i’ve shared a only a few hellos over the past several years, invited me to come to her place. “come bring the baby upstairs,” she said.
i had no shoes on and only a shirt and my i’m-lounging-in-the-house-all-day-today pants. the no shoes part really flipped me out. i’ve mentioned before that i have a thing about feet. i don’t care to look at other people’s feet, but even more than that i get freaked out easily about germs. remember that story about britney spears coming out of that public bathroom years ago with bare feet?? ugh!! i almost puked when i heard that. well, i had that same icky feeling walking up to my neighbor’s home. but it didn’t really matter in light of everything that was going on at the time.
i was safe.
dutch was safe.
my husband was safe.
you know, sometimes you sit and you think of what’s important to you. things that you hold of value. things you would hate to lose in a fire. i’ve made mental lists in my mind from time-to-time over the years of the “things” i would grab if there was a fire in my home.
“i’d have to get my camera…my computer. oh, oh…and my pictures ’cause you know those can’t be replaced. my purse and keys. and who can live without a cell phone?? my safebox with all of my personal stuff…”
on this night i grabbed my child and that’s all that mattered. i could’ve cared less about a thing. who needed a picture when it was most important that i had my child?
my husband was able to put the fire out with our fire extinguisher. well, most of it anyway. we had a painting hanging above the bookshelf and it was still smoldering by the time the five firetrucks showed up.
oh yeah, it was a really dramatic scene.
we had the door to our building open, the door of our home open and our balcony door open, but that didn’t stop the firemen from hooking their ladder up to our balcony…you know, just in case. dutch was just happy to see all of his beloved firetrucks and firemen up close and personal. he asked a million times, “where are they going, mommy?? where are they going?” i gave an answer i never thought i’d actually hear myself say…
“they’re going to our house, baby.”
my husband told me that he fell asleep watching television when he heard a loud WHOOOOSH sound. he was awakened by the noise of the fire igniting into this huge ugly thing that just danced wildly on top of our bookcase. i can’t count how many times we’ve lit candles on that shelf and never experienced anything even remotely close to what happened that night. we’re still not sure what caused it to ignite like that.
the fire damage was very, very minimal. the firemen had to knock a hole in our wall just to make sure the flames didn’t creep in behind our painting and aside from a music box that my pop gave to me when i was about six, nothing major was damaged. in fact, our bookcase was still intact. sure i lost a few books, but in the grand scheme of things, who really cares about some daggone books? the walls and the ceiling were pretty black. they weren’t burnt, just covered in a thick film of soot. we didn’t realize until we came home the next day that everything in our living room was covered in soot. our books, dutch’s toys, our furniture…the carpet, the mail, the plates in our kitchen cabinet, photo albums and pictures in frames. everything.
it was a daggone sooty mess.
we stayed out of our home for two weeks and it’s been a little bit of a process getting things back together, but it’s happening and i sure don’t have a darn thing to complain about. there’s no doubt about it that the Lord was watching over my little family on april 6th just as He does always. if you know my husband then you know that he literally sleeps like a brick. i’m not exaggerating. i have yelled his name standing only two feet away from him while he was asleep on several occasions and he hasn’t even flinched. his mother said that he’s been like that since he was a young kid. so i know that it was Lord who woke his butt up. after all, my voice can surely get higher than any fire going WHOOOSH. it was a miracle that he heard it. plain and simple. tthe fire marshall said that had he slept for a few minutes longer we may not have made it out because of the smoke and carbon monoxide.
thank you, Jesus for continuing to watch over us.
i’ve learned a thing or two about how my child is able to adapt throughout this whole mess too. we stayed at my pop’s house while our home was airing out and as we waited to have it professionally cleaned. dutch didn’t really ask why we were there…he just went with the flow. enjoyed the company of having his grandparents around and loving climbing the stairs. then my husband and i went to pick him up from day care last friday, ready to finally take him home. i was a little nervous because the place looked so different than what i was sure he remembered. our things had to be boxed up so that the cleaners (and eventually the painters) could do their thing. then there was that nasty dark hole in the wall with soot stains splattered all around. but dutch walked right in and said, “oooooo…i like it.” as if we came up some kind of new decor.
and that’s exactly why “things” were the furthest thing from mind on april 6th.
so we’re fine. that’s why i haven’t been here blogging lately (you know, for the three of you who come by to see what a sista has to say. haha.) and hey, if you don’t already own one now, please go out and spend a little money on a fire extinguisher. if we didn’t have one, we probably wouldn’t be back in our home today.
be safe…
so i mentioned the other day that my 2-year-old son dutch has started to call me his best friend. and yes, it’s cute and yes, it warms my heart every time he says it. well, almost every time. i’m feeling a little manipulated by my best friend now. check this out:
example #1 of best friend manipulation:
mama: [working on her laptop. just minding her own business.]
dutch: [pulling mama's books off of the bookshelf.]
mama: dutch, i’ve told you not to touch mama’s books. you can get one of your books (that have their very own section on the bookshelf), but i don’t want you bothering my books.
dutch: [still bothering mama's books and starting to reorganize them by placing them every which-a way on the shelf.]
mama: dutch, don’t do that!
dutch: [cocking his head to one side, furrowing his brow, screwing his lips up a bit, and throwing his hands up...] we best friends!!!
example #2 of best friend manipulation:
mama: [still working on her laptop. just mind her own business.]
dutch: [shutting the laptop, while mama is typing.]
mama: dutch, why’d you do that? you can’t close the laptop while i’m typing!
dutch: [cocking his head to one side, furrowing his brow, screwing his lips up a bit, and throwing his hand up...] we best friends!!!
see, he wants me to believe that just because “we best friends” that i’m just supposed to let him do whatever he wants. now what kinda best friend is that? or maybe he just needs a little attention. i dunno. with 2-year-olds it’s sometimes hard to tell.
i can count on one hand how many physical fights i’ve been involved in in my life so to be struck on any part of my body is quite a jolt to my system. but somehow my body is becoming accustomed to being hit. you know, a quick knee jab to my chest, or a sippy cup thrown at full force that lands square on the nose, or being smacked in the face (accidentally or not). over the past several months i’ve been jumped on, kicked and climbed like a freakin’ monkey bar.
i’m talking life with a toddler boy.
dutch has gone through several phases of what i would categorize as parent abuse. there was the biting phase that came about while he was nursing. i don’t think i need to go into great detail on this one. my baby had four teeth at four months and those suckers keep on coming in. i nursed for a year. so you can do the pain math. i suppose since he had new chompers he figured why not try them out. on mama.
i suppose i forgave him for all the bites, but then he graduated to trying out the chompers on any body part that was readily available…like an arm or a thigh. these weren’t exactly good times here.
then came the pinching phase. i guess he was learning about textures and the cause and effect of squeezing his fingers together tightly with a piece of human flesh between them. this phase was short-lived, thank goodness, but still painful and oh-so-annoying.
next up, the smacking phase. this one lasted a bit longer than the others. we’d be out and i’d be holding my oh-so-cute son and we’d be having a grand time until he’d start to reach for something that i felt he didn’t need to have, i’d say no, and then i’d get smacked. in the face. you know, in public with people watching.
when you’re child is under one and this happens, there’s really no recourse. i mean, really, what can you do? put him on time out? in his crib? and if your child’s age is supposed to equate to the amount of time that he spends in time out, what do you do for an 11-month-old? sit him in his high-chair for 40 seconds? this whole thing was lost on me.
now most of the abuse that i endure from dutch is more accidental. like when he climbs on me and i get an elbow to the eyeball. or the head butt that occurs after he rushes over to me, climbs over the couch where i’m sitting. but we’ve taught him well, so whenever he causes me a bit of pain (which tends to happen several times in a day) he says, “i’m sorry, mommy…i’m sorry…i’m sorry.” and he’ll give me a little kiss wherever the throbbing is happening in that particular moment from the matchbox car that was accidentally tossed. at my nose.
but no apology he’s given yet can match the one i got yesterday. we were laying on the bed watching shrek and he pulled my neck over to him so that i could rest on his itty bitty shoulder. he tugged my neck so hard that i thought he pulled something and i yelled out “ouch, dutch!!!”
dutch: “i’m sorry, mommy.”
mama: “it’s okay.”
dutch: “i love you, mommy. you’re my best friend.”
it’s hard to feel pain when you’re feeling all warm and sunshiney from the love of your 2-year-old son.
going 20 miles over the speed limit in the state of virginia can land your butt in jail.
did you know that?
yes indeedy. say you’re going 75 on 495 (aka the beltway) and the speed limit is 55, you face a class one misdemeanor criminal charge which is punishable by up to 12 months in jail, up to a $2,500 fine and a suspended driver’s license for up to 6 months.
oh, they are not playing in v.a.
which brings me to yesterday’s drama. my husband, mr. edellizille, was caught speeding on his way to work back in march. when he first told me i thought, no big deal. right? wouldn’t most people think that? i figured we’d pay a ticket and be on our merry little way.
oh, silly, naive me.
edellizille has been back and forth to court quite a few times over the past several months trying to resolve this whole reckless speeding issue. one judge wanted him to spend 10 days in jail. for speeding, people. 10 days in jail.
there was no accident, he wasn’t racing anyone, no one was maimed or killed. he was just speeding.
okay, so i know that people are injured every day in car accidents from people driving above the speed limit. but who the heck doesn’t speed? if you’ve ever driven on the beltway in the dc metropolitan area then you know that you have to speed or else you will get crumpled on the road.
so yesterday we (my husband, my pop and stepmother, my mother-in-law, and my brother-in-law) sat in court waiting for my husband’s case to be called. for speeding. oh yeah, we roll pretty deep, by the way. and we listened to other cases go up:
the first lady was in court because she worked in a doctor’s office and was stealing the identities of the patients. this chick went out and got a nordstrom’s credit card in some woman’s name and was caught. the accused was from another country so now she faces jail time and the possibility of being deported.
and we’re here for speeding?
then there was the first ignoramus who ran into target and stole a dyson vacuum cleaner (you know, the one that doesn’t lose suction?). the bama ran out of the store with the thing!! did he really think he could get away with running out of target with a vacuum cleaner? apparently so. and now he faces a felony charge because the vacuum was valued at over $200.
and we’re here for speeding?
that’s what my mother used to say when it was dinnertime. oh, blessed days of someone else having to stress over a meal. now it’s my turn and i get to hear:
“so what’s for dinner tonight?”
by my husband, edellizzle.
truth of the matter is our options are quite limited. not only am i not the best cook in the whole wide world, but we’re such picky eaters and really only enjoy the basics. i’m talking about the serious up basics:
chicken (fried, baked, bbq’d or broiled. but only white meat. no thighs and drumsticks for my man.), steak, spaghetti (which my husband is growing quite tired of…), chili, stir fry (with chicken or beef)… things along those lines.
oh, dinner time is sad up in our house.
i like salmon. he doesn’t. he likes black eyed peas, green peas, and lima beans. i don’t. there are a lot of things that i don’t like (like anything with a weird texture: oatmeal, yogurt, pudding, jello, cream of wheat), but mr. edellizzle doesn’t like BREAD, people. who the heck doesn’t like bread??
and he doesn’t like ketchup either. or watermelon. or homemade macaroni and cheese. or candied yams (which i love).
neither of us drink milk.
our pickiness has trickled right on down to dutch. he basically only likes rice, fried chicken, egg noodles, french fries… and that’s about it. maybe a hot dog here and there. sometimes he’ll eat broccoli or spinach. but not often enough. oh, and eggs. he really, really likes eggs.
he has pulled me out of my sleep at 2 a.m. with a “mama, i wan’ eggs…” request.
dutch also likes to chew on bacon like it’s some kind of tobacco. he forms one huge ball of it in his mouth and then carries it around in his mouth and sucks on it. he’ll eventually spit the mass out wherever he sees fit at the time, but that’s another story for another day.