The Epic Appliance Circle of Hell

We had an oven fire on July 12th. With a 1 day old oven. Let me explain our summer of appliance hell.

Our old oven that came with our condo stopped baking a few weeks before, and when we did the math it seemed like getting a new one was a better value than paying hundreds of dollars for a service call for the old one. So we called a locally owned appliance store with a sterling reputation, and it was delivered and installed expeditiously. Sears should take notes-because by the time July 12th rolled around we had two dishwashers (yeah, the dishwasher had up and died in May) we had bought from them-all backordered, finally delivered, and then they died-either they never worked or died within days. The third one was a charm. Well, it seemed to be by July 12th, anyway.

So, we had our oven for approximately 22 hours when I decided to bake the kids some chicken nuggets for dinner. I preheated the oven to 350 as directed, as I had a million times before. Except this time, it started to smoke as it approached 350 degrees. In fact, smoke started pouring out and my sad, weak ventilation fan did nothing. The smoke smelled toxic. I told the kids to get out of the house. I turned off the oven and called Sean (who worked in the basement) and told him I thought the oven was in fire. He ran up the stairs and told me to get out. The smoke was dense and thick and I grabbed the cat and got out. He had brought out a one way fan and blew the smoke into the back yard, but the damage was done-there was soot all over the house and the smell of burnt plastic and chemicals was nauseating. I made Sean wear my respirator because no one should be breathing that.

When it was all said and done, the culprit of our fire were rubber-handled grilling utensils Sean put in the bottom drawer out of habit. Except in THIS stove, the bottom drawer was a broiler, not a storage drawer. Even though the broiler wasn't on, it got hot enough to ignite our rubber utensils. Sean and I both earned a Darwin Award that day-him for putting the utensils in there in the first place, and me for believing the salesman who told me that we could store stuff in it. I called their customer service department and told them what happened and they said "fire" (and I assume, "stupidity") is not part of the warranty.

Anyway, instead of having Gillian's friend over for dinner, the girls and I spent the night at her friend's house. This is important because it illustrates that no one is an orphan in Rogers Park (and man, do I adore our community of neighbors). I called our insurance company next to see if "stupidity" was a covered benefit, and indeed it was. I was so grateful I nearly wept because our house was a disaster. But I started getting an inkling of what was in store when they told me the professional cleaning and decon team would be at our place at 7:30 the next morning. I was giddy at the idea that not only would our stove be covered to replace, but the whole house would get cleaned! And we could stay in a hotel for the duration of the cleaning-which, amazingly, was four solid days. Booking a nearby hotel proved to be a challenge-there was nothing with a kitchenette or separate bedroom available anywhere...so we got to shack up in one room (the kids did not go to bed before 11 pm any of the nights we were there). But before that, when we arrive at the hotel they told us we didn't have a room (thank God for printed receipts) and after over an hour at the desk, the rate I was given over the phone was not honored, which equals another 30 minutes if irritation. We had no toys, a little food we tried to keep on ice, and not much clothing. Luckily we were near the gym where the kids take swim class, and could go swimming. Also, on Saturday we had arranged to spend the next day at a friends place going to a kids concert and generally hanging out.

At some point the insurance company told us they would cover all the food losses and anything destroyed in the oven. I was to inventory everything in the cabinets. I made a Type A spreadsheet and threw lots of things away. They also decided to cover the microwave, and eventually the refrigerator (both had so much soot in them that it was more expensive to clean them than replace them). They also covered the window units, which had stopped working after getting gunked up. After the cleaning crew came and went, we went home. The house had definitely never been so absolutely spotless. My online claim told me that USAA had paid $8,000 for my house to be spotless. At some point, a professional dry cleaning came and took all our curtains for professional cleaning to get the soot off.

The kids had a doctors appointment on Thursday. We came home to a strong plastic burning smell and I noticed that the faceplate where the industrial air cleaner had been plugged in was melting and turning black. I freaked and we turned off all the breakers and called an electrician. Within a couple of hours someone got our here and took care of it, but told me he didn't think that fix was permanent or safe, and that it was a systemic issue-which he linked to our oven fire "surge" (which I wasn't surge was true or not, but he seemed very interested in making it part of the claim). Generally, our crappy wiring was a fire hazard. The electrician said he thought we should redistribute the electrical because most of the condo was on 3 circuits. Some of the wiring looked like it was 50 years old or more. He said it was a tinder box waiting to go up. USAA said he needed to do work that was to code and in order to bring the condo up to code he was authorized to redistribute the lines, which he estimated would cost $1600. So, a crew of two men who didn't speak English worked on the electrical for two solid days. Then they billed us $6800-which was a LOT more than they estimated. The electrician blew it off and said they ran into more than they bargained for in the walls. USAA didn't sound alarmed. At 6:30 the next morning our neighbor downstairs (who had a 2 day old baby) knocked on our door and told us water was pouring out of his ceiling. I had officially had enough and this was the last straw. Our dishwasher line had become electrified and the holes resulted in an enormous amount of water going into the walls and ceiling below us. Our overpriced electrical job had made things even worse. And to top it off the damned dishwasher had died. For the third time in two months.

So, I called USAA and the electrician in a panic, and they came back out. USAA again told him to fix the issue, which he determined was a grounding problem. They worked two more days and billed us $5,000 more. Our $1600 job turned into a nearly $12,000 job. I was furious. USAA routed our claim to the fraud department and threatened not to pay since the electrician didn't get preauthorization for the work-anything past the $1600. I called the electrician and told him to call USAA or I would put a stop payment on our Visa and he wouldn't get a dime. He called them, they relented, and decided to pay. It was a screaming nightmare. And they left spackled holes all over our house. USAA said they would pay to paint the house, so I went with a really respected painting company. By the time the house got painted, it was September. The haggling, the house being in shambles, the lack of normalcy, the delivery of two refrigerators (yes, one of them didn't work for us either), two more dishwashers (even the one they delivered after the ceiling incident for the neighbors was a dud-that made four dead dishwashers from Sears), the stress of not getting reimbursed for all the work, but finally getting reimbursed, the haggling with contractors who did more damage even while they repaired things (like the wall damage from when they moved appliances to clean the walls), electrical, and painting, and endless negotiation took 11 weeks. And then we got to deal with being stiffed by Sears who had reimbursed us for one dishwasher and charged us for four more. I spent many hours on the phone and finally spoke with the store manager. She had the money back in our account within 24 hours.

So, by mid-September the house was finished. New electrical, new paint, new appliances, clean (only after Sean and I scrubbed everything after the drywall patching and sanding, which unfortunately happened after the professional cleaners came and went). The relief was palpable. And that is the story of our anything-but-simple oven fire.

Happy Birthday to My Gillian

My beautiful girl:

Today is your birthday. Again. Every year I am in awe of how short the spaces are between the days we celebrate your crazy entrance into this world. How you are growing up too fast, and how I wish I could slow it down long enough to savor these sweet days more. This year I am going to promise you something: I am going to slow down. I am going to let things go so I can savor these moments more-the things that ultimately don't make a bit of difference in the grand scheme of things...Nothing matters to me as much as you and Addie, and nothing anyone has to say could possibly have to say is as important as what you have to say.

I am telling you this because it's a hard lesson. You see, adults are a little foolish sometimes. Sometimes we try to control things, and we can get wrapped up in stuff that isn't nearly as important as just BEING while you are over there growing up at the speed of light...and find ourselves remiss at threading ourselves through that. These are the years where you WANT us to be wound up in you, and you want to be wound up in us. I try to always stop when you need me to stop and BE with you. I try. For what it's worth-I see you, and I love you all the way through. Just last night I asked Papa to let you stay just a little while longer in our bed so I could watch you sleep, and so I could breathe with you and fall asleep etching your angel face into my mind for later. Some moments when I watch you, I am still amazed that you were given to me to guide and protect-I am humbled by that responsibility.

Right now, you are like light-a prism of color, and joy, and imagination. Your favorite gift was a pair of butterfly wings you could lace around your upper arms and pointer finger that flutter when you flit around the house, light as a leaf.  You are an artist and are creative and intuitive. You are becoming quite a fine musician with the hard work of Papa every night with your violin. You are doing well with piano too, but the practices aren't as structured as at the Music Institute, so I think you violin skills will surpass piano before too long. I may even take piano lessons so I can help you better.

You have stubbornly NOT learned to read, and I have let that go. But you will catch up and run past kindergarten in no time with that. And oh, I imagine that the library will be a place of wonderment for you when you realize each of those books will come to life when you open it up-a private joy of your own. You decided in the past few months that pants and jeans are tolerable, and sometimes you even prefer them. This is huge because you would have rather eaten rocks than put on a pair of pants before that. You sat down and wrote your alphabet, upper and lower case, and wrote your numbers to 50 until I told you that you were probably ok with the homework assignment to write the alphabet in capital letters and write your numbers to 10. You love to make people proud-you aren't showing off, you just love to please people (this is a misconception people had about me at your age). You have lots of friends, and have become so easy going in social situations. You make new friends easily, and have taken to your new classroom full of new friends like a fish to water. I like seeing you manage so well. Makes me feel like we are doing something right.

You are tolerant, and I feel like we have prepared you well to be kind to others, and to try to stand in non-judgement of their choices (except smoking, but I understand why you can't get behind that). For example, the other night we were playing the Game of Life and Addie was the first to get to marriage and you asked her "do you want to marry a boy or a girl". I was so proud of you. And of your world view that love is love, and people build lives with those they love. And it was a no-brainer that people who love eachother should get married, regardless. I teared up, honestly, because while this may be the world you know as you grow up, it was not always that way. But you know that right is right, and you are fair and honest.

So, happy birthday, my sweet girl. You are SIX years old. SIX!!! We love you, so much. We are proud of the person you are and the person you are becoming.

Love, Mama

A Letter to Mrs. Woods

Addie had a note in her backpack with an update about her class and what was going on, and what they were learning. The teacher asked us to write them a letter from the child about the child. This is Addie's letter:

Dear Mrs. Wood and Mrs. Korni:

Hi, I’m Addie. You probably know that already, but just thought I’d introduce myself and tell you a little about me. I have a mama and a papa, a sister named Gillian (who is Nearly Six), a cat named Booger, and a hamster named Brownie. We live in a condo in Rogers Park near the Beach, Park, and lots of playgrounds (they’re my favorite!). I am playful and mischievous, and probably never stop talking from the second I get up to the second I finally get tired of trying to get out of bedtime and crash mid-sentence. Mama is pretty sure I’m going to give her a heart attack before I’m 10 because I have lots of courage and no sense of caution (case in point: Stitches in my mouth Easter Sunday because I fell at my beloved playground-at least we did our Easter Egg hunt pictures and Easter Mass beforehand). I am very different than Gillian, who was in Mrs. Woods’ class for two years. I am not as bossy, more independent, and less reasonable. I am equally as precocious, pigheaded, stubborn, and creative. My favorite things in the world are: animals (particularly doggies and horses, but our hamster Brownie is pretty fantastic), snuggle time with Mama, singing about the injustices of the world (example refrain, “I don’t wanna eat my bro-co-leeeee; no-no-no-no-no!!!!!!!”), playing at the playground with friends (though I am happy to play alone for hours), and playing Starfall on the computer (great learning website by the way-but you probably already know that: http://www.starfall.com).  Things I don’t like to do: eat (I like about 10 food items, and mama tries, unsuccessfully, all the time to get me to try new things, plus, I’m way too busy), get my teeth and hair brushed (especially my crazy hair), and get up for school in the morning. I could care less about girly things, though I like Gillian’s Barbies more than she does (you will find me as the one acting like a dog in a playdate sea of princesses, for example). I am very physical, very talkative, and love to play pretend with my animals, Polly Pockets, and Barbies.

I am also very sensitive, and crumble immediately when both parents show disappointment or chastise me for something (this manifests itself with a weird, fake laugh while my eyes fill with tears). I like to zoom in for a hug and quick affection every now and then before getting back to the business of being me-playful, silly, and focused on the things I am interested in. Please be patient with me if I’m belligerent-it’s in my DNA. My security rests in routine, like all kids, and knowing I am loved (also like all kids) so firm, but lovingly enforced boundaries (and a hug every now and then) work best for me.

I left the care of a nanny I have had since I was born the Friday before school started (that Haukie shared with me), so we are both having a hard time acclimating, though we are doing better this week. You probably notice that we’re besties and are attached at the hip-we have always gotten along beautifully, and have known eachother since we were 13 months old. Our mamas thought a familiar face in the class would make this easier on us since we’re such young preschoolers.

Thanks ahead of time for all the love and all the patience.

Love,

Adelaide

Off we go, into the wild blue yonder

The girls-both of them-started school this week. Gillian in Kindergarten and Addie in pre-K. To say it was rough going is an understatement. To say I question every day whether or not Addie should be starting such long days (8a-5p) is also an understatement.

We talked things up to Addie and she did great Monday and Tuesday-it took her until Wednesday to join in the Chorus of Wailing at drop off. They had to pull her off of us Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday. It feels inherently wrong to let that be how the morning starts for everyone, but I know she has to get used to a new situation. The girls are at aftercare for two hours after school three days a week, together (PreK and K are in the same part of the school), which is awesome. Tuesdays they have piano and Wednesdays I pick them up, so no aftercare. We're trying to have a balance, at least.

On the first day, Gillian looked so grown up in her uniform. She looked a little nervous, but was brave and filed into class with her teachers. Her teacher is a favorite among parents and kids I have met who are older, and was the one who conducted her assessment in 2011 for kindergarten readiness. This makes me happy because: 1) She is a child development specialist; and 2) If Gillian is a pain (because she's a HUGE know-it-all), then the teacher should have to deal with that because she's the one who suggested Gillian wasn't socially quite ready to start kindergarten last year. For example, at orientation, the teacher read the book The Kissing Hand and got to the part where Chester goes to school. At that part of the book the little animals are heading to a big oak tree for class and it was nighttime (because he's a raccoon) and she said "some animals are awake at night and sleep during the day". To this Gillian chimed in "yes, because Chester is NOCTURNAL". Good luck, lady.

Addie, on the first day, thought this was pretty cool. She thought her doggie backpack was cool, that she was pretty awesome for being *So.Big*, and that she could go with Gillian to school. She couldn't even be bothered to turn around and give me a kiss as she hurried in the door. By Day 3, the novelty had worn off, and it occurred to her that this wasn't just a fun activity-it was THE NEW ROUTINE. Every Day. Plus, everyone else was a crying mess, so that must be the thing to do. Maybe it was because I was the one that took her. Who knows. It just wasn't good. One redeeming thing about the whole setup is that the child we shared Anna's care with is in her class (his mom and I requested that) so they have each other as familiar faces in a sea of Newness. This week, she cried the first two days, but not the last two. Maybe she's getting to be ok with this whole school thing now.

As for me-well, I have been taking Wednesdays off since Gillian was born (to try to minimize the number of days we went without nursing all day), and work 4 days that, with commute (including morning exercise), are 12.5 hours start to finish. I know it seems silly, but I am so excited about what I will do with those 8 hours between dropping the girls off and picking them up on Wednesdays. I'll be able to do school activities with the kids without taking annual leave, I'll be able to blog more, to do art more, to pick up music again... I am finally rebounding from using all my annual leave when Addie was born. Not going into a whole other topic, I can't imagine us starting over again with a baby. We have gotten to a logistically and financially easier place (the nanny cost way more than the private school tuition), and we all get to sleep through the night. That is heaven.

So, my babies aren't babies anymore. Which makes me want to weep and do a happy dance at the same time. I wouldn't change a thing-life is settling down (read-the house is no longer in disaster cleanup mode) after a Very Eventful Summer (and by eventful, I mean very disruptive, which is another post). We have a nice routine these days, and it will get nicer the more worn in it gets.