Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Why I'll Never Be a Good Japanese Mom # I'velostcount

An essay, in pictures:

How many insanely small droppers full of tonkatsu sauce does it take to fill one of these ridiculously miniature truck-shaped holders? I don't know. But, the guantlet, it has been thrown, so I'm about to find out.

The answer is 12. Twelve droppers full. I'm pretty sure that if I was a Japanese mom, each drop would contain a little piece of my heart and overflow with love for my children. But, love? Love was not what I had in my heart when I undertook this particular exercise. #whyi'mabadjapanesemom

Goodbye little truck. May you inadvertently be disposed of with the trash.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

How to Refill a Bean Bag Chair

Don't.






No, seriously, just buy a new one.







What? That wasn't enough how-to advice for you? Do you mean you clicked on the link because you actually though I could help you with this?!?  

In the interest of full disclosure, I present exhibit A:

See the "beans" making their way up the wall?

This is what happened the FIRST time we tried filling our bean bags. Did you know about this? You open the bag of filling and the beans come to life. They spread out all over the carpet; they climb the wall; they stick to every crevice of your body. Sometimes they even float in mid-air, centimeters away from your fingers, propelled by static electricity.

Pro-tip #1: Don't just throw open the bag. Contain, contain, contain.
Pro-tip #2: If you find yourself surrounded on all sides by rogue styrofoam beans, a Japanese fan (Exhibit B) used with short, rapid strokes, is the only conceivable way to to gather them back together again. 
Exhibit B: Kitty-chan fans are perfect for gathering beans.
This all started--as these things usually do--with Ren's desire to cut costs. We're a five-bean-bag type of family, and excessive use by grown-ups (hem hem) had left us with some depressingly flat bean bag chairs.

After haphazardly looking for filling in town, I decided my best bet was to shop online. The bag(s) (Yes, I bought more than one) were each 100 liters. In case you're wondering (because I was before they showed up on our front step in three large boxes), a 100 liter bag of filling is slightly bigger than Stow and but not quite as tall as Pink.


Ever wonder what 100 liters of bean bag beans look like? Now you know.


Once the huge bags of beans arrived, I did what any half-way sane parent would do; I decided we should never ever open them. (I envisioned 300 liters of styrofoam beans spread throughout the house.) Instead, I put the bags of beans into our walk-in closet. And for several days, neither Ren nor I could find anything to wear because the bean bag beans took up the entire space. 

That's when Ren, bless his heart,***decided he would just fill the chairs himself. Photographic evidence of the results of his one-man efforts are above.

It took him two hours to figure out how to contain the beans and get them into the chairs. In the fourth hour, I decided it was time to help (because by then, the kids were in bed). When I got there, I found the most bloated toddler chair on the planet.



Despite my best effort, I couldn't convince Ren that none of the chairs needed as many beans as he thought they did. So, we ended up with chairs that look like these:



My favorite, though, is this one: 



We're now the proud owners of the biggest darn fugu (blowfish) on the planet. It's so full of beans, that it's impossible to sit on. In fact, it seems that the only thing the bean bag is good for now is rolling down the steps (at least, Stow thinks so), and we ALL know how that's going to end. 


** And, by 'bless his heart," I mean "sucker."


Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Midweek Diversion (Trust Me, You'll Like the First One)

I've started to suspect the children's bulletins at church are for my entertainment more than anything else. 

Minus the exploding airplane and the giant robot arm (deus ex machina, literally), this looks exactly like our church.

And, here are a few more shots from the Star Wars series...




Who knew one of these guys could look so wistful?