Vacuums and .... that's...it...

Once upon a time, Mike and I got married. It was quite the eventful day, to say the least.

Anyway, it took me nearly a month to convince Mike I needed a vacuum, any vacuum- since I was naive at the time and thought all vacuums worked (silly me).

Today, I was vacuuming with that dust collector 50-dollar-special dirt devil ("Dust you can SEE"), and it decided to spout out... uh... stuff. Usually, and correct me if I'm wrong, vacuums pick up stuff, not spit it out. And this is the second time this week. The bag was new, the belt was fine, I decided it was time for Mr. Dirt Collector to be on it's way to the garbage (or craigslist- Mike could very well live by "once a salesman, always a salesman" and before our crap goes to the garbage, it is always tested on craigslist. Some arguments are just not worth fighting. ( you know, the argument that "if it doesn't work, dear, why would we sell it?") I suppose $5 would buy a happy meal, after all.)

SO! La-la-la! Mike came home to me nearly in tears over a horrible vacuum, and I pulled out my puppy-dog eyes and said in my sweetest voice, "honey, can we buy a vacuum?" he didn't even flinch. (which is saying something, because lately certain fabric stores have been calling to me.... I have more "christmas projects" (code name for "fancy excuses to buy things") than carter has pills.)

After the vacuum store by our house and home depot's pathetic selection. We got hungry, and got lucky with a nice waiter who gave us 4 loafs of bread. He got a nice tip. And Mitchell drank out of a straw for the first time, and ate some fries. Which was nice, because the last 3 times I've even offered him fries he's stuck his nose up at me. (not that fries should be forced by parental figures, but this child of mine turned his nose up at french cream puffs for crying out loud. Victories are celebrated when he eats 3 kernels of corn. I don't understand why he's so picky.)

Then we wandered over to Sears, who had a much better selection. I found I know absolutely nothing about decent vacuums, other than Electrolux's must be nice since my mom has had hers since I was 5.

We talked to a lady who has been selling vacuum's for 30 years. She let us vacuum all their rugs, and we found a nice Hoover for a decent price, and I tried my hardest not to shed pure tears of joy.

"Ooooohhh....Aaaahhh"

We got home and put it together. I vacuumed for a good hour. My new vacuum has these nice lights. One is green and one is red. The red light turns on when the floor is dirty, and green is for clean. I was not surprised at all that it took almost an hour for my living room to earn the green light I so desperately seeked. (The picture, unfortuantly, is of the red light, obviously) The carpet feels soft and nice, and like...carpet, a nice upgrade to the dirty sand paper I've been walking on for the past 3 months. Seriously, you can see the difference. It is wonderful. Perhaps the best perk of all, though, is that Mitchell isn't scared of it! Yay! It's much quieter than the last. And it's blue. Blue is a lot less demonic than red. Oh and it comes with that nice angle thing so I also finally edged my carpet. And it looks like I did edge my carpet. And a brush too, so I vacuumed the couch. Heck, I even vacuumed Mike.

Anyway, I feel a little strange that this is the most exciting thing that has happened in the last 3 weeks, but whatever.

Mitchell is growing like a weed, has a full set of teeth, and could live off ice and peanut butter sans jelly sandwiches. But that's only because I forgot to pick up some jelly. Sometimes I worry about the level of variety, or lack of, but then I hear him scream, and suddenly, I realize he is still very much alive, and that is a miracle, since he still has no sense of the edge, and has walked off (without even flinching) so many things this week (bed, couch, steps). When I say walk, please realize he never runs, only sprints. He is the miracle of life.

Also, I've successfully taught him to blow kisses. He he he. So he kisses everything from the mouse in his strawberry book, to his reflection in the mirror, to my elbow. It's quite nice, actually. Much better than the slapping-mom-in-the-face stage, or the trying-to-feel-mom's-eyeball stage.

And, nursery's successfully taught him to give dirty looks, shake his head "no", and bite. Though, he's only bit me a handful of times, thankfully.

He likes to scream "Dada!!!" at the top of his lungs while reaching for Mike's photo. Lucky for you, I caught a picture of that.

Also, we (Mike and I.... AHHHHH) buzzed his hair. heh. It looks....nice. Also, I buzzed Mikes. And tried not to laugh at it afterwords.

Haha. He's still so cute though, don't you think?