The security corn bag

The past few days have brought some stress and challenges. And some cheap, sweet-smelling security.

Saturday, we celebrated the kid's birthday. He's 5 now. Family filled the house. Thankfully, the weather was absolutely cooperative and wonderful; kids ran and played outside, adults sat on dusty-but-functional lawn chairs, and far too much sugar was consumed with glee.

And then. Just a day later, my kid got sick. One of those horrible, throw-up sicknesses that bring you out of a lovely, dreamy sleep in the wee hours of the morn. You're awakened by a cough, the wet awful cough that precedes the expulsion, and...well, you get the idea. I am really glad he waited until after his birthday. I am so very thankful for the beautiful weather. And yet—we still have a pukey kid on our hands here.

Perhaps I did not mention that last week, whilst I spoke on the phone and multi-tasked by also making dinner—at 10:30 am, mind you, because I work in the afternoons—did I mention that I pulled a muscle in my neck? And that it is still aching? That driving, merging, even turning to talk to someone on my side, all those innocent activities send stabbing pains down the side of my head-stem? Perhaps I forgot to mention that?

Not to complain, mind you—I am really trying to be thankful. The great weather. The happy birthday. The fact that sickness held off and my days of preparation were not in vain. (Those preparations have been in vain, several times in the past. It has been quite sad.)

Anyway. Many years ago, when I had a personal life and spending money and used to visit the Strip District regularly, I purchased a wonderful thing. It was a heating pad of sorts, a simple cloth bag that a woman had hand-sewn and filled with dried corn. Todd and I have lovingly referred to it as the corn bag for all this time. When microwaved to toastiness, it has seen me through sore muscles, cramps, back pains, and the like. It has served both of us well.

So, when my neck continued to ache, I searched far and wide for the corn bag. I knew I would never have thrown it away, yet I couldn't find it. I looked, and looked again. At last, I uncovered the thing in my closet, in a spot I hadn't thought to search. I threw the bag in the microwave (the same microwave which is beginning not to work—did I mention that? not that I'm complaining) and the bag warmed to the perfect temperature.

I went to the microwave, pulled out this little miracle satchel that smelled so richly of popcorn, and took the fabulously aromatic bag of goodness to the living room. I placed it behind my head, leaned my aching neck upon it, breathed in the luxurious smell of warm corn. Ahhhhhhhh.

And my sick son watched. He wanted to know what the bag was. He wanted to feel it, to squish the kernels between his little fingers. Then he wanted to put the thing under his feet, which he told me were cold.

Okay. I am a mom. This is my flu-stricken child, asking for the corn bag. He put it under his little toes and nestled them down into the pleasing warmth. He smiled at me, the first smile I'd seen all day. Then he hugged the bag to his chest.

Today, as I forced myself to dress for work, to leave my little sick boy, I heated the corn bag one last time for his enjoyment. He tucked the fragrant warmth under him as I left for work. I didn't want to go, it's true. But if I must, and I must, then I am happy he has the corn bag to clutch in my absence. His dad will be there to re-heat it as needed.

It's not me. But it's a heavy, warm thing to hold close when he needs that comfort. A worthy investment, if you ask me.

Just buy it, already

Okay, so I should have called this site “malmoirs” because of all the maladies I’ve suffered since I began writing things here. But I didn’t. Aren’t you glad you can’t catch my germs over the internet? It has its own bugs—but none that you’ll contract from me.

So, this will be short since I’m only now beginning to feel remotely like myself.

Here are three inexpensive purchases that we should have made a loooooong time ago. I can’t even tell you why we didn’t. We just didn’t. And then we did. And now we are reaping the rewards exponentially.

• Kerosene heater. Every time the temperature dipped near freezing and strong winds or weird storm fronts came through, my heart would pitter-patter in a bad way, because in the back of my head was the realization that if the power went out for any length of time, we’d be forced from our home like refugees. I didn’t think about it until the dire forecasts were looming, and there I’d be shopping for milk and bread and toilet paper like all the other freaks who buy those things before a storm, and I’d be picturing us packing our important possessions and searching for a place to stay until the stupid electricity came on.

Enter craigslist, again. What a great thing that site is. I looked on it for a small kerosene heater, found a few, shared my great idea that we acquire one with Todd, and within two days we had one sitting in our basement, warming the place like a champ. $35.00. The couple selling it had no need (moving to AZ) and now it’s ours. They even threw in some kerosene. And why did this take us several years? Who knows.

• Extra garbage can. There we’d be, week after week, setting the garbage out and being forced to balance the extra bag on top of the stuffed garbage can, or worse, swapping out a bag or two from inside the can so that the smelliest food-filled bag would be safely encased, hidden from curious critters who rip the bag open and strew nastiness in their wake. And then, one week, we made it a priority; Todd picked another one up at the store and, lo and behold, we had enough room for all our crap to fit safely inside one of the locked containers. We’ve actually had this item for a few months; it’s just that I’m reminded what a good purchase it was every Thursday night when I’m getting the stuff together for that week’s trash pickup.

• Pencil sharpener. Todd has an awesome, huge box of colored pencils left over from his time as an art student at AIP. I’m a stamper—we try to make our own greeting cards, Christmas cards, and nametags and such—so I’ve pretty much taken possession of the box of pencils. But here’s the stupid thing: I’ve used them for years now, and when one of them would wear down to a nub, I’d whine and Todd would sharpen it with a pocket knife. Is that pathetic or what? So, finally, at a craft store last week, I made a point of finding a small, $2 pencil sharpener—one of those tiny metal ones that are just a silver square with two different sized holes—and buying the darned thing.

I cannot tell you the satisfaction I found later that day, sharpening one dull-tipped, bright-colored pencil after another. It really hit the spot. Of course, Marcus was using them too, and as fast as I could sharpen them, he wore them down with frantic scribbling. But I truly didn’t mind. At least not until my hand reformed into a permanent claw from overusing the sharpener...

So, that’s my story. Inexpensive but life-altering purchases that should have been made long before they were. Do you have any to share? Save me the wasted years and tell me what you took too long to buy.