Broke(n)

Over the course of the year, I've really struggled with things not functioning properly or breaking, and learning to live with that. Examples:

• Our "new" roof leaking everytime it rained, and subsequently ruining the ceiling that took Kevin quite a while to seal and repair everytime we were assured that the ceiling was fixed.
• Our main bathroom has been out of commission for nearly a year. This initially "quick" project yielded rotten joists and it's own share of mystery leaks (and subsequent siding repairs). I've been bathing the kids in the spare bathroom (which is next in line for a remo) shower. Kids + shower = misery.
• Mystery loud rattle in Volvo worthy of a Car Talk impersonation. Coupled with the falling fabric ceiling and the "new" stapled-down interior leather, this car brings me way down.
• Random cosmetic swipe on the Toyota by a well-meaning but hysterical student.
• Recent Driver's Side mirror smashing by another driver down Oak Street on same car.

And Kevin and I are officially at Ground Zero. His recent fender bender in the Volvo (same crap car from bullet number 3) brought our savings down to $100. This, from our pre-K savings account of $20,000. Between paying down our debt, increased cost of living (including homeowners insurance), income vs. expenses, and childcare for two (with a generous discount) this is where we find ourselves in 2008.

And so, when Elliot Pulled Down the Shower Hose in the Crappy Shower, it had all the pyschological makings of a Complete Crash and Burn on my part. But what could I do? My two naked kids were soapy and wet and cute. The shower was shooting a high-pressure stream reminiscint of the National Park Service's facilities at Big Bend (Erin) that I described as " a thousand poison darts being shot at one time." So I ran to the kitchen and got a pitcher, which instituted Bucket Baths. This novelty brought lots of giggles and praise from Ana that I couldn't be too woe-is-me about it all. And since then, I can't help but think about Honduras.

As I child, until about age 16, I spent my summers in Honduras at my Tia Maria Teresa's house. Her grandchild was a year or two older, so the built-in playmate in my cousin Lupe was really all I needed for a wonderful summer. But I remember my tia's bathroom with almost the same fondness of hiding under the mango trees with Lupe. Her bathroom was the size of our kids' rooms put together, and the shower could have easily fit 10 people. I remember the vanity with the round mirror and the cold face cream (Nivea) ever present. I remember loving that there was furniture in there...a table and a couple of chairs. And in this cold and opulent (to me) setting, I remember enjoying the two plastic garbage bins in the shower full of water. The "muchachas" would fill one with warm water before bathtime, and I used to love filling bowls with water and pouring them over me, as I sampled the many St. Ives products that lined the high tile walls. The feeling was quite decadent, even without running water.

And so, in our broke(n) state over here, I'm remember that the challenge of being broke is to find more creative ways to have a wonderful life. And that's where we are right now.

So you'll have to excuse me. After I figure out how to repurpose my costume trunk into a Mardi Gras, I've got to take a shower.