The Born Loser

I have been thinking about looking into making a reality TV show about our life, or my life, specifically. I think I would call it "The Born Loser." It would cover all the dumb decisions I make that flop, and then I wouldn't have to blog about them. Okay, yes, this is a bit of a pity party, but wait 'til you see the list.

1. The Honeymoon: Eric told me he could get married and attend a honeymoon during the span of one week in July in 2005 (he was taking on-line classes for his master's degree; it wasn't that he was being a jerk). So, I scheduled our tiny wedding and made the plans for our honeymoon. We are woodsy people, so I decided we would go even further "up north" (since we live in the place most people refer to as "up north"). This may seem hard to imagine now, but there wasn't a lot one could do on-line then. So, I used a yahoo search and found what I thought was an adorable cabin on a small lake, which would include the use of a rowboat, bicycles, kayaks, and provided breakfast. There was a lake view out what I thought was the front window, and it looked perfect. So, we drove to Munising, MI in the dark after our wedding... And found out that we were staying above someone's garage. And the "lake" (pond) view was out the side where the steps were coming up. And no person in his/her right mind would use the rowboat or the bicycles or the kayaks because the pond/lake was nasty and the black flies were so horrid they would have carried us away. Operation Honeymoon: fail.

2. The Dollhouse: For Christmas when Emma was in kindergarten, I decided we should get her an elaborate dollhouse. Again, I used the then-limited internet, and found a beautiful, three story, spiral staircased, gingerbread gabled dollhouse. On-line, it was exquisite. In real life, it had about forty parts. On Christmas Eve, Eric and I read and reread and reread the directions, and finally figured the bugger out. We covered it in paper and hid it in our bedroom, so we could slide it out as the finishing touch on a perfect Christmas. Later that day, we would go to Saginaw, where Eric's family had purchased furniture for the dollhouse as Emma's gifts. It would be perfect. So, we had opened stockings, eaten breakfast, opened all our gifts and then, finally, slid out the giant present. "Huuuuuuh," Emma gasped, "a shelf for my nutcrackers!" My stomach hit the dirt. When she opened it, bless her five-year-old heart, Em tried to feign interest. In reality, she never once liked that $150 thing. It clogged up a whole wall of her bedroom and then sat in our basement for years, collecting dust and hoping some child would come along who actually liked dolls. Sometimes Becca plays with it now, but it was never the fabulous, hours of enjoyment I'd hoped it would be. Operation dollhouse: fail.

3. The Swingset: Poor Emma has been the recipient of more than one of my own, personal childhood dreams (see "The Dollhouse"). When she turned six, we had recently purchased a new home with a huge yard, which had the world's greatest spot for a swingset. So, I begged and pleaded and pouted and we ordered the swingset. What should have taken a few hours took my dad, Eric and me several weekends to construct. When we were done, there was a gorgeous wooden swingset with a single swing, a slide, a double swing, a "fort" and a sandbox. It was wonderful. Emma hated it. Again, we have photos of her perched atop the slide with that same teeth-gritted "smile" that she wore when she unwrapped her dollhouse. She dutifully went in the swings two or three times, and then the poor thing slowly rotted as it waited for someone to come play. This time, it was about $500, and I still had not learned my lesson. The best laid plans of Laura Hall do not turn out. Operation Swingset: fail.

4. The Scy-Phone: This one was just dumb from the beginning. If you don't know about my cheapness, you don't know me. It is legendary. I will hunt for the deal, nevermind the "quality". If I think I can get it cheaper, look out. So, I wanted to be able to send photos and videos via text. But, I didn't want (and neither did Eric) to sign up for an iPhone. This was before everyone and their 11-year-old child had one. So, I started researching phones on Amazon with cameras that could film video. It wasn't before Amazon, but it was before every phone had a camera. I found this great deal. Seriously, I don't learn my lesson on stuff. It was called a Scy-Phone, and came from (please don't tell my grandmother, may she rest in peace) China. Yes, I said China. So, um, when it came...it was all in Chinese. And the games were like iPhone games, but Chinese (think of candy crush with sushi). And it worked for abooooooouuuuuut... three days. Okay, maybe three weeks. Then, it just... didn't. Believe it or not, I was genuinely shocked. I couldn't understand why a phone from China that cost one-fifteenth the price of a real iPhone might be a piece of crap. Operation Video Camera Phone: fail.

5. The Rock Speakers: This one was going to be great. I mean really, really great. Eric always thinks of fantastic presents that people don't even know they want until they open them. I always try to find something good, but usually end up with socks and underwear. But this time, this time, the present was going to be great. For only about $150, I ordered two outdoor, wireless, weatherproof speakers which would look like rocks. Eric could put them outside by the patio or near the deck, put his iPhone on the holder in the house, and enjoy music outside!! Yay! When he opened them, I think Eric actually was pleased. He read the materials, charged the speakers, put them outside, and looked forward to using them. Except, they sucked. They wouldn't hold a charge. And they would stop playing for no reason. And they weren't really weatherproof. Eric even contacted the company and had them send out new ones. Nope, they still sucked. So, now we have two fake rocks sitting on the desk in Eric's office. Almost like they're sticking their rock tongues out at me. Rock Speakers: fail.

6. The Lockers: By now, you're starting to think I'm making this stuff up, but it's real. Ask my family, they're here for all of it. Speaking of my family, number six was for them. Our house is huge and beautiful, but does not have a good area for boots and shoes and backpacks and coats and mittens and gloves... especially for five people, three of whom are CHILDREN. We tried hooks and baskets and other ideas in the house, but we really needed lockers. Every few months or so, I would rip a page out of a magazine and say to Eric, "What do you think of these?" He would nod, but I think he knew I know absolutely zippo about building, so he was not concerned. Well, one day, I jumped. My parents had taken the kids for the night (we were supposed to be spending a relaxing night at their cabin on the river) and I said, "Let's go buy those big locker things I saw at Lowe's." Eric and I spent the next Lord Knows How Many hours putting together these white laminate closets. We didn't put the doors on, and we installed rods in two spots. When we were done, there were four "lockers" in our garage. Yay, right? Wrong. The Littles couldn't use hangers, so they would just toss their coats on the ground in front of their lockers. Somehow, it was always too hard for everybody to put their shoes in their lockers, so the shoes would all end up in a pile in front of the steps (adjacent to the pile of coats). And the mice. Did I mention the lockers are in the garage? Yes, the garage. So, wild animals like mice and chipmunks greatly appreciate the toasty pockets and nesty shoe holes. We have all put on a pair of shoes or boots only to whip them off and pour out acorns, sunflower seeds, and tiny turds. Also, any type of fleece is seen as something to chew and then use as fluff in their nests, so my elegant, red Land's End coat now has a "rippled" bottom (half-chewed). Lockers: fail.

7. The Toys: I have tried many different strategies here, and have yet to not fail. When we first bought the house, we made a room downstairs the "playroom". Emma was afraid to go down and use it. Then, I used those cute fabric baskets to hold everyone's toys, with little labels on them. Nope. I took all the clothes out of the closet and put garage-type racks inside the closet with containers for each type of toy (Ninja Turtles, puzzles, babies, etc.). Nope. They never played with them. I put the dressers inside the closet and moved the toys/racks out into their bedrooms, so they could SEE all their toys. They just took everything out and never put it away. I installed wire racks in the closet and put all of their toys in clear bins so they could see what was inside the bins. They stack the bins outside the closet and don't put them on the shelves. I'm thinking trash bag is my next step. Organize Toys: fail.

8. The Shoe Rack: At least this one was cheap. I got sick of the shoes, so I went out and bought a 9-tiered shoe rack. It was plastic. And cheap. But it was supposed to hold a ton of shoes! So, I put it together, put all the shoes on it, and smiled happily... for a week. Then, it began to come apart at the spots where one shelf slid into another with a tab. I used duck tape. Then, it started falling over when people put their shoes on it. I picked up all the shoes and put it against a wall. Finally, it completely (I am not making this up) bent in half. The top of the rack was on the floor. I gave up. Shoe Rack: fail.

9. The Pool: This is the most recent, and the real reason I am thinking about all of these. Seriously, I'm not sure why I try. I always get this Better Homes and Gardens dream-scene in my head and I honestly believe it will happen that way. I had seen my friend's kids playing in the "easy set" pool the summer before (via Facebook). I looked up every kind of easy set pool and read reviews. Eric got permission from our "association" to have a blow up pool on our property. I picked my dream pool, and then got an email from work that I was getting a check for being a mentor at work! Pool--paid for!! So, I ordered the dumb thing. My friend has her pool on her cement pad, so I thought, "Well, perfect! We'll put that puppy right outside our garage!" Except, our cement pad is not a patio--it is a driveway. It is not a flat surface for a picnic table or chairs--it is a slight incline for draining rainwater. Juuuuuuuuust enough of an incline that the pool would not even fill up past the filter hook-ups, and was all pushing against one side. So, I put some blankets under one side. Nope. Then I drained the whole damn thing and started over. I used the foam squares I use at school for students to sit on to build a little ramp going the opposite direction of the incline. Made a little difference. Enough of a difference that I filled the stupid thing up again. NOT enough of a difference that we could use the filter or not worry about the side ripping. So, I am draining again. Except this time, it was not enough of an incline to even drain it. Seriously, I can't win. Yesterday, I went all around our huge yard, looking for mostly level spots. We own close to four acres, have more than an acre of yard, I figured there had to be something. And there is! Right on top of a sprinkler head. Blow Up "Easy Set" Pool: fail.

So, I give. I'm done with projects. There won't be a number ten (though I'm sure I could have thought of one). Apparently, karma doesn't work with projects. Having the best intentions does not equal the best results. As Cathy the cartoon character would say, "Aack!"

Now I've gotta go figure out how to put a 15X48 pool back inside a box...