Category: News

This morning started out normally enough.  Liam and I ate breakfast and got dressed and ready to run a couple errands.

The first stop was at World Market where I went to look for alphabet pretzels for my mom (which is a long story and much less interesting than the one I’m going to tell).  I searched all over the store for them and after having no luck, I reached for my phone to give her a call and find out if there were any acceptable substitutes for pretzels shaped like the letter E.  When I opened it up I found that I had a slew of missed calls and one new voicemail.  I also discovered that my battery was low, but since I’ve been holding my breath for weeks waiting for a call back from Liam’s pediatrician about the H1N1 shot I went ahead and listened to the message before calling my mom.  It was the message I’d been waiting for and it was from yesterday afternoon.  The nurse who left the message said that there were a limited number of shot appointments available for today and Saturday morning.  I panicked and put everything in our cart back on the shelves and ran outside to plug my phone into the charger and call the nurse back.  It was at this point that I realized that somehow, at some point, my phone was put on silent, hence the missed call.  I called the nurse back and left a message praying that my ringer mishap wasn’t going to cost Liam the vaccine we’ve been waiting for for a month.  I also called Matt and left him a message to let him know what was going on.

I continued on to my next errand, hoping that the phone would get juiced enough to use by the time I got there.  Unfortunately I had thrown it into my lap when I got ready to pull out of the parking lot and it had apparently dislodged the charger, so by the time I got to the Target, there was nothing left.  I decided that it was a sign and didn’t even get out of the car.  I just plugged the thing back in and tried to figure out how to proceed.  I was in the process of calling my mom to ask if she had thought of any substitutes for E-shaped pretzels when Matt rang in on the other line.  I assumed he was returning my call from a few minutes earlier.  He wasn’t.

Matt:  “Where have you been?  I’ve been calling you all morning.”

[Matt calling me multiple times is never a good thing, so I immediately acquired a rock in my stomach.]

Shannon:  “We’re out running errands.  Apparently my phone was on silent.  Why have you been calling me all morning?”

Matt:  “Have you seen the AJC this morning?”

Shannon:  “No.”

Matt:  “Well, there’s an article in there about a SWAT standoff at Kirk Road and S. Candler.  I called my parents to see if they were okay and if they knew anything.  I talked to my mom.  It’s William Studstill.”

Shannon:  “Oh God.  What happened?”

Matt:  “Shannon, he killed his wife.  He was holed up in his mom’s house with a knife.  He killed his wife.”

William Studstill was in my graduating class at Decatur.  He lived down the street from Matt.  We knew he’d had mental health issues as of late, and there’d always been something off about him, but no one ever thinks that someone that they grew up with is capable of this kind of thing.  This is certainly not the story we expected to read when we woke up this morning.

News travels fast in our little town.  By the time I checked out of Liam’s doctor at 2:50, Tangie (who works at the office and also was in my graduating class) already knew and asked me if I’d heard the news.  We both knew to which news she was referring.

I’m just sitting here.  Stunned.  I realize that I am truly a mother now, because my first thought was how awful his mother must feel.  He is her only child.  Then I thought about his wife’s parents.  I cannot imagine how any of them feel and hopefully I won’t ever have to.  I definitely hugged Liam a little bit harder today.

It starts the same way every time.  Matt and I make a plan.  It feels doable (at least to me — I’m admittedly overambitious with these things).  We start out full of hope on a Saturday morning with the obligatory Lowe’s run.  We buy supplies.  We price out other things that we cannot afford.  We drool and we dream.  We get home full of fire and hope.  One of us starts working when we get home.  The other joins in while Liam’s sleeping.  Somehow we end up at 11:00 pm trying to finish one, final, seemingly simple task.  And then it happens.  The brick wall goes up and comes crashing down all at the same time.

With each separate occasion we find out why the things that were left undone when we bought the house were left undone.  There was the deck — which to the unexperienced first-time homebuyer (a bit of an oxymoron, I know) seemed like a little problem.  We now know that the $100 Lowe’s gift card they threw in at closing to “cover some of the paint” would cover approximately 1/8 of the cost of painting that deck (and that was a good deal).

Those toilets that didn’t flush — they were probably the easiest of all the things to replace and they were still a pain in the…well, you know…

There were the sliding glass doors that iced (on the inside) in the winter.  Those might have been the easiest project overall, but only because we had someone else do it for us.  The easiest does not mean the least painful.  I assure you that that AmEx bill pinched quite a bit when it came due.

The carpet in the back bedroom that’s suspiciously old and stained (when the carpet in the other two bedrooms was clearly replaced at some point in the 10-year Navarro reign)?  It’s there because it’s obvious that the subfloor needs replacing.  They just covered that with a bed.  We’re getting to it.

The paneling in the treadmill room?  They didn’t paint over it because it’s not actually made of wood.  I’m painting it anyways because it depresses me and it’s hard enough to get motivated to get on that dang machine.  So there.

The dingy color that covered the entirety of downstairs?  We’ve eradicated 50% of it so far, but let’s face it: painting is a pain and that’s a lot of square footage to cover with a small child underfoot.

The complete lack of baseboards and door/window casements in the family room?  We’re working on it.  (Right now.  Literally.)

The complete wall of 12 x 12 mirrors in the living room?  We got lucky with that one, but it scared us too, so I can sort of understand how they didn’t get to it.  On the other hand: Really?  You looked at that wall (and it looked back at you) for an entire decade and you couldn’t muster up the chutzpah to conquer what lay beneath?  To that I say: no pain, no gain.

The missing handrail on the left side of the staircase.  You know, to keep you from falling off into the room below (which apparently happened to the relative of a former owner who’d had one too many, sending her to the hospital…let’s just say our neighbor is full of enlightening information)?  We got lucky with that one when we found a great guy to install it for us.

The fact that there’s molding in two of the three bedrooms as well as in a room that shouldn’t exist in the first place but not in the third bedroom?  I’d be willing to bet money that it was a combination of the fact that their oldest son slept in that room and that the room has five interior corners and one exterior corner and miters were too advanced for their tastes.  Again, no pain, no gain.  We’re tackling that before we move Liam into the room in the next six months or so.

The biggest saga in Connolly Family History (by far) is the stairs, but I brought that (mostly) upon myself.  What I didn’t bring on is the fact that the missing kickplate on the top stair (for which I bought a pre-cut replacement) is an inch higher on one side than on the other.  Let’s just say that I don’t think that the stairs aren’t level, but I’m more than certain that the floors above them aren’t.  More coming soon on that one…

But what we thought would be the easiest project for today: replacing the three remaining brass doorknobs in the house?  That one has proved nearly impossible.  First Matt tried replacing the knob on the door to the garage.  The hole isn’t deep enough and we need to make another trek to the Lowe’s for a wood chisel if we have a prayer of making it work.  For the last hour Matt has been attempting to replace the locks on the family room door.  You know, the one that secures our house while we’re sleeping.  First he encountered what he described as “the worst set of directions I’ve ever seen printed by a company whose first language appears to be English.”  The directions specify certain screws.  Those certain screws are not labeled.  Then the hole on the door was just a titch too small.  He scraped it out with a razor blade.  At this point the door won’t close and he’s doing something suspicious with a drill.  I’m not asking questions.

Tomorrow it’s on to the installation of door casements and rosettes as well as (fingers crossed) finishing the stairs.

The next time I embark on another project that I’ve always wondered why the Navarros didn’t do themselves I hope that someone reminds me that they were apparently very logical and cost-conscious people and I should think twice.  I’m trying to comfort myself with the notion that if the Navarros had been so inclined as to finish up the glaring details in the house, we probably couldn’t have afforded it in the first place.  All this neurosis must at least have improved the value of the house…right?

Last night Matt and I had our annual discussion about Christmas: planning what we would like to do for others, discussing whether we’d like to get things for each other or do something joint with the house, and talking about the types of charitable organizations to which we’d like to give this year.  There was much discussion about iPhones and pet projects.  Things eventually took the turn that they always take — to focus on the much-detested wall between the dining area and the “bonus room” (the only bonuses to which appear to be bonus frustration, bonus irritation, and bonus claustrophobia).

Matt declared this to be the “squeaky-wheel-gets-the-grease project” for the next year.

Then we started talking about the actual cost output if we were to do the majority of the work ourselves (Ha!  I just thought of an actual “bonus” to that room: I will be able to relieve a ton of stress while whacking at the thing with a sledgehammer as I’ve dreamed of doing since we moved in while I was pregnant with Liam!).  It’s no minor miracle that the thing made it through my pregnancy with Liam but I don’t think that if we’re lucky enough to have another one, it will make it through a second time around.  I mean, I have some self-control (you know, as long as it doesn’t involve chocolate…), but that’s unrealistic, don’t you think?

Then we shook on it.  That’s as good as a signature in blood in this house.  All I want for Christmas is to gain a pantry and lose a wall and Santa just told me that he’s putting a sledgehammer in my stocking.  Yippee!

Today a receipt was delivered to my mailbox for the $5 donation I recently made to your organization.  This is the same donation that I make every year because you have lovely little old ladies and pitiful students call me to make the request.  I understand that you want to get your giving percentages up and that these lovely people will continue to call me until I snap, so I’ve entered into a tacit agreement with you that I will give you $5 each time they call and in return you will not have them call me again until the following year.

There has been one problem with this system since its induction three years ago: MY NAME IS NOT NOR HAS IT EVER BEEN MRS. MATTHEW W. CONNOLLY.  Let me repeat that in simpler terms case you couldn’t quite take that in all at once: MY NAME IS NOT MRS. MATTHEW W. CONNOLLY.  I have never told anyone at your organization my husband’s name, so this becomes all the more curious because it appears that you have done some sort of detective work to arrive at this information.

I have made repeated attempts to correct this error with your development office.  I have a really hard time understanding why this is so difficult for you to comprehend.  If you’re going to put an erroneous name on a receipt that you intended to send to me, you could at least put, oh I don’t know, Shannon Rebecca Woolf, you know, since that’s the name that WAS PRINTED ON THE DIPLOMA I RECEIVED FROM YOU.  You never seemed to have a problem with properly billing me for my classes during my tenure in Greenville, so you’d think it wouldn’t be that hard to properly bill me for my COMPLETELY VOLUNTARY benefaction.  Especially since when you call you know to ask for Shannon Connolly and you seem to have no problem with the use of a credit card attached to the same name.

I have tried to correct this problem with people over the phone for the past several years.  Each time I think I’ve conquered the beast I receive another statement with someone else’s name on it.  I will contact your offices tomorrow to try, once again, to rectify the problem.  If this isn’t possible I will discontinue my generous donations in the future.  After all, I’m the parent of a toddler and living by example is very important.  When Liam doesn’t follow directions he is promptly placed in time-out.  If you can’t follow directions, I will be forced, from a consistency standpoint, to place you there as well.  Indefinitely.

Love,

Shannon W. Connolly

I love listening to Liam talk.  To hear him say things that I know he learned from me and Matt is so great.  His latest thing is pretend play.  This morning I heard the following conversation (with his bear) from the living room while I was finishing my breakfast:

Liam:  “Hello Bear!  Bear poop.  Let’s change you, Bear.”

(Bear is placed on the workbench portion of Liam’s toolbox)

Liam:  “Poop.  Dirty diaper.  Get changed, all clean.  There you go.  All done.”

(Liam picks Bear up and gives him, well, a bear hug, I suppose…)

Liam:  “Great job!  No more poop.  All clean.  Good job, Bear!”

(Liam kisses Bear and puts him down on the floor)

Liam:  “Have so much fun, Bear!”

This is, by far, the longest string of imaginary narration I’ve heard from Liam.  Every day it just gets better!

Liam is the child who cannot sleep with any light in the room, who will not nap in the car because it’s (to use his words) “too bright,” and for whom we have to turn on a nightlight after naps and in the morning to ease him into the overhead light.

Liam is also the child who has decided lately to spend two hours (or more) without any warning awake in his bedroom instead of napping until he finally gives in to total exhaustion and lies down to nap.

Liam is unfortunately the same child who has just discovered that his arms are now long enough to reach the overhead light switch  that is very poorly placed by his bed.

Liam is now the very same child whose bed is in the middle of his tiny room, leaving no room to walk or play, but hopefully enough room to sleep.

The contents of this post are so disgusting that I hesitate to put it next to the macaroni and cheese post because it feels unsanitary.  But people, what’s going on in this house right now is so far from cool, and somehow writing it down makes it feel like I’m not in it alone (at least until the next incident).

This morning as we were finishing breakfast, Liam looked up at me and said “Poop.”  Very definitively.  I went to get a paper towel to clean him off so we could head for the bathroom, but by the time I’d crossed the kitchen again to get back to him, the whole area smelled like rotten eggs.  I kid you not, I was hoping that I’d maybe passed an SBD without knowing.  Alas, this was not the case.  Although I guess it’s a good thing that I’m still fully aware of my own bodily functions, the only other answer to what had happened was almost more than I could handle.  I went to get Liam out of his chair and was almost knocked to the floor by odor alone.  What I found when I got him on the changing table was, in short, indescribable.

We’re going through the Big D and much like Mark Chesnutt, I don’t mean Dallas either.

This is the third morning that we’ve had such issues.  On Tuesday morning, Matt and I went into Liam’s room and instead of the usual chirpy “Good Morning, sleep well, turn light on, turn sound machine off.”  All we were greeted with was “Poop, Poop, POOP.”  Although there was nothing in his diaper at that particular moment, it was certainly a harbinger of things to come.  That day we had four incidences between 9am and 5pm.  Yesterday we were down to two.  I’m hoping that this morning’s atrocities will not be repeated and that we’re finished with this particular phase.  It certainly makes the idea of staying in today very appealing.

I’m not sure how long we should let this go on before calling the doctor, but to be honest — I hesitate simply based on the fact that we’ve caught nasty child germs twice in the last three weeks and going to the doctor’s office is like begging to get a doctor’s-visit-worthy strain.  After waking myself up coughing for the past two nights, I’m not too thrilled about the idea of doubling-up with anything else…

Our potty training books were delivered yesterday, not a moment too soon.  I stayed up entirely too late last night reading one of them and something tells me that staying up until I finish tonight might be well worth the loss of sleep.

Today we went to Value Village and Target for Halloween accoutrements.  Liam isn’t the only one with a “super”-awesome costume, let’s just say that.