When I noticed that one of the headlamps in my car had burned out, I checked beneath the hood but found no obvious access to the bulb. So, I consulted the owner’s manual to find out how to replace it, and it said to take the car to a dealer. For a lightbulb?!? I don’t think so. What do I look like, an Aggie?

Popping off plastic rivets from the wheel well cover

When in doubt, check YouTube! Sure enough, I found a step-by-step video on replacing the headlamp on my particular vehicle. Turns out that you have to access the headlight assembly from underneath. (Sometimes, I think there is a conspiracy among car manufacturers to make things look difficult, so that we’ll pay to have it fixed.)

Armed with a beach towel to protect me from the scalding-hot driveway, a paper towel to keep from damaging the new bulb with my bare fingers, a pair of screwdrivers and another tool that kinda looks like a split-tip screwdriver with a slight bend in the shaft (photo, right), I went to work.

Found the headlamp!

The boys were in the middle of an all-out Nerf war that spanned the front & back yards and driveway, so I preemptively threatened anyone who stepped on me and told them to give me elbow room to work.

Getting dirty didn’t bother me, but the heat was ridiculous. Sweat kept dripping in my eyes, but I couldn’t wipe it away with greasy hands.

There were about three screws and three rivets holding the wheel well cover in place. I finally loosened and pulled it away from the bumper and found the cover to the light assembly. It screws on like a gas cover, just about a quarter-turn to lock into place. The bulb itself is easy to change. There are plastic hooks that you squeeze to release, then just pull out the bulb. The new bulb snaps right into place, and you turn to lock it just like the cap.

Ang the Grease Monkey

I decided to document my efforts, not as another how-to post, necessarily, but like the washing machine project from a few months ago, I want to encourage others to give it a try. Why pay for labor when it’s not a huge undertaking to fix it yourself? 🙂 Besides, I think it’s great for the boys to see that Mom isn’t afraid to get dirty and fix something, because I don’t want them to think that all women are helpless, prissy princesses.

Granted, I needed another shower and a nail brush when I got finished, but wow, what a great feeling to fix something myself!

A couple of years ago, I upgraded to a large-capacity washer and dryer. With five kids in the house, we needed it! Laundry is one of those things that becomes out of control very quickly (like paperwork and dishes), and when I don’t keep up with it (or delegate to the older two boys … and they remember to do it) during the week (like this past week), then it makes for a weekend of practically non-stop washing.

The bolt beneath the agitator that refused to budge. WD-40 and a ratchet wrench finally got it loose.

So, when the kids left to go swimming with Dad for a couple of hours this afternoon, I thought I would tackle the mountains of laundry: heaping baskets of sorted reds, khakis and whites, and an overflowing two baskets’ worth of blues, not to mention the towels and sheets. I started a load of blues, and a few minutes into the cycle, it stopped and beeped with an error message. I thought perhaps I had put too many jeans in, so I took out some of the soggy clothes and tried restarting the cycle, to no avail. I broke down and Googled the make and model to try to troubleshoot an answer. All signs pointed to a clogged drain pump. Joy.

When the boys got home, I was up to my elbows in washing machine parts. I had watched a couple of how-to YouTube video on drain pumps and managed to disassemble both pumps from underneath the washer. Fortunately and unfortunately, they were both clear of debris.

The unfortunate part meant that the debris was between the basket and the plastic housing, not the drain pump. I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at a washing machine basket before, but the outside is like a gigantic cheese grater — it’s not something you can just reach your arm down and pick up what has lodged itself in there. Besides, it’s a very tight fit. I tried bbq tongs and a broomstick, but they were both too big &/or not long enough.

You could grate a LOT of cheese with that basket!

Ms. Independent Streak wanted to do it all herself — pride and stubbornness kept me from asking for help, but my ex had come inside when he dropped off the boys, and he offered to help. He ended up being quite useful, since the machine was very heavy, and I couldn’t have lifted out the basket by myself (or even with the 13yo’s help, as much as he likes to think he’s practically a grown-up). After finally torquing a cuss-worthy bolt that refused to budge, we were able to get the basket out.

Three socks, two pair of underwear, a pair of swim trunks and a now-shredded t-shirt were hiding between the cheese grater and the washer housing.

With those culprits thrown away, reassembling the machine was a little easier than taking it apart, since I knew where everything went. I was a little frustrated that I removed the drain pumps for no reason, but at least now I know how to do it.

This is a drain pump. It isn’t terribly complicated to remove/install, but my hands are sore from pinching all those clamps.

The washer is back in tip-top shape now, woohoo!

Take-away lessons from this experience:

1. Even high-capacity washers have limits; don’t overfill them, or else you may have to dismantle the whole d@mn thing to retrieve the mangled clothing that slips over the edge of the basket.
2. I am going to ask Santa for outlandish pink tools, so that no one messes with my stuff & I can find a proper wrench when I need it!
3. I need more tools, especially an electric screwdriver.
4. Cussing at inanimate objects (out of earshot of the kids) does not loosen stubborn bolts, but it makes me feel a little better.
5. It’s a little awkward to work together on things around the house, since we don’t both live here anymore, but I’m grateful that we get along and can work together when we need to. I think that gives a positive impression to the boys that we really are trying to be “partner parents.”
6. Note to self: do more laundry during the week, so it doesn’t pile up on the weekends.

Arm-twisting, persuasive argument, manipulation … call it what you will, but I got my way, and that’s all that matters! 😉

When I first broached the topic of Halloween costumes, all five of the boys wanted to be Mario. Then, the little two decided that they wanted to be Koopa Troopa turtles. I have basic sewing skills, but certainly not to the level of DIYing five costumes! All I could see were dollar signs.

(Halloween isn’t a holiday that we typically celebrate in full-force, anyway. It’s like the tooth fairy to me — it’s fun and they get treats from it, but we don’t make a big deal about it. We can go into an elaborate spiritual warfare discussion when they get a bit older. I don’t allow them to dress in scary costumes, anyway.)

*~*~ Then, I had an idea! ~*~*

I proposed my brilliant plan to the older two, knowing that if I got them on board, then convincing the little three would be a cinch. I suggested that they go as a rock band. We can find some old t-shirts, bandanas and jeans (either our own or some cheap ones from Goodwill – along with some second-hand vests and bling), and they get to RIP UP the shirts & jeans. I will buy some colored hair spray and let them spike their hair crazy. We have some toy instruments that they can carry for props. They were gung-ho as soon as I said, “You get to rip up the clothes.” The little three were sold when I said, “You can have crazy hair.” If they’re really adventuresome, I’ll even let them wear black eye make-up.

Who knew it would be so easy? 😉  Not only are they going to have fun trick-or-treating, but getting ready will be a fun activity to do together.

The only down side? They want me to dress up as a rocker, too!! LOL … we’ll see about that.