Am I Shallow? Perhaps.

Goodbye old fridge. Hello to a beautiful new friend, gleaming stainless steel on the outside, clear and clean on the inside.
In the ten years that I've been married, this is the first fridge we've had that didn't come out of the Pennysaver. And it makes me smile every time I pass it. With my new dishwasher and this fridge, I can almost pretend that I am the host of my own cooking show or a contestant on Top Chef. Of course, that means overlooking the outdated flooring, oven, range, microwave, countertop, cabinets--essentially everything else in my kitchen--but when I catch a glimpse of my newest acquisitions, those other things fade away.

My kids love that our new fridge is actually big enough to keep the Brita full of water cold. I love that I can see all the leftovers without having to squat down and dig around.


Jared will love the new electricity bills, since we just replaced two old fridges (one in the garage and one in the kitchen) with one energy efficient wonder. He also appreciates that I had to get rid of the basket full of clutter that used to sit on top of the fridge because it won't fit anymore.
I did call Christine to ask her what I should do about my newest obsession of keeping the appliances free of fingerprints and smudges. She is highly qualified to answer this question, having a degree in Interior Design and all the accompanying credentials and experience, besides owning a few stainless steel appliances of her own (and four darling kidlets). Alas, she couldn't come up with a solution either, but assured me that I might soon be able to tolerate fingerprints for an entire afternoon before wiping down the fridge after the kids go to bed. I pondered on the internal struggle going on between the woman who loves shiny, sparkly, clean, and looks-like-a-cooking-show-or-magazine-layout everything and the mother who really wants her kids to grow up in a home where they are comfortable. Surely it would be unreasonable to make touching the fridge off limits. Do you think it would be neurotic to require the entire family to wear gloves? You don't have to answer that.

But even with the compulsive wiping down of my new treasures, I don't regret choosing them one bit. Nor do I regret having so many small hands around who will surely touch them as soon as I finish wiping. Both things of beauty and sticky-fingered children are more than worth the extra effort. And if loving my kitchen appliances makes me shallow, I guess I will have to live with that.