Babies, Cats, Pigs & Bunk Beds

It's almost time for me to have this baby, as most of you know. I'm excited-REALLY excited to be done and to meet her, but I'm anxious, too. I am trying to just take things as they come, but I can't help worrying and anticipating.

I have been ridiculously busy, trying to get ready. I've tried to do all of my Christmas preparations (I still have stuff to do, but I'm pretty well set, except for wrapping). I've tried to clean up, and of course, wash all the baby clothes. There are still totes full of baby clothes in the back of the basement that I've begged G to retrieve...there are far too many obstacles for me to get them myself (namely, said Christmas preparations). I have been trying to keep up with the rest of the family laundry, keep the house in some kind of order, etc. Today I dropped a chunk of change at the store on staples and frozen foods so that we've got something to eat. I even managed to get a haircut, since that will surely be out of the question for a few weeks.

Anyway, so the two little boys are going to be sharing a room, sooner or later. We've been stalking Craigslist for bunk beds for some time now. Earlier this week, we were interested in a set that included a dresser, shelves, desk, etc. It's like a room-in-one. Well, that was sold (because someone else was interested, and the people tried to get me to "counteroffer", but as it wasn't eBay, I wasn't inclined to up my bid), but we found a similar set that was even cheaper. I finally got G to go take a look at them tonight, and he planned to just bring them home if they were in good enough shape. Even the mattresses were being included. I'm kinda iffy (ok, a lot iffy) about someone else's mattress, but I figured it was her daughter's (as in, one child, not two), and there would be waterproof mattress covers on top anyway. So, unless they were gnarly, it would probably be alright.

G called me from the person's neighborhood, and said he was pretty scared. He said there was a dirt road, and it just looked funky. I'm thinking to myself, whatever, plenty of people have a dirt road. Doesn't mean they're inbred or anything. Five minutes later, he called back. He was back outside, and informed me that there were about 45 cats in the house, and a pig. Yes, really...a pig. I insisted that he was joking, but he said, "An effing pig, Amy, I pet the thing!" Oh my. At first I was under the impression that the house was just funky, but he later assured me that no, it was in fact filthy. And the lady had left her 13 year old daughter home alone, to deal with this potential buyer of bunk beds, who could have been anyone, for all she knew. I'm thinking to myself, you were supposed to give the girl $550?! He said the furniture itself was not bad, but not worth the $550 since the mattresses would not be desired. I'd just as soon not inherit whatever nastiness they might contain.

So, one of G's coworkers was getting rid of a decent set of bunk beds, and we've bought them. We'll buy our own mattresses. At least we know that they're quality, and that his coworker is not a funky person. But oh man, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when G walked in there. I would have paid money to see his face when the pig appeared. And all 45 cats.

Update from my Baby Blog

Today started off extra-early. I had to go to University for my 3 hour glucose tolerance test, since I failed the 1 hour. Despite arriving before 8am, and telling two different front-desk-people that I needed to be at the other building by 11am and could I please have my nasty orange drink right away, they managed to ignore me until 8:22. That means I was going to be until at least 11:22 for my testing, and I needed to call across the street to let them know. I didn't have the number, and the lab people claimed they didn't, either. I suppose they didn't have a directory or even internet access, either. But, I did note that for a black lady, they immediately looked up her doctor's number. And with all the other black clientele, they happily sang, "Good Morning!", and inquired about their health, their day, whatever. Not so much with me. Nice.

Anyway, I felt pretty nasty by the time I left the lab...I was shaky, heart pounding, etc. Despite not being hungry, I wolfed down a small granola bar, and felt worse. I waited almost an hour and a half at the Fetal Assessment Center, since I had thrown their schedule out of whack. My ultrasound went well...we could see her hair! I have been saying that the only thing I haven't had so far is a bald baby, but I guess that's out now, too. She's estimated to weigh 3lbs 10oz, which is still larger than average. That puts her at roughly 6lbs 10oz at birth, which is more than Cam & Noah, but less than Collin. We'll see how that plays out.

Then I went for my non-stress test & biophysical profile. Things were going fabulously, and I thought I might get out in record time, when all of a sudden, her heartrate dropped. Where it had been in the 130s, it dropped to 85 or 90. I literally heard Kristen, the nurse I've been seeing, drop what she had and run over. She had me lay completely on my left side (I was only slightly propped before that). The heart rate rose to 106. Not good enough. She had me get onto my hands and knees, and the baby's heartrate went up into the 120s. I could feel her moving around, so I knew she was doing ok, but my heart was pounding. I tried to lay down again, but the same thing happened, and then they couldn't get a reading at all. Kristen called for the other nurse, and the doctor. I was given oxygen, and soon there was a crowd around me. The doctor came in and did an ultrasound...we could see her moving around, and he explained that my placenta is on the back wall of my uterus, so any time I'm on my back, I'm compressing the cord and the placenta. They told me I would need to go up to Labor & Delivery for monitoring, and then they would take it from there...meaning, if she didn't straighten up, I was going to have a Cesarean right away. I thought, this is it, I'm having a c-section this time. Well, I guess she just didn't like that floor of the hospital, because as soon as we went upstairs, she was fine. Her movement and heart rhythms were fabulous for the next three hours.

I saw three doctors and two nurses, plus two anesthesiologists. Each one wanted my history, and despite having given all of it several times before, I had to give it seven more times. Angie came up to stay with me, which was great. She lends a comforting feeling, and gives me a different perspective than when I'm just there, wrapped up in my own head. The doctor that I really liked came back in to tell me that my results were back from my 3-hr test, and they were great. She said my sugar was too low by the end (gee, you think so?!). I said, well, can I PLEASE have something to eat then? She said I could probably have something in a while, but I never did get to eat. I did get a cranberry juice, which my stomach didn't agree with. I was finally released, and on the way home, I stopped at Panera. I got a salad, half a sandwich (which of course has the calories of any full-sized sandwich one might make at home), and a frozen mocha, plus a hunk of bread...and I ate it ALL. I'm feeling much more human now. And as I sit here, the baby wiggling and having hiccups inside me, I'm thankful that she hasn't made her entrance into this world just yet. The last thing Kristen said to me was, "See you next week." I hope she's right.

Further Proof...

Further proof that when a parent realizes it is quiet, it is already too late...

Exhale

Following is from my baby blog:

23wks 6days

I went for my ultrasound to diagnose any problems, regarding my abnormal AFP test results. Ready for this one? My results were never abnormal! They were only borderline/slightly elevated. After the wave of relief, I really became pretty angry. Some of you might recall that this is not the first time this OB has regarded test results in the same way. I really think I'm going to switch doctors, and I hope the doctor I want is taking new patients. He's another perinatologist whom I have seen before (with Collin). He's at St. Agnes, where I will be delivering. I feel confident with him, and he's personable. I'm just fed up with my regular OB.

Anyway, they looked at the baby's spine again, and the brain, the cord, the placenta-everything. Everything looks perfect. I then talked at length with the genetic counselor, who said there is no issue. The perinatologist that I love, Dr. Arrabal, said he wouldn't even have tested any further, because the result was so slightly elevated, and because we'd already had a perfect ultrasound. I expressed my concern that the elevated level might be due to my own cancer (because maternal cancer could be a cause of elevated AFP levels in my blood), and the genetic counselor quickly dismissed that fear. She said it simply isn't possible.

So, there you have it-all that worrying and thinking about how my life might change, for nothing at all. I will say again that I wish I had never had the test in the first place, but at least I got to see the baby again. I'm most thankful nothing was wrong. I'll see her again in another four weeks, and then probably weekly after that. She's growing perfectly, and there is not a thing to be worried about right now.

Except telling my doctor that I no longer require her services. Anyone have any advice on that? Lord knows I hate confrontation, and I detest offending anyone, so that's going to be hard for me.

Thank you so much, to everyone who prayed for us. God is good. And a big thank you to Jenn for watching Noah today!

So Much

I haven't written anything in quite a while. That would be because I've been pretty darn busy. Not as busy as Kim (I don't know how she stays afloat), but pretty busy none the less.

My two older children are in school now. The daughter's having a hard time adjusting to the rigors of fourth grade (and not being on a summer schedule again). She's also just plain having a hard time. I'm certain she has ADD. Therefore, I've been having a hard time with her. Most of the time, I could choke her. She's completely defiant, and forgets E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Even those people in whose eyes she's always been perfect are now singing a different tune. I feel sorry for her, but she's maddening. She's extremely difficult to live with, and frankly, extremely difficult to love right now. Which makes me sad and depressed. I quite honestly feel like the daughter I used to know has died.

The middle boy is doing well in kindergarten, but it occurs to me that he needs a LOT of help in the handwriting department. Must be a boy thing. He also did something that surprised me today-he switched to his left hand. He hasn't done that since he was about two. I hope he's not a lefty in hiding.

My little boy is still the affectionate, lovable bully. He's even started pooping on the potty once in a while. Usually, that's followed by a poop in his pants, but hey...it's progress.

And, why does everything in the house have to break at once?

The A/C died some days ago. Thank God, we have some window units which are carrying us through the end of summer. Today we have the windows open, of course, which is also fine. For some time now, the toilets have been clogging, off and on. That's problematic, when you have five people who need to use the bathroom, and one who goes about every nine minutes (that would be my pregnant self). It's especially problematic when four are trying to get ready in one bathroom. At any rate, I've plunged, dumped hot water, tried Dawn, cussed, prayed...you name it. My dear husband has plunged. He also ruined the bowl of our new toilet with a crappy, worthless snake. He flooded the basement when he tried to flush the air vents. Then, on Sunday, neither toilet would work. I had had it, and I decided it was time to call the plumber. We know a plumber, and while it might not be cheap, we know he won't screw us. Well, G refused. He insisted he could fix the problem. Yes, dear, but when?! Needless to say, Monday, I went to stay with G's grandmother. Me, and all three kids. G was surprised, but I'm not exactly sure what he thought I would do if I stayed home...camp out at McDonald's most of the day? Dig a hole in the back yard? Honestly, I really wonder what he thought I would do. He did not seem to see the urgency in the matter, and didn't seem to be in any hurry to fix it. That's fine-I wouldn't be in a hurry to mess with shit, either. Which is why I would CALL THE PLUMBER. Expensive, yes. Maybe needs to go on a credit card-ouch, perhaps. But NECESSARY. TODAY. He couldn't understand why I was short with him. Eventually, I guess he wanted me to be nicer, or he wanted his family to come home, or something. Eventually, he began working on the problem. Really working. He removed the downstairs toilet, and there lay a bath toy, all covered in poo. SIGH. Love that little boy. You know that commercial where the man flushes all manner of things, trying to summon the hot plumber lady he saw next door? Yeah, that is my son, I guess. Rest assured, the toilet will flush. But the object might not ever enter the pipe. It WILL cause a problem, eventually. G has already deduced that the same problem exists upstairs. He rented a professional snake, but has already taken it back, because he's sure it's another toy. You can imagine that I'm not too pleased about that, either. One working toilet is good. One broken toilet is bad. But hey, I'm back home.

Staying with G's grandmother wasn't so bad. I only had to clean up after the kids, and I actually had help without asking once in a while. On the other hand, when I came back to my house, disaster awaited. A man, alone in the house for three days, is not a good thing.

So, anyway, since we're talking about spending money, we're talking about REALLY spending. Maybe 50% of our windows work (meaning, the others are painted shut, just plain don't open, or just plain won't stay open). You can imagine the loss of heat and cool they account for. The siding is ugly-it either needs to be painted (not my preference) or replaced. At least one portion of our roof needs to be replaced-might as well do it all. Our concrete looks terrible. And, we have a tree in the back yard that's going to cost a few thousand to have removed. It's pretty dead now, so it's time...before it falls on the house itself. It looks like we're going to suck it up and refinance. It makes me nervous, and I hate the thought of all that needs to be done. I don't even know if we can afford to do it all. But man, it will be so nice not to worry for a while when it's done. And it will be nice to enjoy our home, rather than want to stay away from it. Ah, if only the same would apply to the INside! Does refinancing come with a maid???

It's A...

So, in case you don't get my baby site updates and you're interested:

I'm just back from my "big" ultrasound. All the parts are present and appear to be just fine, so that's good. Gordon was suprirsed and disappointed to find that it's a GIRL! For some reason, he really had it in his head that he wanted another boy, and that's what she was going to be. He kept complaining to the ultrasound tech and to me, but we reminded him that it's no one's fault but his own. His "boy" boys just didn't swim that well on that particular day, I guess.

I guess that's why we gave away a ton of our baby boy stuff a month before we got pregnant. I have to figure out what I have left and what I need. I'm happy to know what she is...I've been waiting not-so-patiently! Most of all, I'm glad there are no anomalies.

Hope you are all well!

Priceless

Coldplay tickets....$178.50

Better Coldplay tickets....$230.00

Asking friends who already have four kids to watch your three kids last minute....potentially very costly

Parking at the Verizon Center....$20.00

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Middle son gets the stomach flu and needs to be picked up mid-show....PRICELESS.



Sigh.



I'm sad. Very sad, on many levels.

Benefits of Staying Married

Saturday was fun. I worked all day, and then came home to a mess, again. See, despite promises to the contrary, G still wants to pretend that he's single and has nothing else better to do. Sometimes he doesn't want to have kids, doesn't want to have responsibilities, and sure doesn't want to be married to me. I get that. It's leftover quarter life crisis, I guess. But you know what? You still need to clean up your dishes. Eventually, he did, but a fight ensued, as usual.

Sunday, we went to church (guess we both really needed it, at that point). Then we went to the O's game. G had five tickets in the box. Meaning, the box of his place of employment. That equals air conditioning, food, and just a more pleasant time than upper reserve seats. The kids didn't pay much attention to the game, but they seemed to enjoy themselves. They each got their My First O's Game certificates, although it wasn't necessarily their first. I remember one first with Cameron, when she was still in the infant carrier seat. We were sitting in the lower seats, so still a good spot. Someone in front of me ordered peanuts from one of the vendors. In the spirit of stadium life, the vendor threw them to the man...only my head got in the way. Being whacked, unsuspectingly, in the back of the head with a stadium sized bag of peanuts was not so pleasant. Needless to say, I had a headache for the rest of the afternoon, and seriously considered complaining to Fan Assistance. If you're not that good a shot, maybe you should just pass the peanuts, know what I mean?? Anyway, the game was mostly fun. I knew a couple of G's coworkers who were there, and we chatted. I tried to talk to G a couple of times, but he kept blowing me off, or talking right over top of me. Maybe he was so starved for non-Amy conversation that he just couldn't help it. He recently revealed (not that I didn't suspect) that I really get on his nerves. Maybe it's similar to me talking to small people all day long...and by the end of the day, I REALLY want to talk to some adults. Even the clerk at the grocery store-anyone. At one point, I squished up next to him on the small couch, so as to make room for another couple, should they want to sit down. "Get off me! Go sit on Kevin's lap!" was what he told me.

Needless to say, I went out onto the balcony with my kids, and Pink Shirt Man for the rest of the game. Pink Shirt Man was another employee of G's company, who lives in Michigan. He had come down from Grand Rapids with his three daughters to watch the Orioles get whooped by his beloved Detroit Tigers. I talked more with Pink Shirt Man in five minutes than I did with G all day. And then, of course, G wondered what was wrong with me. I always think that's absolutely astounding! How can you be surprised at someone's reaction, after you treat them like shit?

After the game, we went to G Sr's house for dinner. That went pretty well. I got to have conversation with my MIL (ok, not really my MIL, but they're common-law-married by now). I was happy that I didn't have to cook all day. I was also happy that G Jr changed Noah's nasty pull-up. Nasty, as in, pull-up was thrown away, and shorts were put into a grocery bag. Pregnant bellies and noses don't do so well with such pull-ups. See, my son refuses to poo on the potty, still. He either goes in his sleep, because he can't hold it anymore, or he sneaks off and poops in the pull-up. I can't wait till he's out of this stage.

So, today I was reading about the benefits of staying married. Sometimes I truly wonder. Mostly, I wonder why I want to stay married to someone who, at times, so obviously doesn't want to be married to me. I know that sometimes he does. Lately, it just seems like more of three years ago--he just wants to do his thing. Don't we all.

God Help Me

G announced on his way out the door to volleyball that he would be calling his mother, so to expect a call afterward.  Fabulous.  Can I really say I was asleep at 9:30pm??? 

He's finally going to tell her that I'm pregnant.  Again.  I feel like I'm in high school and we've gotten into trouble or something.  I can't even imagine what she'll say.  Well, yes, I can...I just don't want to.

My kids have been driving me absolutely crazy this week.  They've been disobedient little hellions.  I don't know what their problem is...maybe we're all just tired of eachother.  My anxiety is back, which doesn't help the situation at all.  Instead of being tolerant and creative, I'm short and I yell a lot.  I hate it.  Something has to give.

I have been feeling really crappy this week, too.  I'm not really feeling nauseous anymore, thank God, but my heart is working harder, so the more forceful, sometimes much faster beating makes me worried...which probably makes it work even harder...it's a vicious cycle.  Add shortness of breath and lightheadedness, and I'm really miserable.  I just don't know if it's "normal" or just a side effect of anxiety, or what. 

On a very happy note, my dear mother helped my pigpen son clean his room today.  I'm quite sure she did most/all of the work, but man!  What a relief and a joy for me!  My daughter even cleaned her room all by herself (with initial prodding from me, of course).  She actually did a really good job.  The House Fairy will probably pay our house a visit tonight.  Good thing she recently replenished the surprise supply.

I hope everyone has a good weekend!

Six Flags...sigh

Yesterday, we went to Six Flags America for my company's Family Fun Day. First of all, I thought it was crappy of them to schedule such an event on a day when some of us would be working, rather than on a Sunday, when we all would not. So, instead of going to the park when it opened at 10am, I got to go around 4pm, after I got off work, changed, and collected my kids. G and Cam went ahead of us. The good part was that those of us who would be working during the day got meal vouchers, rather than the lunch buffet, which consisted of hamburgers, hot dogs, cole slaw, baked beans, drinks & dessert. My kids would not have been pleased with those selections. We ended up with Papa John's pizza, which is something they (and I) adore.

Anyway, I don't love that place. Not that I ever liked it, but last time we went, it was at least somewhat fun. And yes, we did have some fun. We had to park in Egypt. Literally, we were just about as far as one could possibly go in the parking lot. If we'd actually had to fork over the $15 parking fee (my company graciously paid for parking), I'd have been really pissed. We saw a couple of trams, but it was just as well to walk into the park. My mom, the two little boys, and I all hung out in the kiddie pool area until about 7:00pm, when we finally caught up with G and Cam. Then G took Collin to ride some water slides, and Mom, Noah, and I went to eat.

What I hate about Six Flags is the clientele. Let me step lightly, here...it's a whole different culture which I cannot stand and I don't understand. I don't understand why one would make him/herself appear unintelligent. I don't get the aggression, the lack of concern for others and surroundings, and the general disregard of that culture. Appearance and demand for respect for self dominate everything. The place is dirty, the people are rude, and it's just generally unpleasant. The last time we went, it was simply annoying. This time, I couldn't wait to leave. And I mean, by dinner time, I was ready to leave.

Hershey Park is so much nicer. The park is clean. There are security people, there are managers. The clientele is different. It is a family atmosphere, and there is respect for others-not just self. Sure, there will be rude people anywhere, but it shouldn't be 98% of the people!

Anyway, if they send out an employee survey about the Family Fun Day, I will be more than pleased to respond. Even if they don't, I'm likely to voice my opinion. And, even if the tickets are free, I won't be returning to Six Flags. There are so many places I'd rather be.

No Thanks, I'll Take My Own Bed

So, G had a good idea the other day. He heard about the great American campout, or some such thing...where families were supposed to camp out in their back yards. He's having his own version, a little after the fact. For the past couple of years, camping has left a bitter taste in my mouth (some of you know why). It was something I once enjoyed, and absolutely loved as a child. Ok, so I've never liked being dirty, and I never liked using a latrine instead of a bathroom...and I'm sure not dropping my drawers to pee behind a tree. And I really, really love my own bed. And air conditioning. And my ceiling fan. And my television, which often lulls me to sleep. And no bugs.

I could go on, but you get the picture. There are many reasons why I really don't like camping now, but they are very different than missing my modern amenities. The biggest reason is that it's such a huge stress!

As I said, G had a great idea, but it was a very poorly planned one. In fact, the only thing he planned to do was pitch a tent or two, and build a fire. I came home late from my mom's today, after dinner time, and I suppose I had not communicated well enough with G about the children. Long story short, they never ate dinner. Until 10:30. I even went to Target after coming home, and still they went hungry. I'm sure one of them had to have mentioned it. He never asked them if they were hungry, despite our discussions about cooking out. He had no food ready for them. No breakfast for the next morning. No toothbrushes & bottles of water, no diapers and wipes, no s'mores, for God's sake. SIGH. Guess who had to do all that?

I really had no desire to stand at the grill at 10:00pm and make some dinner. Thank God there were ridiculous leftovers from Mom's party yesterday. The middle boy took a hundred years to eat his dinner, as usual. He hates cheeseburgers & hot dogs. He hates everything except PB&J and pizza. Noah ate part of his (although he had already gotten into tomorrow's cereal), and then protested the rest. There's another issue-Noah has been very sick. I didn't even want him to stay up that late, much less eat his dinner that late.

I have a feeling some children won't be sleeping. That'll be fabulous, considering they have a birthday party to attend tomorrow. Cameron will probably be mostly fine. If Collin doesn't scare himself, he might be fine, too, because he's that exhausted. I'm just willing to bet SOMEone's going to come back into this house tonight. That's another thing-I'm such a light sleeper that whether I stay in or out, either way I probably won't get much sleep. So much for having the house to myself! I can already hear the whining in the morning. I hope it doesn't rain on them, too. That's sure to cause an uproar. On the other hand, we camped with Cameron when she was maybe 1 or 2, and she slept right through a terrible storm. I thought for sure our tent would slide down the mountain on a small river of rainwater.

In another life, maybe camping was fun. Maybe when we were a young couple, and we packed all of our stuff TOGETHER (that means, I exclusively didn't pack for the entire trip), sat around a campfire until we were tired, and then retreated to our tent with no concern about how much sleep we'd get. Maybe when we could lazily cook eggs & bacon over a fire...when our backs were younger and the ground was more forgiving. For now, I think I'll just take my own bed.

Wrench

So, we are in the middle of a huge war. I received a call from the principal today that Collin was accepted for kindergarten this year. I told G, and he immediately started on his tirade about his horrible childhood. He claims he was an outcast and had no friends, and was beaten up daily. Perhaps he had a hard time for a while, but I just don't believe that was the case for his entire childhood. Additionally, who knows how much of that was personality based picking versus stature picking. Nevertheless, I stand by my opinion that he is projecting his past experiences on his child. I stand by all the things I've already said, as well as those of the psychologists and the doctor...not to mention my friends and family. His reasoning is invalid, to me, because it's just not reasonable. He has one con, and no pros. He has no other sides to the situation-just his one feeling...that my son is short for his age, so we should hold him back a year. I have already asked him if he will insist on holding the younger boy back-he will not. He claims it's simply because his birthday is three months earlier in the year. I said, well, that negates your whole theory then, because three months won't make a bit of difference in either of their heights. Both of them are always going to be short, until the day they die.

G is also is like a used car salesman. He has a retort and an excuse for everything. It makes me want to put a fork in my eye. He talks and twist things well out of proportion. Additionally, he's not as straightforward as I once believed him to be. To put it lightly, I take everything he says with a grain of salt. And he always has his own agenda.

So, he gave his ultimatum. I keep Collin home a year, or he will go to the school and tell them that he doesn't want him to attend. He said we could put him into a Montessori school (someone obviously put the bug in his ear about that), but that's just another excuse, because there is no way we can afford it...not to mention that pre-k is not the stimulation that he needs. The thing I hate the most about this is that he's telling my son that he's got something wrong with him. Collin has no problem with himself--if he were so concerned, why would he jeapardize that?!

I'm going to the school tomorrow to turn in the rest of my paperwork and be briefed on the test results. It makes me crazy that he's not on the same page as me. He will not listen to reason, and he doesn't respect what I have to say. He doesn't accept that raising these kids has been my job for the past 9 years, and I've been mostly responsible for everything in their lives. Why should he throw a wrench into what I feel is best now? I have lost even more respect for him. I honestly don't know where we're going to go from here.

Kissin' Wears Out...

"Kissin' wears out. Cookin' don't." So goes the Pennsylvania Dutch saying. It's true, sadly. Today is the eleventh anniversary of our first kiss (mine and G's, of course). I don't know why I remember stupid stuff like that, but I do. Before he left to go to his meeting tonight, I told him that I wished kissing didn't wear out. He said, "You don't like to kiss me anymore, anyway," and left. Hmph. I'd like to be kissing somebody. It's just a shame, when two people can't figure out how to make that last. I feel like I've done a relatively good job of it, on my part. I mean, I know that things will cool off, and there's a lot more to marriage than how it all began...but if we can't find little bits of that magic from time to time, what are we doing?! It's pretty sad, and I'm not happy about it. But, you can't make someone else feel a certain way about you.

I had another ultrasound today, and the baby wiggled the whole time. I always wonder if their movement and activity habits in utero are any indication of what the future holds. If so, let's just say I've got my work cut out for me. Everything looks good, and although the bloodwork part of my nuchal translucency test was botched due to a computer error, it looks like I'm at a pretty low risk for the major chromosomal defects (like Down's Syndrome & Trisomy 18/13. The baby's limbs are a little longer now, so he/she doesn't look like a gummy bear anymore. I can't wait until the 18-20 week ultrasound, when we can see the anatomy more clearly, and hopefully determine the gender.

I made a chicken pot pie for dinner. I can't wait to eat it. It has taken significantly longer than it was supposed to have taken. That's the case a lot of the time that I cook. On the other hand, I'm not into crunchy veggies in my pot pie, so longer is better.

We went to see Thomas the Tank Engine in Strasburg, Pa this weekend. We had a good time. We stayed at a Travelodge, which I'll be writing a review about on the travel websites. I forked over the extra $40 (and then an extra $10 on top of that) for the king suite and the rollaway bed, so that G and I could have "our" room, and the kids could have thair own room (and therefore we wouldn't have to go to bed at 9:00). Well, that was a nice idea, but didn't happen. The pull-out sofa was supposed to sleep two. Two infants, maybe. Then there was the rollaway, but we had no pillows for it or the pull-out. I called the front desk twice, letting it ring for ages, and no one answered. Finally, I got my shoes back on and trekked down there, only to find the clerk on the phone with his friend. Nice. This was the same clerk who had kicked us out of the pool after we had been swimming for only 2 minutes. I know it was time for them to close and all, but man, have a little mercy. On the other hand, the pool was probably 60 degrees, so it wasn't exactly fun. Anyway, I asked for ANOTHER rollaway (at which point he demanded to know how many people I had in my room), and some pillows. He seemed irritatd, but I was much more irritated, so he obliged. Did I mention that the suite didn't have a door between rooms? So, I sat there in the dark, occasionally threatening the children, until they finally went to sleep. It was more than an hour later. Just when I thought they would never go to sleep, fireworks started across the street. They must have gone on for 45 minutes! And that's when they fell asleep-right in the middle of the show. I have no idea how they slept through that. Note to self-make sure there's a door. And sufficient bedding. SIGH. Anyway, the train rides were cool. The PA Dutch cooking was good. I like to experience that pastoral culture sometimes. It's such a more relaxed, simple way of living. We need to immerse ourselves in that from time to time. It's good for the soul. I would really love to live in an area less congested and less hectic than this. Maybe someday.

A Day in the Life Kinda Thing

I just read my horoscope for today, and it said that in everything I do today, my enthusiasm will bubble up and influence everyone around me. HAH! First of all, let me say that I don't live my life by my horoscope, but I do look at it for entertainment purposes. I like to see if, after the fact, it's had any correlation to reality, mostly. Anyway, I've been sitting on the couch. All day. I watched Noah push around his overflowing toy shopping cart full of other toys, looking for all the world like a bag lady. I commenced daytime potty training-which means we abandon diapers during the day, and park the potty in the middle of the living room. I hate a kids' potty. It's the most revolting thing ever. That may be the hormonally nauseated me speaking. I watched the older two tie eachother, and various other neighbor kids, up to the tree with jumpropes. Other than screaming at the dog for barking nonstop, I'd say I was pretty much a bystander in life today, rather than bubbling over with enthusiasm.

I did take my son to the doctor this morning, and he was strangely excited about his check-up. He obviously doesn't remember all the shots he got last time. He didn't need any this time, either, so he was just as happy when he left. He's right there with my other two, in only the 10th percentile for height. Ah, well, there is nothing to be done about genetics. I also talked with the ped about my older son going to kindergarten "early" this year. He misses the cut-off by only eight days, so I requested that he be tested for "early" admission. It turns out that he scored really high on the cognitive part of the tests, although admittedly 5 points away from the county's guideline score. He scored in the 97th percentile for the academic portion. The school psychologist, gifted & talented coordinator, principal, and area director all recommended him for early admission. Now we await the final answer from the Board [of Education]. What's the problem, you ask? G. G is the problem. He thinks we should hold him back, because he is shorter than average. Even though my husband is a know-it-all devil's advocate, this even stunned me. My immediate thought was, what if he was taller than average? Would you insist he be placed in the second grade?! It just makes no sense. For someone who has so often said otherwise, it's amazing to me that G is focusing solely on the child's genetics, about which we can do nothing. The psychologist's report clearly says that he will need advanced math and reading in his curriculum in order to be stimulated. Hello?! What does that tell you? Now, G's concern is not unfounded. He remembers being teased for being short. Know what? I remember being teased because I wore a dress. Because my last name was Badger. Because I liked to read. Because I wore a brace on my back. Because I rode the bus. My point, obviously is that children of all ages will tease other children for ANY reason, difference, or ability that they observe. Besides, what are we teaching our son if we tell him that we didn't give him ability-appropriate training because of the way he looks?! Additionally, I'm sick to death of people generalizing and saying that boys are behind girls...that is not always the case, nor is it always that cut and dried. They may be somewhat emotionally behind girls, but generally, their academic abilities are equal if not greater. Why do we continue to sell our sons short? I spoke to the pediatrician today, knowing that he is a developmentally concerned, but also a somewhat neutral party. He feels the same way that I do. He said that he totally understands why G feels the way he does, but we have to instill confidence in our son that we can do nothing about genetics, but we can make the most of our abilities...and we deal with our inabilities. He says that especially considering he missed the cutoff by a mere eight days, and clearly qualifies, he needs the stimulation and we should enroll him. We'll see what G has to say about it.

What Would You Do?

My yard and my neighbor's yard both have retaining walls, so the yards are higher than the driveways. Every time my neighbor mows his grass, he lets the clippings blow up the sides of whatever vehicles happen to be parked in the driveway. He's done it to G several times. G said he's said something to Bruce, who blew it off. He said it wasn't hurting anything and would rinse right off (it does not). He said he would let us know before he mowed in the future. He's never made any attempt to do that. He did it to me once...I promptly went out with paper towels and spray cleaner...but since my Tahoe is dark green, the grass cooked onto it right away. I really had to scrape and scrub to get it off. He apologized, and I asked him why he couldn't simply turn the mower the other way. He mumbled something about there being a tree close by. I fail to see his "logic".

So, this morning I heard mowing, looked out, and sure enough, he had mowed up the side of G's Jeep again. G took his motorcycle to work today...I wonder if Bruce wasn't waiting for him to do so. So, now what do I do? Do I go confront him, or just let some of the dog crap we're scooping out of our yard accidentally make it over the fence into his yard? I really hate to be vengeful and start a warring neighbors thing. That could get ugly fast. We have already had problems with him-he decided to grade his entire back yard, without a permit. He brought in a Bobcat and went to town. He actully looked like he knew what he was doing, and took precautions and so forth. However, he climbed up on the temporary retaining wall, and our yard collapsed 12 feet down into his. Needless to say, we were less than pleased. In fact, I was extremely pissed. He did build us a new retaining wall, as promised, and it's perfect--industrial strength. But still. And if we'd have reported him, he'd have been fined heavily.

So I don't know what to do. Any ideas? Do I just go over and say, Look, this is not cool. You wouldn't do that to the neighbors on the other side, so don't do it to us. I get the feeling he just sees us as kids, and he can be manipulative as he pleases.

What would you do?

TMI Sensitivity or Weak Stomach? Stop Reading Right Now! Seriously.

After my youngest son was born, I decided to get an IUD as birth control. If you're not savvy, it is a tiny device, inserted into the uterus so that implantation (of a fertilized egg) cannot take place. For me, it was the perfect solution for several reasons: it's a one-time deal...no pills to remember, nothing to fool with in the heat of the moment; it is 99.6% effective; it lasts 10 years; there are no hormones involved; it's not permanent. The bad part was that I had to pay out-of-pocket for it, because my insurance company does not cover IUDs. Anyway, it was placed , and I nursed my son for quite a while, so I also didn't have a period for a long time. Then, this month, something was amiss. The date came and went-no period. I had no idea what was about to go through, but I knew what had happened. I knew, just like I knew my father had died. Just like I knew my baby had died. Just like I knew the other four test would be positive. I knew this one would be, too. It was. I stood there, shaking, in the Target bathroom, wondering what in the hell I am going to do with myself, and my other three children. I wonder how many other people do that-purchase a test, and just stop by the store restroom because they cannot possibly wait until they get home.

There started my rollercoaster ride, and it's not over yet. Today, I had the IUD removed laparoscopically. It turns out that it wasn't in my uterus at all...it was between my uterus and my bladder. That means that it probably perforated my uterus and went right through it when it was placed. Meaning, it never was where it belonged. On the ultrasounds, the IUD looked just like a straight line-not the T-shape it should be once it springs open after proper insertion...another hint consistent with perforation. The doctor went in through my belly button as well as another small incision on the left lower side of my belly and retrieved the wayward IUD, a procedure that only took about 15 minutes, I'm told. However, start to finish, I was at the hospital for about six hours. Before I left, they did an ultrasound. We saw the baby, and the heartbeat was fine (as it was Friday). Only time will tell, now. There is an increased risk that I will miscarry because of the surgery. I had to tell my children--they have been worried about my multiple doctor visits, bloodwork trips, and ultrasound appointments, not to mention all the times I threatened them to be quiet while I was on the phone with doctors and nurses. I guess it will be beneficial to them either way-they might as well learn that babies' lives are not in the hands of their parents. We don't always get to bring them home from the hospital in a nice new blanket.

I have talked on several occasions about my desire to have "just one more"...but when I looked at that plus sign on the stick, I nearly died. I realized that I was quite content with life with three. I also realized another thing: while I might look back on my baby days wistfully, I don't want to be pregnant again. It may be due to my recent severe anxiety. It may be due to my age. It may be that I really do have clarity about what I want. This is it. I dare say that I might feel differently if the outcome is poor. I'm known to change my mind like that. When my first baby was stillborn, I immediately wanted another child, despite previously swearing that he would be my only. This time, I honestly think that no matter what, this is our last child.

So, it's kind of exciting, thinking about having another new baby. It will be neat to see my older kids with the baby. The sleepless nights and incessant nursing? Eh. In fact, I'm pretty much dreading it. And I have no idea where we're going to put it. We have a four bedroom house, so they're all full. The rooms are relatively small, so someone is going to be forced to share...and they're probably not going to like it. Good thing we got that minivan, I guess. Then there's the money. Or lack of it. It's already hard enough, living with three. The diapers...my Lord. My youngest is still in them. G joked that if this baby is a girl, she will likely be using the potty before he is. We'll make it, I know we will. It just might be harder than it has been. There are so many what-ifs, so many variables...sometimes it's just hard to keep it all in perspective and recognize it for the immense blessing that it is. Some people would kill for this opportunity. Some people never have this opportunity. When I consider the odds of what happened, combined with the normal odds of achieving pregnancy, it's astounding. It's clear that this baby is a miracle, and it's clear that it was meant to be. You can be as scientific about it as you like; I know that it was meant to be.

So, only time will tell. My problems right now are my anxiety, which I cannot mask pharmaceutically, and my pain, for which I don't care to take a narcotic. Tylenol does little, and has never done much for me. I'm not supposed to be alone with my children for a week...meaning, I'm supposed to take it that easy for a week. Not sure how that's going to happen. I'm trying not to worry about it. I'm trying to take it one step at a time. For now, I'm just thirsty and my throat hurts from the breathing tube.

By the Water

I finally got all three of my kids to the beach (that's the local beach at Downs Park, of course) at the same time.  They had so much fun, and were so busy.  They ran back and forth a million times, collecting sticks, building stick "houses".  Cameron met a girl from Germany who had eczema worse than she does.  We were free and carefree, the way it should be...at least most of the time.  I used to feel like that a lot with them, at various stages in my life.  Sometimes when it was only Cameron, sometimes when it was just Cameron and Collin, and finally all three after Noah was born.  I don't know what happened after that-I lost some of that sense of communion with my children, and I certainly didn't often feel a great four-way connection with them.  Saturday, I felt like it was me and them in the world, and nothing else mattered.  There is freedom in that feeling, and happiness and peace, too.

There must have been a small craft advisory in effect, because the bay was so choppy.   The tide was so high that we couldn't pass the way we usually do to get to the beach, nor could we sit in our usual spot.  It was windy, and as soon as the sun started to dip, it became chilly, too.  The children were beautiful, in that almost-sunset light, and their hair blowing.  I watched the bay change colors from minute to minute, and felt beautiful  myself...simply because of my feelings and surroundings.

The littlest boy showed signs of needing to leave first.  I think he's hypoglycemic or something.  He dug through my insulated bag, which contained only drinks, insisting that I give him something to eat.  I assured him there was no food in the bag.  A couple of times, he even picked up a few pieces of trash off the beach, asking if he could eat them.  I took the opportunity to fill two sand pails full of trash from the beach for us to carry out.  I don't know if it was because of the weekend and increased traffic, or the high tide depositing more than a normal amount of trash, or what...but I know that I don't want to see it next time we go.

Anyway, so we went to Pastore's-I was thinking maybe we could eat dinner for the $15 I had in my pocket.  Did I ever find a deal!  You can actually get an 18" 1 topping pizza for $7.99!  Of course, the drinks were like $2 each, but the boys could share and I didn't want one because I had water in the car.  Ah, but then the children saw the case of cannolis, tiramisu, and cakes.  How can you say no to that?  Actually, our dessert cost more than our dinner.  It was worth it, though, and I didn't have to cook late in the evening.

I see many more days like that in our future this summer.  I see many dinners being eaten there on that beach-cold sandwiches, or maybe some chicken made ahead of time.  It's a shame they don't like salads.  Maybe they will learn what I know to be true...everything tastes better when you're outside, especially by the water.

Peaceful Surroundings

I went to the park today, because I had to.  I could not sit in this house, and didn't have the will to try to contain my children.  It's funny how as soon as I hear the bay's little baby-waves, my blood pressure drops and I feel my muscles relax.  Collin especially was missing Nanay, G's grandmother who is in the Philippines for three weeks.  She has been going to the park with us, and we have lunch together.  Despite having recently eaten breakfast, the laying down of the mat was signal enough to the boys to want to eat lunch.  They didn't eat much, of course, before they were off and running...fighting over who could put sand in whose bucket, who had which shovel.  Mostly, Noah causes the problem, because, well, he's still two, and does what he wants.  Once in a while, though, Collin will get that look in his eye, and you just know he's about to do something naughty.  I went on my usual comb of the beach in search of my newfound interest: sea glass.  There wasn't much to be had today, as it was still very high tide.  Usually we arrive later, so it has already been deposited on the sand.  It's amazing how much can be found there!  Sometimes I find pieces that are still sharp and shiny, and haven't been frosted by being tossed about in the waves...and I chuck them back into the water so that it can do its magic.  I don't know why the little pieces of once-hazardous waste interest me, but they're pretty, and they're fairly rare, in these times of plastic. 

All too soon, it was time for us to go.  I had a doctor's appointment, so we had to leave earlier than we normally might.  That was ok...the boys were tired by then, although at least one of them refused a nap.  If we'd had a little longer ride home, they'd both have been asleep in the car.

It's nice to have a peaceful day.

Crisis and Luxury

Last night was a little more excitement than I bargained for.  We had dinner at Three Brothers, since I'm a slacker housewife and had nothing much in the house to cook.  That was nice, except that Noah had his babyTurrett's going on.  You know, he'd just be sitting in the high chair and he'd throw is napkin, "I dont' WANT this na'kin!"  His has new frog rain boots, which he's been wearing with everything, as I don't have the energy to insist otherwise.  I've learned from MJ that I need to pick my battles, and this is definitely one area that's just not worth it.  Anyway, before the food even arrived, he kicked them off, shouting that he didn't want the boots on anymore.  He shouted for his food;  he wanted a bite of mine...but when I tried to give him a bite he shouted that he didn't want it.He was simply hungry, and probably a bit tired still.  He wanted to eat a bite of my sauce, not my food.  I was supposed to know this.

After dinner, we came home and Cam had to get her shower and get ready for bed...but she complained that she couldn't breathe well and she was wheezing.  She's never actually been diagnosed with athsma, but she does have respiratory distress when her allergies kick in.  After she got in bed, she called me twice to say that she couldn't breathe and she was scared.  I asked her if she needed to go to the doctor right away, and she said yes.  Her lips weren't bluish, and she could hold a coversation, so I was concerned but not terrified.  I didn't need to call an ambulance, but I wasn't going to call for an appointment with Nighttime Peds, either.  We drove to the hospital, amidst many protests from a very scared little girl.

We didn't have to wait too long.  The doctor scolded me for having the house open...I knew it was better for it to be closed, but I really thought it wouldn't affect her so badly.  She does shower before bed every night, and she has a window air conditioner in her room (we have central in the rest of the house).  Not to mention, I'd really love to smell the spring air.  It would also be nice to forego the $300 gas & electric bill for a couple of months.  Anway, they gave her an albuterol nebulizer treatment, and she was much better.  Cam talked non-stop, partially from feeling better and the albuterol making her nervous, and partially because she was so tired.  They sent us home with an inhaler of the same.  In the forever that you have to wait before being discharged, there was a commotion.  Three other children had come in for the same problem (totalling five).  The respiratory therapists were running around like crazy, with kids literally receiving treatments on chairs in the hallway. 

And then there was a two-week-old baby.  He arrived about half an hour before we left.  I heard bits and pieces of his story, and his constant screams.  On my way out to exit admission, I saw his terrified father, standing over his tiny little self, trying to console him.  His mother looked vacant.  The doctor was right outside our room, calling for the helicopter to transfer him-I don't know whether it was to University or Hopkins.  Either way, that little baby was very sick, and I prayed for him and his new family.  I just can't imagine being those parents.  I have had scary situations with my own children, namely Noah, but nothing that comes even close.  It wasn't lost on me that I was walking out of there with my daughter holding my hand, and they were getting ready to put their baby on a helicopter.  I was so thankful that it wasn't me, but so sorry for their plight.

I was glad to see my friend Kim.  She works there, and had seen our name and stopped in to say hi and see what was going on.  I wish she could have chatted with us the entire time, it would have put me more at ease.

Anyway...today we visit our regular doctor.  Might as well take the whole lot of them and make sure they're all ok, since they've all been suffering with the allergies; especially since we're coming up on the weekend.  I guess it would probably be a good idea to play inside today, despite my desire to do otherwise.  I tell myself that this is only temporary, and it is manageable.  The other parents may not have that luxury.

Fiesta Time & the Chipmunk Assassin

On the corner, a few houses down from me, live a bunch of Mexicans.  And I do mean a bunch-several families live in the same house.  In the summer, whiffs of well-seasoned barbecued meats and wafts of ranchera or salsa music float on the breeze into our open windows.  Yes, it's fiesta time.  Just about every weekend, they have a party and invite friends...they eat, laugh, and drink, and often sing loudly.  Either that, or turn up their favorite songs so that the entire neighborhood can hear as well.  They are out until all hours-kids and all.  Sometimes it's a little annoying, depending on the volume of the music, and, well, whether the music sucks or not.  Most of the time, I simply note that they're having more fun than me.  Kinda like tonight. 

I had a fabulous day.  It was Courtney's turn to go to Starbucks, so I had 15 extra minutes this morning.  I wasn't too tired, and had a great day at work.  It wasn't too busy, but just enough to keep me from getting bored.  After work, I went to my mom's, where my husband and children had been since lunch time.  The kids played hard all day, and then we cooked out.  We ate burgers, hot dogs, potato & pasta salads, and mac & cheese.  The kids loved it because there were no veggies tonight (usually we do a stir fry when we grill, but no one felt like it today).  Then there was angelfood cake with strawberries & whipped cream, or ice cream (or both) for dessert.  We sat out on the deck and relaxed in the breeze, and it was truly heavenly.  I gave the kids a bath at my mom's, so I only had to tuck them in when we got home.  They are suffering so badly, the poor things...their eyes are swollen and itchy, their noses are stuffy, they have headaches and earaches.  The allergy medicines just can't keep up with the huge volume of pollen in the air right now, and their poor little minds can't grasp that the medicine will not cure their misery completely.

Anyway, by the time I came downstairs fom tucking the last one in, G was already asleep on the couch.  Part of me cannot blame him-he's under an open window, the cool breeze on his face, and he's snuggled up under a soft blanket. 

 

The other part of me is screaming, TALK TO ME!  WAKE UP AND SEE ME!  He hasn't seen me all day, and spent most of the time at my mom's inside on the sofa, watching Pirates of the Caribbean (again) on his laptop.  I think tonight, it's going to be me and a new book, until I fall asleep, too.

Tomorrow we're having Family Bowling Day.  A bunch of us will get together for duckpins and some greasy pizza.  Sounds like we made a good plan, considering it's supposed to rain until Tuesday.  Hopefully, I can get some flowers in the ground and clean up my perennials this week.  My garden is a hot mess right now, but just seeing the stuff that is blooming is encouraging.

And then there are the chipmunks.  Or, were the chipmunks.  See, we have a colony of them living in my garden, in the yard, and out back in the retaining wall.  We recently discovered that they are under our porch stoop, as well.  G insisted that they will ruin the foundation of the porch and cause it to collapse, and that we must get rid of them.  Well, last night, while I worked, he decided to do just that.  He lit a fire in one of the holes.  He was trying to smoke them out.  Instead of going the other way, a family (read: parents and babies...cute little baby chipmunks) ran right past the fire.  At least one baby was badly burned.  The parents fled, and he put the babies into the lawn waste bag (although they were all alive).  Did I mention my children saw all of this heinousness?  They have been traumatized.  As soon as I got home from work, they converged on my car, crying about how daddy killed the baby chipmunks.  What can you even say to that?!  What kind of man does something like that, let alone in front of his kids?!

Anyway.  One more confession to make, since it's obviously been too long since I blogged, and I have a lot to say.  I drove the Tahoe a couple of times last week, and I discovered something: I don't miss it that much.  The Sienna's drive is so nice, and it seems so much more agile...not lumbering and hulking like the Tahoe.  Then there's the fact that it starts right away...the Tahoe always starts, but always sounds like it's not going to.  Here lately, it's sputtering so badly that it sounds like it's could quit running at any second.  Frankly, that's embarrassing.  So yeah, I kinda like the minivan.  On the other hand, I think I would have liked any vehicle that was 8 years newer.

Hope you're having a great weekend!

Sights & Sounds

My husband is a deaf bastard. That, and he listens psychologically. By that, I mean, if he' hopes it's interesting, he turns it up. If he wants me to be interested, he turns it up. If it's funny, he turns it up. This somehow increases the humor. Likewise, volume increases a song's quality. You get the picture...and I get a headache. I think many men carry the same gene.

My middle son, Collin, has been going through some stuff lately. He hasn't been sleeping as well...meaning, he gets out of bed several times each night, or alternatively, plays in his room by 4watt nightlight. You may already know that he's been drawing on doors and ceilings and Lord knows what else. He has also been lying ALL THE TIME. In fact, he lied about having written on the ceiling. He is blaming everything on his brother. I know it's just a stage in his "development" (why do they have to develop into lying, cheating mini-men?), but it's old already. I wish I knew the cause of it all. Is he bored? I can certainly empathize with understimulation. Is he nervous about something? Unsure of his place in the home? I don't know. And my daughter...every time she gets punished, she freaks out. She rants, screams, blames everyone else, acts like an idiot. The baby has also been ranting, as well as pinching, biting, hitting, yelling, etc. What am I doing wrong, lately?! I feel like a terrible mother. I used to have much more of a handle on my children, it seems.

Ah, but spring is among us! It's been warmer during the day, here on the east coast, which means I have not been home. Today was particularly gorgeous, and a spent a portion of it on Black Hole Creek, at my friend's house. You can't ask for much better scenery than that. Perhaps everyone's moods will improve once they've run off the winter blues outside?

My Own Private Artscape

I have no business being awake right now.  I’m tired and a little sore, from three days in a row at the gym (yay, me!).  I have to get up early, of course, and I have a million things to do tomorrow.

There have been a lot of artistic happenings in my house lately.  Unfortunately, I’m none too pleased about them.  See, my sons have taken to caveman expressions of their creativity.  Yep, they’re writing on the walls.  My middle son, Collin, was sad about being punished or something, and he decided to let everyone know by writing with both a Sharpie and a kids’ tattoo marker [read: indelible] on his door.  See the little smiley faces?  Someday, that will be cute.  Someday, after I’ve finished painting over it.  Maybe I should just leave it there for another five years or so, to assure no further damage is done.  When I was putting Collin into bed tonight, he told me Noah had written on Collin’s walls with a brown marker (and I’m thinking, PLEASE let it be a Crayola!).  Our house is a cape cod, with the angled ceilings upstairs.  I painted Collin’s ceiling to look like the sky.  So, when a little boy stands on Collin’s Little Tykes race car bed, he can reach the slope-y ceiling, and he can paint the sky with turd brown, the whole length of the bed.  He can do the bed while he’s at it, too, and some wall as well.  Oh, and by the way?  There is no way in hell that a turd brown dry erase marker will ever come off a flat-painted ceiling.  Not with Lysol wipes.  Not with a Magic Eraser.  Nope...more painting in my future.  I also discovered that Noah found some glitter glue, and decorated Collin’s pillow, the carpet and the wall.  He also found some sand art that someone had created, and dumped that on the carpet.  They emptied the trash can onto the floor, tore everything out of Collin’s closet in search of God-knows-what, and drug half the toys out of his toybox.  Remember what I said, how when you realize it’s quiet, it’s already too late?  Another prime example.  Not to mention that this all took place in the space of THREE MINUTES.  Noah has written on downstairs walls with crayon three times this week.  He also wrote on the floor, and all over his high chair tray, and twice all over the upstairs toilet.  Oh, I cannot wait until they are teenagers.  For now, I think I’m going to keep all art supplies under lock and key.  And man, I can’t wait for this weather to turn, so I can send their little asses outside rather than busy them with creative stuff inside.  There’s a time and a place for art.  The time is when they’re strapped into a high chair and cannot reach a wall (because a Magic Eraser does work well on a high chair), and the place is not on my walls.  Someday, this will all be very humorous to me.  But for now, I’m thinking I should paint my house with blackboard paint and pass out some chalk.

 

Cars & Boys

I hate buying a used car.  You never know what you’re going to get, and obviously, any car of any age can have issues.  This morning, I pressed the remote start button, and there was merely a click.  SIGH.  Know what that means.  There was enough battery for me to open the side door and let Cameron in so that I could try to start it, which it refused to do.  There was not enough juice left to close the door.  Beautiful.  So, I checked the warranty information, and confirmed what I already knew to be true: batteries are not covered.  OF COURSE.  Happy Monday.  Thank God, I still have the Tahoe, so we were able to jump in her and go.  Now, if only she will play nice for the remainder of the day.

On a funny note, last night, G and I were sitting here in the living room, ignoring eachother on opposing laptops like always, when there was a funny, long, foamy sound from the bathroom.  Collin was supposed to be rinsing after brushing his teeth.  I yelled, "COLLIN!  What was that--shaving cream?!"  There was a brief pause, where he was almost audibly thinking, Crap!  Should I tell her?  He said, "Uh, I don’t know, I can’t read!"  He of course was full of it, he knew exactly what it was.  He had filled the sink with his Mr. Men Crazy Soap (bath foam).  At least it was nothing I had to clean off the walls...where better to make a mess than where we can just turn on the water and rinse it away?

I’m hoping all these nasty, cold, wet days are going to lead to some pretty fabulous May flowers, as the old saying goes.  I’m really sick of this weather, and I check Southwest & Airtran almost daily for an airfare that I can afford (times five, of course) to someplace warm.  I think everyone else is feeling much the same.  It’s a shame we couldn’t get a group rate on a flight/vacation package, eh?  We have not had a harsh winter, I don’t think (at least, the beginning of it wasn’t), but now it just seems to be dragging along.  March was supposed to have gone out like a lamb, and with the exception of one day, it didn’t.  At least the end of this week looks a little more promising.

Hope your week’s starting off better than mine!

Working a Hangover

I had to work today, but I felt like hell. I had three glasses of wine last night, but I feel like I had six or eight. I got to go in late (10:30am), but I still felt horrible. And then the real fun began.

I work for a financial institiution. First, I had to help an elderly lady with dementia. Last week, she and her new attorney removed her granddaughter from her account; today she decided to put her back on. I spent quite a while trying to determine whether the granddaughter really has Gram’s best interests in mind, or if she’s skimming money from the poor lady’s account. I think it’s the latter of the two. Unfortunately, now that she is once again a joint owner, she can do whatever she pleases. However, in my research, I’ve found that the granddaughter accessed the lady’s home equity line of credit...a big no-no when you’re name’s not on the loan. Then there was the girl who couldn’t figure out how her money was gone from her checking account. I printed out the account history so she could plainly see how much she’s been working her debit card, and she still didn’t understand. "Where did my last paycheck go?" she asked. It was all I could do not to be sarcastic and, well, a little mean about it. I mean, come on...if you deposit $1000 and proceed to have 34 debits from your account, what exactly do you suppose is going to happen to your balance?

And then there was the Safe Deposit Box. That is usually not my favorite thing to do. You stand there, in the hallway, until the person is done rummaging through their stuff. You must not see the contents of their box. That’s it. There is nothing to read, nothing to sit on, nothing to do except stand there and think. On a day like today, that wasn’t such a bad thing, though, because it sure beat talking to someone or having to think a lot. I gladly clicked "assist" and got up to find the man in the lobby. It wasn’t long after I signed him in and he began rummaging that I heard it...a long, quiet, but quite destinct fart. Initially, I was amused, and looked forward to sharing my tale with my coworkers. Well, then the smell crept around the corner, took hold of my throat, and proceeded to choke me. I thought for sure that I would vomit. I mean, it smelled for all the world like he had soiled his drawers. Ten minutes later, when the man was done, I had to check the desk to make sure he’d removed all of his items. The smell was quite concentrated in that area, and I quickly grabbed the Lysol out of the bathroom, making sure that he was gone from the lobby. So much for hangover help.

Then there were the three people who signed in to see a rep at 1:55 (we close at 2:00pm). Thanks. There is one man who does it EVERY WEEK. I really think we should be able to tell him that he needs to get in earlier...no one goes to his place of employment and makes him stay late. Asshole.

Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just grumpy because I don’t feel good. I’ve been having a headache for more than a week now, too. I’m really not mean, honestly. I really want a cheeseburger, and I’m trying to coerce G to go to Fuddrucker’s. I may go without him. He and his friends were up until God knows when last night. A bunch of them came over here after his work party (more on that later), since we are close. If you read my previous blog, you know I wasn’t pleased about the idea, but he connived until he got his way. He put me on the spot, and asked if they couldn’t come over right in front of them. Bet he’s been practicing that one since late infancy. Anyway, my thinking is that he kind of owes me. I know he laid on the couch and ignored the children all day. He also left the dog out all night, so her barking ass woke me up at 6:00 this morning. Someone left the gate open last night, so she was not in the yard...she was on the front porch. I really hope he cleaned up the Green House. I also heard there was puking going on by one of the girls last night. I hope there’s none of that mess out back, either. I’m too old for this crap.

Inflation

Last time I saw REM was in 1989 (shut up) at Merriweather Post Pavilion.  I think we paid something like $19 or maybe even as much as $25 for lawn seats.  Well, I got an update from Ticketmaster this morning, and saw that they are coming back to Merriweather, 19 years later.  A few grey hairs formed instantly on my head, as I tried to get my brain around the idea that it has been practically two decades since that muddy day, in the aftermath of hurricane Hugo.  I can remember virtually every detail.  I had on new jeans, which were caked with mud.  I wore my favorite black shirt from Le Chateau (anyone remember that store??? I was shocked to find they still exist).  My hair was freshly dyed.  I was going with two of my favorite boys, too.  I’m pretty sure the one boy’s car-the Notorious Vev-broke down on the way home (or was that a different show?).  Anyway, the point of the story is that pavilion seats on this tour cost $75.  Lawn seats cost $40-a total of $101.70 for two people to attend, once you add the service charges and whatever other BS they tack on.  They’re also playing with Modest Mouse, whom I would really like to see.  However, when you consider we’d need a babysitter (ok, that’s usually free, but it can be a hassle), plus taking off work (it’s on a Wednesday night...I work every Wednesday) and getting there...it’s a bit of an undertaking.  And I’ve already seen REM, a couple of times.  Is it really worth it?  SIGH.  Maybe we should just go to the movies, or better yet, hit the Redbox at the McDonald’s.  I love inflation.

We are going "out" tonight.  G’s place of employment decided against their annual holiday party this year, opting for a bull roast instead.  His place of employment is in White Marsh, however, the bull roast is being held at La Fontaine Bleu in good ol’ downtown Glen Dirty (that’s Glen Burnie, for you non-locals).  Love that.  Previously, they’ve had employee events at the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore, etc.  I guess inflation is hurting us all. 

So, I took two hours’ leave tomorrow morning so that I won’t have to get up too early.  G was wanting to have an after party here, since we are close to the classy venue...but I protested.  One, I have to get up early.  Two, that would require cleaning my house some more.  Three, we have three children!  He forgets these things, from time to time.  He also forgets that he has to get up with those three children tomorrow, probably no later than 8am.  If the after party started at 12 midnight, how long do you suppose it would last?  And do you suppose my DH would get up?  Yeah, me neither.

Happy Friday!

Back to Reality

We arrived home from the beach a little while ago. As soon as I opened the door, the phone rang and it was my mom. We had planned to go down to the Inlet to mess around on the boardwalk before leaving, but the idea was scrubbed because it was so cold and windy, and because the kids already got souvenirs. My mother had called to say that right about the time we were leaving (and would have been going to the boardwalk), there was a 9 alarm fire to which 21 fire companies responded, which destroyed Dough Roller, some t-shirt place, and part of Marty’s Playland. All I could think was, oh no, the claw machines!

This weekend went pretty well. G and I got along fairly well, except the time he told me I was oppressive (he claims he was kidding). Remember how I said one unseasonably warm day wouldn’t hurt? Well, God delivered...it was a good 75 degrees on Friday, and I was acutally sweaty on the beach while walking in my jeans and sweater. It was therapy! I even saw one silly girl in her bathingsuit. Saturday and today, though, back to normal-wind and cold! We had a pretty good time...helped out with the youth group, and it’s always good to see our old friends there. MJ went down, too, so we got to hang out with her a little. We ate at Tequila Mockingbird, which I LOVE (thanks, MJ)! My only complaint was that I didn’t get to have any Thrasher’s fries or Dumser’s mint chocolate chip ice cream...but I guess there’s always later in the summer.

There were lots of funny things this weekend...Cameron calling the hotel a "ho-towel", Noah calling the elevator an "alligator", and the fact that we were so disgusted with our bent-frame terrible hotel bed that we took the mattress off and put it on the floor. It didn’t cave in any more, but it didn’t make it much more comfortable, either. I’m really looking forward to sleeping in my Beautyrest tonight! However, it, too, is worn out and we really need to look into getting a new one. I am pushing hard for a king this time (we have a queen, now). G thinks it will take up too much space in our room, but I think if we downsize our nightstands (they are huge), it will fit nicely. On the other hand, that would require buying a whole new bedroom set. Ah, yes...here I go...

So, the minivan has had her first roadtrip with our family. No on puked in it, thank God, and most of the mess has already been cleaned out of it, even. I do have to take it to the car wash to rinse all the salt off of it. It was really very comfortable, and even though I thought I wouldn’t, I fit everything in nicely. However, when we go to Myrtle Beach for an entire week, obviously there will be more stuff. I don’t know how that’s going to pan out. I am pretty sure we’re going to have to get a "turtle"...you know, the big storage container that goes on the roof of the vehicle. G is sure that it will kill the gas mileage, but who cares...I’d rather have that and be able to see out the back window.

Cameron had her first soccer game this evening. What a fiasco. She was on one team, then another coach called and said she’d been put on his team...I told him he needed to get with the first coach and figure it out...the second coach called me back to say that she should stay on the first team. Well, now they’re saying she’s supposed to be on the other team (even after she’s already practiced with her first team, and frankly, the first coach is nicer and doesn’t have a cultural identity issue like the second one does). The first coach insisted that she play with them tonight, which I thought was very nice. We’re supposed to hear from the soccer commissioner as to whether she stays with the good team or has to move to Coach Gangsta Wannabe’s team. I already know I’m going to have issues if she does have to switch teams.

Anyway, so it’s back to the same old thing tomorrow. I’ve been so busy that I don’t feel like I got a break at all...but it was nice not to do dishes or laundry and stuff for a few days. G was supposed to be off work tomorrow, but he has decided not to be, for whatever idiot reason. He was saying how he has so much time to take off this year, if he doesn’t start scheduling it soon, he’s going to lose it. I swear, I think he has a workwife that he can’t wait to get back to or something. And please God, let him take the Guitar Hero back to Ed.

I hope you all have a great week.

Breakfast on the Run and Weekend Plans

There are few things I like better than a Chick-Fil-A chicken biscuit for breakfast. Every once in a while, I have to treat myself, and since I had to have bloodwork done this morning, what better time than after my "fast" (hah, yeah right, I simply hadn’t eaten breakfast yet). It’ll do wonders for my cholesterol, I’m sure, but man, they are so good.

We are going to the beach today, so I’m excited. Shame the weather won’t cooperate. Why did it have to be warmer in December than it is now? One freak 70 degree day isn’t too much to ask. Anyway, I have a million things to do before we go, including pack for everyone in the house. My husband, God love him, has screwed me yet again. He didn’t put his laundry in the laundry room, favoring instead to create a small mountain on the floor beside the bed. I cautioned him against doing so a couple of days ago. Yesterday, I also asked him several times whether he had packed, or if he planned to bring any clothes with him. He flat out said he hoped that I would pack for him. See, here’s where he knows he has me: he knows I’ll do it, because I would like to leave as soon as he gets home from work. Therefore, if I don’t do it, I’ll have to wait for him, and he will most assuredly take his sweet time. SIGH. I could just leave withouth him, I suppose, but who wants to deal with that can of worms?

It’s amazing, the amount of stuff a parent must carry with them when traveling with small children. I do tend to overpack, but when I have packed less, I have needed more. If I only packed one outfit for each day, the child has invariably had a diaper blow-out or got ridiculously wet or messy. If I didn’t pack allergy medicines and ibuprofen, the child got a fever in the middle of the night. If I didn’t bring a pack & play, the hotel ran out of them, or forgot to put it in the room. I find it’s better to just go ahead and bring the whole house, despite the protests of my husband. See, to him, packing the car is an artform. I say, if you have that much time to spend arranging, you have time to do your own laundry and pack your own stuff. Needless to say, I plan to pack the car by the time he gets home, so we won’t have that wait, too. And then there’s the space issue in the minivan. I’m used to having a big "butt" on my vehicle in which to stow lots of stuff...the aforementioned pack & play, the stroller, the suitcases and snacks...in the minivan, I just don’t have what I’m used to, and that’s going to be a struggle. However, it will be really nice and really QUIET on the ride to the beach, what with each kid having their own dvd player and headphones. No more screaming, hitting, stealing toys, etc. Now, if only we will have such luck when we go to Myrtle Beach this summer.

I’m hoping not to fight with my beloved husband today, or even this weekend. Traveling with the children tends to make us (or maybe just me) a little edgy. I tend to want things done my way (because I know best, of course, being the mother and all). I tend to get irritated when I don’t get my way...like the leaving on time thing. If we leave late, then the children don’t go to bed until late, and they’re a wreck the next day. However, he just thinks he’s on vacation, so he doesn’t have to hurry for anything. It’s that focus on only himself without considering the effect on the rest of us that makes me want to choke him. Hopefully, things will just go smoothly.

On that note, I really should pack so that I can follow my own plans! It’s only three days, right?

It’s Official, I’m a Soccer Mom In Training

Yep, we did it. We bought a minivan. If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be driving a minivan with three kids, I’d probably have slapped you. But, it’s in front of my house, and the kids are all fired up about it. We bought a 2005 Toyota Sienna XLE, which is the nicest and newest vehicle I have owned. When I compare that to the 1983 VW Rabbit I used to have when Cameron was little, well, it seems like I’m living the good life. On the other hand, now I have to pay for the damn thing. I just hope I’m not going to be car-poor. I will have to be more strict with my spending, that’s for sure. Rather like the tv we bought last summer, we have spent more than we originally agreed upon. Seems like the American Way, no?

I hope that it’s a wise investment. It will cost less in gas than the Tahoe, which is, of course, wonderful. I hope it will serve us well. And God bless Toyota for the 14 cup holders!

Ed, I'm Coming for You...

So, quite a while ago, I told G about Guitar Hero...how all the kids are playing it, and how it sounds like fun and he would probably love it. I’m sure he’d already heard of it, being the tech geek he is, but I don’t think he really realized its popularity. Well, now of course we have the Wii, thanks to my Target stalking at Christmas time. It was only recently that G learned the Guitar Hero was available for the Wii.

And then there was Ed. Ed is his friend from work, whom I have never met. I don’t know what he’s like, I will admit...but I’ve got it out for him. See, I’ve been having a little trouble getting my husband to spend time with me. He’s been a workaholic lately, and when he’s not working, he’s doing what HE wants (messing around on the computer, playing volleyball, doing whatever it is he does in the garage). Yesterday, G brought home a white box. Can you guess what was inside?

He spent all of last night first clumsily following along, and later full-out rockstar jamming around the living room (I mean complete with lip syncing, jumping, super-exaggerated strumming). He didn’t make Cameron’s lunch, like I asked. He didn’t get his clothes out of my truck as I asked. He didn’t come to bed with me. SIGH. Goodbye, G. See you in a couple of weeks.

Ed, if a brick (or the Enemy in the White Box) crashes through your front window, you’ll know it was a present from sweet little ol’ me.

Car Shopping

I test drove another Sienna today. This time, they offered to give me $2k for my truck, and the salesperson said they would probably go to $2500. They did not take anything off the price of the vehicle, though, leaving me about $2500 from where I’d like to be. The salesperson was casual, down-to-earth and reasonable. He treated me as though I were going to buy the vehicle--didn’t ask if I needed to contact my husband. I like that. I didn’t really get to talk to the manager, which is just as well. They’re usually the slimiest of them.

I might go look at another, tomorrow. I don’t even feel like having my truck appraised again...it’s not running well and the engine light is on. It’s embarrassing! Combine that with the dirty carpet, Cheerios and toys, and, well, can you blame them? I know they’re only going to wholesale it, but still...it’s worth more to me. The book value is about $2600 more than they’re offering, and that’s for only fair condition. High retail is about $5k more. So should I try to trade it, or sell it outright? Is it worth it to try to sell it? Or should I suck it up and pay more?

Anyway, the other Sienna I am interested in is $1k more, and it’s in Owings Mills. Another hike. I am one of those people who has to feel "this is it". I have to know that it’s right. I believe we didn’t get the first two we looked at because they weren’t right. Am I saying that we’ve been predestined to purchase a particular vehicle with a particular VIN number? No...just that I should have clarity and peace with the one I’m going to buy.

Last night, my 2yr old Noah tried on my mascara. He also tried it on the couch (thank God I don’t use waterproof, eh?). Some of you may remember a short while ago, when Collin did the same. It was pretty funny. He also emptied a can of Dermaplast all over the living room and himself, coating everything in a greasy fog. For the past week or two, he’s had an affinity for markers and pens. He wrote on both the dining room table and the coffee table with a pen, and the entire way up the stairwell with a green marker. More proof that when you realize it’s very quiet, it’s already too late. My friend complains that with the current state of things, he might have to be an Ikea shopper. Well, I’d rather my kids write on my Ikea stuff than my Ethan Allen. Today, Collin dumped an entire 20oz (cold) water on me. That, too, was a pleasant experience. It truly was an accident, though, so I couldn’t be too mad...and let’s face it--it could have been cherry KoolAid.

I think I will try to make some fish for dinner. I’m still on the fence about it. I am really NOT a fish person. I like shellfish, yes, but I pretty much always turn my nose up at even the finest selections of fish. I have, however, had a couple of types of salmon that I liked...I may try to replicate one of those recipes. I’m just tired of the same old thing...I like quite a bit of variety in my diet. That’s pretty hard to do, when you have not one, but four different people, with different degrees of pickiness, living in the same household. There is literally nothing that will make everyone happy. Sometimes I feel like making my own dinner, and telling the rest of them that they are on their own. I guess to be fair, I should wait until they’re at least old enough to use the stove!

Uneventful

Well, the MIL came and went without much to-do. Really, her visit went well. We ate out more than usual, which is nice for me...and she’s the type to help clean up and stuff, so that was nice, too. Her incessant commenting during movies and phony hyper-praising got on my nerves as always, but it was pretty tolerable. Her worst visits have always been when her husband came with her. We even had a fairly deep discussion about religion last night. The kids really enjoyed her visit. I’m just glad it’s over and we can go back to "normal", whatever that may be.

So, we went to talk to the sales people about a deal on the minivan we liked. As soon as we pulled up, we saw that another three-kid family had just arrived and was looking at the same van. We lurked around the lot as they got the keys, checked it out, and went for a test-drive. It was pretty pointless, but we went in to see what kind of deal they would offer us, but I knew the other people were going to buy it. First of all, the list price was decent, considering the book value. And while there was nothing "wrong" with them, the other family just seemed to not be quite as savvy as we might be regarding used vehicle purchase. It turns out that they only offered me $1k for my truck, and nothing off the price. Why should they, they had another eager family whose rugrats were already climbing all over the thing? Oh well, it just wasn’t meant to be, and that’s ok.

Right on cue, however, my truck began small signs of protest. She knows her days are numbered, her feelings are hurt, and she’s going to give me a hard time in the next couple of weeks. She didn't want to start (more than usual), and the trip odometer got stuck...so it made an annoying click which I couldn't figure out for quite a while. Then it overheated...or maybe not, the temperature guage was just going crazy because there was so little coolant in it (that's a boy's job, and that boy hasn't been doing his job). Anyway, there is another I might go look at tomorrow, in Reisterstown. That’ll be a fun drive with the boys. The price listed on that one is not too bad, either, so it depends how much they’ll move on it, as well as how much they would give me for my truck. I know I would likely be able to sell my truck outright for quite a bit more than the dealer would give me, but it’s just not something I want to do right now. Trying to answer questions and field calls and potential buyers while looking after my children and juggling my own schedule...eh. Not to mention if my truck would sell before I find a minivan. Fun, fun. I would like to find a new vehicle before I go to the beach at the end of the month. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about problems on the way down and back (except my incredibly motion-sick child on my new leather seats).

I can’t believe Easter is this weekend. I am not at all ready for the festivities...my eggs are not filled, my treats are not ready to go in the baskets. My house isn’t even decorated, which makes me kinda sad. I am, however, glad that the daffodils and crocuses are up, and that spring is on its way. This cold weather keeps hanging on, but with Daylight Savings, I’m really encouraged. It won’t be long. Now I just have to figure out what to do with my kids while Cam is off school this week. We will have to think of stuff to do so that boredom and insanity and fighting doesn’t ensue.

Guess I’d better go see about dinner...it’s not going to cook itself!

The Mom Mobile

So, I drive a 4WD 1997 Chevy Tahoe with 155k miles on it. It has no third row seating, therefore, if we have the family with us, no one else can ride with us. The cargo space is, of course, fabulous. It's great to be able to go to Home Depot and buy an appliance, 12 bags of mulch, whatever. It's great to be able to cart around a double stroller, single stroller, and a week's worth of groceries. It's especially wonderful after a snow storm to be able to get in the car, push a button, and drive away...no shoveling required. I can tow pretty much anything, pull another car out of the mud, etc. It's big, strong, and safe.

And it gets about 11 miles per gallon.

With gas prices heading up to $3.20, and $4.00 projected by summer, that does pose a bit of a concern...even though I usually only drive a few miles per week. Additionally, it needs some work...needs a new catalytic converter (so the exhaust has that lovely rotten egg smell) and some oxygen sensors and stuff. My aftermarket remote start has stopped working, and the mp3 changer stopped working a long time ago. The transmission has shown signs of stress on some occasions, and no wonder, with that many miles on it. It probably should be rebuilt. So, the school of thought is, is it really worth it to put any more money into this vehicle? G thinks not. And, quite honestly, he doesn't want to be the one working on it, either. See, fixing cars is one of his hobbies. But not when it has to be done.

So, the other day we went to look at a Honda Odyssey in Bel Air. It was pretty nice...heated leather seats, navigation, and plenty of room for the fam. I will say that I hate the storage space in a minivan. I wish it was more like my truck. Once there is a single stroller in there, there won't be room for much else. The used car market around here is very slow lately, so prices are fairly reasonable, even before haggling. We could potentially get a good deal, and have a nice, comfy vehicle to take on our summer road trip. But man, I hate to get rid of my truck. We would likely trade it in for two reasons. First and foremost, it gives us a little bit of bargaining room, and therefore would decrease the amount we need to finance. Secondly, we wouldn't have the headache of having it inspected and selling it on our own. I just hate to get rid of it. And, to be quite honest, I hate a minivan. The features and comforts are nice, but I just don't like them.

Yesterday, I went to look at a Toyota Sienna with the two boys. That was interesting. I wasn't assertive enough with the sales person, so she yapped the whole time and came with me on the test drive. She offered to stay behind and keep my boys (NO!), and then pissed me off by asking THEM if they wanted to stay there in the kids' room. Thankfully, they're boys, so they wanted to see the car. She yapped the whole time on the test drive as well, which irritated me. I couldn't concentrate on the details of the drive and the vehicle because she was going on and on about how many people wanted to see this particular van. Give me a break. I'm immune to all their slimy tactics...G used to sell cars! I didn't let on, though. I knew I would be bringing G back to check the car out...obviously he would be able to diagnose any mechanical problems better than I would.

So, the whole lot of us drove back to the dealership last night, and G took the car for a drive himself. He liked it even better than the Odyssey, as did I. It looks like we will probably give them an offer and commence the haggling this weekend. IF it doesn't sell by then, which of course they would have us believe is inevitable. Oh, this will be fun. G thinks we should bring the children, because that gives us excuses and leverage...I'll make them all cry if you don't give us what we want and hurry up! I think, of course, that it would only add more pressure to us...and of course, it would make them pretty miserable. On the other hand, it just might work for us to say, we only have half an hour. Let's roll.

Two days until the MIL's arrival. Guess I'd better make sure I have some wine in the house.