Massage Cheating?

After the title of my last post, it occured to me that I have a membership at one of those massage places. Won't say which one, because I am a little bit peaved and have been wanting to cancel. I currently (well as of last Monday when I checked) have 10 credits (10 1 hour massages) that I need to use or I will lose them if I cancel. And there is no way I am going to lose credit for anything

Why would anyone want to give up on 10 massages? Especially when they don't require the physical therapy torture. Well, let me tell you why...

When I got pregnant with Kenzie, you can't get a massage until after the first trimester. So I waited until I was 14 weeks and went for a "prenatal" massage. Then they told me their policy was to wait until 18 weeks and I would have to provide a doctors note. Okay, fine. So I waited and got a note from my doctor. Then I tried to make an appointment. They only had one therapist that would do the prenatal massage. Guess what... She was always freaking busy. So again, no more appointments. In about the eighth month of my pregnancy, I got really pissed. Can you believe it took me so long? I complained. I emailed the corporate office and so on. So, as a courtesy, they put my membership on hold - for 6 months. During my on hold period I couldn't get a massage or use any of my credits. In exchange, they wouldn't charge me the monthly fee. The credits would keep until the hold period was up. Then I could get massage again.

So, as a swollen 8 month pregnant woman, I went to the new massage club in town. It was just on the outskirts of our subdivision. It was quiet. The people were really nice. And when I walked in, they had immediate availability with someone that gave prenatal massage. OK, can you say "AHHHH!"

Yada yada yada... I signed up. Alan, my new massage guy, was very experienced. He was the lead therapist in the clinic. And did a great job. So, starting at 32 weeks, I went to see Alan once a week until Kenzie was born. :-) So if you are in the Pearland area and need a referral for prenatal massage, I got one!

To continue with the story, Kenzie is born, and at week 6 I go back for a regular massage. I still like Alan, so I figured I would keep up the massage membership. Time fast forwards to November when I notice an interesting charge on my credit card... Oh crap. My 6 months must be up. Kenzie is 6 months old. It makes sense... Then, I go back through my statements and notice I have gotten charged for September, October, and November... Rat bastards! I need to cancel.

I call them up and discover I have 10 credits. Can I cancel the membership? "Certainly, Mrs. B, you can cancel, but you have 10 credits on your account. All credits will be forfeited. The retail value of 10 credits is $800." Well, crap on that. I am not losing those credits.

I set my self a goal. Use all 10 of them between now and December 31st so I can cancel!

I am on a mission. Use 10 credits in 5 weeks. With the Thanksgiving holiday, I have vacation coming up. Chad is taking Cutter and Hunter out of town. Kenzie will be in daycare, so I will knock some of these credits off...

I called Friday to make an appointment. No openings on Saturday. Again, rat bastards! Sunday. 3:00 with David. Okay, how could this be bad?

I get there on Sunday... One down. Nine to go... David turns out to be an odd looking little man who is legally blind. It was a weird massage. Not bad. But weird. David was no Alan. As I am laying there, relaxing, my mind constantly was comparing David to Alan. Alan doesn't do that. Uhhh, that was weird. Does David breathe out of his mouth? Great, now all I can think about is this weird little man breathing out of his mouth, lathering me up with oil and feeling weird. Not relaxed any more. Needless to say. It was ... ehh... marginal at best.

I check out when I leave and Barbie the Bimbo on the computer says, "Would you like to make your next appointment?" Ok. "When?" How about tomorrow? "Great! I noticed you have 9 credits remaining on your account. How about trying our hot stones? Its a 90 minute massage and costs 2 credits." Sounds good, as my ever present goal of using 10 credits in 5 weeks looms over me. "How's tomorrow at 2:30?" Texans game tomorrow... Leaving at 5. 2:30 plus 90 minutes gives me 4:00. Okay I have time. That works for me. Thanks Barbie the Bimbo, I now have a new strategy to achieve my goal!

Monday comes. I am really busy... Shopping, cleaning, laundry. You know. The usual. I am almost late to my massage appointment. I pull into the parking lot at 2:30 on the dot. My therapist this time is named Israel. At the start of the massage, I asked him few questions while we were getting started. He lives in Clute. He used to be an iron worker and did massage part time. Okay. Odd combination. But he got laid off in January and now does massage full time. And is buying a new house in December. You know, the $8000 credit really helped him out. Oh goody! The more we chit chatted the more I realized, this guy ain't the sharpest tool in the shed... for sure. Alan, on the other hand, freelances as a network security guy. He hacks into websites for money to see if they are secure. He knows computers and is fairly intelligent. Alan does a better massage too.

I started to feel like I was cheating on Alan or something. I don't like this massage place, but I am not going to lose those darn credits. So I am wondering, when I go back to Alan for my massage, do I tell him I have been cheating on him?

Massage-any...

Sunday I got a call from my friend Is wanting to know if I had any plans... I quickly responded that no, we didn't really have any plans. She politely corrected me about the we part. The question was for me, not for the we that I normally respond for. Good-y. Something for me to do. I'm IN. I don't know what the plan or the quest is about, but I am definitely IN.

She asked me if I got the paper. Yes. I have the paper. Well, there was an author that she had read before and he is really funny and wanted to know if I wanted to go hear him with her and maybe another couple of friends. I could read all about him in the Zest of Sunday's paper. I told her sure, I would go, but let me call her back in a few minutes after I discussed it with Chad. (Yeah, right. I got invited to go somewhere, alone, without children or husband, I am going...)

So, I told Chad that Is had called and that we wanted to go somewhere this evening. He got a really funny look on his face. I asked him what the look was about. He said that he didn't want me to go. Nice. Not because he didn't want me to go, but he didn't want to have to handle the hour of hell by himself.

The hour of hell is what we call 6PM to 7PM. This is the hour that we have to feed Cutter. Bathe Cutter and Kenzie and put Cutter to bed. Kenzie usually plays during this time, but she prefers to be held... You know how it is with 2 little ones and only one adult.

Oh yeah, the invitation for me was also accompanied with an invitation for Hunter to go with Nic and J to dinner. (Nic is Hunter's friend, Is's son and J is Is's husband.) Which then puts Chad down one big kid that usually helps with the hour of hell.

And Hailey, who also helps with the hour, was working on physics project building a chair that can support 200 pounds out of corrugated cardboard.

So Chad was going to be by himself if I left. There was a piece of me that felt a little sorry for him. It is a challenge... But the piece of me that felt justified and deserved won out...

I responded to his pouty look with a smile and said. Good. Thanks. We're leaving at about 5:30. :-)

Then I went to get the paper. The full intent was to read about the author that Is mentioned, but the glossy sales papers caught my eye... Oh look- Learning Express coupons. And all the food coupons. I got sidetracked and clipped coupons. Then I organized my grocery list by the order of the store, then I even got online and checked the HEB sales ad to see what was on sale. Ridiculous, I know. The grocery list complete, coupons put in order... I made plans to go to the grocery store in the afternoon, during nap time.

Meanwhile, Chad was making his own plans. He can never sit still. He took Hunter for a haircut then went to the shooting range to check the accuracy of Hunter's deer rifle. Hunter had missed shooting at a hog a couple of weeks ago. He was certain that it was an equipment malfunction. When they got home it was 2:30. I had to go to the store and get to Is's house by 5:30. Sounds like enough time, but for anyone that has been to HEB on Sunday should know that I would be cutting it close...

It took me an hour and 45 minutes to make it through my grocery list and HEB and all of the samples and all of the crowd on a Sunday afternoon. When all was said and done, I saved $35.10 on coupons. And I didn't buy anything that we normally wouldn't buy. It is true that I may not have bought all of these items in the same week, but who can have too many Grand's biscuits on hand? Especially with the holidays coming...

Got to Is's on time... We left to go eat. I didn't have to share my food, or cut up food for someone else's plate. It was a good time. At dinner, I had to confess, I hadn't checked out the author, so Is gave us an overview.

We got to the JCC (Jewish Community Center) about 45 minutes early. One of the other ladies we went with was a Jewish Catholic. (He husband is Jewish, she's Catholic) We asked her for a tour, and she just laughed at us. The JCC was having a book fair. We went in a perused the selection. 20% off during the book fair... No one purchased anything, eventhough they had some good stuff, especially with a discount!

The speech was held in a converted basketball auditorium... But the walls were draped with lots of heavy black curtains. They had decent chairs. And even a lovely selection of fake ficus strategically placed to hide the sound guy... But the most intriguing thing that I saw was the closed captioning. There was a table with a projector set up projecting at the front of the converted gymnasium where they were captioning the entire speech. This perplexed me and captured my attention. As the speech was introduced by a member of the JCC, I could not take my eyes from the screen. Amazing. My ears were hearing what my eyes were seeing with a time delay. Fascinating... And the lady that was doing it was really good. Very few mistakes...

The author spoke for a little over an hour. His voice was whiny and annoying, but he was very witty. His name is AJ Jacobs. I am linking to his website where you can read what he talked about and about his books. They are quite funny. I started reading one this morning. And it is fun. If you have someone difficult to buy for, his books would make a good gift!

As he was speaking, I COULD NOT MOVE my eyes from the closed captioning. And then I started to wonder, how many other people were doing the same thing... I started to notice the giggles when Mr. Jacobs said misogyny and the captionist put "MASSAGE-ANY" on the screen. The context of the speech wasn't at a point where many people would laugh. But I heard several snickers... You know who you are!

I think that in the future the disclaimer should say "Closed captioning for the hearing impaired and the visually stimulated..."

All in all I had a lot of fun. It is so nice to go somewhere without your kids... Mental note: must do this more often!

The Post of all Posts

If you are reading this now... you have found my post before I can upload the text! I will update after I get to work, since my story is on the other computer!

I have lots of stories to tell, but I will start with pictures.

No more Friday night football! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! After a great game, the Mavericks defeated the undefeated Wildcats. The win put them in a tie for the playoffs. The season ended with a coin toss, not in our favor. It was my last game as a drill team mom. (at least for the next 14 years...) I am not sad, but ecstatically happy! Friday nights are now going to be back to normal!



















This is Hailey on the field.

Me, Chad, Hailey and practice husband.


Jen in the stands taking pictures. Jen has been a faithful fan all season! Thanks, Jen!

Bekah with Hailey

Bekah with Hunter

Tonight will be Hunter's last football night. Yeah! Yeah! I love football, but I am glad to see the season end... without any injuries, I might add. Did I just jinx it? Last year Hunter acted a little disappointed that more of our family didn't come to see him play. We talked to him about letting everyone know that it was important to him that people come see him play. Apparently he listened. So, throughout the season we have had several visitors, on a Tuesday night, I might add, that have come to watch Hunter's game. Last night as I was getting ready for bed, Hunter handed me his cell phone. It was my dad in Chicago letting me know that his flight would be in tomorrow at 3:45. My stepmom Jeaneane's flight would be in at 3:40. Okay, great. Hunter had worked it out with them that they would be coming for his game, but I didn't even know it. Glad for Hunter, but holy cow, Elvia didn't come this week and the house is a wreck! Oh well. They will understand....

Halloween was fun. Here is Cutter, dressed as a skunk:

He willingly went to a couple of houses in our neighborhood. The only candy he likes is suckers... Well, the only candy he has tried are suckers. The kit kats and the peanut butter cups are for me!

Kenzie has learned to sit... I still feel like I need to protect her from falling, though...


And the best thing is that she is laughing out loud now. The funny part is the only person that can get her to do it is Cutter. For the rest of us, she just swallows the laugh and holds it in. Check out her giggle!



And now, my random thoughts and a peculiar story...

When is it time for you to change your friend's name in your phone / contacts list after they get married and their name changes? Just curious. Is 3 years long enough? Do you do it immediately? I don't know... I have several friends that have married and I still haven't changed their names on my list. Just curious what you thought.

What do you do when your husband tells you he just picked up a bag of crack in your daycare parking lot?

Let me say it again.

What do you do when your husband tells you he just picked up a bag of crack in the daycare parking lot?

Yes. This actually happened. Last week, Chad and I were carpooling to work. First, we drop Cutter and Kenzie off at daycare, right by the house. He gets out of the truck to get Cutter. I got out and got Kenzie. I carried Kenzie and her bottle bag and all of her crap in and hand her over to the babysitter in the baby room. I heard Chad in the hallway ask where there bathroom was. I thought that Cutter had probably "gooed" him and he needed to wash his hands or something like that. When I finished with Kenzie, he was waiting for me in the hallway. I waved to Cutter in the breakfast room and headed back to the truck. Chad was looking a little funny - shifting his eyes right and left...

Chad: Are you still writing your blog.
Funny question. (especially since it has been 2 weeks since I have updated it.)
Me: Of course I am still writing my blog!
Chad: Well, here's one for you... I just flushed a bag full of crack down the toilet.
Me: What? Are you freaking kidding me. Crack?!? How do you know it was crack.
Chad: (gives me the "you are so stupid look") Uh, I worked in a jail. It was crack.
Me: No it wasn't.
Chad: Yes. Yes it was. And someone is going to be pissed when they figure out they lost it. It was a lot.

Okay. Great way to start the day. I just left my two babies at a daycare where there was CRACK in the parking lot. No freaking way.

Chad reminds me that it was probably a parent. It could be an employee, but it wasn't where the employees park. He found it in the parking lot when he opened his door, just like it had fallen out or something. He said he picked it up because he didn't want Cutter to put it in his mouth. Then he realized what it was and went inside to flush it.

I asked him why he didn't report it to the police. Again, the "you are so stupid look". He didn't want his name on it. Okay. I get that. So now we have contaminated the water supply. Even better.

So what do you do with this information? Let me know your thoughts! I will update tomorrow!

Stuff

A friend of mine asked me to update my blog... I have been a bad blogger.

So I will tell you all of the reasons that I haven't updated my blog.

1. My husband went to Canada to hunt geese last week. This left me home alone with four kids. I barely had time to pee.

2. I was in a training class last week, which meant I had to pretend to pay attention rather than write on my blog.

3. I went to see Mary Poppins on Sunday. I was surprised at how good the special effects were. No, seriously, there are special effects. Bert actually tap danced on the ceiling. Even if it is lame, I liked it and didn't take time to update my blog.

4. I had to make a Halloween costume for myself. I was an egg. Kenzie was a chicken. It was kind of funny.

5. My oldest son is turning 13, and thus, "birthday month" has started. We took him out to dinner last night, eventhough his birthday isn't until Wednesday. (see next reason)

6. Chad is going out of town (again) for work. Most of the time I don't feel the least bit sorry for him, but he has 2 3.5 hour layovers in Charlotte North Carolina. What will he do in Charlotte NC for 3 and a half hours. And I still don't feel sorry for him.

7. We had drill team drama which included me marching up to the administrator's office and making people cry. No, I didn't cry. But I wanted to kill. Still no blog entry... This is a fun story, but one I probably will not write down.

8. My boss has swine flu. At least she is staying home. So, my work day has been a little interrupted. But, I would rather take care of some other things then have her infect us.

9. Practice husband (ex-husband for those of you who don't know how I frequently refer to him) decided to show up to 13 year old's football game. I wonder... will he bring his new wife who is old enough for AARP? I don't have to be nice, do I? It will take lots of effort.

10. We have no food and will be eating pizza 2 nights in a row. At least I am ordering from different pizza places. :-)

Office Poop

No, I am not referring to gossip. I am talking about plain old ordinary poop.

Normally I do not take time during the day to make a blog entry, but I can't wait another minute to say this.

Poop on your own floor, people. This bathroom is for the residents of the 17th floor only!

The team of people that I work with is on a special floor. It is the only floor in the building that has no cubicles and is partially rented. All of the other floors have very few offices, mostly cubicles, and are completed leased by the company. The floor was originally rented to accomodate overflow from the other floors and was leased for the short term. Few modifications have been made to it.

One special difference is our bathroom. The bathroom on our floor, while in the same place as the other floors, is reversed: where the women's room is on the other floors is where the men's room is on ours, and vice versa. Same set-up, just flipped.

There are 8 females from my company on this floor. (Probably 25 or so males.) There are but a few females in the other office on this floor. My office neighbor and I have noticed that we have had "visitors" in our bathroom. I started noticing it when I came back from maternity leave. Frequently, upon entry to the bathroom, you notice a particular odor. I checked and asked if we had had a sewer problem, or a leak, or anything else that could be causing the smell. No word on theat, so, I started to pay closer attention. When there are only 8 of you, it is pretty easy to spy an interloper.

After lunch today, I had to go potty. I walk in the door, and yep, there was the unmistakable odor of human waste. I hurried up to take care of my business. And watched through the crack of the stall door. The offender was not a resident of the 17th floor! As I exited the stall, a the lady was quickly washing her hands. She wouldn't make eye contact and quickly ran out the door. I poked my head out of the doorway just in time to see the stairwell door close.

Seriously, people from other floors appear to be coming to our floor just to use the facilities. How rude!

Monday Mornings

Do you ever leave the house and think, "I'm missing something..."

Wallet. Check.
Cell Phone. Check.
Breast Pump. Check.
Lunch. Check.
Kids. 2 of them. Check Check.
Cell Phone. Check. (yes I know I already checked that...)

Oh well. Go to work. Sit in traffic. Pull into parking garage.

Sick feeling in pit of stomach. I forgot my access card to the building.

Crap.

Text people on floor that might already be there. No answer.

I slowly get out of the car looking for an AL victim I can stalk to get into the elevator bay.

Ah Hah! Got one in my sights. Lady that has AL badge... Looks familiar. I think she works on 22.

Walk slowly. Not too fast, don't want to get in front of her, but don't want her to know she is being stalked.

We get on the elevator. She badges in. Sweet! I hit 17 and it lights up.

I get off on my floor. Crap. It's before 7:30 so I can't get in. Gary and Florence are already here, so I 'll send them an email from my handy dandy iPhone.

to: florence@work.com Are you at your desk.

Silence.

17 minutes later

from: florence@work.com Yes

to: florence@work.com I am stuck in the hallway. Can you let me in?

Seconds. I hear the laughter.

I spent 20 minutes sitting in the hallway. Yeah me. I had plenty of time for meditation and reflection. What a good use of my time.

Happy Monday.

Sticker Hell

I mentioned in a previous post that Cousin Marin introduced us to stickers. And earlier this week we had an unfortunate event with daycare where I was encouraged not to bring stickers. Well, Cutter is still carrying this obsession with stickers. But we have been weaning him... stand strong. Don't give him any stickers.

Friday afternoon we fell off the wagon. Chad bought a Halloween carving pumpkin because he knew that Cutter would have fun with carving one. But, there was a giant sticker on the pumpkin. You know, a really cute one that says "Pumpkin - $2.99" Cutter finds his way to the pumpkin and pulls it off and puts it on his shirt. And he wears this sticker for 2 days.

Today, Sunday, the sticker will not stick any more. Hailey, Cutter, Kenzie, and I go to Target to do some household shopping while Chad and Hunter do some work at the deer lease. Target has stickers. Hailey picked out some puffy stickers and some flat Halloween stickers. During the shopping trip we had to bribe Cutter with chocolate chips in order to pay for the stickers. He let go of the chips when we returned the stickers. On the way home from Target, we had sticker overdose. He stuck them all over his seat, on the window, and tried to escape his carseat to put stickers on the ceiling of the car. Thankfully, he was not able to accomplish this!

When we got home, I took the stickers away and was going to give him candy corn. As I opened the bag, the bag ripped and candy corn flew all over the kitcher.

"Shit!" I muttered.
And Cutter shouted back "Shit!" My new tactic - ignore.
"Cutter, do you want something to drink?"
Cutter walks to the drink frig and points "This!"

He was pointing to a beer, Miller Lite - not even a nice Belgian one.

Great. My 20 month old is addicted to stickers, swears, and wants to drink beer. And its all my fault!

My Friday

Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan of the abdomen and pelvis. My urologist was looking for stones. This scan has been rescheduled three times due to problems with the machine, so finally after 3 weeks, I am getting this thing done.

I was asked to arrive an hour before my 8:00 am appointment time. Fasting. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight. So, when I got there, I was given berry flavored barium to drink. What a yummy breakfast... After half an hour, they confirmed I had consumed all of the liquid yumminess. The next battle was confirming that I was not pregnant. I had to sign 14 pages swearing to not being pregnant and then I was told that they couldn't do a pregnancy test on me because I was still breastfeeding. It might come out positive!?! What? I have never heard that before, but whatever, me and my not pregnant self needed to get a CT, so get ON with it...

Strip down to underwear. Put on really special gown that opens in the back. And then, walk down the hall. I need to mention that this office is where everyone goes for radiation treatment for prostate cancer. Yet again, I was the only female patient anywhere to be seen under the age of 40. Make that 35. (I am still under 35) So I get to prance down the hall with my panties hanging out the back right in front of the dirty old men that can't... well never mind.

The procedure is supposed to be painless. Enter the IV. Why don't the techs ever listen to the patient? They can never get an IV in my right arm. But everyone I tell this to must think it is a challenge, to be the first to conquer the right arm. Let's just leave it with I left Friday with holes in both arms and they were both bruised. Score: right arm 1, ct tech 0. Witch. I told you so.

After the scan is finished, they have you get dressed, but leave in the IV and wait in the waiting room. So, off I go - prance in front of old men, cover butt with clothes, go out to waiting room, all while keeping both arms extended. I wait 5 minutes, then they call me back to take out IV. (I am sure this super efficient process is so that some radiologist somewhere looks at the scan to make sure that it is good enough.) Only, when they called me, I was sitting in a chair that I had sunk into and couldn't get up. My arms hurt and couldn't quite grab on to the armrests. A nice lady, probably wife to one of the old men, offered to help me out of the chair. I must have really looked bad to have a 70 year old offer to help ME...

The IV came out and they handed me a CD. "Give this to your Doctor." It was labeled with my name and the date. I couldn't wait to get back to my computer and see what was on the disc.

I get back to the office, fire up my friend, Mr. Google, and start searching. I put the disk in the drive and it opens a mini-application and gives me a message..."Loading images X of 478". Sweet. I have 478 images of my guts to look at. Wow, they must really want to see my insides.

I start looking at the images. The first one looks like a regular X-ray. I see ribs, pelvis, and some shadows. I look at the outline. Great. Even in an X-ray, you can see fat rolls. How nice. The next one is a side view of me, which I can't see much of except a squished outline of my butt. I am certain it is a squished view because I know when I look in the mirror it is much more toned than that image portrays. And they say the camera adds 25 pounds...

The next images are slices of my insides, of which little is recognizable to my untrained and uneducated eye. I don't worry. Mr. Google knows everything and I am certain that I can find enough information on the web to formulate my own diagnosis.

Before I know it, an hour has passed. I can find my kidneys, spleen, liver, intestines and bladder. Maybe the stomach... not too sure of that one. But I do know for certain that I have 2 kidneys. Now, whether or not there are stones, that is for the professional to decide.

My diagnosis: The test confirmed it. I have kidneys. Having kidneys is a prerequisite to having a kidney infection, so that must be what it is. And I can't imagine what they billed my insurance company...

Wud Dyu!

When your baby is born, you are so excited. And then what... You wait for them to do something. First it is, "Look, he can hold his head up." Then, "He rolled over!" Every day, week, month, and year brings a new milestone that, as a parent, you celebrate and use that milestone to compare your beautiful, wonderful, highly intelligent, and advanced child to those other not so cute or smart children of your friends and families.

Yes, you do it, too. We all do it. It is only natural.

Watching the communication skills of Cutter and Kenzie evolve is really fun for me. With Hailey and Hunter, I was learning and didn't really have fun doing it. (Maybe it was because I was too busy getting divorced, paying bills, going to school, and making a career, but that's beside the point.) Okay, Kenzie is only four months old. But I find myself signing to her and actually waiting for a response. They say that you should start introducing signs to them at four months, right? So, I am right on schedule. Chad laughs at me. He pops his head in over her and talks to her and she giggles and coos. "See, she's laughing at me." Well, of course she is. You are funny looking... She is smart. And she knows it. Kenzie thinks "Watch how fast I can make you run!" Puke flies out of her mouth. Chad jumps and runs for a burp cloth. Kenzie laughs again. She was right and she got a bonus jump out of the deal. So I am going to keep signing to her. She knows what to do when the time is right.

Watching Cutter talk and communicate with us is proving to be a daily laugh. At dinner Hailey was teaching him to say "ummm, ummmm, delicious." He now says, "Ummm, Ummm, DISHES!" when he eats. So if you hear him talk about dishes, he is referring to the good taste of the food, not wanting to clean up. He is a male, after all.

Every night before bed, Cutter kisses us good night. Then we say "Love you, Cutter." For several weeks he has just waved back. Now he says "Wud Dyu."

Wud Dyu. Love You. Close enough for me! My babies are the cutest and smartest kids in the world!

PS: Thanks to Cousin Marin, Cutter has developed a sticker fetish. Last night at national nite out, he got a police badge sticker from the police officers. He put it on his shirt. Then insisted it go on his pajamas. This morning he had to have it put on his clean shirt and wear it to school. I hope he forgets about it tonight. He can CLEARLY say "Sticker, I want my sticker..." and cry. Off to CVS to buy stickers...

Tuesday Night Lights

Tuesday is football night. Yes, its true. If you have a seventh grade football player, it is indeed football night. Hunter is on the Longhorn Seventh Grade "A" team. Chad and I agree that it is important that one of us be in attendance at all football games. I want to make sure that someone is there in the event that he does get hurt. (This is a remote chance, and I am not a super paranoid parent, but someone should be there.) So, that means that Chad goes to all of the away games. Breastfeeding and seventh grade football games don't mix. When there is an away game, I stay home with the little kids. When there is a home game, we all go, and Chad stays with the babies until there is a meltdown. Then he goes home and I stay.

Last night, I stayed. But, this was our first Tuesday night game with the babies. We decided to load up the wagon. Its a two-seater. If you don't have one of these, be sure to ask Santa for one. It is great. My niece calls it the "dragon" as we dragged the kids around in it all weekend! Way better than a double stroller. We even took it to Target, but that's another story.

The game was okay and the kids were fine. At half-time, it was bed time. Chad headed toward home and I was left to interpret the game by myself. It was a different world. I looked around the stands, and I realized, I knew 1 parent in the entire crowd. This was a DIFFERENT crowd. The parents that remained were die hard. There was a ton of yelling: at the coaches, at the officials, at the timekeeper, and at the kids. Luckily, I have been studying the game and was able to understand most of what was going on.

I don't know what I think about being in this particular parent crowd. The dads that were there were VERY critical of every kid on the field. And they would scream things to the kids on the field. There seemed to be pecking order in the crowd. The dad of the son that was getting the most yards had the "right" to be the most critical. And of course, anything great that happened was a result of "their teaching" or "their coaching." This seemed to go on between 5 or so parents. I am glad that Hunter had a good game and none of these crowd experts were compelled to yell at him. I think if they had, I might not have been able to keep my mouth shut... and then Chad would have had to figure out how to get 2 sleeping babies out of bed to come get me out of jail.

A Glimpse of Me in the Future?

Thursday was an exciting day. I got to go to the urologist. Yeah for me.

When I made this appointment a couple of weeks ago, the receptionist had mailed me the new patient information packet that I was supposed to complete prior to arrival. As is typical for a doctor's office, there were 47 forms all of which required you to write your name, address, social security number, insurance information, etc. repeatedly. (I am going to make labels of this information for myself the next time I go to the doctor and stick one on every page!) Why do you have to hand write the same information on page after page? Can't they just type it once? What a waste of time. I digress...

Earlier in the day, I had completed all of the paperwork and had made copies of my insurance card and drivers license, and put everything in a manilla folder including copies of all of my labs from my other doctor. I am so organized. :-) So, when I got there, I just handed the receptionist my folder. She, of course, tried to stop me, by finding fault with my ability to fill in all of the blanks, but I had already checked and had filled them all in. I quickly sat down. There were 4 other "patients" in the waiting room - 3 men and 1 woman. I was probably 40 years younger than each of them. At least 40 years. The woman was by far the funniest. After I dropped off my info, she stormed the receptionist.

Lady: "Do you have Dr. X's phone number?"
Receptionist: "Dr. who?"
Lady: "Dr. X's."
Receptionist: "No." (Clearly annoyed.)
Lady: "Don't you have some Dr. book back there that I can use?"
Receptionist: "A Dr. book? (rolls eyes) I have a phone book."
Lady: "Gimme that."
Receptionist: Slams yellow pages down on counter. "There you go."

The lady then goes into the corner, where there is a phone. She starts calling doctors offices. I don't know if they were random doctors or doctors who are lucky enough to call her a patient, but the typical phone call when like this:

Lady: "Do you have any flu shots?" This part was always screamed, as if the person on the other end couldn't hear, when I am fairly certain, the lady must be somewhat hearing impaired.
Lady: "When are you getting some?"
Lady: "Well, where am I supposed to go to get one. I have to have a flu shot."
Lady: "Well, I guess I'll have to go to Walgreens."
Lady: Slams down the phone and starts to flip the pages of the doctor book angrily.

Clearly, she was in want of a flu shot, in a bad way. I know I heard her call at LEAST 3 different offices.

The three other men in the office were all struggling to complete there paper work. The receptionist kept finding errors and omissions from their packets. Also, the lighting was poor and the print was small. I am not looking forward to getting any older.

Going to the urologist was about as you would expect. I did pause to take a photo of the "special" chair used in exams.

How fun is that?

Potty Success - Sort of...

At Cutter's daycare, the room he is in is Potty Centric. It is filled with kids that are in the potty training stage. Hmmm. Well the kids may not be in the potty training stage, but of potty training AGE... So, he sees it all day long. Everyone lines up to go potty.

Several weeks ago, we thought we should buy a potty for the house. If daycare is working on this, then we should too. I bought this one, because it looked comfortable. Like a 2 year old cares. Actually, the reason I bought this one is that it was in stock the day I went to BRU. It's a potty.

We showed the potty to Cutter. He knows what it is. He knows where it is. In fact, every night before he gets in the bath tub, he takes it apart, puts it back together, sits on it, and produces zero bodily fluids: fun is over - gets in the bath tub. This ritual has been going on for about a month.

Saturday, Cutter was in the tub and let out a little toot. Then he said "Potty?!?" I was out of the room at the time feeding Kenzie. Chad decided to let him out so he could sit on the potty. Sit it on he did. He squeezed his knees together and peed... all over the bath room.

Chad has been cursing the potty since I bought it claiming it is too small. Okay - potties don't come in sizes. Cutter will just have to learn to point it down or sit on the regular potty. This, however, was little consolation while you are cleaning urine up off of the floor.

Chad did the right thing... he praised Cutter for his accomplishment. When I heard the commotion, I went into the bathroom and did what any of you would do at the site... Laughed, and laughed, and laughed!

And that's not all. At the end of the bath Cutter started to stick his finger in his ear and whine. I know you are thinking ear infection, but that's not it. He gets globs of ear wax. So, he will sit there, still as can be, while Chad fishes the ear wax out of his ear canal. (Don't freak out - he doesn't go digging in there, just wipes it out of the opening with those baby Q-tips that cost 4 times as much as the regular ones because they are fat and weird shaped.) Cutter, curious boy that he is, wants to see the wax. Chad handed him the Q-tip. Cutter repeats, "Ewww, yuckey." He then proceeds to try to lick the Q-tip. Chad reacts quickly by knocking it out of his hand. Cutter screams.

It was a good night.

Fraud?

Let me start by saying I am pretty particular about the law. I try to be a good, law abiding citizen. Yes, I speed in my car and things like that, but in general, I keep things on the up and up.

Several months ago, I was at the pediatrician's office and I saw a little girl grab her mom's iPhone and squeal "Dora... Dora..." The mom, with exasperation, rolled her eyes and started an episode of Dora the Explorer on the iPhone. The child was mesmerized and watched, sitting down for several minutes.

That was genius. I thought I was a technology person, but I had not even considered letting my 18 month old play with my treasured iPhone. But after 30 minutes sitting in a waiting room, better judgement prevailed. I needed to get me some Dora.

I searched on iTunes. A season of Dora is $29.99. But he doesn't watch Dora. Why should I buy that? He watches Elmo, that's what I should get. So I purchase a season of Seasame Street for $19.99 and downloaded it and figured out how to put it on my phone for the next time I need it. So far, it has been a good investment.

But, and there is always a but, why should I pay iTunes when I have a BOATLOAD of DVDs that I OWN? My opinion is that I shouldn't...

So I consulted my friend who is to computers what my husband is to hunting/fishing. He told me about a software that "strips" the copyright off of DVDs so that you can rip them into iPhone format. He has used it for some time. So, I downloaded it. It has a 21 day trial period. In 21 days I should be able to rip a good many of them and save them for a rainy day... Besides, I did pay for the DVDs. I am not distributing them. Only "backing them up". Right?

With some maneuvering, I get it all to work and I rip a couple of Elmo DVDs to iPhone format. When Cutter starts to freak out, and beg for m'Elmo, I pull out the phone and let him watch. Target, Gringo's, the car... it never lasts long, but it does work.

This morning, I am working from home and thought, what a good time to do some more DVDs. My trial period expired so I need to purchase the software. I click the link, and go through a very typical internet shopping experience: create an account, uncheck the box for "send me stupid emails with more crap I don't want", check the box for "notify me when upgrades are available" give them shipping address, credit card number, credit card secret code, etc. I get to the final check out and the currency is in Euros, with a USD estimation. Hmm. That's weird. "COMPLETE THIS PURCHASE." Click.

Let's go. I have a day, people. Everything downloads and I start my thing. Turn to my laptop from work and the phone rings.

800 number. I'm not answering... But something tells me to answer.

Hello.
This is Chase Bank's Fraud Alert calling to verify your credit card account. Did you recently purchase software. Press 1 to confirm. Press 2 for more information.

Oh crap. I guess here is where I press 1... I did buy it. Buyer's remorse sets in. Press 2... More information, please...Yep. That's the place. Yep. That was the amount.

I had to confirm more than a month's activity - half an hour on the phone. It was all my stuff. What have I done? Am I on a special list now? Are they keeping track of people that by software from out of the country?

Can you say, paranoid? Maybe I should just pay iTunes... or buy stock in Apple...

Toilet Paper

Why is it that one of the most inexpensive items in your home is the cause of much angst... and jovial conversation?

Let me begin by talking about our cleaning lady. She is wonderful. I love her. She does a great job, always shows up when she is supposed to, picks up all of our "donations" (hand me downs, etc.) and takes a personal check if I forget to get her cash in advance. (She is legal, but probably evades the tax man. Hey - if i could, I would.) And I repeat. She is wonderful.

However, each week when she comes, there is always something that we can't find. I have always told the kids, don't leave it out and she won't have to put it up. Dishes are frequently in different places. Clothes may be put in the wrong closet. Stuff like that. Nothing big. You have to look at it like a game... security badge, security badge, if I were the cleaning lady, where would I put you?

This morning, I had gotten ready for work and packed all of Kenzie's bottles etc, for daycare. For the next 2 weeks, I am to take Kenzie to daycare in the morning, Chad will take Cutter, and then I will pick them both up in the evening. Chad is attending a training class held offsite, so we won't be carpooling. Chad had gotten up when I started packing the car. I wasn't paying much attention until I found him in the utility room poking around in the dark.

Me: "What are you doing?"

Chad: "Uh, looking for toilet paper."

Me: "Why?"

Chad: stupid look

Me: "There is plenty in the bathroom."

Chad: "No there's not."

Me: thinking in my head - well, if there weren't so many Cabela's catalogs...then I start laughing.

Me: "Did you look on the back of the toilet?"

Chad: "No, the spare rolls of TP should be in the basket. They were no where in the bathroom."

Me: "Did you look on the back of the toilet?" Laughing out loud this time

Chad: stupid look "Why would they be there?"

Me: Shrugged my shoulders. The Cleaning Lady moved them. Still laughing. I walked into the bathroom and showed him at least 2 mega rolls of toilet paper.

Chad: "Kiss my a**."

How is that men that STAND to pee facing the back of the toilet don't see what is there? Potpourri, room spray, and spare toilet paper. You would think, they, of anyone out there would notice. If it had been a snake it would have bitten him.

Bye, Bye, Birdie

For those of you who don't know, the hunting season has started. From here on out, my husband will seek out every opportunity to go kill some sort of bird, duck, or deer. Keep in mind, he continually searches for opportunities to fish, even if it is only in the ponds near our house. So, I guess, for many types of animals, my husband is their worst enemy.

Me, on the other hand, I could care less about these activities. Chad is a fisherman. I am a catcherman. What is a catcherman do you ask? A catcherman is someone who only wants catch the fish. The whole experience of fishing and casting over and over again is beyond me. The scenery can be nice, but, whatever. If I put my line in the water, a fish had best jump on it. Otherwise, I would rather just read a book.

As far as hunting goes, I am not a hunter, I am a killer. If I drive 6 hours to freeze my a*^ off in a deer blind, there better be some meat in it at the end of the morning because, no, I am not going again in the afternoon. I will be sitting in front of the TV watching the Hallmark Channel or Food Network thank you very much.

Bird or duck hunting is something I have NEVER even wanted to try. Why would I get up at 4 in the morning, put on plastic pants, trapse through a marsh in the rain to squat and hope some stupid birds fly over - that I have to be able to tell are the right species and shoot at while they fly 40 - 60 mph over head. Keep in mind that most days when I drive to work, I rarely get to drive faster than 40 mph. No. This is not a sport for me...

Until last night...

I needed to fill up my car with gas. On the way, there was a bird standing in the middle of the road. Normally, birds fly away when a car approaches, even if they just barely make it out of the way. I was driving, maybe 30 mph, (it was in a residential zone) the bird looked me in the eye, but I didn't waver. I drove straight over him.

There was a small thud on the front end of the car and as I passed over him, I saw feathers flying through the air from my rearview mirror. Hmmm. That was weird. Bye, bye, birdie.

I called Chad. He asked me what I hit. I told him I hit a bird. He thought I was going to tell him that I had hit something more serious... He asked me what kind of bird. A gray one. My biggest hope was that it wasn't stuck in the grill when I got to the gas station. Removing a bird carcass was not on my agenda for the evening.

Good news. Only a few feathers remained. I easily removed them, deposited them in garbage and sanitized with a wet one.

Another successful hunt.

The First Swear Word...

Last week I was picking up the kids from daycare. The first time to pick both of them up by myself. You wouldn't think that this would be two (too) difficult. And its not. But it does take some organization and balance.

Picture this: postpartum mom, baby carrier, diaper bag, bottle bag, and a really quick on his feet 19 month old. Peak traffic time. No parking places. This was my afternoon.

I got to daycare and of course, no parking. I circled the parking lot until a spot opened up. The last row, farthest from the door. Oh well. Go in. Get Kenzie folded into her carseat. Then I go get Cutter. He is like a pinball bouncing from rubber band to rubber band. We toddle out to the car. One hand is trying to keep track of Cutter, the other is holding Kenzie in the carseat carrier with the diaper bag and the bottle bag on the shoulder. If they have security cameras, someone had to be laughing their butt off.

We get to the Mercedes minivan and, of course, some jerk had parked kind of close. Mercedes minivan has BIG doors. I set Kenzie down on the ground and try to corral Cutter before he runs into traffic. I squeeze through the opening and set him in his carseat. At that point, the bags on my shoulder hit the ground.

Keep in mind I have all glass bottles... me and my green republican self. The bottle bag had a slight opening in the zipper, and one proceeded to roll underneath the car.

"Shit." I mutter.
Just in time for Cutter to proudly repeat.
"Sit... Sit."

I ran around to the other side to snap Kenzie's seat into the base. Then I run back to the driver's side, squeeze in between the two cars so that I can get in. I hear Cutter...

"Sit...haha... Mommy SIT!"

So I said what any other mom would say,
"Look Cutter... Mommy is sitting! See... SIT."

He meant it to be a swear word... but he's only 19 months old. It can be just a regular word, right?

More Ducks and other Randomness

Good news. The duck signs haven't been posted. Apparently, there must be 2 signs for them to be effective. Phone call that I over heard last night.

Husband's cell phone.
"Hello." looks annoyed.
"No, I did not."
"No. Not tonight."
"Uh-huh. Maybe tomorrow."
Hang up. And laugh out loud.

"What was that about?" I asked.
"KK and the duck signs. Last night I helped her with one sign, but the battery on my saw died, I was tired and annoyed, so I told her that another sign would have to wait."

Apparently, KK has decided that Chad will build her signs for her. Chad thought that building one was amusing, but building two is annoying. She should just buy the signs... The homeowners association will pick them up anyway. The sign hasn't been posted, but, I am certain that KK will call again tonight and if Chad feels like it, he will complete the other sign.

Randomness.

This morning as we were both getting ready for work, the TV was on. I wasn't paying attention, but Chad, who can't hear me talk if the TV is on, heard (over his electric shaver running, the faucet on, and me talking to the baby) the news that Senator Ted Kennedy had passed. He jumped and said, "Did you hear that?" Uh... No. What? "Did they just say Ted Kennedy died?"

He hit rewind on the remote control to confirm it. Hmmm. What did we ever do before having a DVR?

As I drove to work this morning playing the game I play every morning... (Which car makes it to 610 first) I was listening to the radio. Then, during a strategic move to stay ahead of one Toyota Camry, I realized I missed the first part of a somewhat interesting story. I quickly went for the rewind button.

Crap. There is no rewind on live radio... But can you imagine? Being able to talk on your cell phone, rewind live radio, and play a traffic game against other people that don't even know they are playing? How fun would that be?

Ducks

Very recently, I posted about our next door neighbors. Well, last night, the phone rang, and a story too funny not to tell began.

In the subdivision where we live, there was a grouping of ducks, maybe 10 or so, that lived in the water retention pond near our house. The ducks are well known to the kids. They are fed by probably every kid under the age of 5 in the whole subdivision. The ducks are certainly not hungry.

In the spring, our neighbors (the ones from the cultural event of the year) began collecting what appeared to be duck eggs. They looked it up on the internet and constructed an incubator for duck eggs and proceeded to hatch and release back to the "wild" 20 more ducks. They feel a great deal of "ownership" with respect to the ducks. They buy duck feed (I guess from a feedstore) and feed them nutritious food perfectly formulated for a ducks diet. (I guess the whole wheat stale bread and popcorn that everyone else feeds them isn't good enough. PS - Ducks don't like pancakes and I know this because, well, you get the picture)

The weekend of the cultural event of the year, yes, I am sad to report, one duck didn't make it. The duck lost his battle with an automobile. People tend to drive a little fast. Apparently the smart duck food didn't work for this duck.

Last night Chad was putting Cutter to bed and his cell phone rang. I hopped up to see who it was, thinking it was one of his brothers or someone like that. It was KK, our neighbor. I thought about not answering, but I know her and if she wants something from Chad, she will keep on until she gets it - calling our home number, my cell phone, etc. until someone, anyone answers. So I answered it.

"Hello?"
"Chad?"
"No, this is Melody."
"I need Chad."
"He is putting Cutter to bed right now."
"Well, I need him as soon as possible."
"Is there something wrong?"
"Yes."
"Ummm... Can I help?"
"I have to have wood and I know you have wood in your garage."
Okay lady. Just go take what you want.
"Well, Chad is busy right now. I will have him call you when he is finished."
"So can I have the wood?"
"I don't know. He has been working on the deer blind and has been using the wood we have in the garage. I don't know what he has left."
"Well its still in the garage. I can see it."
"Okay. Well, I'll have Chad call you. Why do you need wood?" I don't know if she'll tell me, but what they heck, she is already digging in our garage...
"We have to make signs."
"Signs? What signs do we need out here?" I am intrigued.
"Duck Crossing. Did you know that last weekend there were 2 ducks killed?"
"No. I didn't know that." I only knew about the one...
"I will have Chad call you."

After relaying my conversation to Chad. He laughs. This ought to be a good one.

Apparently KK, after the wedding, found both ducks and buried them in her back yard. She is very upset about these duck MURDERS. Something must be done about it... Chad explained that real signs could be purchased off the internet, if that was what she wanted. Her reply...

"Since the wedding, we don't have any cash."

Will post a picture of the signs as soon as they are completed!

Work - A butt busting good day

Went back to work last Friday. :-( But, it was an easy day. My mother-in-law babysat, so Kenzie wasn't at daycare. We had a staff meeting in the morning (breakfast provided. thanks for the bagels, maria!) Went out to lunch. :-) Then birthday cake in the afternoon. I wish every day could be like this! But, it's not. :-(

Monday was the real deal. Daycare, work, no meetings, I brought my lunch. Mondays stink.

And Mondays really stink when, let's say, you walk to the printer to pick-up some documents that need to be reviewed. Casually, you walk back toward your office. About 6 feet or so from your door, your ankle rolls and BAM, you have fallen on your a*&. Quickly you hop up and pretend that nothing happens. No one was in the hall. Maybe no one noticed. But, you fail to realize that when you fell on your toucas, the ceiling tiles on the floor below you fell off and there was a very loud noise that prompted several of your co-workers including the worldwide VP whose office is two doors down, to run to your aid because it sounded like a file cabinet fell down.

Nope. No file cabinet. Just me.

I am not hurt. My ankle is fine. I feel stupid because I apparently don't remember how to walk when you wear real shoes, not flip flops. Hmmm. Flip flops. Maybe I should wear those tomorrow.

Other than that, work is work. Kenzie survived daycare and so did I. I miss her, but I have some great new pictures. Here is how she smiles!

The Cultural Event of the Year

On Saturday, Chad and I were to attend the wedding reception of our next door neighbors' son. They are Vietnamese that immigrated to the US in 1990. As such, some aspects of their integration into American ways is lacking. The wedding ceremony was to be traditional Vietnamese held in the home of the grooms' parents. Right Next Door. Guests are not invited to the ceremony, only the reception. The reception was to be held at a Vietnamese restaurant banquet room where a traditional Vietnamese Dinner (10 complete courses) would be served.

Oh goody. I can't wait. I can't stand these neighbors.

The husband is a doctor. He has two jobs and rarely has a day off. He is quiet and is likeable. He likes to garden, so he says, but I question this. There is always quite a variety of things growing out of pots but it doesn't ever look quite right to me. He also takes LOTS of photographs.

The wife WAS a doctor in Vietnam, but did not recredential in the US. She got a masters in hospital administration instead and now doesn't work, but takes care of various family members and watches our garage door to make sure we keep it down... Funny enough, she was a psychiatrist.

Oldest son is an attorney that isn't working and still lives at home. He is 34. Youngest son is in medical school and is the most American of the bunch. Youngest son is the groom. We don't know youngest son very well.

The wife asked us no less than 37 times if we would be going to the reception. I claimed that we had a family reunion that weekend and would be out of town. The wife then told Chad that she would be singing and she would love for him to see her sing. She is famous for singing at weddings, dontcha know. Chad says, well then of course we will be there. Imagine the dirtiest look one can give your husband. That is how my face looked when he verbally accepted the invitation. Crap. Now I have to get a gift and everything. What a pain.

Later, in the privacy of our bedroom I asked him why on God's green earth did he tell her we would go? He laughed and said that this would be a night we would never forget and we would be able to laugh about it for years. She was going to SING! How funny would that be. He better be right.

**A couple of side stories about these neighbors...

The wife asked another one of our neighbors one day if she could store some carpet they had had removed in their garage. (Yes, they removed 5 year old carpet from their house and asked someone else to store it for them in the garage.)
The neighbor said "No."
The wife said, "It doesn't take up much room."
The neighbor said, "Then store it in your garage."
The wife said, "Well, let me know when I can bring it over."
The door was shut in her face.

Another neighbor had been known to loan her a (car) battery charger.
The wife asks, "Do you use the charger often?"
The neighbor said,"Not really."
The wife then says, "Well, I'll just keep it then. Let me know if you need to use it."

This is the type of neighbor she is. I really didn't want to waste an entire Saturday evening on this event! I lost. I bought a gift. (A waffle maker) And off we went.

We arrived on time (6PM) and were, like, the only ones there. Seriously, there were maybe 20 people in the whole place with tables for 600 people. Great. But, they had beer and fruit. This was the first course. Finally at about 7:30, they start the introductions. Almost everything was in Vietnamese with occasional English blurbs thrown in. Then, the singing begins. Our neighbor starts to sing... in French. She sings 3 songs in French. And they were quite good. We were laughing because it was actually really good. The next course started at about 7:45 and continued for the next 2 hours. Following is my description of each of the courses. Don't know the names because I couldn't read the menu. Here goes:

Shrimp and pork salad with interesting dressing.
Seafood and tofu soup
Shrimp ball with piece of sugarcane sticking out of the side
Shrimp pounded flat with crab meat and a sauce that tasted like pumpkin pie on top
Duck wrapped in puff pastry and deep fried
BBQ lobster with nothing to crack it with except your knife, fork, or chop sticks
Beef tenderloin rolled up with a peppercorn sauce
Fried Rice

All of the food was good. I would go back to this restaurant and eat. I may not be able to order it because I don't think my descriptions translate well, but it was good.

But what about the wedding cake? There was a cake at the center of the stage. Surely we were going to eat that? People started to leave. Hmmm. Chad asked me if I wanted to leave. No. I want cake. Besides, we have been pleasantly enjoying this experience until this point.

Wiating.... Waiting... An hour goes by. Finally, the cake is cut. Waiting... Waiting. Where is the waiter to bring our cake? I just knew it was going to be good. It was pretty. I am sure it was expensive. I love wedding cake.

At 10:40 we were served wedding cake. Chad got a green piece I got a chocolate piece. We each took a bite. We busted out laughing. Dang it. It tasted like a sponge. It was terrible. I waited an hour for a frosted sponge. It was time to leave. Maybe we will drive thru Sonic on the way home. I needed something sweet!

The next morning we see everyone coming and going next door. The funniest thing was watching the husband "un" decorate the town car that the bride and groom drove around in. They had taken 2" pink satin ribbon and pink silk roses and attached them to the car in strips. And you thought shoe polish and condoms were bad. I snuck (i don't think that's a word) a picture from inside the car....


And this is my life... :-)

The New Truck

Going through the car-buying game is not one that I enjoy. In fact, Chad prefers that I speak to no car sales people at all. When I am looking for a car, I can drive the cars, ask questions, select colors and features, but that's about it. I am not supposed to discuss the "deal". But, the internet is changing things.

As a recap, we had to buy a vehicle on Friday. We had cash, a pre-approved loan, and a make and model selected. This should not be that difficult. But, as usual, the simplest of tasks can become all consuming.

Chad did not go to work, and we started the day by visiting our personal banker and getting our loan situated. All we needed now was a vehicle. The first dealership was a complete and utter strike out. Chad had called them on the phone asking for a particular truck. They said they had it. We drove half an hour to see it. They lied. Car people suck.

So, we got a little wiser. Using the internet as our guide, Chad would call a dealership, I would give him a stock number, and he would ask if they had it on the lot. Unfortunately, the internet inventory is not always updated up to the minute. Finally at about 3:00 we located a truck that had exactly what he wanted on it and it was even the right color. We called.

"Yes, I was calling about a 2010 Toyota Tundra Stock Number 106277. Do you have this truck?"
"Yes, sir. It is in our system."
"Yes, I see that it is in your system, but do you HAVE it?"
"Uhhh... Let me go check. I'll call you back."

5 minutes later
Ring Ring
"Hello?"
"Today is your lucky day. The truck you were looking for was out for dealer trade, but I have the keys in my hand and I can sell it to you. It will be $2200 off internet discount. Plus the $3000 Toyota incentive. Do you have a clunker?"
"No."
"Okay, the price is MSRP less discounts and incentives of $5200. How does that sound."
"We will be there in 30 minutes."

Chad likes the price. :)

We dash off to the next dealership. When we get there, we ride through the inventory to see if we can find the truck.

And there it was... It was almost as if angels were singing. Rainbows and sunlight were shining on the truck. We parked near it. I hopped out to look at it. Chad stayed in the car. He said he would stay with Kenzie while I looked first.

I peered into the windows and walked all the way around it. Yep. I was looking at Chad's new truck. I quickly walked back to the car. "Okay. You're going to buy it." He smiled and said, "I know."

We quickly test drove it and I left to go pick up the munchkin from daycare while Chad proceeded with "The Deal" without me. And yada yada yada, he drove it home. Interestingly enough, as of this writing, the financing on the truck is STILL not complete. Why are the finance guys at car dealerships such a**holes?

Well, anyway. Here it is, complete with a deer feeder in the back. On Monday Chad had to take it straight to the deer lease and try out the four wheel drive...and put out some corn.

Chad's Luck

In Chad's family, there is a joke. Anytime anything crazy happens to Chad, he comes out "smelling like a rose..." For example, if he mentioned one day that he sure would like some extra cash to buy something, a check miraculously appears in the mail. (True story) He gets pulled over for speeding, he happens to have gone to school with the police officer. (True story) He participates in a family fishing tournament, and wins - with 4 fish that weigh only 5 pounds. (Also true story) As his wife, I am usually a beneficiary of his good luck. However, last night, I began to question Chad's good luck.

Chad has had "the Fever." You know. The new car kind. He, unlike me, does not tend to burn through cars. Well, not as bad as me. But, he has had it in his head he wants a truck. Like now. And since I just got the Mercedes Minivan... well, he was due a truck.

I should have known Tuesday night when I got home from a meeting at school that things were getting ready to happen. At 8:30 at night, Chad was vacuuming and armor-all-ing the Beast. He touch-up painted, waxed, and in general, cleaned that Nissan Armada like it hadn't been cleaned in the 5 years we have had it. He had had it appraised at a dealer and was not satisfied with the trade-in allowance. I supposed that he was going to take pictures and list it online. But... it rained. No pictures that day. I didn't think much about it until yesterday.

I had plans to go to a friends house for dinner. Around 4 o'clock, I got a call from Chad.

"Do you know where the title is to the Beast?"
"Uh... yeah."
"Where is it?"
"Why?.... It's in the office." (not in the safety deposit box where it should be...)
"Well, I might need it."

The only reason you need a title is if you are SELLING something. Right? Apparently Chad had listed the Armada on Craigs List at lunch and had already received a call. At this point I laughed it off. Whatever. No one actually sells a car in like 4 hours.

I pulled the title out of the folder that has been waiting for return to the safety deposit box and got ready to go to dinner. Chad comes home and has that look, the look that says "I got one!" I shake my head and leave.

While at dinner, my phone rings. Chad mobile. Crap. What does he want?
"Hello?"
"How's dinner?"
"We haven't started eating yet."
"Oh. I'm going to North Houston to meet that guy."
"Really?"
"He wants to look at the truck."
"Hmmm. Okay."
"If this deal goes down, can you come get me?"
"Sure." Like that's really going to happen.

While I am eating risotto and roasted chicken, phone rings again. Chad mobile.
"Helllll-ooooo????"
"Can you come get me? They bought it."
"Where are you?"
"At a McDonalds on 45." The location is in the HOOD! Not taking the baby there. I asked my hostess if I could leave Kenzie while I retrieved my carless husband.

I drive over to the McDonalds and see Chad sitting on a curb next to the Armada with a stack of crap next him including 2 carseats. I parked and Chad transferred 5 years of tool accumulation and miscellaneous items into my car. And I am standing there in disbelief as a Hispanic family drives away in our Nissan Armada, the car we lovingly have referred to as "the Beast" for the last 5 years.

Chad seems to be in a hurry. And then it dawns on me. The only reason he would have sold it was if there were "Benjamin Franklins" involved. Yes. We are standing in the parking lot of an inner city McDonalds and he has $11,000 cash in his pocket.

We get in the car. And even Chad's eyes are a little big. He pulls a pistol from his pocket and puts it in the glovebox. I don't even have to ask. "You really didn't think I was going to meet some unknown guy and carry out a cash transaction without a gun, did you?" Well, no, of course not.

And then he pulled out the cash. Neither one of us has ever held that much cash at once. Chad had to count it, again. I asked him, "How did this happen?" Chad said they needed a car, like today. (I have been there - like, 2 weeks ago.) The guy drove the car. Asked lots of questions that Chad swears he answered truthfully. They negotiated. Chad went down $100 from full Kelly Blue Book retail. He said the $100 was worth being able to tell this story a few times. The guy handed him the money in $600 increments. (That one I don't get) Chad looked at the bills to make sure they were authentic and then he completed the title and handed it over. In the McDonalds parking lot.

Okay. So the Beast is gone. What are we going to do now? I have lunch plans tomorrow. And I am not going to be without a car... We can't survive as a family with only one car.

"Chad - what are we going to do now?"
"I don't know. I guess I won't be going to work tomorrow."
You got that right. You'll have to call in "I don't have a car."


Seriously? Now WE (I have to be involved since he can't drive himself since he sold his car) have to go buy a truck, TODAY. What a way to start the weekend.

And this is how Chad's luck affects me. Who do you know that can list a car on Craigs List and SELL it the same day? Who carries out a car sale like a drug deal in a McDonalds parking lot?

My husband.

Mercedes and Poop

I have finally experienced it... We have said and have been told at some point or another "What goes around comes around." Today, I have learned that it IS true.

For three days, I have been driving around in 100 degree Texas heat in the Vomit-mobile. See post below. I have been trying to rid the car of the smell. I tried fabric softener sheets. Airing out the car, and anything else people recommended, but to no avail. It still smells like vomit when the A/C starts to blow. Yuck.

Car finally ready. Yeah! No more vomit-mobile. I load Kenzie in the car, as many quarters as I could find for the tollway, and head to the dealership. Kenzie slept to whole way there. And when I got to the dealership, she woke up!

I put her in the stroller - mostly so I wouldn't forget it in the trunk and go inside to the cashier. Several people stopped and did the baby ooohhh, ahhh, asked how old she was, etc while I waited in the short line. And then I saw and heard it. That dreaded look that a mother always knows... the I am taking a massive crap look. And then the squeal of high powered potent baby poop shooting out of the cutest baby girl butt I have ever seen. I looked left... I looked right... Had anyone else heard? I covered her bottom half with an extra blanket from the diaper bag to kind of keep it out of site.

About that time, one of the female service advisors stopped by the stroller and reached in and starting touching her saying... "She is so cute..." and then started to lift the blanket. I thought to myself... you lift that up, lady, and you won't think she is that cute... So I bumped the stroller and proceeded to the cashier. Anyway, who did she think she was touching my baby. Poop on her hand would have served her right.

The cashier needed a signature and sent the valet to get the car. I asked where the restroom was... I had an emergency! I proceeded directly to the ladies room while the car was being pulled around.

Please, have a changing station...Please, please, please. Well, we have mouthwash, scented hand lotion, no changing station... Quick, check the handicap stall. I don't see it. Panic starting to well up. Oh, there it is... built into the wall behind the door was a stainless steel changing table. Perfect!

I pick up the blanket. Oh, this is going to be bad. The yellow poop had leaked out of the diaper and down both legs and was starting to fill the carseat. Carefully, I picked her up to minimize the seepage. I laid her on the stainless steel shelf (with a designer changing pad underneath that I topped with a disposable changing pad and started to slowly remove yellow poopy clothes to get down to the yellow poopy diaper.

Good news, didn't blow up the back, only out the legs. (Did I really just say good news? Yikes!) I go to open the diaper and exposed her bottom to the air so I could start to clean up the mess. Well, Kenzie was just not finished and proceeded to leave a light dusting of yellow poopy on the wall. Thankfully I was standing to the side and was clear of the explosion!

Several baby wipes later I had a clean baby. She won't even need a bath tonight as she now smells, all over, of Pampers Sensitive Baby wipes. Next was the car seat. A wipe was not going to cut it. So, I did the best I could and covered it with a cloth diaper from the diaper bag. This should protect her until we get home. I pulled out a plastic bag from my instant sack of preparedness and forced all of the poopy clothes and the blanket into the bag. This will go strait to the washer when we get home.

Kenzie was strapped back into the carseat and I began to wheel her out of the bathroom. I looked back to see if I had left anything... Ooops... The wall. I used toilet paper to wipe the poop, flushed the TP down the toilet and got out of there as fast as I could. Thankfully, no one else had entered the bathroom during this ordeal.

I am sure that I neglected to mention the screaming that occurred during this process. And it was loud!

I do regret the mess that my child made in the bathroom. It was hardly intentional. As my friend Meg keeps saying, I am doing the best that I can. There you go, Mercedes-Benz. You give me a vomit-mobile to drive and my daughter will poop all over your bathroom!

The Loaner Car

I am due to return to work in 2 weeks - part time. So, it is time to make sure that I am crossing things off the "List" of things you need to get done before you go back to work. Like, car maintenance.

Yes two short posts ago I talked about the new, well, new to me, car. My husband wanted me to take it to the dealer to get it all "checked" out... Say whatever you need to say to get them to hook it up to the machine... Okay. So that appointment was scheduled for 9 AM today.

The check engine light came on last week and then went off. Yes, I checked the gas cap. For those of you who don't know, whenever the check engine light comes on in your car, everyone says its because the gas cap is loose. So I did that. It wasn't loose. And the light didn't go off right then. It waited until exactly 30 minutes after I made an appointment for service.

Why don't they just make a light that says "Check the Gas Cap"? That would be much more simple, but I guess maybe German for Check the Gas Cap is Check Engine. I don't know...

There is a little plastic piece on the overhead control panel (OCP for those of you techies out there) that was cracked and I wanted it replaced. Another thing to add to the list. Oh yes, and of course, there is the Melody got a lipstick stuck in the storage compartment so now the door wont open issue. Not a long list, but hey, better get it fixed now, so I don't have to worry about it later.

We show up - me with Hunter and Kenzie in tow. Hailey was at drill team and Cutter was at daycare. They have the loaner all ready and the service advisor goes through my list of complaints. Great. No problem. We move the stroller, cell phone charger, etc. into the loaner car and drive away. The loaner car is a little C-300. Significantly smaller than my car. Way lower to the ground, but, it is free. Off we go. To run errands.

We stopped at Fry's and made a computer accessorie purchase and got back in the car to go home. I started the car... and whoooosh... the air conditioning started blowing full blast. Accompanied by a strange odor. Yuck. What's that smell?

It went away after a minute or two and I didn't think anything of it. Until, later that afternoon, we got in the car again. This time I added a passenger - Nicolas, a friend of Hunter's, that was coming over to go fishing in the ponds by the house. Chad had given him a fishing pole for his birthday and he was going to come try it out for the first time. So, Nicolas' mom (Iz) was helping me load Kenzie in the car and Nicolas with his fishing pole and accessories. I started the car. Hunter said, "See Nic - it smells." Iz said "Ooo... it smells like vomit..."

Great. I didn't know what the odor was until she said it. And she was right. It did smell just like vomit.

I am driving a Mercedes Vomit-mobile. Hopefully my car will be ready soon. The Mercedes Minivan is WAY better than the Mercedes Vomit-mobile.

Feet

When you are pregnant, your feet just get bigger. This is a fact that has proven to be true 4 times. When I was in high school I wore a size 8. Didn't matter the maker of the shoe. Didn't matter the style. I always wore an 8.

I don't wear an 8 anymore.

My friend Tracy came into town for the weekend. She came to visit me and see the new baby and see the old baby, but also to go shoe shopping. She has wide feet. Okay. No big deal. Where we live, there is one particular shoe store that accommodates this condition and brings nice shoes to the wide footed masses.

So Saturday morning, first stop, we head to the shoe store. Tracy, well versed in how this works, doesn't waste time by looking around. She heads straight to a salesman, gives him her size and describes what she is looking for. She said that there is no point getting excited and finding a shoe that you like when they don't have it or make it in your size. She is wise.

All the sandals were half off. I need shoes. I need clothes. I need a lot of things, but hey, I still have two whole weeks until I go back to work part time. Why rush it... So I looked around. I found a couple of sandals I'd like to try.

Tracy, meanwhile, was trying shoe after shoe on. It looked to me like a good way to shop. Almost like online shopping... You sit there tell them what you want and just like Google, the guy goes and gets it, and brings it right to you for review. I patiently waited my turn with the sales guy. She had a couple of nice pairs to choose from.

Okay. So it's my turn. The sales guy asked, what size are you? I don't know I told him. I used to wear this size, but I just had a baby and nothing really fits... "Well, you look like a double wide. I'll bring out a few pairs."

True to his word, I was in fact a double wide. I found 2 pairs of sandals in my size that I liked well enough and didn't look like orthopedic old lady shoes.

Double wide. Great. Now my feet are officially the same as my a**.

The days of shopping at Shoe Carnival are definitely over. I guess I'll never own a pair of Manolo Blahniks like Carrie from Sex in the City. Strike that. I can own whatever I want... I guess I'll never WEAR a pair of Manolo Blahniks.

Physical Torture

Since being pregnant for the fourth time, I have had a few, uh hum, ISSUES, with my bladder. I have had multiple UTI's, frequent urges to go, etc. Well DUH. Pregnancy does that.

But after the baby is born, it is all supposed to go back to the way it was before i.e. normal. Well, lets just say, not so much...

So at my 6 week postpartum doctor's appointment, I discussed it with my OB/GYN. And she says, "Well, that's no problem. I'll prescribe some physical therapy and you'll be better in no time."

Ok. Sure. Physical therapy. So what can they do? Tell me to do some kegels, right? Not exactly...

The initial visit was... well... darn right invasive and not something I would share in detail over the internet. (One good martini, however, and I may be convinced to share far more than you would ever want to know.) From that initial visit I was given my homework which did include kegels among other things. Also, it was discovered that I have some issues with my piriformus muscle. (I didn't know there was another muscle on my butt other than a glute) The therapist showed me some stretches and that was that.

So, for the last 3 weeks, I have been doing my little set of exercises and stretches. Things are somewhat better, I suppose. Or maybe I have just gotten used to it.

I went back to physical therapy today expecting more of the same... Yada yada. How are you? Are things improving? Well, keep doing the same.

The therapist asked if my hip was still bothering me. I said yes, it still is sore - not as flexible as I think it should be. "Well, let's see what we can do about that," not knowing what I was in store for.

That therapist must have hands of steel. Her fingers dug into my ass like it was a meatloaf. I immediately flinched. "Too much pressure?" her voice cracked like the Wicked Witch of the West (WWW)--- I'll get you, my pretty...AH AH AH.

Heck yeah it was too much pressure, but I am too chicken to say anything other than "No, it's not too bad" through clenched teeth. I mean, really, how long can it go on? I'm a tough girl. I can handle a little pain. I mean really, I waited like half an hour for my epidural didn't I? I only had an hour appointment. I looked at the clock - 9:17 - only 28 minutes left. I can take it.

Again, NOT SO MUCH. I had to stop her after like 3 minutes. "Umm, Robin... (that was the WWWs name) umm...that's really starting to hurt. Can we lighten the pressure?"

"Sure, sure, sure, no problem." At this point my mental picture of her started to change. Her face turned green and the black hair on her head transformed into a pointy black hat...

I waited. She was still kneading my meatloaf. And now she was wearing black and white striped stockings and pointy shoes.

And waited. And waited. But nothing about the pressure changed... And my mental picture added a wart with a hair that started to grow and grow...

"Uhh.... Robin?"

"Almost done."

What was that crap about let me know about the pressure. They must say that just to make you feel better. That freaking HURT.

"How about some heat? Do you have time for that? It should keep you from feeling too sore."

"Uhh... okay. Sure." I was already held captive, half naked, and one of my butt checks was practically screaming at me. Heat can't be too bad. It should help.

So my little witch therapist scurried out of the room and returned with the heat packs. That hair in her wart was still there. She laid the heat packs on my butt, handed me a bell, shut off the light and said "I'll be back in 10. Ring if you need anything..."

Ahhh. This felt kinda good. My mental image began to morph Robin back into a human form. I had ten whole minutes to do nothing but hold a hot pack on my hiney. This has been the best part of my day.

Robin returned and removed the hot packs. I felt okay at this point. She then said "This is a little cold." She sprayed something on my back side. BIOFREEZE. Now she was flash freezing the meatloaf. Holy cow. That was NOT what I was expecting.

"Okay. We're all done. See you in 2 weeks!" And she left the room. She earned her mole back.

The most insulting part of the whole process is checking out. I got to pay $15 for an ass kicking massage and a ten minute nap. Man. It just goes to show what a mother will go through for a measley ten minutes of peace and quiet.

My next appointment is all set. Sure, I'll be there. Maybe if they are busy I can sneak in a few extra minutes...

Cars and Candy Bars

I recently was told by a good friend that I go through cars like candy. When she said it, I laughed. But later, I paused to give it further thought...

Candy. Well... that depends. Which candy? Jelly Beans? Hate them. I try them every once in a while thinking that I might like them, but my taste buds haven't changed. Yuck. No matter how much I want to like them, they get spit out every time. Kit Kats? I don't ever buy them because I LOVE them. I eat one and then I go back and get another one. At the movies they sell the GIANT Kit Kat that has 8 bars and not just 4. I can eat all 8 before the previews even start, then I am left sitting through the movie with nothing but a large Diet Coke and a strong urgency to pee. (Yes, I get Diet Coke and still eat Kit Kats with a whopping 497 calories - hey - every little bit helps...)And you can buy the Kit Kat miniatures... well lets just say they don't last long. I avoid them at all costs.

So, are cars like candy to me? Let's look at my car history.
2002 Bought a Jaguar S-Type 3.0 (love, love, loved this car)
2004 Sold Jaguar. Out of warranty. Husband said we had to sell it. Can't have a Jaguar with no warranty.
2004 Bought a Toyota Prius. Fun car. I felt like I was in the Jetson's. Constantly scared people in the Target parking lot because they couldn't hear me coming. hehe. The only time in my life I was in stealth mode!
2005 Sold Toyota Prius to Dad for one of his employees to use. Started Driving Nissan Armada AKA "The Beast" as company car. Company shouldn't get all the benefits of that great gas mileage!
2006 Rewarded myself (big bonus) and bought a VW EOS convertible. I have always wanted a convertible. It was my "zippy" car. Couldn't drive to work - I had the Beast for that. But, I drove the convertible whenever I could.
Jan 2008 - Cutter born. Carseats won't fit in a convertible and Chad drives the Beast to pull the boat. Must have bigger car.
Apr 2008 - Bye bye convertible... Hello BMW X-5. Everyone in the family fit. I really like this SUV. Not huge. 6 cyl. Decent gas mileage. Goes in for service once per year and they are really nice there!
May 2009 - Kenzie born. With 2 carseats PROPERLY installed, this 5 passenger vehicle becomes a 2 adult 2 baby car. We have 2 adults, one teenager that thinks she's an adult, a pre-teen boy that is the size of an adult, one forward facing carseat, and one rear facing car seat. The Beast was the solution vehicle. But, again, it is the only vehicle that can tow the boat. And Chad goes fishing, I can't say a lot, but enough to be inconvenient for me.

We have to get another car... Chad planned a fishing trip to Louisiana and I planned a trip to my parents house. But wait... Where will Hailey and Hunter sit? They can't stay home...

So I start researching. Let me start by say Minivans are not an option. I am not one of those moms! At a minimum, I will settle for an SUV. (The Beast has >100000 miles, and has retirement in its sites. Chad and I agreed that when it goes to its resting place, it will be replaced with a truck...) So I have to have family vehicle. That EVERYONE can fit in.

As I previously said, minivans are off the list. Non-negotiable.

GM and Chrysler are off the list. We choose not to patron Government Motors. (I have boycotted Wal-Mart as much as possible and don't eat at La Madeleine either for reasons if you know me well you already know.) I have strong convictions, and stick to them! (Which sometimes I regret ;) )

What's left? Ford and the Imports. Ford Expedition? Toyota Sequoia? Too big. May not even fit in the garage... Mazda CX-9, Honda Pilot, Toyota Highlander? New BMW X-5? Midget 3rd rows that you cant put a carseat or a 5 foot 8 Hunter into which just won't work. It is pretty funny to watch a car salesman help you install a carseat and ask them to sit in the 3rd row with it... So, I ended up buying a Mercedes R-500. Most people don't know what an Mercedes R class is. Google it... But basically, it is a 6 passenger Mercedes that is referred to as a Sport Wagon. A cross between a Cross Over and a Station Wagon. Or what I have been lovingly referring to as my "Mercedes Minivan".

My new Mercedes is like a 3 Musketeers. The low fat candy bar. Tastes pretty good. But you don't have to eat it every day. A nice treat. My X-5 was my Kit Kat. One day I will have another one. And minivans are my jelly beans. Take a bite and spit them right out!