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!

The Dum-Dum Sucker

I don't know how it starts, but when as parents do you instinctively know to start spelling out certain words? Are you ready to E-A-T? Let's sit O-U-T-S-I-D-E. E-L-M-O. (just to mention a few) A new word to avoid in our house is S-U-C-K-E-R... (Imagine being at a business meeting and asking everyone if they are ready to E-A-T... That's where I'm headed in 3 short weeks.)

The dreaded Dum-Dum. I purchased a package of these to have in the diaper bag for emergencies. Cutter had enjoyed a Dum-Dum during a recent scream fest with scissors - also known as a haircut. After that, it seemed like a good idea to keep some on hand to soothe the savage beast. Always be prepared, right?

Sunday, as we were driving home from the lake, the meltdown started. We were 45 minutes or so from home and he was inconsolable. We tried everything. Then, I remembered the emergency supply in the secret inner pocket of the diaper bag. "Hailey - quick - get a sucker."

From the backseat I heard a whimper-y voice say "Soo-ler?" Crap. He heard. Hailey unwrapped the first soo-ler in the bag and passed it back. I glanced at the clock: 10:22 AM.

The next few miles were quiet. Ahhhh.... peace. Almost home. Cruise control. No traffic.

Then I heard Hailey yell "Cutter!!!" I glanced in the rearview mirror where I could barely see his head. It looked blue and sticky. (A blueberry Dum-Dum)

"What's the matter?" I asked desperately... The response makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time...

"He is painting the bottoms of his feet with the sucker." His pudgy feet were streaked with blue sugary stripes. The clock: 10:35 AM.

Why is it that in an emergency, you only have blueberry suckers? Where is the pina colada white one?

And to some it all up, a Dum-Dum sucker will occupy an 18 month old for precisely 13 minutes. Baby wipes remove blueberry Dum-Dum from leather seat backs. And, if you put shoes back on blueberry feet, they won't fall off before bath time.