I grew up in the woods. I can handle quite a bit of "nature" and don't spook to easily. This has really been put to the test the last week or so. The phrase "put on your big girl panties" for anyone who doesn't know means simply to toughen up.
Let me set the stage...
My brother and sister in law have been incredibly generous and have opened up their home to us while we go through a family situation. Ironically, their house is my parents old house- the house I grew up in... and outside are all the same bugs and critters that I grew up with as well. Mason and Cooper are in my old bedroom and Dylan, Eric, and I are in the (finished part) of the basement. It's a pretty sweet set up. We even have our own cable box- WITH dvr... can't get much better than that! Anyway, so Eric has been commuting back and forth to New York on the weekends so during the week, I'm down here with just Dylan. He's not much of a protector just yet.
I very quickly realized that we were not alone. How did I know, well, a BAT started flying around our room. I also quickly realized that I am not as tough as I thought. I respect creatures- with the exception of crickets- they have a purpose and are living things and don't deserve to be killed for no reason. That respect comes to a screeching halt when they decide to take up residence on my body, or my bedroom. Needless to say, the bat had to go. So I grab Dylan and do what any self respecting girl would do... get a man to help me. Since Eric is in New York, I go to my brother. Funny side note: my brother is also named Eric. It can get confusing.
Anyway, he goes down and bangs around a bit, checks behind the curtains, in the closet, etc. No bat. Great. I know it didn't go outside so it is still in the basement somewhere. Not. Awesome. Eric gives me instructions: Step #1 If you see the bat, quickly shut the door to the rest of the basement to trap him in. Lets stop and think about this one for a second. I am supposed to trap myself and my newborn baby in with a bat that could or could not have rabies. I'm not so sure of this plan from the get go. Step #2. Go to the outside door and prop it open so hopefully it will hear the bugs outside and fly out. Again, not loving the plan. I have to go to the only other escape route and open the door and then get away from the door before the bat flies into my face. Great plan. I understand how this should work, but I'm still not really excited about the trap it in the room part. Step #3. Use this kiddy butterfly net to catch it if you can. Yeah, that is NOT going to happen. I have kept the net though and it has come in handy. So that is the plan. A very big part of me was hoping that the bat found a different way out and I wouldn't need to put the plan into action. That part of me was wrong. Very wrong.
A day or two later I was sitting watching TV holding Dylan. He had just fallen asleep and I was waiting for the next commercial break to put him in the crib. All of the sudden- swoosh, there goes the bat. Crap. I sat frozen for a second, but then remembered the plan. Pulling up my big girl panties, I shut the door. Step #1- check. Half way to step #2, the bat got way too close to my head and I panicked a little. I retreated back to the couch to lay Dylan down so I would have two hands to defend myself... at which point I grabbed the butterfly net. I low crawled to the door and somehow got the door open and then ran by the couch, grabbed Dylan, and sprinted up the steps. I get some props for not leaving Dylan behind and saving only myself right? Right?? Again, I got my brother to go down and bang around. No bat. I did leave the door open to go outside so I was hoping that it flew outside. A girl can hope. Fast forward another day or so. Again, on the couch, and out comes the bat. I quick shut the door, again, low crawl to the door and open it up. Grab the butterfly net, because everyone feels better with a weapon, and post up next to Dylan's crib. He was sleeping and I was willing to fight off a bat rather than wake him up to run upstairs. I saw the bat go outside. Commence victory dance. Seriously, I did a victory dance, then remembered the door was still open and I ran to shut it before the bat had a chance to come back in. Victory!!!!! Until about 20 minutes later when another bat, or the same one, started flying around again. I was stunned. I didn't act fast enough and it flew back out into the other side of the basement. That side is the "scary side" and I don't go over there so who knows what is living over there, but I won't be the one to go and check. I have since barricaded myself in once I do the "bat sweep". That brings me to tonight.
Sitting at the computer checking out what is new in the world... ok, so really I was shopping on Amazon, but that doesn't really matter. Out comes the bat. It is flying circles around the room, mainly over the bed in a Jaws circle pattern over my bed. I ran over to the door and trap us in. Step #1- check. Getting brave, I walk, bent over (to attempt to avoid getting hit by the erratic flight pattern of the bat. Half way there, it dive bombs me. I drop to the floor, and somehow supress the little girl shriek that is frozen in my chest. I should note that since this has started, I have done some research on bats. While the statistics say that only like 1% of bats carry rabies, if I were to be scratched or bitten, it is a really big deal to be treated because it is FATAL. By the time you develop symptoms it is to late for treatment. Scary, um, yeah. New Goal: don't get bitten or scratched while trying to get them out of the house. Easy Peazy. So now that I'm back to low crawling to the door- I realize I had forgotten to put on my big girl panties because I was freaked out and being a chicken. I rallied though and made it to the door, propped it open and retreated to Dylan's crib to protect him. The bat flew outside. This is now bat #2 that has gone outside. I have the doors closed now too so I am fairly certain that we are safe and eventually I will be able to fall asleep without jumping at every sound or light flicker- which seems to only happen when I blink... weird. Hopefully they are all now gone. Might be wishful thinking, but if another one comes out I know what to do- cause I wear the big girl briefs... trapped in a room with a bat requires a little more than just panties... either way, I have got this... unless it's when Eric is home, then I'm letting him deal with the flipping bats!!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
"Mom, Where is our stuff going??!"
As I have mentioned a few thousand times, we are moving. I am 8 months pregnant, have two boys that are 3 1/2 and a 1 1/2 and a husband who works full time and just spent a week away (during "crunch time") at a school for work. On a scale of 1-10 my stress level is at about 12. This all has gone as best as it could, but it doesn't stop me from worrying, stressing, panicking, and stressing some more. Seriously, moving is no joke. Moving with kids though is a total game changer. They have feelings, fears, and serious questions that need to be satisfied, explained, and reassured. Just because they are little doesn't mean that they are completely oblivious to what is going on around them. The are very observant. Most of the time, a little too observant... which requires some creative explanations depending on the circumstance. I am convinced that after my answers to many endless "why's" and different situations that I've had to explain, my kids are going to be like Adam Sandler in "The Waterboy"... "But my Momma said..." I may take a few creative liberties with facts once in a while. Oops.
That brings me to our explanation to Mason as to where our, and more importantly, his stuff was going. He was starting to get upset/nervous because he thought he would never see it again and someone was, essentially, stealing it. Oh how the mind of a 3 yr old works. We saw this coming so we tried to think of the best way to explain it ahead of time so he wouldn't have a total melt down as the guys were carrying boxes out the door. We came up with the following:
"Optimus Prime will be coming to get our stuff. Him and the other Transformers will protect it until they bring it to our new house in Staten Island. You can talk to him, but because he will be in his "truck" form and there will be too many people around, he probably won't answer you."
Winner of parents of the year award, I know. It is one of his favorite cartoons, he knows who Optimus Prime is, he just got it, and any fear about our stuff being gone forever disappeared. Boom! Genius. Have to give credit to the hubs for this one... totally his idea.
The morning of the pick up it dawned on us "What if the truck is totally lame and looks nothing like Optimus Prime!!" Oh crap. There goes our whole idea and Mason is going to lose it. This is what Optimus Prime (according to the internet) is supposed to look like as a tractor trailer.
We started to panic a little and back pedal on the Optimus Prime explanation with " He might be in a disguise so that no one recognizes him so it is easier to protect our stuff." "He doesn't want the Deceptacons to know what his mission is so he might not look like what you expect" Surprisingly, he totally bought it. Crisis adverted.
Then the truck pulled up and looked like this...
Ok, so it doesn't look exactly the same, but it wasn't that bad and Mason continued to believe that it was Optimus Prime. Whew! I even caught him telling his friend that Optimus Prime was there to pick up our stuff. It was pretty funny. Since the pick up, Mason has asked a couple of times where Optimus Prime is and we tell him- guarding our stuff. That seems to be enough to satisfy his curiosity.
We have now survived the yard sale, the packing, the pick up, and we only have 3 more days of living in an empty house. Only things left are packing up the cars and kids for a 3-4 day drive to South Jersey from Southern Mississippi (current route still undecided), a 2 month stay at the "Hendrickson Compound", have a new baby, and another little move to Staten Island. Like my very wise 5 year old nephew Wyatt says.. "Easy Peezy, Lemon Squeezy" We got this... I hope.
That brings me to our explanation to Mason as to where our, and more importantly, his stuff was going. He was starting to get upset/nervous because he thought he would never see it again and someone was, essentially, stealing it. Oh how the mind of a 3 yr old works. We saw this coming so we tried to think of the best way to explain it ahead of time so he wouldn't have a total melt down as the guys were carrying boxes out the door. We came up with the following:
"Optimus Prime will be coming to get our stuff. Him and the other Transformers will protect it until they bring it to our new house in Staten Island. You can talk to him, but because he will be in his "truck" form and there will be too many people around, he probably won't answer you."
Winner of parents of the year award, I know. It is one of his favorite cartoons, he knows who Optimus Prime is, he just got it, and any fear about our stuff being gone forever disappeared. Boom! Genius. Have to give credit to the hubs for this one... totally his idea.
The morning of the pick up it dawned on us "What if the truck is totally lame and looks nothing like Optimus Prime!!" Oh crap. There goes our whole idea and Mason is going to lose it. This is what Optimus Prime (according to the internet) is supposed to look like as a tractor trailer.
Then the truck pulled up and looked like this...
Ok, so it doesn't look exactly the same, but it wasn't that bad and Mason continued to believe that it was Optimus Prime. Whew! I even caught him telling his friend that Optimus Prime was there to pick up our stuff. It was pretty funny. Since the pick up, Mason has asked a couple of times where Optimus Prime is and we tell him- guarding our stuff. That seems to be enough to satisfy his curiosity.
We have now survived the yard sale, the packing, the pick up, and we only have 3 more days of living in an empty house. Only things left are packing up the cars and kids for a 3-4 day drive to South Jersey from Southern Mississippi (current route still undecided), a 2 month stay at the "Hendrickson Compound", have a new baby, and another little move to Staten Island. Like my very wise 5 year old nephew Wyatt says.. "Easy Peezy, Lemon Squeezy" We got this... I hope.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
"It's not my fault, when I was a kid, my Mom dropped me on my head"
Thinking back to all of my crazy days with the kids and all of their shenanigans I have always felt like, at those times, a total train wreck on wheels, a real hot mess- but never a bad Mom. Unorganized- yes, frazzled- yes, bad Mom- no. I could look around and see people judging me and I could imagine them thinking- what a mess, but never a "bad Mom". That was until tonight.
Today was a great day. Today, my hubs was promoted to Chief Warrant Officer. He was sworn into office by the Commandant of the Coast Guard... on the Commandant's plane. It was a BIG deal. I can't say enough how proud I am of him! The boys had on little Coast Guard uniforms, Eric in a suit (looking as handsome as ever) so since this was such a big deal- I had to up my game. I wore a nice dress- for the first time in probably a year, with platform sandals. A serious upgrade from my normal jeans, shirt, and sneaks... and lately- compression socks. Here we are... Team Horst- all fancy'd up!
The ceremony went great and we decided to go out to dinner to celebrate. We picked Outback as our destination, and personally, I was pretty excited about a nice dinner out to celebrate Eric's promotion. On our way there it started to rain... In a horror movie this would be the point where the girl starts to go down the steps to the dark creepy basement where you just know something terrible is about to happen.
Still drizzling, we pull in to the restaurant and I get Cooper J out of his car seat while everyone else gets out and we head in. The hostess leads the way to our table and I am following behind still carrying Cooper J. Again, thinking back to that horror movie... the girl is now at the bottom of the steps and in the shadows you see the guy with the big knife standing behind her and you want to yell- TURN AROUND YOU BIG DUMMIE!!
We are walking toward the table and get to where the other tables are and every parent's nightmare comes true. My platform sandals, wet from walking across the parking lot, along with the off centered balance from being 7 months pregnant, even more off balance by carrying Cooper J... I. FELL. DOWN.
Not like a little stumble, a full on FALL. Flopped to my knees and elbows trying not to crush Cooper or Baby Dylan- but the worst part was that despite my best efforts, Cooper slipped out of my hands as my elbows hit the ground and his little head made a thump sound on the floor. I am pretty sure that his body was already on the floor at the time of the thump, but I can still hear that sound echoing in my head. It sounds a lot like "You are the worst Mom ever, thump. You are the worst Mom ever, thump" All I can think now is "technically" I dropped my kid on his head. In that moment, the whole restaurant stopped. Everything stopped and everyone stared. I heard that gasping "ahhh", the "Oh my gosh's", the "Oh no!'s". As if the knowledge that I had just fallen, unsure if my dress flew up and the whole restaurant saw my "goods"- which at 7 months pregnant with my 3rd child, to be honest, are not that "good", and my kids head just thumped the floor wasn't bad enough, I was MORTIFIED. Most parents think that if you fall down while holding your kid that you would naturally just tuck and roll and your precious baby would magically inflate his bubble wrap coating and anyone who saw would stand up and cheer for you and your natural instincts. You take a bow and continue on like nothing happened. Or better yet, you start to fall, toss your kid in the air, tuck and roll yourself and then pop up in time to catch the kid who is now happy and laughing. Well, it all happened so fast that I had no real thoughts of tucking nor rolling, so I can attest that there is a slight natural instinct not to totally pancake your child. The "thump" proved, however, that Cooper J missed out on the magic bubble wrap coating that pops out when necessary. Dang it.
It really wasn't that bad- it seems much worse in my head and I felt terrible for Cooper- I mean he now has that excuse when he is older- "it's not my fault- my mom dropped me on my head when I was a baby". Again, dang it.
The waiter brought a bag of unnecessary ice and the manager came and checked on us... twice. She even wanted my information so she could check on us to make sure we were ok. Honestly, I wanted to think that she was genuinely concerned because she was really nice, but I also thought that she saw a pregnant chick holding a baby "slip and fall" in her restaurant. I could see the panicked "oh crap she might sue" look in her eye. I wanted to reassure her that we were not going to sue them for my lack of balance accentuated by shoes that I despite my best effort couldn't walk in... but I just said, "No, we are fine, I promise!"
Overall, physically, Cooper J and I are fine. I can not say the same about my pride. It is hurt. I feel like a bad Mom. I now can add this to the list of train wreck events that pepper my journey in motherhood. And for the record, I will be wearing flats for not only the duration of this pregnancy, but probably for the rest of my life. I have lost my fancy shoe "girl card". That is what happens when you fall down in public...
Monday, April 22, 2013
When Enough is Effing Enough!!
Let me start by saying this... I am not offended easily... if ever. Having kids has changed my outlook on quite a few things though. Having a kid who parrots back almost everything that I say to him has made me really think twice about my "lack of filter-itius" and try a lot harder to curb that sarcastic outburst that normally just fall out without control. It's pretty much one of my worst nightmares that Mason will say something in public that he has heard somewhere and I am the one to catch the heat because my kid has a potty mouth. I am sure I could brush it off, but I'd be embarrassed none the less and I like to avoid that if possible. He is 3 years and 8 months old. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus, it hasn't happen yet... despite the best efforts of a guy on Sunday. I'll set the stage...
We don't go out to eat at restaurants very often... when we do, it has usually been eat quickly because once one of the boys is done, we are all done. We did have a little window when Cooper was really little and Mason started to be fun to take out... but then Cooper got not fun to take and that window was slammed shut. We don't go enough for them to be used to it... it is what it is.
We had to drop the hubs at the airport right at breakfast time and I thought a trip out to eat would be fun and take their minds off of Dad being gone. I decided on IHOP... Mason asks for pancakes almost every morning so I thought it would be nice for him.
We walked into the restaurant and I give the host my request of 3 in a booth... away from people if possible. It was Sunday morning at IHOP... away from people was not going to happen. We followed her around the corner and to the back to a booth and my eyes couldn't believe what they saw... 6 grown men crowded around a table and the biggest one of the bunch wearing- only in the South-overalls with no shirt. I laughed to myself and once seated, nonchalantly tried to document this sight to share at a later date. I know, I know, not nice, but seriously, how often do you see this?? Ok, so living in southern Mississippi, I may have seen it a couple times before, but it never gets old!! It doesn't get much more country than that. I am not a great "picture on the sly" and to be honest, they made me a little nervous so that should explain the messed up pic, but you can see... overalls, no shirt... oh yeah, and tattoos!! Maybe he thought that was shirt enough? Who knows.
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After I was done secretly gawking and had ordered our food and gotten us all settled to wait for our stuff, I couldn't help but overhear one of the guys at the table. He was cussing. Not just the random four letter accidental slip. He was cussing like it was his job. M F'er, B, GD, F, F, S, F, F, B, GD... use your imagination... I was not happy. I'll admit, sometimes there is a need for a well placed F bomb. It almost feels good to just let it drop... especially when you really try and monitor what comes out of your mouth for fear of hearing it spit back at you. I'll even say that sometimes it is needed to get your point across. That guy happens to be the one in the green shirt with the hat on at the table... a little insight to his table manners if you ask me (while I sit on my high horse)... or Emily Post.
Anyway, this goes on for a few minutes and as I sit there, I see Mason's little ears perk up at hearing other voices... and am just waiting for him to ask me to get him some more F'ing OJ. I am sitting at the table wincing at every drop of profanity, and even locked eyes with their waitress as she gave me the "I'm really sorry" look. I knew it wasn't in my head. I got more and more aggravated. This was not a bar. This was not at an odd, non-family time... it was SUNDAY... 8:30 in the morning... at IHOP for Pete's sake! I had finally had enough. I catch the cussing machine's eye and say the following, "Hey, I'm sorry, but can you please try not to curse so much, or so loudly, I'm here with my kids" I was cut off before I could finish with a "We are fixin to leave". I don't know why I was surprised, but I thought that if someone had to ask you to modify your language because it was offensive to CHILDREN that some sort of apology would be included in your response. I would even have been happy with a "My bad." No. We are fixin to leave. Really??? He then turned to his buddies and said "Lets get outta here" one of the others said "Why, what happened?" Mr Manners told his friends, "Yeah, that girl over there just said something to me"... like I was the big jerk... he probably pointed at me too. I wasn't looking to confirm, but I seriously wouldn't have put it past him.
I couldn't believe it. They talked for a few more minutes and Mr. Manners cussed a few more times, each word now earning him a look of "are you kidding me??" from me... the big jerk who just had to speak up.
Was I out of line? At what point are you allowed to say something to someone about their language. I'm no ninny, I have spent the entire duration of my adulthood being surrounded by military guys... I've heard it all. But for me to hear it is one thing... my kids... totally different. Where do you draw the line. Does someone in a crowded restaurant with tables close together expect that their table conversation is private to them and they get to say whatever they want not matter how offensive to other customers? Maybe my delivery was wrong, should I have asked the waiter to say something on my behalf? I am just blown away at how this all went down. How did I end up the bad guy? F that... I know I was F'ing right.
We don't go out to eat at restaurants very often... when we do, it has usually been eat quickly because once one of the boys is done, we are all done. We did have a little window when Cooper was really little and Mason started to be fun to take out... but then Cooper got not fun to take and that window was slammed shut. We don't go enough for them to be used to it... it is what it is.
We had to drop the hubs at the airport right at breakfast time and I thought a trip out to eat would be fun and take their minds off of Dad being gone. I decided on IHOP... Mason asks for pancakes almost every morning so I thought it would be nice for him.
We walked into the restaurant and I give the host my request of 3 in a booth... away from people if possible. It was Sunday morning at IHOP... away from people was not going to happen. We followed her around the corner and to the back to a booth and my eyes couldn't believe what they saw... 6 grown men crowded around a table and the biggest one of the bunch wearing- only in the South-overalls with no shirt. I laughed to myself and once seated, nonchalantly tried to document this sight to share at a later date. I know, I know, not nice, but seriously, how often do you see this?? Ok, so living in southern Mississippi, I may have seen it a couple times before, but it never gets old!! It doesn't get much more country than that. I am not a great "picture on the sly" and to be honest, they made me a little nervous so that should explain the messed up pic, but you can see... overalls, no shirt... oh yeah, and tattoos!! Maybe he thought that was shirt enough? Who knows.
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Anyway, this goes on for a few minutes and as I sit there, I see Mason's little ears perk up at hearing other voices... and am just waiting for him to ask me to get him some more F'ing OJ. I am sitting at the table wincing at every drop of profanity, and even locked eyes with their waitress as she gave me the "I'm really sorry" look. I knew it wasn't in my head. I got more and more aggravated. This was not a bar. This was not at an odd, non-family time... it was SUNDAY... 8:30 in the morning... at IHOP for Pete's sake! I had finally had enough. I catch the cussing machine's eye and say the following, "Hey, I'm sorry, but can you please try not to curse so much, or so loudly, I'm here with my kids" I was cut off before I could finish with a "We are fixin to leave". I don't know why I was surprised, but I thought that if someone had to ask you to modify your language because it was offensive to CHILDREN that some sort of apology would be included in your response. I would even have been happy with a "My bad." No. We are fixin to leave. Really??? He then turned to his buddies and said "Lets get outta here" one of the others said "Why, what happened?" Mr Manners told his friends, "Yeah, that girl over there just said something to me"... like I was the big jerk... he probably pointed at me too. I wasn't looking to confirm, but I seriously wouldn't have put it past him.
I couldn't believe it. They talked for a few more minutes and Mr. Manners cussed a few more times, each word now earning him a look of "are you kidding me??" from me... the big jerk who just had to speak up.
Was I out of line? At what point are you allowed to say something to someone about their language. I'm no ninny, I have spent the entire duration of my adulthood being surrounded by military guys... I've heard it all. But for me to hear it is one thing... my kids... totally different. Where do you draw the line. Does someone in a crowded restaurant with tables close together expect that their table conversation is private to them and they get to say whatever they want not matter how offensive to other customers? Maybe my delivery was wrong, should I have asked the waiter to say something on my behalf? I am just blown away at how this all went down. How did I end up the bad guy? F that... I know I was F'ing right.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Sarah Vs. "The pool"
A little background on Team Horst. We are outside people. Living in the south has allowed us to really get into this "outside" type of life style. While attempting to entertain the little people in our lives we have found that the little plastic pool from Walmart is key. Plain and simple, we use the crap out of that pool. Summer time it is essential for a certain adult female (who for some silly reason keeps getting pregnant just in time to be "oh my gosh she is about to explode big" by the absolute hottest part of summer) to survive the "sauna on the surface of the sun" like temperatures. Spring and Fall, it is still fun to splash around in for the kids. Winter time it becomes a make shift Chucky Cheese ball pit, rocket ship, make shift trampoline when flipped over, whatever they can imagine. Needless to say, when spring time rolls back around the pool has been beat to hell and inevitably has a crack, hole, tear, rip, etc. which requires the purchase of a new one to resume water play. For $34.97 I don't even bat and eye. We get our money's worth... and then some.
Eric went to get a new pool in the truck "aka" an appropriate vehicle to transport a pool in. Unfortunately, we are picky about our $34.97 plastic pool and require that it have a built in slide. The kids are accustom to it, have a ton of fun on it, and it provides a lounge chair space for said constantly pregnant in the summer female... all leading up to the fact that we WILL have the built in slide. Three stores later, still no pool.
So I do like any normal red blooded American would do and bust out the ole duct tape to patch up last year's pool until I can find a new one. The boys were thrilled. Not only did they get to play with duct tape, but then they got to go swimming in the pool... I know, I know, major excitement. It doesn't take much.
Fast forward about a week later and we now have leaky duct tape patches (insert my disappointed face). I just so happened to be on a Drill day and had a few extra minutes on the way home, conveniently going past a Walmart that is normally out of my way and hadn't checked for a pool yet. I called ahead to inquire if they had our pool and JACKPOT!! They had it. I was alone, had a car that I was pretty sure I could fit the pool in to, and on top of it all, had a few minutes to look around a store without children. No way was I not stopping. I excitedly called the hubs and told him my good luck at finding a pool. He immediately says skeptically, "I don't think it will fit in the Acadia" I reply back- of course it will fit! I'll figure it out! He warned me not to wreck the car and I assured him that I would not. I had already made up my mind that I was getting the pool.
In the store, I took my time, looked around at a few things, people watched, tried not to feel uncomfortable at people staring at me in my maternity uniform which looks like a tent, you know, what normal people without kids do... I think. Then I realized that I was running out of time and needed to wrap it up. I zip up to the check out counter and the girl rings up my stuff. I tell her that I need a pool that was outside as well. She didn't have a clue. I gave her a description of it, and then had to tell her how much it cost... which she took my word for without question. Gotta love the South. I paid and was out the door. I hurried to the car and tossed in my bags. I pulled around up front and parked next to the pools which I am now realizing are much bigger than I was thinking. As I walked over to pick out the pool of our dreams, located right next to the employee's outside smoke/break area. They must have seen me coming and realized what was about to happen because as I walked up to the pools, the employees cleared out.
Here is where it gets interesting... It took everything, I mean everything, I had to get that dang pool in the car. I practically folded the thing in half. I tried to fold it and push it in, but my inconvenient pregnant belly kept getting in the way preventing me from getting the leverage I needed. Never fear, I thought quickly, as to not lose the fold in the pool that I had just broken a sweat getting to just the right size to fit in the car, I just had to climb in first and pull it in. I looked up just in time to see a couple people, a store employee included, who had actually stopped to watch my circus performance. (Insert circus theme music) Come one come all, only a dollar to see the pregnant chick struggle to fit a 9 ft round pool into a 5ft square opening!! Only a dollar, folks, to stand and chuckle at the freak!! Nope, I'm good, thanks- don't need any help here I thought as they did NOT offer to help me. Oh well, I didn't need their help anyway!! I just about had it all the way in and I was trying to hold the pool in place and take out a carseat that was apparently installed by Superman himself because there was no way that I was getting it out... especially one handed as I was trying! So I had to bend and pull some more but finally got it in... and the back lift gate closed too! I actually did a "Rocky Balboa" fists in the air jumping up and down victory dance while singing the victory music... which earned me some more stop and stares. I didn't care... I made it fit!! If I knew the words to "Eye of the Tiger" and could actually sing, I would have belted out a verse or two! That is how excited I was. I know, I know, again, it doesn't take much.
I got in to drive away and realized that the pool blocked the entire back view out of the car and I couldn't see anything so it made the drive home a little interesting, but I didn't care... I made the pool fit!! The boys were totally stoked to have a new pool that didn't leak and, still high on my victory/adrenaline rush from actually getting the pool to fit, I was one happy girl... and may have gloated a bit!! Here are a few pictures to highlight my adventure! I'm sure some random stranger took a video of it all (instead of helping me) and is now passing it along to friends with the caption "Check out this train wreck!!" Oh well, joke is on them cause I got the pool baby!!
Holy Crap!! It fit!!!
Oh yeah!! I got it int there!!
There is no way that it should have fit in there!
"The Pool" 2013
Eric went to get a new pool in the truck "aka" an appropriate vehicle to transport a pool in. Unfortunately, we are picky about our $34.97 plastic pool and require that it have a built in slide. The kids are accustom to it, have a ton of fun on it, and it provides a lounge chair space for said constantly pregnant in the summer female... all leading up to the fact that we WILL have the built in slide. Three stores later, still no pool.
So I do like any normal red blooded American would do and bust out the ole duct tape to patch up last year's pool until I can find a new one. The boys were thrilled. Not only did they get to play with duct tape, but then they got to go swimming in the pool... I know, I know, major excitement. It doesn't take much.
Fast forward about a week later and we now have leaky duct tape patches (insert my disappointed face). I just so happened to be on a Drill day and had a few extra minutes on the way home, conveniently going past a Walmart that is normally out of my way and hadn't checked for a pool yet. I called ahead to inquire if they had our pool and JACKPOT!! They had it. I was alone, had a car that I was pretty sure I could fit the pool in to, and on top of it all, had a few minutes to look around a store without children. No way was I not stopping. I excitedly called the hubs and told him my good luck at finding a pool. He immediately says skeptically, "I don't think it will fit in the Acadia" I reply back- of course it will fit! I'll figure it out! He warned me not to wreck the car and I assured him that I would not. I had already made up my mind that I was getting the pool.
In the store, I took my time, looked around at a few things, people watched, tried not to feel uncomfortable at people staring at me in my maternity uniform which looks like a tent, you know, what normal people without kids do... I think. Then I realized that I was running out of time and needed to wrap it up. I zip up to the check out counter and the girl rings up my stuff. I tell her that I need a pool that was outside as well. She didn't have a clue. I gave her a description of it, and then had to tell her how much it cost... which she took my word for without question. Gotta love the South. I paid and was out the door. I hurried to the car and tossed in my bags. I pulled around up front and parked next to the pools which I am now realizing are much bigger than I was thinking. As I walked over to pick out the pool of our dreams, located right next to the employee's outside smoke/break area. They must have seen me coming and realized what was about to happen because as I walked up to the pools, the employees cleared out.
Here is where it gets interesting... It took everything, I mean everything, I had to get that dang pool in the car. I practically folded the thing in half. I tried to fold it and push it in, but my inconvenient pregnant belly kept getting in the way preventing me from getting the leverage I needed. Never fear, I thought quickly, as to not lose the fold in the pool that I had just broken a sweat getting to just the right size to fit in the car, I just had to climb in first and pull it in. I looked up just in time to see a couple people, a store employee included, who had actually stopped to watch my circus performance. (Insert circus theme music) Come one come all, only a dollar to see the pregnant chick struggle to fit a 9 ft round pool into a 5ft square opening!! Only a dollar, folks, to stand and chuckle at the freak!! Nope, I'm good, thanks- don't need any help here I thought as they did NOT offer to help me. Oh well, I didn't need their help anyway!! I just about had it all the way in and I was trying to hold the pool in place and take out a carseat that was apparently installed by Superman himself because there was no way that I was getting it out... especially one handed as I was trying! So I had to bend and pull some more but finally got it in... and the back lift gate closed too! I actually did a "Rocky Balboa" fists in the air jumping up and down victory dance while singing the victory music... which earned me some more stop and stares. I didn't care... I made it fit!! If I knew the words to "Eye of the Tiger" and could actually sing, I would have belted out a verse or two! That is how excited I was. I know, I know, again, it doesn't take much.
I got in to drive away and realized that the pool blocked the entire back view out of the car and I couldn't see anything so it made the drive home a little interesting, but I didn't care... I made the pool fit!! The boys were totally stoked to have a new pool that didn't leak and, still high on my victory/adrenaline rush from actually getting the pool to fit, I was one happy girl... and may have gloated a bit!! Here are a few pictures to highlight my adventure! I'm sure some random stranger took a video of it all (instead of helping me) and is now passing it along to friends with the caption "Check out this train wreck!!" Oh well, joke is on them cause I got the pool baby!!
Holy Crap!! It fit!!! 
Oh yeah!! I got it int there!!
There is no way that it should have fit in there!
"The Pool" 2013Sunday, April 7, 2013
Way to go Target, she said sarcastically, you got me....
I am almost curious enough to inquire whether cashiers at target get a kick back on purchases. Apparently the cashier I had the other day does... or is just that much of an oblivious jerk. I'm going to have to go with the jerk theory though.
I had a doctor appointment in the afternoon so I thought I would run some errands after picking up Mason from school, but allowing for Cooper to get a decent quality nap... in the car. I should have known better and scrapped the whole idea when I parked in front of Target and had to text the hubs and ask why I needed to go in there. So, we had about an hour and a half to kill which means we wandered. I got the 2 necessary items that I "had to go to the store for" in the first 10 minutes. We got a few toys from the $1 section, some other miscellaneous items that I thought of while I was there and then decided that I had had enough so we head to the check out. We had a fairly enjoyable time but the kids were starting to get antsy so I knew it was time to go before it got out of control.
We headed up to the check out line and there were probably about 3 lanes open with about 5 people with things to check out... overall, not that busy and no need for the cashier to rush... and she didn't. There was one person in front of me so we waited... and waited... and waited. This woman moved like molasses. I was trying to keep my cool as the kids were getting more and more impatient but she apparently did not notice and pick up the pace. I could have switched lanes but by the time I realized what was happening I was committed. The kids were being antsy, but fairly good so I grabbed a trashy tabloid from the rack and looked at it for approximately10 seconds. I'm sure they frown on this practice of looking at the magazine until it's your turn and then put it back, but if she is going to move in slow motion, I'm going to do it.
That is about when things got interesting. Cooper J was O-V-E-R being in the cart and decided that jumping was the best way to get out of the cart. Luckily, when my kids were born I became part super hero with cat like reflexes in order to save their lives, like when they swan dive out of a shopping cart. Again, me being lucky, they test out these powers on a regular basis so they my skills are finely tuned and perfected. In order for me to catch him, I threw down the magazine that I was holding. Where did it land? On the conveyer belt headed for the cashier. The boys then started being kids and began to pull one of everything off of the shelf in the "impulse purchase" section at the register with me immediately saying "put that back" (and proudly, they did! ha ha) so my full attention may not have been on the actual check out process. Once she was finally done ringing up my items I give her my attention back and pay. Toss the bags and boys into the cart and practically ran out of the store. When I had the kids properly secured in their seats I go to the back of the car and start to load in my bags when, to my surprise, I notice a familiar looking trashy tabloid in a bag with the other stuff I had meant to pay for. Double checking my receipt, to my dismay, I still can't believe I actually paid for a magazine that the cover story was about celebrities who are too thin and might have eating disorders. Quality reading. I mean, I enjoy the celebrity gossip as much as the next person... but prefer it to be on my yahoo news feed... for free.
In retrospect, technically, I did put it on the belt with the other approved items, but maybe it would have been nice for the cashier to double check that particular item since she saw me throw it to catch my flightless child. I mean she snapped out of her own little world when the cart slammed into the side of the check out counter as Cooper J jumped so I know that she saw what had happened. It is not that easy to block us out. Would it have been too much for her to say "Um, I saw you got distracted and tossed this down, did you really want it?" Apparently so.
The hubs says I have no grounds to be aggravated about the whole situation, but I still say "Way to go target cashier... you got me."
I had a doctor appointment in the afternoon so I thought I would run some errands after picking up Mason from school, but allowing for Cooper to get a decent quality nap... in the car. I should have known better and scrapped the whole idea when I parked in front of Target and had to text the hubs and ask why I needed to go in there. So, we had about an hour and a half to kill which means we wandered. I got the 2 necessary items that I "had to go to the store for" in the first 10 minutes. We got a few toys from the $1 section, some other miscellaneous items that I thought of while I was there and then decided that I had had enough so we head to the check out. We had a fairly enjoyable time but the kids were starting to get antsy so I knew it was time to go before it got out of control.
We headed up to the check out line and there were probably about 3 lanes open with about 5 people with things to check out... overall, not that busy and no need for the cashier to rush... and she didn't. There was one person in front of me so we waited... and waited... and waited. This woman moved like molasses. I was trying to keep my cool as the kids were getting more and more impatient but she apparently did not notice and pick up the pace. I could have switched lanes but by the time I realized what was happening I was committed. The kids were being antsy, but fairly good so I grabbed a trashy tabloid from the rack and looked at it for approximately10 seconds. I'm sure they frown on this practice of looking at the magazine until it's your turn and then put it back, but if she is going to move in slow motion, I'm going to do it.
That is about when things got interesting. Cooper J was O-V-E-R being in the cart and decided that jumping was the best way to get out of the cart. Luckily, when my kids were born I became part super hero with cat like reflexes in order to save their lives, like when they swan dive out of a shopping cart. Again, me being lucky, they test out these powers on a regular basis so they my skills are finely tuned and perfected. In order for me to catch him, I threw down the magazine that I was holding. Where did it land? On the conveyer belt headed for the cashier. The boys then started being kids and began to pull one of everything off of the shelf in the "impulse purchase" section at the register with me immediately saying "put that back" (and proudly, they did! ha ha) so my full attention may not have been on the actual check out process. Once she was finally done ringing up my items I give her my attention back and pay. Toss the bags and boys into the cart and practically ran out of the store. When I had the kids properly secured in their seats I go to the back of the car and start to load in my bags when, to my surprise, I notice a familiar looking trashy tabloid in a bag with the other stuff I had meant to pay for. Double checking my receipt, to my dismay, I still can't believe I actually paid for a magazine that the cover story was about celebrities who are too thin and might have eating disorders. Quality reading. I mean, I enjoy the celebrity gossip as much as the next person... but prefer it to be on my yahoo news feed... for free.
In retrospect, technically, I did put it on the belt with the other approved items, but maybe it would have been nice for the cashier to double check that particular item since she saw me throw it to catch my flightless child. I mean she snapped out of her own little world when the cart slammed into the side of the check out counter as Cooper J jumped so I know that she saw what had happened. It is not that easy to block us out. Would it have been too much for her to say "Um, I saw you got distracted and tossed this down, did you really want it?" Apparently so.
The hubs says I have no grounds to be aggravated about the whole situation, but I still say "Way to go target cashier... you got me."
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Running with kids... an new kind of torture.
I had finally gotten myself into shape that I was really happy with, my running was at an all time best and I had started training for a half marathon. Then I got pregnant. Through this I am trying to maintain my fitness level, running when I can, an exercise video here or there, walking more... etc. Ok, the truth, I'm really just trying to not turn into a fat tick during this pregnancy... by #3 the delusional "eat whatever I want, don't exercise and just assume it will fall off once I have the baby"assumption has proven to be completely false. I was pretty shocked after baby #1, imagine my surprise when it didn't happen again with baby #2!! This time I'm not in denial and am trying to keep things in check. After months of being too tired or having morning sickness that lasted all day long, I finally have enough energy and feel up to getting back to exercising on a regular basis.
Lately, I have been running a few times a week. Up until now I've been going solo- not often enough to have to suck it up and go with the kids... until yesterday.
Yesterday I had this great plan. I was going to drop Mason off at school so I would only have Cooper to run with. In my head this was going to go well, he was going to sit happily for a few minutes and then fall asleep as it was almost nap time waking up as I pulled up next to the truck and look up at me all happy and bright eyed with a "wait, we are done already?" look. That is NOT what happen. Side note: After over a year of pushing a double jogger with a 39 and 28 pounders in it, going back to a single with only 28lbs was like pushing a dream!! Cooper actually did pretty good for a while... for a while and then was OVER it. Throughout the run I pumped him full of junk (that I had with me, courtesy of Miss Annette, who hooked my unprepared butt up), if I had more lollipops I totally would have given him more!), tried to bribe him with my phone, headphones, and water, and then as he kept channeling his inner sky diver trying to jump/climb out of the jogger- regardless of speed I gave up and held him. Then he wanted to help push the now empty stroller making us nearly crash several times. Finally, he ended up on my shoulders... for about a mile.
I know I have to stick with it to force him to get used to, and happy about, being in the stroller, but dang! I finished the run/walk feeling frustrated, frazzled, and aggravated at him because seriously- he is siting in a pretty comfortable seat, gets to ride around the neighborhood enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery, all while I PUSH him- no effort needed on his part. Come on- that sounds awesome!! Can we say... selfish? ha ha
Alright, Alright, so he is 17 months old and I pushed the limits on his attention span and nap so that I could get in a good run. Somehow, somewhere, I know this is my fault and I really shouldn't blame him. Dang it, "Mom Guilt" strikes again... Screw that, he is 17 months old and sole purpose in life is to torture me and make me nuts all while looking ridiculously cute doing it.
Maybe next time he will be better... hey, a girl can dream... right??
Lately, I have been running a few times a week. Up until now I've been going solo- not often enough to have to suck it up and go with the kids... until yesterday.
Yesterday I had this great plan. I was going to drop Mason off at school so I would only have Cooper to run with. In my head this was going to go well, he was going to sit happily for a few minutes and then fall asleep as it was almost nap time waking up as I pulled up next to the truck and look up at me all happy and bright eyed with a "wait, we are done already?" look. That is NOT what happen. Side note: After over a year of pushing a double jogger with a 39 and 28 pounders in it, going back to a single with only 28lbs was like pushing a dream!! Cooper actually did pretty good for a while... for a while and then was OVER it. Throughout the run I pumped him full of junk (that I had with me, courtesy of Miss Annette, who hooked my unprepared butt up), if I had more lollipops I totally would have given him more!), tried to bribe him with my phone, headphones, and water, and then as he kept channeling his inner sky diver trying to jump/climb out of the jogger- regardless of speed I gave up and held him. Then he wanted to help push the now empty stroller making us nearly crash several times. Finally, he ended up on my shoulders... for about a mile.
I know I have to stick with it to force him to get used to, and happy about, being in the stroller, but dang! I finished the run/walk feeling frustrated, frazzled, and aggravated at him because seriously- he is siting in a pretty comfortable seat, gets to ride around the neighborhood enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery, all while I PUSH him- no effort needed on his part. Come on- that sounds awesome!! Can we say... selfish? ha ha
Alright, Alright, so he is 17 months old and I pushed the limits on his attention span and nap so that I could get in a good run. Somehow, somewhere, I know this is my fault and I really shouldn't blame him. Dang it, "Mom Guilt" strikes again... Screw that, he is 17 months old and sole purpose in life is to torture me and make me nuts all while looking ridiculously cute doing it.
Maybe next time he will be better... hey, a girl can dream... right??
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