Amazing what you can find

When you CLEAN stuff, you often find things. Today, I found something I've been missing terribly for over a month. The friend that borrowed our wet/dry vacuum returned it to us finally, now that the work is almost done on the rental he's fixing so it can be sold. Since he put it in the back of my van, I figured, I should vacuum my van out before taking the wet/dry vacuum back into the house. So, late this morning I went outside in this unseasonably warm weather we have till the last cold snap in March arrives, and cleaned out my van. In the process of getting all the junk out of my van that has accumulated in there since before becoming impregnated, I found my long lost item that has been driving me batty to drive without them.

Behold, the sunglasses that I grew to love for so many reasons. It took me a week or so to get used to driving with them because they're polarized versus the tinted lenses in the other pair I have. I had to use my old ones that are part metal, part plastic, and get tangled in my hair when I put them on my head. I was ripping hairs out of my head for no good reason! I seriously dislike my hair being pulled for any reason. Single hairs being plucked with force are incredibly painful. So, that problem now solved, I need something else found.

I track my mileage for my taxes, and I spaced out last year and never tracked any of it in a spreadsheet. It's all in my datebook. Yep, you guessed it. I can't find it. I apparently filed it or stashed it someplace "safe" or something. It's so safe, I can't remember where it was put. Nor can I find any logical or illogical place that it can be found. Plus the Oldest moved some stuff off the scanner to scan a picture he drew, and now some additional tax information can't be located. I've pestered St. Anthony numerous times already.

I guess I need to just keep cleaning. You know, because gestating just isn't enough for me to do these days.

Customer Service

I have ranted about a few customer service places in the past, and I make no bones about doing so. I also understand the value of what the military calls a "Good Cookie" as well, and make a point to award such praise when needed. I've called a local cab company numerous times for both good and bad drivers, and the dispatch manager is very relieved to hear that I have good things to say about their driver. Like using turn signals and being respectful in the merge lane is all that difficult people, c'mon.

So, today was a day that did not start out to be full of errands, it just turned out that way. I had to go get labwork done this morning, and it was the last day to do it. Hi, I'm Last Minute Charlene, nice to meet you. I left the lab and headed over to a couple thrift shops in search of maternity pants that would fit me this early but still fit me later too. That was a bust. I stopped and took care of some other business and resumed my search for clothing to fit an expanding form. My travels took me to a different Old Navy location than I'd visited a few weeks ago. It's not just me, I know it's not. I've noticed a diminished selection across the board in almost every store (except the thrift stores....wow- some doozies there!). This location had an even smaller run of clothes than the other store, and it basically consisted of the same selections. And no clearance spot either. At least the other one had a few clearance items. I am not willing to pay $30 for pants that are a temporary thing for me. I don't work in a location that requires my attire to be professional. Khakis and jeans are acceptable considering the amount of dirt, dust and grime often involved. I didn't see any employees in Old Navy except the ones cashiering. I decided that since I was in the mall, and in close proximity to JCPenney, that I'd go take a look at their maternity stuff. Mind you it's tucked in a corner behind the plus sized stuff, and similarly priced to Old Navy's. It was nice, I just can't justify spending it when we're looking to buy a house. That wasn't the problem in so much as the fact that THREE employees walked past me in a cluster and not one of them greeted me. Then after I left the plus size section, I went to the "intimate apparel" department to search for a maternity/nursing bra. All of my normal ones are no longer comfortable and I want to find one like I had with Clone. I realize plastic is cheaper to utilize, but I am no dainty girl here and rough and tumble is my whole family. I need hook and eye stuff here folks. I prefer adjustable cups because the girls change size and shape often and with swiftness. However, I wanted to see what else was offered at a "higher end" department store, not just the SuperWally and Tarjay. The associate in the intimate apparel department walked past with another customer and didn't greet me either. THEN, the maternity and nursing bras were next to the customer service desk and she STILL ignored me. It's a good thing I didn't want plastic.

I got home, crashed in my bed with an ice pack on my knee after whacking the crap out of it on my van door. Grace, is not my middle name. I finally chase the Oldest off my computer and check my email to find that MOE'S of the burrito fame, responded to my email asking why I hadn't gotten my birthday burrito. I wasn't honestly expecting to get one this late after my birthday, I just wanted to make sure I was going to get one next birthday. But there it was with an apology (it wasn't likely Moe's fault either) for the lack of a birthday burrito. Way to go Moe! You guys rank right up there with one of my other favorite restaurants, Sticky Fingers. They let me use my freebie a week and a half after it expired, and I've never had a bad experience there. One time they did run out of my favorite and I got a nice credit towards my next visit because I emailed the company saying "man, that kinda stunk" - in more polite words.
So, if you're hungry, for lunch go to Moe's, then take the family out to dinner at Sticky Fingers. Honestly, you will not regret it. Unless of course you're allergic to something on the menu or good customer service.

Mom's Birthday

Today was my mom's birthday, she would have been 62. I'm a naughty daughter, and I haven't called my father. I don't deal well with his emotions anymore, so I just don't deal with them at all. Bad. Bad. Bad. I was thinking of them both today. So in honor of it being Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday, and mom's birthday, I made roasted chicken and egg noodles in honor of mom. It was the one meal my mother could not screw up, except that period of time she ate garlic alllll the time and sliced it into the dish, not crushing it first to get those special flavors mixed in the clove. YUK. I have yet to replicate her recipe, and maybe never will, but the oldest said "This chicken is bangin' with the noodles." I try. At least I didn't burn the food. I'm good about that. I didn't learn to cook from my mother. I learned how not to cook from her. Except the chicken and noodle thing. Brother and Sister both agree with me, that the chicken and egg noodles was her best meal. Everything else, I learned from the motherly-types around me, friends, neighbors, and even celebrities. My turkey gets cooked upside down, because that's how Celine Dion does hers. At least that's what she said on Oprah 13 years ago when I made my first Thanksgiving dinner, and invited my parents up to NC to join us. Dad was impressed. Then again, he'd been eating my mother's cooking all those years. I now understood why she never made us a birthday cake.

Brothers and Pants

So on the brotherly front, my boys are seemingly not killing each other - at least openly. However, MY brother has been dealing with drama. His wife-on-paper's boyfriend apparently made threats to my brother and my brother called the cops. The boyfriend is just doing whatever he can to goad my brother. Thankfully, our father's cool headed genetics prevail for my brother. His daughter is reaping the difficulties of this drama day in and day out over there. I just want to bring the girl to my house and take care of her till this all blows over, just to insulate her from the stupidity, and make sure she's taken care of properly. Whatever happens between my brother and his wife-on-paper is their thing. My concern is my niece. So I went over there to possibly retrieve the niece in case things got ugly. Wife-on-paper was going with niece to get a bit of groceries when I arrived. Brother had to be at work later, so I once again took him. Yesterday I got a yum-o-la pizza out of the deal. Today, he used a Entertainment book coupon and got two for one at Moe's. Homewrecker carries a full-faceted meaning for him. Apparently he really did not have any food in the house. In the mile between Moe's and the interstate, the boy snarfed the entire Homewrecker, just short of licking the foil. I said "Geez hon, hungry much?" My Clone responded with "Well DUUUUH, he hasn't eaten anything ALL day!"

Then in other news, I've lost the battle with my waistbands. Yesterday was the last day of wearing my non-preggo pants. Thankfully my friend L. loaned me her maternity clothes. Sadly, she's much shorter than I am and some of them are just too short, while others were just hemmed too short by her well-meaning mother. L granted permission to take the hems out, saying she wasn't happy with them either. Chrissy gave me some great advice on how to iron the crease out of the pants hems and I'll try it later when I don't feel like I ate too fast or too much. Leftover yummy non-traditional pizza, Chicken Pasta & Chickpea Stew, and now some tater tots. I'm trying to drink a lot of water, because I apparently eat a lot of salty foods. This whole "eat-every-two-hours-to-avoid-nausea" diet is packing on the pounds. I am now conceding defeat and wearing maternity clothes. At least I can wear something other than my pajama and lounge pants, and maybe it will inspire me to do something other than lounge. Somehow, like shoes, my pants have some sort of impact on my ability to function.

Kid Logic

I sat on Chrissy's kids tonight so she and her husband could go to the Mardi Gras dinner-dance at church. I wasn't going, and I owe them like a bazziilllion babysitting favors so I started making a dent in the debt. Let me just say, Chrissy is a hilarious riot when intoxicated. Filters are gone, and TMI runs rampant. By the time they got home, Cinderella's coach was about to become a pumpkin again. Plus since I had Clone with me, she needed to get home and in the bed. On the way home, we passed CarMax. This place is a huge used car company, so most of you may have heard of it. It was on a stretch of road with numerous car dealerships. My Clone, was giving her analysis of what each dealership name means. She saw CarMax and said "CarMax is called CarMax because they obviously have a lot of cars and the guy that owns it is named Max." It cracked me up and my mirth, was once again a sore spot for her. She thought I was making fun of her again. She hates when we laugh at something she says when she's completely serious. Now when she means to be funny, it's ok to laugh, but not any other time. "Sorry baby, but it was just cute and funny. I was in no way making fun of you." She wasn't buying it, no matter how true it was for me. If everything were as simple as kid logic.

Babies and Dinner

My husband told his friend T. the news of our impending 4th last week at a sporting event. T went home to his wife K and said "I think Devildog told me Feisty is pregnant. But I can't be 100% sure because I had been drinking." Devildog went up to K & T's house to do a side job for T's mom. I called to find out when he was going to come home, since I was making tacos for dinner (at his request). He turned down K's shrimp alfredo and T's mom's pulled pork because his preggo wife was at home making tacos for him. When he got home and told me this, I said "It obviously did not occur to you to ask for some to take home to your preggo wife." He conceded that he indeed did not think of that. After I called to find out when he was coming home, K called me.

"Hey. What are you doing?"
"Cooking Dinner"
"ah. well. Congratulations"
"Thanks but it's just tacos"

What's the big deal?

Over at Suburban Correspondent, she was wondering why people think large families are such spectacles. SC has 6 children, as does Dawn over at Because I Said So, and Mary Ellen over in the Bonny Blue House has eight. I have one friend with five children, and another with six - which are actually three sets of fraternal twins. So for me to have four by the end of this year, really isn't that big a deal. I keep getting questions about our prevention methods, if I know what causes this, and the usual half-brained responses. I have decided that future questions of "you know what causes that right?" will promptly be met with a smile and "yes, we have 16 years of practice, but we still haven't figured out what causes the idiotic questions like yours."

Someone sent me an email a while back.

A man boarded a plane with 6 kids. After they got settled in their seats a woman sitting across the aisle from him leaned over to him and asked, 'Are all of those kids yours?'

He replied, 'No. I work for a condom company. These are customer complaints.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile off in the land of Show Me, my cousin J. had her firstborn. This little girl arrived at 10:11 CST and weighed 6 lbs 6 oz. The name, once certain, is now back up for deliberation. Yes, I sent my two pennies via text earlier this evening. We shall see what the baby's first name will be. We do know however, that the middle name will be the family standard. It's one of the names on my "not naming my child this" list, simply because there are fifty gazillion with that name already. Let's get a little creative here folks. I wish them the best of luck and joy in all the world. Aunt R said that J was a trooper and she was impressed by J's handiwork. The doctor was merely the baby catcher and J did well to direct traffic and whatnot during her labor and delivery.

House Hunting

Devildog and I have been looking for our own home for a while. We've got different opinions on things in some regards, and agree on yet others. It's long been a mixed marriage on many levels, so it's nothing new. So the search for a house that accommodates all the bodies, and the stuff, and has the spaces to function like we need them to function and all under budget has been hopeful but occasionally annoying. Devildog and I have felt that God would lead us to the house we're supposed to have, at the right time. Divine Guidance is what I've been calling it. The houses I picked out were not what they were cracked up to be at all, and they've been quickly eliminated from our pool of applicants. The ones Devildog likes, are generally the ones I have liked as well. We looked at one house that we both liked, but we disagreed on how to use certain areas of the house. He wanted my office in a spot that was out of the way. While I understand his motive, he forgets what life with a baby is like, and where I'll be spending most of my time. Plus there were some other factors that made it a risk for the long list. But we kept it on the short list. There were others that were what we wanted but out of our budget. Then our realtor took us to a house we hadn't looked at online yet. We may have found the house that fits us. Devildog and I didn't disagree on how to use the spaces. We felt that this may be "the one". So, we've been asking everyone to keep it in their prayers that if the house is the one for us, that it happens. Our current needs are met, and we can make it work in our current place a while longer if we have to do that. We'd like to have some elbow room though. Devildog and I both, would like to avoid constantly seeing the mess that is my office. We literally need a closet for our clothes. Our room is the converted garage and there's no closet for it, unless you count the laundry room with a closet bar. Devildog wants a place for his friends to visit and hang out. Since almost all his friends smoke, a "man-den" is helpful. And possibly very important, we want to be off the main road, like we are now. Here if we tell the kids to go play in traffic, they don't have to go any farther than the front property line. Not that we would seriously tell them to go play in traffic. Besides, if we did tell them that, they wouldn't listen anyway.

Independent or Obnoxious?

Today was one of those days that I got to annoy my oldest, who I think I'll call my NonConformist. It may end up getting abbreviated to NonCon to save keystrokes. I'm a slacker like that. Something he's accessed has generated problems with my computer and the machine was running horrendously slow for days. I'm hoping that I've cleaned it up with the series of scans that took all day today. In the meantime I culled a lot of garbage from around my desk. Apparently I've been neglecting the area. Go figure. The boy hasn't been online and he's having computer withdrawals. I'm such an evil mother like that too. How dare I not allow him to get online to do his schoolwork, because now he's behind in his work for the state's Virtual School. I have no sympathy for him. If he truly did his work in the total time he spends online he'd have much more work banked ahead and missing a day wouldn't be the least bit of an issue. I would have allowed him 2 hours to get as much work done as possible except one of the scans literally took ALL day from 9:30 this morning to sometime after 6 PM tonight. So, I didn't let him on the computer while I was gone to take the younger two kids to to class at church. I didn't want the scan to take even longer than it already was. In the process he's been a royal pain today. Meh. I've developed a poker face, so I haven't let his ranting and rambling bother me. I went with a friend to a bookstore, and Clone was scoping out material while I sat in the coffee shop relaxing. Last week the tables were full. Today they were empty. There were four others there, all male. One teenage-looking young guy, kind of punkish reading something, probably fantasy or anime type of stuff. A 20-something with a couple novels, his cellphone, a motorcycle helmet and a backpack that resembled something for camping or military use. Given his gait and carriage, I'm going with the assumption this guy was affiliated with the military somehow. There was a middle aged, overweight, and balding guy with thick glasses, complete with neoprene straps to keep them from falling off his head. I didn't look at what he was reading, but he had a fair size stack of books. Then there was this guy...another 20 something, obviously studying and trying to cram a ton of information into his grey matter. I caught glimpses of him off in thought. Then Clone brought a poetry book over to read aloud. She tired of the book by Mattie Stepanek and ran off to the kids' section to find something else. I got up to toss my cup, and the studying guy said "She reads really well." "Thanks. Not bad for first grade. I suspect it has something to do with my refusal to baby talk to my kids." He asked if Clone was around other kids. I said "she has two teenage brothers and lots of other friends' kids." Then Clone mentioned the one in gestation. I knew she'd never keep that a secret once we told her...geesh. Student said that he didn't have kids, but had 40 nieces and nephews, and that he was one of 10 kids. I think he added the sibling count because my jaw hit the floor at the number of times he's an uncle. I joked that no one was going to harass him to have kids anytime soon. Nope, not Catholic, but a military family that just kept having kids. Because really...after 3, what's one more right? He moved down here from Alaska, to go to Commercial Diving School, learn to weld, get away from the cold, and along with all that get going with a career in deep sea diving work. The welding was additional insurance to keep employment. His course is very accelerated and intense and full of prior service military folks. My daughter then started flirting heavily with this guy, giggling inanely like a school-girl, and saying "Call me". He asked what I was teaching my daughter, which was quickly met with, "She has two teenaged brothers, and attends public school, anything is possible." He talked about traveling with his family as a child between Japan, 10 bases in the lower 48, and finally living in Alaska. I related that my life was rather mundane, high school sweetheart, children, brief stint at Camp Lejune with the husband, back here, interesting but not so much excitement. He said "it is what you make of it" which is very true. Then Clone returned with a 4 inch stack of kid books to read, mindless of the short time we had left to get back to church to retrieve the other kids. She got one book read, which was logged in her reading log for school to count towards her 25 books for the quarter. At which point the guy went back to his studying. We never exchanged names. I can understand why the girl was flirting with the guy. He was easy on the eyes and seemed to have a decent personality. It's nice to find a person with distinct goals and taking action to achieve them. I'd like to think he's a credit to his parents and that they raised him well. I have no idea if he ever behaved like my non-conformist child in his middle teen years. But Student admitted to being too independent minded for the military. It's not entirely a bad thing to be independent, but it's another course of life if you choose to be a disrespectful oaf to everyone around you for the sake of being one. It remains to be seen if my oldest will be an "Independent minded" individual, or if he'll continue to be anti-everything to everyone around him.

Happy Birthday Chrissy!

Because I'm an utter preggo-brain and did not look at my calendar till now when I went to schedule my week....I am that ass of a friend that didn't even tell my dear friend Chrissy Happy Birthday when I was right there in front of her at church today! Flylady tells me to check my calendar daily. I failed to do that and in turn failed to wish my friend a happy birthday. At least I was fair to both of them. I didn't call either of them on their day. They called me. Well one was with me, but still. She did call me as I pulled into her driveway to ask where I was.
But...man! Talk about epic failure on my part. I honestly won't hold it against either of them if next January they just intentionally or accidentally ignore me on my birthday. I'm very sorry. There's no way I could make it up to either of them, short of winning the big lottery jackpot and hookin' a sista up with some of my winnings.
So, Happy Birthday Chrissy. I hope it was good to you, and I hope that my lack of calling or wishing you a lovely day didn't screw things up. That same apology applies to Persnickety too. Good friends are hard to come by and I don't want to mess any of that up ever. Good friends who still tolerate you when you forget their birthday. That's true friends right there. These girls are the kind of friends you call "family" because they're the kind of family you'd like to choose if you could. They understand your quirks. And if they don't understand them, they at least are entertained by them.

Mind Your Mouth

I was busy chatting with Yankee Belle and pimping my oldest out to help her move. He's homeschooled via Virtual School, he's male, he has muscle-type things on his person. In short, he's available and capable of helping. I pulled the pity card out, briefly explaining the situation to him, and he actually agreed to help her. Of course, he began lurking behind me reading the conversation with her, and started acting like an annoying little kid. (My people are all little kids in disguise, I swear. ::Cue Toys R Us commercial theme song::) He decided to poke my belly button. That turkey timer popping out is a long way off pal, you're not going to find anything interesting in there, like perhaps you would spelunking in Devildog's navel. I told him to leave my tummy alone. It's expanding and I'm self concious about it at the moment. The boy was lucky I was not in a heinously fould mood, and that I was actually in good spirits. He had the cajones to say (jokingly, but still....) "I wonder if you're just getting fat and having attitude problems."
This will not be forgotten. When I really am fat and miserable this Summer, he will regret saying this. It will come back to haunt him. Just like the conversation between me and the Clone not too long ago returns to bite someone.

Happy Birthday Persnickety

Happy Birthday Persnickety! It seems that I wasn't the only one with a cold arse birthday. I think Persnickety's birthday works out to be several degrees colder than mine was. There was ice on my windows, and the grass was frozen. My elephant ears are decimated by the cold. I will post pictures later. For now though, I have to take the Beast to school....AGAIN...for the THIRD time this week. It's alllllll the way across town, and this city is geographically huuuuge. It's the equivalent to 2 towns over for smaller places. Then I have a 'naughty parent' conference with the principal this morning because Clone is late to school so much. Oh I so hope Persnickety has been having some semblance of fun in Disney this week. Because at least one of us would be having fun somewhere. It's been one of those weeks. On the bright side, I have a plaque hanging over my desk that she gave me a while back that says "It's great to have a friend to grow old with. YOU GO FIRST!" I feel loved, wouldn't you?

Circle of Life

I jumped online to check email. I was interested in the responses from my parish family with their recommendations for an OB/Gyn because someone is supposed to catch this new milk monkey in September, right? I caught glimpse of Mary Ellen's post over at The Bonny Blue House with the news that a father, husband, friend, faithful servant and author collapsed and died Tuesday. His published works supply the college funds for their children. It is what I fear most, that I would find my life in such a challenging and heart wrenching position as Amy Welborn and her children find themselves. Amy has asked that if anyone wishes to act in a tangible way, to please buy Michael Dubruiel's books since the proceeds go directly to the college funds. Come to find out that apparently this family is not too far away from where I am in the state.
I cannot fathom the loss, and I know my prayers are helping ease the spiritual and emotional burden of this family. I would imagine that given their public station, they have a large rally of support. I know that given the small frame of my parish and the two ministries out of the several that I participate in, that anytime there is a loss, a birth, an adoption, an illness or injury, or any place of need, that somewhere will almost magically appear a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and something tangible to help. Meals, supplies, other resources and friendship are poured out like wine at a feast. I am certain that when this new milk monkey arrives, my family will be well fed on international fare, can be driven places they need to go if I can't drive them, will have someone to entertain the Clone if needed. I can get a nap without guilt between the older kids helping and the other hands jumping in where needed. For a girl whose mother is deceased, this is the kind of support I need. My mom was not the type to show up for 2 weeks and take care of her baby who had a baby. It just wasn't her wiring to do that. But it was nice to know she would help if I truly needed it. I didn't mean to wax nostalgic there...we'll blame it on the hormonal shifts. Yeah, and I'm sticking to that story too. Those same hormones make me feel green as the Grinch or Kermit some days. I am trying to avoid the constant green feeling from this new life, all while staving off getting emotionally overwrought for the loss of those we now miss. Plus, having typed "international fare" made me think of the Puerto Rican, Filipino, and Southern foods that will grace my family later this year. And now I'm hungry. Again. Oh, wait. It's been two hours since I ate something. That could be why. But it doesn't stop me from craving empanadas, lumpia, macaroni and cheese, pancit, and Lord knows what else is sent. Oh. Sorry. I guess I've made you hungry too. Such is my life, it's not such a neat circle.

God Laughs at Grand Plans

And yet, I still have difficulty learning this lesson in my life. I get all these ideas, and make plans for this stage of my life, or that stage, or whatever. A variety of monkey wrenches have been thrown into my gears numerous times in my life, and yet, I still don't learn apparently. Somewhere in there, I better learn or I'll keep making jokes about how I'll be at the car dealer on X birthday, saying " I need a vehicle with a maximum of two doors, back seat completely optional." Because in my life it's gone from 38, to around 45, to 52.
I will go so far as to admit I've pretty much gotten into arguments with the Big Guy about where my life is "supposed" to go, and there have been times I was a recalcitrant child, kicking and screaming. Lately, I don't kick so much but I sure stomp my foot a time or two. I'm hoping you figured this out already. Since this has two lines on it, that should pretty much clear things up for you. According to the "wheel" I am due at the end of September, so you'll be regaled with stories of my gestating misery in this Florida heat in a few months. I have children that arrived in July and October. Don't let anyone fool you. It's still hot in October. Which means September isn't going to be that much better. So, Persnickety and I were not traveling alone, without spawn like we thought. We had a stowaway apparently. Well, correction: *I* had the stowaway on board.
To answer your questions:
No, it was not planned or expected. This is a surprise, a fourth one at that. I'll quote a friend with four kids spaced farther apart than mine are "after three, what's one more."
Yes, we are well aware of what causes this. We are obviously good at it, given that we've had 16 years of practice. We also tend to enjoy it.
Yes, all of my children have the same baby daddy...why would you ask? Oh wait, nevermind, I get to be different on that one too.
Yes, we've been acquainted with prevention methods. I refuse to comment on that one.
No, I don't have a clue how we're going to handle this, but like everything else we've been handed, we will handle it.
And no, not everyone is happy for us. As a matter of fact, a certain relative has taken to being vile, mean and underhanded in their comments. For whatever reason, they can't be happy for anyone else out of their own misery. I pray for understanding, forgiveness and healing. This other person has their own legitimate problems in life, but the individual chooses to handle things poorly. I don't have to allow it to invade my life. And I won't. The excitement others have for us, is starting to rub off on me at least, and all I can say for Devildog is that he's coming to terms with the news. Poor guy hasn't slept well lately. His grand plans now have a monkey wrench too. That's ok, it'll be a cute one.