Future Home

As I mentioned several weeks ago, Husband and I have been hoping to buy a house of our own, now that we know we will be in the same area for another few years. And now it seems as though this may just become a reality for us.

We began the house hunting search, and saw our fair share of repos and foreclosures. While their price tags were attractive, we typically found that once we got into the homes, something was wrong. There were holes in doors and walls, appliances were missing, fixtures had been ripped out; the houses were usually stripped. We wanted to find something in our price range, but not a house that would need major repair or work done, because A) We don't have that kind of money, and B) Even if we did, neither one of us is talented enough to fix up a house.

To be honest, we were getting a little discouraged, afraid we would have to keep renting. And while we'd be thankful to simply have a roof over our heads regardless of whether or not it is "ours", we just hate the idea of throwing our money away each month.

And then we found The House.

It is about 20 minutes from where we live now, which will significantly cut down on Husband's commute to work. It is within walking distance to grocery stores and restaurants - this was important to me, since the nearest grocery store right now is a seven minute drive. The house is in immaculate condition, the current owners have really cared for it, and that was truly the biggest selling point of all - it doesn't appear to need any work. That, and the fact that it is in a quiet, safe cul de sac; the neighborhood of choice for young families. After our first viewing of the house, I couldn't help but get excited picturing our family living there, playing in the large back yard, the boys trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. It just felt right.

Going through the whole offer/counter offer process was not fun - I definitely do not have the personality for bargaining like that, and to make it worse, the sellers are really nice people, so I felt bad every time we would counter. In the end though, we all came to an agreement, and now the big stuff begins. I honestly have no idea how long the whole escrow process will take, or how complicated it will be.

And while we've been pre-approved for a loan, we have yet to decide which loan we actually want to commit to. I have been desperately trying to educate myself on different types of loans, APR's, PMI's, points, funding fees, etc. I have interest rates written all over the house - on scraps of paper, and the sides of Kleenex boxes. You can literally see the chaos that is happening in my brain right now.

Still, this whole process is exciting, and when I start to feel overwhelmed by it all, I just close my eyes, and envision our family living in our very first home together and that always helps. I can't wait for the day we get our keys and get to move in and make it all our own.

30 weeks, ya'll!

On Wednesday I will be 30 weeks along. That is so crazy to me! For the longest time it seemed like I would never get into the thirties. Because Bug was born premature at 34 weeks, 5 days, I feel like I have had this worry hanging over my head.

First I needed to make it to 30 weeks, and now that I am just about there, my next goal will be 34 weeks. After the 34.5 week mark, I will finally be able to breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in this pregnancy, knowing that we will (by the grace of God), not face any problems. Bug was born early, but he was healthy and strong, so I just want baby #3 to come at least after the point at which Bug was born for me to feel okay.

Some good news is that I have only gained 6 pounds to date. By this point in my last pregnancy I had gained 29 pounds. Ha. So, yay me. I also wanted to get those 6 pounds on the record before my doctor's appointment tomorrow, because Richard and I ate our weight in pizza the other night, and I have a feeling I might be above the 6 pound mark at next weigh-in, (although I hopefully will still be far from 29 pounds up!). I would like to keep my total weight gain low, since I don't want to have some sort of enormous amount of weight to lose afterward. Weight loss has always been a struggle for me, and not something that I particularly enjoy.

Overall I am feeling good though, so I can't complain. Baby is super active, and I love feeling every kick, and somersault, and hiccup. I am really starting to get excited to meet this little boy and see what and who he looks like.

I have taught the boys his name, and every morning they give my tummy a kiss and tell baby "Good morning!", it is seriously, melt-your-heart adorable. I cannot wait for the day that we will all get to kiss his sweet newborn face.

Pay no attention to the emotionally unstable woman over here.

I am officially in the third trimester of this pregnancy.

As if I couldn't already tell from the fact that I waddle everywhere, I pee about 80 gajillion times a day, and it takes me no less than five minutes to get up off the couch.

In a word: HOT.

And to think, I've got 11 more weeks of getting bigger, less mobility and more incontinence. Remind me why I wanted to get pregnant again?

But while all of this I expected and accept, I have been experiencing something else lately that is new. In the last week I feel like I have been hit by this huge wave of hormones again, which have made me out to be some sort of emotionally unstable person. I don't remember having this happen with either of my pregnancies, (after the first trimester hormonal monster, that is).

For instance, I have cried every day for the past four days, each for the most random reasons. Like today, I was driving with the boys and a song on the radio made me cry. I know that's not totally out there, but songs don't usually make me cry, and if one does, it is a slow, sappy song, usually about kids or something sentimental like that. But this song was an upbeat, happy song, there was absolutely nothing sad, or tug-at-the-heartstrings about it, yet my lip started to quiver and my eyes watered up and I had to change the station before I became too much of a wailing mess to drive. I think the most embarrassing example of my instability happened last week though.

A little background first.

Some jerk wad got access to Husband's credit card number and over the course of two days racked up $600+ on our account. I called the bank right away when I saw the charges. They closed our account, and I told them each of the charges that I thought looked suspicious: two to Wet Seal, one to Newport News, one to Uncommon Goods, one to Urbanog.com, and one to iTunes. I use iTunes, but I never get anything more than a movie rental here or there, so my purchases are always about $4.00 or less. The charge that appeared suspicious to me was for $25.00, and I knew I had not purchased anything in that amount, and I didn't think Husband even knew how to use iTunes.

Well, a few hours later I noticed Husband was playing with our iPad, and I casually asked him if he had been buying anything from the app store. He said yeah, about 25 dollars' worth.

AWESOME.

So the next day I called the bank to correct that one transaction on our fraud report. You know, I'm an honest person, and I just wanted to make it right. Apparently though, Bank of America is being run by clowns, because I was transferred TWELVE TIMES, yet they could not get me to the right department. Each time, I had to retype in my 16-digit account number, then answer FOUR security questions. I was beyond frustrated, and at about person #8, for no logical reason, I began to cry.

I WAS SOBBING TO A CUSTOMER SERVICE PHONE OPERATOR.

She was very apologetic, but even my tears couldn't help me, as it took four more transfers before I finally got sent to the fraud department.

And they fixed my fraud report error in all of 10 seconds.

30 emotional minutes, all for a 10 second procedure. Awesome.

In any case, if you should see a woman, waddling around the grocery store, with a bag of Depends in the cart, crying over the latest People magazine for no explicable reason), don't mind me her. She's just in her third trimester.

My husband thinks email is just a fad.

My husband is not technologically skilled in the least.

Sure, he can work his way around an XBox without breaking a sweat, and new video games are hardly challenging to him. But cell phones? Email? Facebook? All those crazy, new-fangled inventions just really aren't a part of his vocabulary.

He has a phone, but I have to remind him to turn it on. And forget about leaving him a voice mail, he'll never get it. Periodically, I will listen to his messages to make sure he didn't miss anything important, and then delete them so that his mail box doesn't get full. I'd say his messages are usually two to three weeks old by the time I hear them. Somehow he managed to learn everything there is to know about video gaming, yet he never bothered to learn computer basics or keep up with cell phone advancements. I think if he could have his way, he would use one of those old Nokia phones from 1999, with the large number buttons and no texting capability.

*            *               *                *               *

So this is your new phone?

Yep, I really like it. You should play around with it and if you like it too we can get you one like it.

I can't get it to turn on.

It's a touch screen.

What's that mean?

You need to slide your finger across it to unlock it.

Ok....what's all this stuff on the screen? Where do I go to just make a phone call?

Those are widgets to check email, Twitter, Facebook and other stuff. It's awesome, there is so much you can do on it. It's a smart phone.

Yeah. Can I just get a dumb phone?

*            *               *                *               *

Uh, is this the cord to charge the iPad?

Yep.

(Long pause) Why is it not charging?

You need to plug it into the computer.

What? Then what's this wall charger for?

The Kindle.

So what does the iPad plug into?

The computer.

What? What's THAT look like?


You need the one with the USB plug.

(Heavy sigh) What's a USB?! I don't understand all these cords.

*            *               *                *               *

Sometimes I feel like I'm married to an 80 year old.

Then again, that's really not fair to say since my 91 year old Grandpa has an iPad, emails me regularly, and is active on Facebook.


A few weeks ago Husband's AOL account was hacked into, and his account was sending spam email to everyone on his contacts list. After several unsuccessful attempts to change his password, (he used his email account so rarely, he forgot the answers to his security questions), I told him to just delete the AOL account all together and set up a new email account with a different server.

*            *               *                *               *

I don't want a new email account. I want to be done with this altogether.

You're kidding, right? You have to have an email account.

But why?

BECAUSE IT IS THE YEAR TWO-THOUSAND-ELEVEN.

*            *               *                *               *

On the plus side, at least I know we're never going to have an Anthony Weiner-type situation on our hands.

Even if the trade-off means I have to send a homing pigeon to Husband to find out what he wants for dinner on any given day.

Flashback Friday - The Girl on the Milk Box

When I was about three years old, several different friends of my parents began asking them if I had modeled for a milk company. My parents had no idea what they were talking about - I had never done any sort of modeling, but their friends were adamant that there was a powdered milk box in grocery stores, with the image of a little girl who looked just like me. My parents were intrigued, and when they went to the store, it didn't take them long to find the milk box they spoke of.

And there was no denying the resemblance of what I looked like at that age to the image on the box.

*Courtesy of Google Images

For years we kept a box of the product in our house, even though we never used it. And every time I saw it in the store, I would joke about how they owed me several year's worth in royalties for reproducing my image.

Ironically, while searching for an image of the milk box, I came across this article, which states that the product was discontinued three years ago. Which, I have to admit, made me a little bit sad.

But just as this company was ending their decades-long use of my likeness on their product, another company began using an image similar to Bug on theirs.

*Courtesy of Costco online

I've always thought the kid on the Kirkland Brand, size 6 diapers looked a lot like Bug, and this was confirmed yesterday when my almost 2 year old niece was at Costco with her dad, and she pointed at the box and shouted my youngest son's name.

So where does this leave us? Still waiting on our royalty checks, and wondering who in our family will be exploited next. Binker on a diaper rash bottle? Husband on a cereal box? Only time will tell.

Poopy Birds

Since becoming a mom, I've had to deal with some pretty disgusting situations. These include, but are not limited to: pee, poop, projectile vomit, snotty noses, bloody lips, and really nasty food messes. Usually though, these things are spread out, so that even though it is unpleasant to deal with at the time, it is not too overwhelming.

This week, however, I feel as though I've been caught up in some sort of perfect storm, where nearly every disgusting thing that could happen, has happened. And it's only Tuesday.

Yesterday started out like any typical Monday. After Binker returned home from preschool, and ate lunch, I announced that it was nap time, since I had reached my limit and could barely keep my eyes open.

Even though Binker now sleeps in a big boy bed at night, I usually have him take naps in his tent, since I want to make sure that while I am passed out to the world, he is contained and safe. He tends to fall asleep very quickly in the tent too, versus being in his bed. The other day though, I was gone for a seminar, and Husband was watching the boys. When I got home that evening Husband informed me (all superior-like) that not only did Binker nap in his big boy bed, but that he fell asleep quickly, without much problem at all.

So, obviously, not wanting to look like the weaker parent, I decided that I would let Binker nap on his bed, but I made it so that he could not get out of his room. I figured that even if he didn't fall asleep, so long as he was in his room, there was no way he could accidentally hurt himself. And things were going great until Binker's cries broke the silence of my nap.

I ran to his bedroom and found him crying that his Lion was missing. Everything looked normal at first, until I noticed that the pants Jacob was wearing looked slightly wet. I quickly realized that he must have removed his diaper, and then put his pants back on...and wet them. I sighed in slight frustration. No big deal though, really. I just needed to put a new diaper and pants on him, and discard of the removed diaper.

It didn't take me long to find it.

My gaze moved to the right, and I noticed several odd, brown spots on the floor. I quickly realized that the diaper he had removed had not just been a wet diaper. I was staring at Poop-ageddon. And not only had Binker dumped the diaper contents all over the floor, but it appeared he had stepped in it as well, mashing it all into the carpet.

And you think you're grossed out.

Nap ruined, I got to work on discarding of the mess and sanitizing the affected area. It was exhausting, and, well, just plain gross. By the time I was done, I declared to anyone who would listen that I was totally done with that day, and ready for Tuesday, as I assumed things could only get better.

Tuesday morning started off pretty much the same. Got Binker dressed and ready for school. At 7:40 we headed out front to wait for the school bus. Bug was still sleeping, so I didn't shut the front door all the way, since I didn't want him to hear it click and start crying for me. I closed it just enough that it was shut, but just barely.

On any other day this would have been perfectly fine, except that today there was a crazy amount of wind blowing.

About six minutes later, Binker had been picked up and I ran back toward the house. My heart sunk when I saw that the wind had blown our front door wide open.

A lot of our neighbors have cats, and they like to wander around our yard for some reason. Don't get me wrong, I like cats and all, but I don't want strange cats in my house, near my kids' toys, and as a pregnant woman, I'm not really supposed to be near cats either. So my first thought was, Oh man, I really hope some cat didn't get in our house.

And that's when I saw it. A bird. Hopping around our family room. A dirty, grimy, disease-carrying bird. A FREAKING BIRD!

I wish it had only been a cat in our house.

When the bird saw me, it flew up to the windowsill behind our couch, and kept pecking at the window trying to get out. "No, you stupid bird!!" I kept yelling, "That's a window! Go out the door!"

There I was, broom in hand, shouting like a lunatic, trying to coax the bird off our windowsill to get him out the front door, and hoping he wouldn't touch any other surface in the house on the way out.

No dice.

Finally I got a hold of a juice pitcher, and I managed to get it over the bird, and slid a book underneath it, so that he didn't have an exit. Then, screaming, and jumping back and forth on my feet, I ran it outside and set the little rat-with-wings free.

At that point the real work began though. The bird had pooped all over our windowsill, some of it getting on the back of our couch, and it had also shed a bunch of its disease-infested feathers. Since becoming pregnant I have tried to avoid using a lot of harsh cleaning chemicals, and stuck mainly to soap and water to clean surfaces. But for this? I broke out the good stuff: Clorox Wipes and Lysol spray. I scrubbed and sprayed until there was nothing left. Then Bug and I let all the sanitizing chemicals sit for a good couple of hours while we sought refuge at my mom's house.

I'd be lying though, if I didn't admit that it crossed my mind to simply drag the couch out to the driveway and set it on fire.

So, this has been my week so far, and I hesitate to say that things can only get better from here on out, because I am NOT going to tempt the universe with that loaded statement.

I have to admit that when I used to imagine being a parent, these were not the images that came to mind. I pictured happy, smiling faces, clean children and a clean house, you know, something out of a 1950's sitcom.

I have decided though, that in reality, my life is a lot more like the show Fear Factor.

Only with less monetary prizes and more bird flu.

Wakin' Up is Hard to Do

I have been so tired lately. Actually, tired doesn't even seem to be enough. Exhausted is more like it.

I get that I'm pregnant, and with pregnancy comes a lot of sleepiness, but I am fully into the second trimester here, almost the third, and I thought I was past the overwhelming grogginess that accompanies the early stages of pregnancy. For a few weeks there I did have some energy, I wasn't needing a nap every day, and I was feeling a lot more productive.

But then, like a freight train, this exhaustion hit me again. Every day I feel like I count the minutes until I can get the boys down for their naps so that I can collapse onto my mattress. At the same time though, I always go through this inner battle over the things I should be doing...

Vacuuming
Laundry
Starting dinner
Laundry
Cleaning bathrooms
Laundry

...versus what I am doing:

Passed out, drooling on my pillow.

I just don't remember being this wiped out with either of my other pregnancies, although to be fair, there are a lot of things I don't remember from my pregnancies. Big things, sure, but minute specifics are lost on me. I have even been reading my "What to Expect" books throughout this pregnancy, since I honestly forgot all of the things that are happening each week.

Circumstances are different now. I have two very active toddlers that keep me busy from the moment they wake up until the moment they fall asleep at night, which I'm sure is contributing to my sleep-deprived state. I don't remember being anywhere close to this tired when I was pregnant with Binker and worked a nine-to-five job. My mom once told me that when my brother and I were little, she went to see the doctor because she was sooo tired all the time, and she just knew that she had to have some sort of vitamin deficiency. He told her that she was tired because she had two little kids at home. So maybe that's what I'm experiencing here.

No matter what the reason is though, I am getting frustrated at my daily need for a nap; I just feel so unproductive. And the fact that I can't enjoy caffeine doesn't help much either. Do any moms out there have any natural remedies for this constant exhaustion?

Or should I simply tell my inner voice to shut itself up and enjoy these naps while I am still able to sneak them in, and don't have a needy newborn in the house?