There’s nothing quite like kicking off the New Year with an Internet search for illegal activity and bonding with the new neighbors in the process, amIright?
As I mentioned in my last post a thousand years ago, our family came down with a series of illnesses that stretched from the Sunday after Thanksgiving until Christmas.
Brian and I both had two separate illnesses, and one of mine likely turned into a sinus infection that made my girls’ trip to New York in early December a bit less comfortable.
[Is she seriously complaining that her leisurely trip to New York wasn’t so perfect?]
Oh, it was awesome; don’t get me wrong. We shopped, we saw shows, and we ate like tourists. I just thought my eardrum might explode when we descended on the flight back home.
Let’s just say it all together now: First. World. Problems.
These past few weeks here in our corporate apartment in Birmingham, Alabama have been challenging to say the least. Brian began his new routine at a regular, 8-5 job for the first time in our marriage. And please believe me, neither of us is complaining. Brian is home every night, and I’m pretty sure the greatest hazards facing him in this particular career field are paper cuts and carpal tunnel.
What has been most challenging for me is the period between 7:30 a.m. and 5:45 p.m. where I have two sets of eyeballs staring at me like I’m supposed to know how to entertain them all day every day.
Do I LOOK like Chuck E Cheese’s?
Don’t answer that.
Last Wednesday I had my first appointment with the doctor who will, Lord willing, deliver our 3rd child on (or hopefully very close to) March 30th. It’s currently November, and I hadn’t seen a doctor since August. Unless you count Dr. Doogie Howser who saw me in the ER after my flu shot. I didn’t talk much about him in my post, but I’m pretty sure he graduated from medical school approximately 15 minutes before he walked into the exam room.
And I know some of you type-A personalities would freak out if you had to wait 3 months for an ultrasound, but we had no choice. In three short months, we packed up our entire lives, left Kansas, semi-moved to my in-law’s place in Georgia, left the military, looked for a new job, found a new job, semi-moved into a corporate apartment in Alabama, found a house, and then found a doctor.
Basically, I’ve been sitting on my pregnant butt eating cheese dip and watching Judge Judy since August.
[She seems like the Judge Judy type. Also, the cheese dip type.]
I could seriously go for some cheese dip right now.
Thanks in large part to your advice and encouragement last week, our home inspection on Monday went as well as we had hoped. There were some minor things that will require our further attention, but the great news is that (as far as we can tell) they were all minor things. Our inspector spent three hours with us and patiently talked us through everything we need to know as we prepare for future maintenance and repairs.
Bye bye furniture budget!
Hello new roof in approximately 8-10 years!
Warning: The following post contains images of bug bites that may be disturbing to some viewers. In other words you may not want to look at this while you’re eating.
If you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, you’ve probably noticed there’s been a flurry of activity in our lives the past few weeks. Two weekends ago Brian and I attended BloggyCon ’14 in Sandusky, Ohio. In the middle of last week, we drove to Birmingham, Alabama for Brian’s first grown-up interview. We remembered that the last interview he had was in 2001 at a bookstore in Athens, Georgia. He was hired to remove stickers from the textbooks. That interview probably went something like this:
Interviewer: “Son, have you ever sniffed Goo Gone?”
Brian: “Not that I recall.”
Interviewer: “Well, today is your lucky day.”
I’m pretty sure he was high on Goo Gone that entire summer.
Let’s step back to nearly a MONTH ago when the four of us went to my in-laws’ farmhouse in Indiana. When my fashionable, Chinese friend and her husband spent their honeymoon with us. Before I had THREE children in my house asking 3 million questions an hour and eating 3 million pounds of peanut butter. I would like to finally tell you the rest of that story before I forget all of it and that space in my brain is replaced with VeggieTales lyrics.
“If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey.
Even if it has a monkey-kind-of shape.
If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey. If it doesn’t have a tail, it’s not a monkey. It’s an ape!”
This weekend we hosted another round of family here at the Morgan Hostel. I downgraded us from a hotel or motel to a hostel since our visitors have to share a bathroom with two toddlers. And one of them (WHO IS FINALLY POTTY TRAINED, PRAISE THE LORD) doesn’t have very good aim. Also, our guests are forced to eat my questionable cooking . . . which just adds to whole “I may die if I stay here much longer” feeling.
[I think she says stuff like this to frighten away future visitors.]