An update a long time coming...

Wow - is it true that it has been 6 months since I've last posted? Really? How does one summarize 6 months of one's life, especially when this is what has been joyously monopolizing every second of every day for 5 1/2 of those 6 months:



Yes, the 3rd P has turned my life upside down, inside out and, at the same time, on the straightest path to "this is exactly what I have always wanted in life" I have ever known.

Kate Hannah was born on July 4, 2008 and my life will never, ever be the same. In the most ridiculously sappy of ways. I love this kid with every fiber of my being and, when I say love, it is like no love I have ever experienced before in my life. I love chocolate, I love coffee, even sleeping, eating, and laughing. I know I've also said that I love my dog, too, but all of those loves don't even enter into the same stratosphere as the love I first felt at 3:58am on July 4. And I felt that love after looking down and only seeing her mayonnaise-paste covered head. Just imagine how my heart grew when I actually got to look her in the eyes!

Life is good. I am in serious, serious need of a good night's sleep (I did say I loved sleep, remember), and could certainly benefit from a brow wax, good facial and haircut, but all I have to do is look at that little face (even a photo suffices) and I couldn't care less about anything else.

Tough as nails, dumb as a stump

The dog. The dog. The dog. Oh lordy, the dog.

Yesterday morning Max comes hobbling in (on three legs) from outside with the most pathetic and sad look I've ever seen. Crap, I think. He's broken his foot or something. I have to take him to the emergency vet (because it's a Sunday). I wait 10 minutes hoping he'll buck up. And he does. The whole days goes by and I see nary a limp from him. Phew. No trip to the vet.

Phew, not only because I don't want to fork over $500+ for a check-up only to learn he's stubbed his toe, but I'm home alone again, whilst the husband is off gallivanting around again. (Notice, if you will, a pattern. The husband leaves town, the dog gets sick and/or injured. This is a true fact.)

Hobbling and sadness reappear later last night. Does he have a sliver or something lodged in his toe? Can't possibly be a true injury because he's been fine. All.Day.Long. Hobbling stops.

This morning and no hobbling. Phew. Just an anomaly, I tell myself. Until late morning and the three-legged hobble rears its ugly head. What is going on? Call to the vet, and an appointment set for 3pm.

Vet checks him out and recommends X-Ray (the same vet who did the X-Ray four weeks ago - almost to the day - when the dog ate 17 rocks). Sure thing. I'll pick him up in an hour or so.

"He is quite stoic," she says. "He is in quite a bit of pain, but you'd never know it. He either has a broken or dislocated toe. I've sent the films off to the radiologist who will examine the films more closely and then we can decide the course of treatment. In the meantime, I'll wrap his foot and you can bring him home as long as you keep him calm and off the foot."

Are you kidding me? My dog. This dog . The dog. The one that never sits still ? "Um, okay," I say. "I can try, but can you recommend some trick to keep him calm and off of his foot? This dog pretends to be Superman on a fairly regular basis, and his favorite pastime is seeing just how much air he can catch when he leaps off the retaining wall..."

Pick dog up at vet. Poor, pathetic dog. Foot is wrapped in a boot-like bandage and he has one of those cones wrapped around his neck. But he must have no depth perception because he comes banging down the hallway, bumping into everything imaginable. Misses getting his head through the doorway. BANG! Hits his cone-head on the wall. BANG! Runs into my leg. BANG!

All I can do is laugh. Hysterically. I am snorting and crying from the laughter. And wish I had a camera on me to immortalize this moment, because I know it won't last long. He is, after all, the craziest dog alive. He will figure out how to get this bandage off before tomorrow.

I struggle to get him in the car because this lack of depth perception is causing several issues. BANG! BANG! BANG! This is quite a sight when you consider the dog with his bandaged foot and a cone head, coupled with me in my about-ready-to-give-birth state, trying to foist the pathetic dog into my hoopty rental mobile.

But I was right about the bandage. Even with that damn cone-head, he's managed to chew the complex wrapping made of tape, gauze, cotton batting, more tape and more gauze, off the foot before I have even pulled out of the parking lot. Some good that stupid cone-head contraption did me. By the time I'm home 5 minutes later, the bandage is half eaten and he's now figuring out a way to get the cone off of his head.

Into the house we go. I finish getting the collar off of Max, even though he did a pretty good job of it himself. And off the dog runs. Hobble, limp, run. Hobble, limp, run. Hobble, limp, run. Jumping up on the chair, off the chair, back on the chair. Barking, hobbling, limping and running all over the place.

Yep, I'm doing a great job keeping him calm and off the foot.

Car Accident + Insurance Companies = Suck

Original car repair estimate: $6500
New car repair estimate: $8500
Amount insurance company is willing to pay: Approximately: $6700 (after my deductible)

Auto body shop is suggesting a small claims lawsuit because what the insurance company is refusing to pay for is illegal.

Insurance company called to advise that my rental car coverage will max out before my car is ready. (And did I mention that the rental is a complete hunk o' junk? A jalopy from the 80s? It's not like I'm driving around in some swanky automobile)

And I was rear ended while stopped at a stop sign.

Oh, and the baby is now due in 4 weeks. Good thing having a baby is not an expensive undertaking or anything...

This is awesome.

Navigated the Gauntlet

A few years ago, I developed the sudden urge to sew. Never sewed before, and I'm not really all that creatively inclined. But, nonetheless, I decided to sew. I borrowed my mom's sewing machine and went to town practicing my sewing skills. And suddenly the house was filled with piles of fabric sewn together that looked like pockets. I decided that I would start a company "Extra Pocket, Inc." and thought www.extrapocket.com would be a great URL, and I'd use the tag line "because everyone needs an extra pocket." I figured if someone could make millions on the concept of the pet rock, surely my extra pocket business plan would be a success. I still think it's a brilliant idea.

But, like all of my whims, my sewing days were short lived.

Flash forward to about a year ago and I decided it was time to revisit the sewing idea. So I bought a machine of my own. I really like sewing. I may not excel at it, but I thoroughly enjoy it. And I started cranking out random sewn items in pretty short order.

My husband, seeing how quickly I was completing project after project, "threw down the gauntlet" on me and challenged me to make a quilt. And I accepted. Of course it took me a while to find a) the right quilt pattern and b) the fabrics to make said quilt. I found both at a small quilting shop in a town called Hailey, ID when we were on vacation last fall. It is an Amy Butler pattern and Amy Butler fabrics. I really enjoy Amy Butler designs and fabric, so was thrilled.

I started working on it almost immediately and got pretty far along. But, like all my whims, it was cast aside for other things. I actually made it through most of the winter making zero progress on the quilt. A stupid thing, if you think about it, because winter is the perfect time to sew and winter is the perfect time to need a quilt. But alas, I did not finish the quilt, so there it sat in the closet, beckoning me every time I opened the closet door.

With the baby's arrival seriously approaching, my husband kept saying "Are you going to finish that quilt? When are you going to finish that quilt?" So this past weekend, I decided it was high time to complete my challenge and successfully complete the challenge. And guess what? I did. And I'm really pleased with the result and proud of myself for navigating the gauntlet.

My Poor Car... (aka The KaWANGo Update)

So I finally dropped my car off at the body shop today so that I don't have to be embarrassed by the hoopty my car became after last week's accident. My once beautiful car now looks like a junk yard dog. Here is what I learned:

- The back end is so badly damaged, the trunk won't even open
- Because the trunk won't open, they can't tell the full extent of the damage
- It appears that the frame is bent, but they can't tell how badly because the back end is so twisted and they have to take the car apart to figure it out
- The current estimate based on what they DO know is $6,500
- This estimate is likely to increase (how significantly is to be determined) once they can get the - now hoopty, once beautiful - car dismantled.

Thank goodness for insurance, and deductibles of $500. With le bebe's impending arrival, this is really the last thing I need.

Frustrated, Stressed, and Annoyed

That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling these days.

The end.

A brilliant mother

My sister just sent me the transcript of a recent conversation in her household:

Sister: "I'm making the summer chore chart right now."
Niece: "Yay!"
Nephew: "Can we clean the bathrooms now?"

This is a true story. My sister is brilliant.

KaWHANGo!

That was the sound I heard on Friday at 4:15 pm when I was waiting patiently for my turn at a 4-way stop on my way to a relaxing pedicure appointment (I took a 1/2 day from work... don't worry, I don't usually skip out of work early). But, even though I was a mere block away from parking my car safely, I was rear-ended (quite hard, I must say) by a huge SUV whose driver either:

1. didn't realize it was a 4-way stop intersection and I hadn't budged from my totally stopped position,
2. saw a mirage and started to go even though I hadn't budged from my totally stopped position, or
3. was talking on a cell phone and didn't see that I hadn't budged from my totally stopped position.

Whatever the scenario was in the car behind me, my poor little car bore the brunt of the collision. The backside of my compact car became even more compact and the SUV had nary a scratch. Harumph. An even bigger harumph considering the woman who hit me was driving a rental car because her car was being repaired after she was in another car accident two week's prior. Hmmm... maybe someone needs a refresher course in the basics of driving a car?

Now, when an 8-month pregnant person, whose car has just been smashed and launched into an intersection, gets out of the car to inspect damage and exchange information, you can only imagine the horror, shock and disbelief on the person's face who just rammed into said pregnant lady.

• An afternoon off of work to get her car washed and a pedicure: $50
• Cost of repair on European car after getting rear-ended: $10,000
• Look on face of person who rear-ended a pregnant lady: Priceless

No joke on the car washing... I had just driven off the car wash lot on my way to my pedicure appointment when I got KaWANGo'ed. Now all that exists is a sad and pathetic back side of my super clean car.

Now, when you're 8-months pregnant and are in a car accident, guess what happens after you file a claim with your insurance company? That's right. You get to make a run to Labor & Delivery to ensure that your wee one is still safe and sound after practically getting thrust out of its safe hiding place about 5 to 6 weeks too soon.

So off we went on our trial run to L&D on a Friday night. Luckily, the trip in to the city was effortless and the kind hospital people were gracious and accommodating. And, luckily, my own doctor just so happened to be the on-call doctor that night, so I was able to see her instead of some strange doctor. All is well and good, though, and baby checked out just fine. Baby was somewhat relaxed, apparently, as its heart-rate was in the 120s, which would spike to the high 130s every time it kicked and/or moved. Luckily it was moving quite regularly as I saw the spikes happen at pretty decent intervals. I didn't have to be admitted and we went home.

Hopefully the next time we head to L&D is when I'm actually in Labor and actually ready to Deliver. Please let that be in approximately 5 to 6 weeks from now. Not too much sooner than that, and not too much after that.

Only two pieces of evidence of a car accident: a smooshed car and a sore back. Not that my back wasn't sore to begin with due to standard pregnancy protocol, thank-you-very-much, but now it's a slightly more intense and targeted soreness. Guess I have a valid excuse to get a massage now...

And they're all made out of ticky-tacky

We are having a minor face lift done to the house (at a major expense), which includes a new garage door, new front door, new paint and some general aesthetic touches so that we can migrate away from the ticky-tacky look of a house that was built in the late 50s and whose exterior hasn't really been upgraded since then.

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one...

Our ticky-tacky box was yellow. No joke. Only difference is that it's not built on a hillside.

Apparently selecting green, pink, blue, and yellow was the safe bet back in the day, because when you fast-forward to 2008 and have to choose a color, the possibilities are endless. And confusing. And frustrating. "this has too much red in it." "that one is too light." "too dark." "too much green." And on and on it goes.

A mere 18 cans of trial paint later and today the first coat is going up.

We were looking for a somewhat neutral, beige-y, earth tone, brown "but not brown" color that we hoped would give us the quasi essence of a Craftsman style house. Mind you, when you live in a ticky-tacky house made of stucco whose floor plan was clearly taken straight from the Sears-Roebuck catalog of 1958, going Craftsman simply by changing the color is a monumental (and, really, unattainable) task. But, humor me here. We don't have $2M to buy or build our Craftsman dream house, so paint it is.

Did I mention that the first coat is going up today? It's exciting, yes, but also slightly unnerving. I had closed the blinds in a futile attempt to shield the dog from the "bad men working on the house" (in his mind, not mine), and am trying to keep the psychotic furry one from losing yet another screw in his head (please don't eat any more rocks...). But I have just realized that the doors and windows are covered on the outside by tarps and plastic, too. And I feel like I've been quarantined after being exposed to radiation. And it's really hot in here now. And I'm starting to feel claustrophobic.

Lordy, I hope paint color #18 was the right choice. I hope our beige-y, neutral, brown "but not brown" color has miraculously made our house look like a large, rambling Craftsman dream home. Even though it will always be 1,200 sq ft of 1950s Sears-Roebuck ticky-tacky.

Beach goers

We are constantly planning excursions through which we hope to gain maximum value of exhausting the dog for minimal time investment. Dog parks, we've discovered, don't really do much on the maximum value axis, since Max doesn't do much when we arrive. He pretty much just sits there waiting for us to do something. We usually run around a little bit, in a futile attempt to engage the dog, but then we realize we aren't dogs and this is, after all, a dog park. No sense in humans pretending to be dogs. Our dog, on the other hand, takes great pleasure in pretending to be human.

The beach, on the other hand, provides an amazing ROI when it comes to wearing out the dog. We used to drive all the way to Muir - a long, windy road - to get to a dog beach. But one day we realized that Crissy Field is a significantly shorter drive and Max (for whatever reason that we can't explain) runs harder, faster and longer there than Muir. Talk about ROI.

Sunday was one of those ROI days. A trip to Crissy Field early Sunday morning resulted in a full 45 minutes of non-stop running, fetching (a task virtually unheard of until Sunday), and romping in the water. 45 minutes may not seem like a huge span of time, but this dog was worn out at the end. An excellent recipe for getting some peace and quiet the remainder of the day. We were a happy group of P's this weekend.