I QUIT!!!!

I think God is trying to prepare me for having two sons. He wants to scare the crap out of me so that when Charles gets here and my life is one big meltdown I will be thinking, "At least it is not as bad as those last few weeks with Connor alone." That is the only explanation for the string of events that have taken place over the past week and a half.

Last Saturday Connor was invited to a birthday party at Jump Zone. Jump Zone is basically a giant room full of bounce houses, bounce slides, bounce castles etc. He was super pumped because his best buddy was going to be there and he knew he was going to get cake. You could get the kid to go to jail if you promised him cake. As soon as he ran in the door he sees is little buddy and they take of to the inflatable pirate ship/slide. About a minute later he comes down the slide laughing and climbs back up. Chris and I are standing at the bottom of the slide waiting for the boys to come down. I hear a shriek and then Connor comes down the slide on his stomach head first screaming in pain.

At first I thought he had gotten a rug burn on his face because the side of his nose was bleeding. No wait, that was from the park the day before when he busted his lip, cut his nose and got a giant goose egg on his forehead...wrong injury. So Chris tried to make him walk to the next bounce house and he refused to put his right foot on the floor. He touched his toes to the floor and started screaming even louder. I finally decided to take his sock off to make sure his ankle was all right. Red swollen ankle, puffy toes and a purplish tint from toes to ankle is what I saw. I immediately assumed he had broken his ankle and told Chris we needed to take him to the emergency room. Sorry honey, no cake.

We jumped in the car to head to the ER at Las Colinas Medical Center, the hospital near our house, and got stuck in traffic on the fabulous highway 114 in Southlake. I am kind of a road rager to begin with so when you add a screaming child and potential broken ankle to the mix, I was not very pleasant. We FINALLY get to the ER and Connor is by far the least serious injury in the room. There is a little boy who has cut most of his pointer finger off, a girl who has a concussion and is throwing up all over the waiting room and a teenage girl whose big toe is touching the side of her calf. I figured it would take us forever to get in so I started calling the urgent care centers to see if I could find one that had an x-ray machine. We pack back up and head to Care Now in Grapevine.

Two hours later they take us back to talk to the PA. The PA, not the doctor. I should have known. She tried to move Connors foot around and asked him to walk on it. When he started screaming in pain she decided to order x-rays. I can't be near the radiation because of the huge pregnant belly so Chris takes him back alone. "Well, the x-rays of your foot and ankle are clear so it must just be a sprain. You should be walking normally again in two days."

Whew, cast avoided. Hallelujah! Two days later he was still limping pretty badly and I thought about taking him to his pediatrician to get it checked out one more time. I once again went against my gut feeling and thought he was walking a little better. Friday rolled around and he was STILL limping. Then he jumped off my bed and started screaming bloody murder again refusing to put his foot down. I freaked out, called Chris and then called the pediatrician. Chris came home from work and I ran to Care Now to pick up a copy of the original x-rays to take to his doc.

His doctor immediately said that she wanted new x-rays because when a child under five have a foot or leg injury they should be x-rayed all the way up to the hip. Sure enough...no sprained ankle. Broken tibia right under his knee. After a trip to the pediatric orthopedist, little man has a bright red cast up to his groin. Poor guy.

One broken leg plus a sinus infection plus a stomach bug complete with explosive diarrhea plus staying home from MDO plus an eight month pregnant mom with a bad back equals a pretty bad week!

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. Remind me again why I am having another baby...

Convenience my ass!

Chris's company got a new flexible spending account service last month. The old one was wonderful. You just swipe the little debit card and thats it. This one is horrible. We have had it for about a month now and keep getting these "Request for substantiation documentation" notices in the mail. So then I have to call the doctor's office and ask for a copy of the itemized receipt, they mail it to me and then I have to mail it to the FSA provider. Failure to do so within 60 days results in suspension of your account. This is a PITA so I decided to call the company, Discovery Benefits, to find out why all these claims are getting flagged and what I can do to prevent it. I thought I was being so efficient and proactive.

The customer service lady said that doctors offices, dentists, hospitals etc are not set up to instantly provide the information that proves that your claim meets the IRS requirements to be FSA eligible. Most pharmacies and over the counter medications have this information built into their barcodes. So every time we swipe the card at the doctor, dentist or hospital we will get one of these fabulous documentation requests in the mail. Um, hello! What the hell do they think I am buying at the Fetal Care Center? Unfortunately they don't sell shoes or handbags there so I am obviously paying for someone to measure my uterus size and check to make sure my cervix is still closed!!! I mean, come on!!!!! So much for convenience.

Taking a Chill Pill

I have been so wired and stressed lately with all the craziness going on in our house. We have had construction workers here for three weeks and of course I have been nauseated again, so SORE I can hardly walk and our days have been a blur of grouchiness since little man has a hard time napping while there is construction going on. So after a day of trying to keep an angry two year old contained to the two rooms in our house that do not have tools and tarps on the ground, Chris comes home to a pissy kid and an even pissier wife. Poor guy. He can't win for losing. I complain for months about wanting to get the bathroom remodeled and when he finally lets me do it I complain about the mess and the noise and the inconvenience. Sorry to say this, but women really are impossible to please.

Chris went to a baseball game with a couple of friends on Friday night and I blew up at him. After talking it out (and lots of tears on my part) I finally realized that I have been being a total psycho. I have GOT to relax. The anger is not good for me, not good for my marriage and not good for my child. So for the last three days I have been trying to let things roll off my back more. And you now what? I am all right. I need to remember this the next time I start going insane. Chill is a lot more fun than stressed.

Side note: the house is ALMOST finished. All the tile is laid upstairs and we are only missing two pieces of baseboard, one toilet needs to be set and I am still waiting for the mirrors for the master bathroom. After that...don't let me do any major home projects unless I can go on vacation the whole time they are working.

Two Kids...Attempt #1

Chris and I are keeping McKenzie this weekend so Kelli can go to a bachelorette party in New Orleans. This is the first time she has gotten to do anything alone since the baby was born. Kelli left at 6 this morning and Chris left the house at 5:15 to catch a flight to Oklahoma City for work. Of course Connor woke up at 5:15 when he heard his dad walking around and refused to go to sleep. And so began my first day taking care of two children.

For the most part we did fine. About 4:30 everyone hit their limit and started breaking down. Connor was whining about wanting another snack and wanting to watch a show. McKenzie was inconsolable. I have no idea why. That is one thing about infants I forgot. And I was tired from taking care of a two year old, a two month old and an 8 month in utero.

I used today as a trial run to see what my daily life is going to be like in two months. Here are the things I learned:

1. Connor does not know how to entertain himself very well. This is mostly my fault because I have always let him dictate what we do most of the day. I didnt realize this until today. He plays with something for two minutes and then wants me to come play with him. IMPOSSIBLE with a baby. His lack of self entertainment led me to allow him to watch way more television than usual. That leads me to number two.

2. I need to accept the fact that when I have two children they will watch more than the recommended allowable one hour that all the pediatric experts recommend and I need to come to terms with this. It is just not going to be possible for me to devote my complete attention to two kids at once and that is all right.

3. This is going to be harder than I thought. I always imagined that it would be twice as much work to have two children as it is having one. WRONG! It is ten times harder! I am going to attribute some of this to the fact that this was my first day. Just like a first day at a new job, it takes some getting used to and figuring out how things work.

4. I am going to have a lot of guilt about not spending as much time with each child as I would like to. I felt so bad all day when Connor was acting jealous. I wish I had extra arms. I am still having a hard time figuring out how you can love two babies equally. I guess I will find out soon.

I think I am worth at least $300 grand!

My cousin posted a comment on his facebook page today that said he read a study that said that if stay at home moms were paid for their work they would make about $170,000 per year. I started thinking about it and I think I am worth WAY more than that!! Breakdown:
Full time childcare for a two year old (this is about to double with Charlie): $15/hr 24 hours a day, 7 days a week $2520/week
Live In Housekeeper (I admit that I suck at this one so I might make less): $1000/week
Sending out Laundry: $1.50/pound and 20 pounds per week $30/week
Personal assistant/grocery shopper/errand runner: $500/week
Driver (airport trips/car drop off etc): $30/trip about $100/week
Personal Chef: $1000/week (seriously! I looked it up!)
Handyman/homerepair: $100/hr at 2 hours per week $200/week

By my calculations that comes out to $5350/week and a grand total of $278,200/year. And that is not even including one of the most expensive line items...Prostitute! Now, I am not a cheapie-pick-me-up-on-the-street-corner kind of girl.
Hooker: $1000 a pop and 3/week (ok, not right now but I am pregnant so give me a break! But in THEORY) $3000/week

So that's an extra $156,000/year.

According to my calculations I should earn about $434,200. Where's my check?! ;)

Why I Should Not Hire Cheap Labor

I have been begging and begging my husband to let me get our master bathroom remodeled. It was built in the mid 90s and is loaded with brass fixtures and white ceramic tile. Plus, the grout in the shower continually molds and falls out. It looks nasty and I am pretty sure that is not healthy to stand on every day while bathing. For my Valentine's day gift this year he finally gave in and told me that I could get it redone! Wahoo!! That is when the troubles began. I called two general contractors to get estimates for the work. I didn't think it would be too expensive since I was going to keep the cabinets, countertops and bathtub. WRONG. One bid was around $13,000 and one was almost $15,000. OK, plan B. I thought I could fix some of the eye sore issues myself. I shopped around on ebay and bought all new doorknobs, cabinet pulls and light fixtures. A monkey could install new doorknobs and cabinet pulls so I finished those quickly. I summoned the electrician within and installed the lights. Three ceiling lights and three vanity lights...easy enough, right? On the last light I tightened a screw a little too much and ended up cracking the mirror from top to bottom. So much for the cheap fixes. Hiring a contractor to handle everything was out of the question so I started subbing things out myself. Demolition work, tile layer, new faucets, plumber, electrician, paint etc. Being the bargain shopper that I am, I hired our old pal Manuel the handyman to do the demo, paint and replace the faucets. Some of Manuel's employees are, shall we say, less than legal in this country. When he took down the mirrors we discovered several holes in the drywall and large chunks missing from glue. So he calls his brother in law Alvino. When Alvino and his "helper" arrived to the neighborhood I got a call from the guard gate saying I needed to drive to identify them because they had no identification. What a pain but fine, whatever. I dragged my pregnant self to the car, loaded the kid and made my way to Gate 2. When I got there the guard told me that they had taken off. It turns out that Alvino's "helper" was afraid he was going to get arrested and deported. So I am driving around the neighborhood entry gates looking for these guys to tell them I am not going to call INS. Meanwhile Manuel is not answering his phone to help me out because he knows I am mad about the dent he put in my wood floor (yet another reason not to hire cheap labor). I gave up looking and headed back to my house. As I pulled up I saw Alvino's van parked in front and a man climbing out of the back. I am pretty sure that when the gate guard called me to come identify them, that Alvino left, went to a parking lot and had his "helper" lay down in the back of the van and cover up with a tarp or a piece of drywall or something. Lord...the things I do to save a buck!

Happy Birthday...How About I Burn The House Down?

Yesterday was my sweet husband's 31st birthday. I got back from a 24 hour trip to San Antonio late the night before and was exhausted! My back hurt so badly that I could barely walk. Add, sciatica, loss of abdominal muscle control and random pregnancy crotch pain and I was not the most pleasant party thrower.

I tried to cook breakfast in bed for the birthday boy but I ended up leaving a waffle on the waffle iron for about 30 minutes and Chris had to put out a miniature fire. Happy Birthday...how about I burn down the house for you?! Sorry sweetie.

We went to dinner with some friends but due to my fantastic physical state the poor guy didn't even get to go out for a dinner drink. His waddling wife had to drag him home at 9:30. My how times have changed. A birthday 10 years ago...shoot, even five years ago...would have involved a little more fun than last night. Sorry hon. I'll make it up to you the next time I am not pregnant, raising a small child or in pain :)