Falling Off the Grid

Today I called the satellite company to tell them that we are moving, and we need our service transferred. "Mam, What's your new address?" I tried to explain to her that our house is in a really rural area and that our address is not "normal". Our address actually reads something like on E. 1290 rd. between 1370 rd. and 1380 rd.....not anything like 4253 Maple st..

"Mam, I need your address in order to transfer your service!" The woman was irritable.

"I know that this is frustrating for you, because it is frustrating for me. That is our address! I know that someone from your company has been there before because there is a satellite on the house." It took some time for her to believe that the crazy series of streets and numbers I was giving her was a location.

This is the beginning of falling off of the grid. We have to put in an application to even receive mail. Yes...we are isolated! There are nice things about being isolated, though. On Sunday we did some work on the house, and I sat and nursed Barrett on the porch without even worrying that a car might pass. I watched as four red-tailed hawks spent the evening diving into the neighboring fields. I could see so far that I saw a storm brew on the horizon and then dance around us. It is very lovely there, and so quiet. The coyotes howl at night, which is eerie and beautiful at once. I'm actually looking forward to our isolation. Dan can howl his head off twenty four hours a day for weeks straight and it won't bother a soul, except me.

*That picture is the google-earth image of our house. You can see that the barn (the structure to the rear) is actually much larger than our house. There are also some little chicken houses and such, which I am going to fill with laying hens!

Oh..and I have to mention that the biggest bobcat ever (I could prove that this is true if only I could convince him to step on a scale, which is unlikely) regularly pisses in our garage. We saw him leaving the premises as we pulled up on Sunday morning. Jason is convinced that the bobcat is part mountain lion, which I seriously doubt. That mofo is huge, though.

Our bobcat would eat this bobcat for a snack.

Nausea, Oh Nausea....Rock On!!

Beck released a song called "Nausea"while I was in the early stages of my first pregnancy. It was my theme song for a few weeks. Lately that same song has been spinning through my head. I hate the first trimester. I hate it. I don't feel like doing anything. Every small task is suddenly some huge feat. Every night I try to convince my husband to bring dinner home, so I don't have to cook. All I feel like eating is buttered noodles or French toast, which I'm certain my husband doesn't want to eat. I'm tempted to cook a meal of just what I feel like eating, so that he'll give in to my pleas to bring home a pizza. Perhaps a meal consisting of cheese-toast and raw carrots will convince him that driving fifteen miles out of his way to pick up dinner is worth the effort. I typically love to cook, but I am currently grossed out by everything in my kitchen. When I get hungry, I sit and think of different foods until the thought of something doesn't make me feel like vomiting. Spaghetti? blcch. Nachos? eww. Yogurt? no way. Rice? maybe. Eventually I come up with something resembling a meal. Usually the meal is pretty abstract, so I have to make "normal" food for my husband. This means that I have to make two meals and spend even more time in the place I hate most right now, which is the kitchen.

This is what I have to say to my husband:
Jason,
I'm carrying your little leech of a baby, and her invasion of my body is making me ill. I'm tired all of the time, I have no motivation, and I think most everything under the sun is disgusting. Please help me out!! Get me a dang grilled cheese from Sonic and you can get whatever your heart desires (probably some massive burger with an excessive amount of accouterments such as chili and/or bacon). I promise I'll be normal again in a couple weeks, and the sight of raw macaroni won't send me into a case of the woozies, and I will cook normal (if not delicious) food again.
Love,
Your adoring wife who is carrying your second gorgeous baby

Barrett is 9 Months Old

My little monkey is nine months old today. We didn't do much to celebrate. He crawled around looking for choking hazards. We went for a brief walk, since it was pretty nice out today. He fought valiantly against his naps, and then finally gave in. It was an average day.

I did wonder what I guess every parent wonders as their children reach milestones. How did you get so big so fast?
A year ago he was just a flutter in my tummy. Now he's pulling himself up on the couch and stealing the remote control. Where does time go?

Since I am the last human on earth that doesn't have a digital camera, I'll have to wait to get some pictures developed on disk to show the wild monkey.

My Mom's BFF

For those that aren't big into politics, the gentleman next to my mother is not my father, but Justice Scalia. Yes, Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, famous for being the ultra-conservative justice appointed by Reagan.

I think this picture is pretty funny, because in mother's words she is "a staunch democrat". Don't ever run for office, Mom. This picture will haunt you.

In reality she says that Scalia is a pretty nice guy. She has known him for some time, because she works as a receptionist at the country club he frequents. An unlikely friendship has brewed between them, although I doubt that they talk politics. I know my mother and I suspect that she wouldn't hide her liberalism for anyone.

Next week I'll post a pic of my dad with Keith Richards.

Barrett's BFF

It is not a secret that that there is a wild animal that lives in my house. Every time a leaf blows by he howls so loud that the windows vibrate (I'm not exaggerating). He is known for swallowing entire items whole, such as socks, votive candles, Ziploc bags and small toys. He is also known for passing these various items and leaving them in the yard completely intact. He bombards house guests, and he steals toys from his sister (his canine sister). He is obsessed with food. He "surfs" on the kitchen counter and helps himself to whatever he desires, even if we are standing right there. I'm aware that we are responsible for his lack of manners, since we are not known to be the most consistent of dog trainers. My husband and I like to watch "The Dog Whisperer", feel empowered for a couple hours and then go back to letting our dogs run the show. Dan, the wild beast, does not exactly have an easy-going nature which makes things worse. He is extremely intelligent and high energy, so it is not ever easy to convince him to do anything (see Tornado Drill post). His father is a championed bear hunter by the name of Virginia Junkyard Dog, and I believe that Dan inherited his father's intelligence and energy. Dan does not hunt, so his intellect and energy is used to outwit us and howl at neighborhood cats.

It was no surprise that every single soul that visited our house while I was pregnant with Barrett said: "What are you going to do when the baby gets here?"It was as if these people didn't think that we realized that having both an infant and a hundred pound, noisy klutz in the house may be a problem. "We'll work it out" was always our response. In reality we didn't know how having both a baby and the world's craziest hound was going to work. We did know that Dan is a member of the family and there was going to have to be a solution. We weren't going to make him "an outside dog" as some suggested, nor were we going to give him up. Although Dan is noisy and obnoxious, he is a lover, a gentle giant. He had always let Jason's nieces and nephew fling themselves at him, and pet him in their awkward way. He showed an amazing ability to tone down his play when in the presence of Jason's three year-old niece. So, I wasn't totally discouraged.

When we finally brought Barrett home, Dan hardly noticed at first. He was overwhelmed to see me, since I had been gone for three days. Dan showed immense concern over the bandages on my tummy from my c-section. He tried to "clean" my wound for me, which was sweet. He is a good pack member. Then he was introduced to Barrett. Introduced meaning we let Dan smell the baby, who was snug in his car seat. I was not prepared for what happened next. Dan followed that baby every where. He would lay by Barrett's bassinet and peak at him every time he stirred. If Barrett was in his swing, Dan was laying at the foot of the swing. If we took the baby out and returned home, Dan would have to be able to see the baby before he would agree to go outside or do anything else. This behavior has continued pretty consistently for nine months now. Barrett is Dan's baby.

Dan's love is not unrequited. Barrett returns Dan's affections. Barrett smooched Dan before he ever thought of kissing us. Joy washes over Barrett when he catches a glimpse of Dan, and he releases a high-pitched squeal. They really are buddies. Dan's howling does wake Barrett up from time to time, but it's only a small inconvenience. Barrett often just realizes that it's only Dan and goes back to sleep. To everyone that questioned how having Dan would "work", I say that blind faith in Dan's good nature has payed off for our little family.

Double Stroller Nightmare

I remember watching a family with seven kids file into the restaurant that I worked at while I was in college. The parents looked young, maybe thirty. My friend Nicole and I stood at the end of the bar gawking at them.

"Can you imagine?" Nicole said.

"No" I replied.

We watched as the hosts struggled with two high chairs, a booster and an endless pile of crayons. We both sighed in relief at the fact that we were bar tending that night, and therefore didn't have to take the "Chuck E. Cheese table", which is what we all lovingly called any table with more than three kids. "Who's gonna wear the rat costume today?"

"It's my goal in life to never own a double stroller." Those were my infamous words.

I have to find a new goal in life, since I am in the market for a double stroller. My son is not quite nine months old and I am pregnant. I'm not going to go into the details, but it is a "surprise". I figure the positive is that if I'm nursing and pregnant that my calorie intake can be somewhere in the hundred thousands. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I figure anything with some nutritional content is game. Other positives? Hmmmmm.

• I can bathe both the little monkeys together, as soon as the baby can sit up.
• I have plenty of baby equipment.
• They'll be able to occupy one another, since they are so close in age.
  
  
  Negatives.....
• let just say I am ready to fax my application into "Supernanny". If you haven't seen that show, every episode features a family with too many children under the age of six.
• My sister's friend mentioned that I will be in "diaper hell". I know she is right.
• Overall I'm in danger of losing my mind.
  
  
  Despite my worry regarding the situation, I am excited. I realize that a lot of people try very hard to get pregnant and never succeed. I've been lucky enough to just stumble into a pregnancy. A week ago this baby was not even a thought, but now she is a burgeoning presence. My heart is filled with hope for her, with love. Two years ago Barrett was not even a thought either, but now he is my little redheaded sidekick. He gives big open-mouthed kisses and tries to follow me everywhere. I want, more than anything, to be a good mommy to them both.

Tandem

or side by side? I've got a few months to decide.

My Dad is a Celebrity

My sister e-mailed this to me. My Dad is one the coolest people on the planet.

http://www.oldtowncrier.com/behind-bars