The time of my life

Because mediation followed by travels with an infant which involve packing everything we'll need for 4 days into a backpack isn't stressful enough, I scheduled my last certification exam for today.  It was originally scheduled for last Friday (so I would, in theory, get my results back before Thanksgiving), but there was a mix up, and my exam didn't get ordered.  So, I ordered it last week, and scheduled it for today.  If I couldn't get the results back, I could at least get the pre-exam jitters out of the way before turkey day (or in our case this year, brisket day). 

I was a little amped up after mediation, going over and over what happened, what was said, what I *should* have said, etc with whoever would listen to me.  I got Bubba from "school" (and brought home his Thanksgiving card - so cute!), and stopped at the grocery to get dinner items.  By the time I had fed him dinner, I had already talked to Ben, skyped with Lily, and talked with Ben again.  Yes.  I skyped with Lily.  At her dad's house.  It was amazing.  And eye-opening.  The computer (and web cam) is in Vicky's* ready-room.  I'm not sure what you'd call it for real, but it's where she stores her make up and hair supplies.  It's quite a collection.  I'd say, other than my trips to Ulta or Beauty Brands, I've never seen that many beauty supplies in one place.  It makes me wonder what she would look like without all that help (*shudder*). 

Anyway, back to me being amped up coupled with a busy evening (I also had to do laundry before we leave tomorrow, and Bubba was out of socks) coupled with a phone that was ringing off the hook.  That's a completely antiquated saying now that I don't even have a phone with a hook.  I guess we should come up with a new saying. My phone was vibrating off the table.  There.  Long story still long, I stayed up WAAAY too late studying.  Even after I gave it up for the night, I still couldn't really sleep.  Nevertheless, I took the exam this morning.  And I'm hoping I passed.  I walked out confident, but I don't like to be one of those overly confident people who end up not actually living up to all their talk.  So I'll just say that I'm waiting anxiously for the Wednesday after Thanksgiving.  But I'm MORE anxious for the Thursday OF Thanksgiving, when I can see my husband and daughter and mom and sisters again.


* Vicky is not her real name.  But she does look like someone named Vicky...

I moved.

We emerged from the basement shortly after 9am this morning.  We had an "all team" meeting with the new CIO today, and after it was over, the movers were in our basement room, tearing down our computers to move them upstairs.  We have known about this move since November 10th or so.  The cubes we moved into, on the 2nd floor, were generally empty or belonged to consultants.  The new CIO asked (as did we, but apparently people only listen if you have a big "C" after your name), "why are our consultants, who generally work remotely for weeks at a time, in cubes, when we have actual employees in a giant table in the basement?"  Good question.  And we got our answer in short order.  After all, the CIO just started on November 1st, and we had a hospital go live on a new system during that time.

So we moved today.  I packed my box on Friday before I left, so all we had to do was follow our computers upstairs.  When I got to my new cube, I noticed that the girl into who's cube I was moving a)  wasn't there, and b) hadn't packed anything.  At all.  I felt awkward.  I didn't want to move in, and i didn't want to rifle through all of her stuff to pack it up for her.  So I set my stuff in a corner, and got to work (my computer was there, afterall).  She showed up at about 1pm, and said, 'Um...excuse me?'  I asked if she was XX.  She said yes.  I said I had been moved to that cube, and asked if she knew this was coming.  She had no idea. Hard to believe, since all the other consultants had already moved out, but maybe nobody told her?  Maybe I moved into the wrong cube?  I hope not.

After that awkwardness, in which I ended up walking her down to the dungeon from which I came, I decided to check out the new digs as far as bathrooms go.  All the doors upstairs have key codes on them.  Including the bathrooms.  Unfortunately, not all of the codes are the same.  I had to ask someone what the code was.  Embarrassing.

The bathroom upstairs is surprisingly not as nice as the one in the basement.  Or more likely, I'm just not used to it, yet.  But the interior seems older (except the soap and paper towel dispensers, which are hands free).  And there's only 2 stalls, which is a shocker, since there were 3 in the basement.  I still haven't figured out which one is the best throne.  But since I've decided to keep my lunch in the relatively empty break room in the basement, I might have to make trips down there to the "safety" of a familiar bathroom, too.

My wheels got stuck, but I think I can keep going...

Scooter's dad didn't let Scooter come home this weekend.  At all.  I lobbied hard.  The weekends, when she comes home, are the only times I get to "see" her.  We skype a couple of times a day, and I get to see her happy face, and she gets to see mine.  It's a sacred time for me.  If it's a mealtime, we'll bring the laptop into the kitchen, and she sits with us at the table while Bubba and I chow down.  If we're out, we'll make a u-turn to come home so we can turn the computer on.  But not this weekend.  This weekend, we are going about our business with some sadness in our hearts.

She couldn't come over today because they had scheduled a hair appointment for her (it's about time!!) after her soccer game, and they have a party to go to at 11am on Sunday.  Basically, that also means that my mom can't take her to church on Sunday, either.  I asked if Scooter could come over after the party (not even to spend the night), just so I could see her for a while.  The answer was a resounding, "No."  And I cried.  I know, I know.  A monkey didn't rip off my hands and face (yet), but it was still such a huge disappointment.  Scooter looks forward to it, and I really look forward to it every weekend.  We usually skype at least 2 times per day on Sat and Sun.  This week will be a big fat zero.

The only bright side is that now, (after 2 months of saying he'll do it), maybe her dad will have the time to actually get her vaccinated for the flu.  Somehow, I have my doubts, though.

Bubba and I finally got rid of the smaller storage unit.  It's official:  we've moved out.  The larger storage unit also received some re-organization today.  Now all the bikes are in there, and so is my trunk mounted bike rack.  It has become too cold for Leo to ride in the "chariot," so there's no reason for me to have the bike here at the apartment.  It also opened up some space in the kitchen.  Bikes and kitchens don't belong together.  I brought back all the photo albums from storage, so maybe instead of laughing and talking to Scooter face to face, I'll just gaze at photos from years past and smile.  She's become such an amazing kid.  And even though her dad might be trying his damnedest to ruin that, he can't.  She'll always be my amazing little monkey -- just not the kind that rips off hands or faces.

I'm thmart!

I did something smart today:  instead of wearing my work shoes on my commute, I wore my light hikers.  I also figured out the mechanics of a cardboard box, but that might not be something to be super proud of.
1.  My feet didn't get wet (gortex uppers are awesome!)
2.  I didn't slip on any of the mushy leaves that were in my path.

It wasn't all gumdrops and unicorns, though.  I noticed some heel/foot/ankle pain last night.  I was hoping that wearing a better pair of shoes for walking would help.  It really didn't.  And, since I was over-confident in my hikers, I took the footpath from the train station back to my parking lot to get the car so I could pick up Bubba 8 minutes faster.  It worked.  I was faster.  But the footpath was really a mud path.  And the grass next to the path (where I walked) was so soggy that the mud kind of sprung up when I walked on the grass.  My feet were dry, but I kicked up some mud onto my work pants.  Luckily, they are not my dry-clean only pants.

Bubba is finally adjusting nicely to daycare.  It was rough for a couple of weeks, there, as he got used to life without a nanny and daddy around all the time.  We printed out 10 pictures of Ben, Scooter, Bubba and me and brought them in on Monday.  Linda, his main afternoon caregiver, put contact paper over them to protect them, and they let him carry a couple of them around during the day.  She said that Tuesday at about 10am, something just clicked, and he started playing really nicely and quit crying and asking about daddy and his sister.  Everyday this week has been better than the day before, and today when I picked him up, he didn't have one tear.  He said, "MAMA!" and smiled before running toward me.  As he got closer, it almost turned to crying, but it didn't.  He just gave me a big hug.  Yay!  I hope spending Thanksgiving surrounded by his family doesn't cause a relapse.

Pass the humanity, please

Would you like to know what makes me mad?  I'll admit it:  pretty much everything.  I have what some refer to as "a short fuse."  Inside my own mind, I don't really get too worked up about stuff; I'm kind of an easy going person.  But on the outside, sometimes I project a person who becomes indignant about every little perceived injustice.  I think the outward display of temper helps me maintain a general mood of happiness on the inside.  But every once in a while, my inside gets worn down, and there I am, just mad.  Today was one of those days. 

It was raining and windy and cold.  A few separate coworkers referred to it as "a hurricane!" outside.  Actually, it was a little less windy and a little warmer than a rainy fall day in Omaha.  It sure was dark, though.  Maybe the surrounding hills and valleys make it seem darker than it really is outside.  Or maybe the tree cover makes it darker.  Either way, when I left work shortly after 4pm, it was dark outside.  Dark and rainy.  Dark and rainy and windy and cold. 

Although I have honed my skills in avoiding puddles, by the time I had walked my mile back to the train stop, my pants were soaked up to my knees.  It was on that walk that I got mad.  I have a problem with drivers.  When I first moved here, I was pleasantly surprised at just how courteous drivers were toward pedestrians and bikers.  They would come to a stop in the street, even at intersections without cross walks, so pedestrians could cross.  They would start slowing down a block away, so the walker would know that they had been spotted and it was safe to start crossing.  Today, however, in the cold and the wind and the rain, car after car after car rushed by, even on streets WITH cross walks, as other walkers and myself stood silently near the curb. 

I mostly get annoyed at this behavior in parking lots, as where I come from (or at least where I lived for the past 7 years), there is no expectation for cars to stop or even slow down for a pedestrian in the street.  But I've become spoiled in my short time out here.  As a pedestrian, I suddenly feel entitled to cross the street when ever and where ever I want.  Today, at street after street (I have to cross 12 streets on my way to and from the train and work), I was stopped and forced to wait as cars or trucks rushed by and threatened to spray me with gutter water.  Each time, I got a little more angry.  I think it was just the fact that each time eroded a little of my faith in humanity.  Already, my faith in humanity is on shakey ground, lately.  It seems as if nobody is willing to help me or my family unless I pay them, and even then, I have questions as to whether or not they really want to help.  So the little jabs by the 40 or so cars that passed me by today kind of cut.

By the time I made it to the train, I pretty much hated the world.  When I got on the train, I scanned for a seat, found none, and leaned against a prime standing location near the door.  I don't know what my expression was:  probably a frown.  And that's when an older gentleman stood up, turned to me and offered his seat.  I felt honored by him.  I said "No thank you.  Please, go ahead."  After all, at every stop, they announce that we should give up our seats to the elderly and those with physical difficulties.  I am morally opposed to taking a seat from someone who is older than me. 

That small gesture made my day. Sometimes, one small thing can make a huge difference in someone's life.

busy work

Last night, after I picked Bubba up from daycare, we had our first low-key evening in a long time. At least, it seemed like it had been a long time.  We didn't have to run to make any copies or fax anything or mail anything.  All we had to do was play, read, and eat dinner.  We did two of those things really well.  One of them was pretty ok, too, though.

When Ben came out here with the moving truck, we basically went from nearly 2000 square feet of living and storage space in our house to about 850 square feet in an apartment.  No garage, no storage shed, no unfinished basement, no shelving in a storage area, just apartment.  We decided to rent a storage unit.  We probably should have known at the time that 750 (15x5 by 10 feet high) cubic feet was not going to make up the difference.  We were optomistic.  A day later, we rented 1000 more cubic feet (10x10 square, by 10 ft high).  The problem is that the 2 units were on opposite ends of the storage complex. Consolidation would take time, strength, and probably a truck.  It was raining, Ben was sick, and Bubba was sad, so we did not consolidate that day.  We merely loaded the larger unit. 

After calling several donation centers around town (VA, Salvation Army, Humane Society), and finding that nobody wanted my old garage storage units, we made the tough decision to dis-assemble in order to move one from the smaller unit.  It was way too heavy for me to lift and too big for my car.  I spent my whole lunch break un-screwing all the screws by hand yesterday and loading the pieces into my car - to eventually end up in a dumpster.  After work (I worked from home), I ran over there to finish the job.  I had to remove the carseat from the backseat to get the larger pieces into the car.  But it's done.  I re-arranged some boxes in the larger unit, and I was able to fit everything in there.  Of course, eventually my bike, another one of Ben's bikes (he already has 2 in there), and Scooter's bike will have to be added in.  We'll have to rent yet another storage unit for bikes and bike accessories...

Story of my life.

Every year, people ask me what I want for Christmas.  Generally, either I can't think of a single thing, or the one thing I want is thousands of dollars - not really appropriate to ask a new boyfriend for a new car or new mattress set.  This year, however, the one year that Christmas is going to be small to non-existent for the adults in the family, I have a huge long list.  The weird thing is that most of my list centers around my feet...

1.  New work socks.  This does not mean that they have to be boring.  I regularly wear the bright orange socks with green toes and heels that I got last year.  It's just that, since I'm now wearing business casual everyday, I go through socks a lot faster than I used to.  I've already thrown 3 pairs away since moving 2 months ago.

2.  A pair of galoshes.  I walk 2 miles for my commute everyday.  And suddenly, I've been doing that in the rain and ruining the bottoms of my pants.  I'd like to protect myself a little bit on the walk to and from the train.

3.  A pair of dark brown shoes.  Just like my franco sartos (black penny-loafer looking things), but brown.  So I can wear them with my awesome brown pants.

4.  A rain coat.  This is not mandatory.  Just a whim.  Of course, nothing on this list is really mandatory.

5.  Any sort of "work" clothing.  Mostly shirts or tops, though.  Preferably the kind that doesn't require ironing (light sweaters, etc). 

I know you're all dying to go out and get me some cute sweater sets.  I prefer boring colors:  beige, off white, black, or brown.  but I also love a splash of color now and then:  maroon, pink, periwinkle, light blue....

Nothing's really fun without you, either.

Scooter came home for the weekend.  This whole ordeal is taking its toll on her.  She couldn't sleep one night, and when Ben talked to her about it, she said nothing was any fun without her brother.  I kind of feel the same way about her.  But we do try to have a little fun.

A couple of nights after Ben left, I gave Bubba a faux hawk after his bath.  Please excuse the moving mess in the kitchen...

He was not amused.

I also wanted to post some of his terrific artwork from school.  I noticed a new one today, but these photos are from a week or so ago.  In preparation for Thanksgiving, they made horns of plenty, turkeys, and...squirrels?

  I took wide shots, so you can compare the kids' work.  Bubba's is the turkey on the left.  One feather out of place.  I like the one on the right...that turkey fell down.

 I'm not sure which of these two squirrels is Bubbas (his name wasn't on the front), but I do know it's one of these two.

Bubba's horn of plenty is the one on the farthest right.

Now that I've printed some photos of Ben and Scooter, Bubba is doing better in school.  The daycare put contact paper on the photos to kind of protect them a little, and Bubba carts those things around all day.  The only time he puts them down is when he has to in order to go outside.

Slacker

It's been a while since I've posted anything.  I've kind of been having a  life-induced writer's block.  I've been super busy with stuff even more mundane than what I normally write about.  I had to work in Vancouver for two days last week:  Thursday and Friday.  We recently had a hospital go live on Epic.  It was our first.  They started on November 1st, which meant that the IS department ran 24 hour operations for two weeks.  I was supposed to do at least one 12 hour shift, but since there is no such thing as a daycare that runs for 14 hours, I finagled a deal with a coworker in which we split 2 shifts.  I took the 7am-1:30pm part, and he did 1:30-7:30pm.  It worked out pretty well, but I did learn that I never want to work in Portland and live in Vancouver or vice versa.  There are a lot of people who do that, but I will never be one of them.  The commute is too awful. 

Thursday, after my shift, I came home, printed off a document, got it notarized and faxed it off.  Friday, I came home, printed off a different document, signed it and faxed it off as well as mailed the doc from Thursday.  I also spent way too much time printing other stuff and redacting much of it.  Today, Bubba and I mailed about 1/2 a ream of paper to my husband.  Hopefully, it was enough. 

Today is November 13th, which means that one month from this moment, I'll be flying back here to Portland, either crying tears of joy or anguish.  I'm obviously hoping for joy, but my husband and I started thinking about what to do if it's anguish tonight.  So much planning to do.  I hope we won't have to execute any of those plans.  I'm ready for life to get back on track.  I'm ready to start saving some money again, rather than just spending it.  And I'm ready for my family to be a family again.

crying time?

I worked from home today.  I spent a few hours in the morning doing some research for a few reports that I'm writing.  After that, I spent some time studying for my next certification exam.  For the last exam, I played music during study hours, and since I PASSED, I decided to continue with that strategy.  Instead of listening to my "Ben" playlist, which is what I did for the last test, I scrolled through and actually picked music.  What I found was that I ended up choosing a bunch of "Ben" songs anyway, but  instead of just letting them play in the background, I'd actually pay attention to a song or two.

One of the songs that I listened to early on stuck in my head all day.  "The Weeping Song" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Listen to the song here).  It's one of those melancholy songs that Ben has a penchant for.  And, as the title alludes, it's about weeping.  The kind of crying a person does from pain and true sadness.  It stuck with me not just because it's about being sad and crying, but because the song gets quiet in the middle, and then grows in strength until the end, where the lyric is, "But I won't be weeping long."

Today, it was as if good ol' Nick (just like jolly ol' saint nick, but totally different) was singing directly to me.  I am strong.  I can do this.  And I don't need to spend the rest of my life weeping.

Forward movement

Bubba stayed in bed all night last night.  He didn't necessarily sleep all night, but I'll take what I can get.  The past week, since his dad went back to Omaha, he's gotten up while I've been in the shower.  That wouldn't be a problem, except it's very unsettling to step out of the shower, open the bathroom door and see a little kid standing there.  He doesn't cry.  He just stands there, looking up at the door and then me.  Poor baby.  I usually scoop him up and lay down with him until he falls back asleep.  Occasionally, I chase him around the apartment while he looks under the chairs, couch, desk, etc for his dad or Scooter.  Once I do pick him up, he points around at various places that he may have missed where his dad or sister could be hiding.  They're never there. 

We'll eventually settle back in and sleep.  Sometimes.  Last night, I got out of the shower, opened the door, and heard him snoring in my room.  Success!  I got in bed and fell asleep pretty quickly, but I was the one who woke up several times.  I mostly needed to check on Bubba to make sure he was still sleeping.  He was.  He got up once to toss around and kick, but other than that, he slept like a baby.  And every once in a while, in his sleep, he'll say, "daddy?  yee-yee?" and then snore some more. 

5 more weeks. 

Itchy and Scratchy

I got tested for allergies this morning.  Again.  The last time this happened was about...oh...25 years ago.  The vague memory I have is of laying on my stomach with my shirt off as a team of scary people poked me in the back 80+ times with a safety-pin type thing and then dropped acid on me.  I'm sure that memory is not 100% accurate, but it was a pretty awful experience with the result of it being confirmed that I was, indeed, allergic to everything on earth.  That was followed by 10 or 12 years of allergy shots.  The goal was to eventually declare victory over allergens. 

I kind of thought it worked.  I mean, sure, I still have seasonal difficulties (in 3 seasons), but doesn't everyone?  Also, for the two years I lived in Korea, I was fine.  And the two years in South Carolina?  No problems.  Even the first couple of years back in the midwest were fairly uneventful.  But the past couple of years in Nebraska pretty much sucked.  Actually, it didn't because my head was so congested, I couldn't breathe in or out. 

Today, out of curiousity (and a few other reasons), I got tested again.  It turns out that although I no longer have an allergy to dogs or cockroaches (ew!), I'm still allergic to everything else.  On a good note, I have perfect lung function - at 104% of "normal" for my age, weight and gender.  My super lungs have compensated for the fact that I can't get oxygen in through my nose.  Hopefully, I've passed on that gene as well as my allergy genes to my kids.  I'd hate to have only passed on the allergies and left them with sub-par lungs.

After listening to some interesting information regarding certain drugs vs others, and the fact that the world of allergy research has made some major progress in the last 5 years, I left.  I assured them that I was fine - that I had not experienced any reactions to the tests other than the itching/burning on my fore-arms.  But really, my throat is now a little scratchy, and my head is super itchy - which for me is a tell-tale allergy sign.  Anytime I have itchy head, you can be sure that my allergies are bothering me.

I was given a prescription and a 7 day trial for singulair.  It's actually an asthma preventative (non-steroidal), but they've found that in patients with an aspirin sensitivity (me!), that singulair or any other leukotriene blocker actually works better to control allergies than a standard anti-histamine like zyrtec or claritin.  Awesome news, considering both of those drugs alternatively stop working for me every few months - and zyrtec never works for Scooter.  I'm thinking of taking one right now.  But they told me to take one before bedtime, as it can cause drowsiness.  It also can cause vivid dreams.  And severe reactions (but only sometimes).  Maybe I should take one right before calling 9-1-1 tonight.

Opposite day

Wednesday night, Bubba was awake from 11pm-4am.  Last night, he only slept from 11-4.  I guess it's a step up, but it was still pretty painful.  I'm hoping for a cuddle/sleep in session tomorrow morning plus a LONG nap in the afternoon.

I got some good news ***insert good news here*** today.  Hooray! 

I also got assigned 6 new reports to work on at work.  When I first got here, I got 2 right away.  They were easy - as they were pre-made, and I just had to convert them to our database and report template.  After that, I got two more.  One, I had to do from scratch, and the other was started for me by another employee, and I just had to finish it.  Today, I got the mother load.  5 pre-mades to convert (one will take way more work than it's supposed to, though), and one "from scratch" report, which could be semi-easy or super hard.  I'm not sure which, yet.  I'll have to do some more research.

Almost Friday

I'm glad today is over.  After not sleeping last night, I dropped Bubba off at daycare (pretty good transition with very little crying), then proceeded to go to work.  I've been riding the train to work for less than two months. Today, for the second time, my train was delayed due to a medical emergency.  The first time, an elderly lady on my train became ill, and they stopped the train at the Washington Park stop so paramedics could pick her up, and the operator could clean up a little.  Today, it was the train in front of us.  I'm not sure of what went down, but it happened at the Washington Park station again.  And it almost made me late for work again. 

Sometime during the wait, I realized I had left my water bottle at home.  Shoot.  I didn't hear from the man about the news I was supposed to get today.  Shoot again.  I sat for my first certification exam.  Luckily, I had remembered my laptop, so that was nice.  And I think I did really well.  I could only miss 9 points in order to still pass.  So here's to hoping for 8.  My exam was put into FedEx's hands this afternoon.  After it's received in Wisconsin, they have 3 business days to grade it.  I hope I hear yeah or nay (go yeah!) by next Friday.

So my day picked up around 2pm.  On my walk back to the train this afternoon, I talked to Ben on the phone and found 2 pennies!!  Hopefully, that means double luck for today.  1 for the test, and 1 for a full night's sleep tonight.

Nobody likes a braggart

Least of all my son.  He taught me a hard lesson last night, when he was up from 11pm-4am.  My theory is that the skype session with Ben made Bubba realize that maybe his dad really wasn't on an airplane.  Maybe his daddy was somewhere in the apartment.  Like..in a closet, or under the desk, or anywhere that we were not.  It started like this:  he got up at 11 and screwed around for a little bit.  Then, he started crying.  Loud.  Worried about waking neighbors, I put him in bed with me, which usually calms him down, and we sleep all night.  Except last night, it just made him mad.  He wiggled and kicked and rolled and squirmed until he decided he'd had enough and just got out of bed completely.  I hauled him back in, and he wiggled back out, and this went on for some time.  He kept saying, "daddy" and pointing to the door.  When I told him to lie down with me, he'd say, "no."  Finally, I had had enough, and I put him back in his crib.

That's when the crying really started.  I didn't want to go in there and encourage such behaviour, so I waited until he was quiet.  Imagine my surprise/horror to see my little baby hanging off the outside of his crib by his armpits.  He couldn't get back in, but he was too scared to drop down.  Great.  Now that we've crossed that hurdle, there will be no keeping him in that crib anymore.  I scooped him up and put him back in bed with me.  We talked and kicked (mostly him), and finally fell asleep an hour and a half before my alarm went off.

I can't wait to rock the certification exam later today...

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Not really.  I'll still have hair tomorrow.  It just won't be as awesome as my hair was today.  I straightened it, as usual, but instead of just letting it hang there like I normally do, today I put it up.  It was a weird, 1/2 french twist that I've done since my days in the military (not in uniform, of course), when I was sick of buns or braids.  You start like a french twist (hold it like you're going to make a pony tail, then twist up), then secure it 1/2 way up with a big barrette, so the rest of your hair flops over, hiding the barrette, and hangs loose.  It kind of looks like a high pony tail, but your hair looks shorter than it really is.  Since I had straightened my hair, it kind of looked like a hair explosion back there - all spiky and straight.  I looked like I had real-life Asian hair.  Finally!  It was handy, especially since today was so warm.  I might do it tomorrow, so my hair doesn't get in my way while taking my first certification exam.  I have a feeling that it won't be the same, though.  I hope I'm ready!  And I hope I know whether or not I passed before next Friday.

Guess who slept in his own crib last night?!  For the whole night!!  Yep, that's right.  It was the first time since Bubba came back here with me on the 24th of October.  What a big boy.  His transition time at daycare is getting better, too.  This morning, he cried as soon as we pulled up to the building, but when we got inside, he gave me a hug, hopped down, and started playing with the train set.  He did start crying again when I hugged him good-bye, though.  And when I picked him up, he was sitting nicely with the other kids, and only started crying after I talked to him.  When I picked him up and told him to say "bye-bye" to his friends, though, he immediately stopped crying and started waving.  We're getting there.  Baby steps.

I've been doing some work on the big issue in my life.  I'd like to knock all of this stuff out and coast for a week or two, but I have a feeling that the real work is only beginning.  I really hope that this will all soon be a distant, weird memory.

0 boxes were emptied tonight.  Too much other stuff to work on.  That, and Bubba, Ben and I skyped for about 45 minutes.  Bubba kept showing Ben his big belly (he ate a good dinner tonight!).  He cried after the "call" was over, and kept pointing at the computer and saying, "daddy?"  Maybe tomorrow, buddy.

Where Bubba Goes

I might go to a basement, but Bubba goes to a much more fun place during the day.  In the morning, all the kids are in the main room where you walk in.  There’s a train set that Bubba shows interest in, and there’s a tiny school bus that is also really fun.  We walk all the way back to the toddler room to hang up his jacket.  They have several areas for the kids:  infants, wobblers, toddler1, toddler2, preschool, and pre-kindergarten.  They also do before and after school care for older children.  Bubba is in toddler1.  He’s in that age range, and he’s still working on potty training – and by “still working,” I mean, he’s never really tried, but they’re introducing him to the idea of it.  I’m sure it looks appealing to him in theory.  He’ll gratuate to toddler2 this spring and stay there until he is totally potty trained.  I hope he’s not there until he’s 12.

They do not allow binkies or bottles, but with the crazy transition that he’s been going through, we’ve kind of been a little lax in the binky area.  He’s a smart kid, though.  As soon as we pull up to “school” in the morning, he hands over the binky before he starts fussing.  He’s not really happy about the abandonment everyday.  He’s got a little bit of separation anxiety.  He does like looking at the other kids when we get there, and when I crouch beside him while he plays, he’s fine.  But as soon as it’s time for me to go, he gets sad.  Luckily, they do let him wear his hat “at” all day.  And even though he starts crying as soon as he sees me in the evening, they say he’s doing fine. 

He gets to talk to Scooter anytime he’s awake when she calls.  He smooshes his little face against the phone and listens hard, as if the harder he listens the closer she is.  It’s really sweet.  He’ll say, “hi” and “sissy,” but mostly he just listens.  Night time is also a struggle, but it is getting better.  He’s falling asleep in his crib by himself and sleeping there for a while.  When he first goes to bed, he'll lay in his crib and say, his word for his name over and over until he falls asleep.  It's precious.  Sometime between 11:30pm and 3am, he’ll wake up and cry until someone comes to get him.  He and I will be doing a lot of co-sleeping while Ben is still in Omaha.  That’ll be fine.  We still don’t have the heat on in the apartment, and he’s warm.

Happy Halloween (a little late...)

Halloween came and went in Portland and Omaha.  Bubba was a super superman.  Scooter was a better than fair fairy.  I'll post some pictures later tonight, so be sure to check back in.  

In Portland, it rained all day Saturday, but Sunday (Halloween) was beautiful.  We drove down to Sweet Home and looked at cows, horses, and dogs (oooo, neeee, oof-ooof) at Ben's aunt and uncle's house.  On the way home, we saw some sheep in a field (baaah).  I think we all had fun. 

The apartment is starting to come together.  After an initial push last week, where we were emptying boxes like it was going out of style, we’re down to about 2 per night.  Last night was the last of the “bathroom” boxes.  It’s amazing how much soap, bath toys, hair gear and creams a single family can acquire over the years.  The goal now is to use all of this stuff up before we buy anymore of anything.  And when we do buy more, we’ll think twice about buying in bulk.  I know.  It’s depressing.  I LOVE saving 3 cents per bar of soap when I buy 20 of them.  That’s a 60 cent savings! 

I think tonight, I’ll try to tackle some of the kids’ toys and books.  Scooter has a lot of books.  A lot.  She has read each of them at least once, and Bubba is ready to start listening to many of them, but still.  Do a 7 and almost 2 year old really need 8 boxes of books?  Why, yes!  Especially when they have a mother who does not like her kids watching TV.  I’m excited about getting the last bit of everything put away.  It’ll be harder now that Ben is gone though.  He left today to head back to Omaha.  Hopefully, he’ll sell that house soon. 

We had potentially good news yesterday *** insert potentially good news here ***.  We’ll know more later in the week.  Thursday, to be exact, which is also the day I take my first certification exam.  Hopefully, it’s good news all around.  I won’t find out about the certification until sometime next week, though.  Most likely by Wednesday or Thursday.  I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for the next 10 days.  I hope it doesn’t disrupt my ability to do anything else, like pick up coins in the street.  I was dismayed for a while, as I've been stuck on 60 cents found for a week or so.  Today, I found a quarter (my first quarter!), which brings my total up to 85 cents.  I'm 15 cents away from a whole dollar.

how much cottage cheese can you stuff into a ziplock?

Our apartment is pretty full.  That might be the biggest understatement of our life times.  We have too much stuff stuffed into a 970 sq ft apartment.  It's not that our old house was so huge.  But it did have 4 separate bedroom areas, an unfinished basement and an oversized 2 car garage with a shed in the backyard.  You can't tell me that we can reasonably fit all of that stuff into this apartment.  But we've certainly tried.  My major point of pride is that we have fit all of our shelves and storage cabinets into the apartment, but have stored most of the knick-knack items so that the shelves, etc, can now be repurposed to be more useful.

And if I had a list of "must haves" in my next house after living in my last house, that list is much, much more reasonable.  Instead of "huge mudroom with utility sink", I think I'll be happy with "area to wipe feet when walking in the door."  Or "giant kitchen with walk-in pantry," I could settle for....no  that one might be non-negotiable.  But what I'm saying is that this austerity plan that we're about to embark on is cramped.  And a little weird.  But I think it's doable, and if we can save a little $$ ($UPGRADE$) in the process, great!  And when we finally do move into a bigger house, we'll appreciate it much more. 

Now if we can just sell the old house, so we can start our austerity plan and get off our gulf-style money gusher plan, that'd be great.