Mrs. CPA

I Have Been Waiting All Day For This

What Day is it Again?

Hudson has pink eye. 

And he's not the least bit happy about it. 

He was in a little better mood this weekend.

He got to drive a tractor with his Poppy.

I see the beginnings of teen angst right there.

I have no idea what prompted this ensemble on Saturday, but I think it had something to do with "helping" Daddy in the garage. 

On Sunday we went to his cousin's birthday party.  This beagle puppy was traumatized for life.

That's about all we have to report.  I have two more boxes to unpack, I can park in the garage again and I have baby stuff showing up today as well as my barstools!  House pictures will be taken soon. 

I’m Rapidly Approaching the Point Where I Look Like Something That Needs to be Taken Out Back and Shot

I don't think I've waxed poetic about the fact that I'm about to introduce a new life into our little family in the next two months (let it be one and a half months, dear God, please let it be one and a half months) (Please?). Those of you who may have the distinct pleasure (HA!) of knowing me in the flesh know that I am not a sentimental person. For example - #1 I listed my wedding dress on E-bay with no problem and #2 I actually told my mother that she could not keep some childhood stuffed animal of hers because "When you die I am going to throw this in the garbage, so let's just do it now and save me a step. OK?" And threw it in a big black garbage bag. See, not sentimental.

But we have been moving and going through a lot of our stuff, and as I repack it tightly into some similar corner, I find myself taking a few extra minutes with the baby dresses I have that my grandmother made for me. And the Little Red School House sweatshirt. And the little dresses and pinafores that have my name stitched into them that I somehow wish could be used for this new baby, one of which I distinctly remember trying to separate my ears from my head on Easter morning. I think I need a gallon bucket of Oxiclean first.

I got Hudson a few books about becoming a big brother, and one of those is from the Little Critter series by Mercer Mayer. I remember these books from when I was a kid and they all deal with some "new" something in a child's life. Hudson is more concerned about pretending to eat the mouse that appears on each page than the actual story. As a matter of fact, it was only after about the tenth try of reading it that we got past the second page which contained "A BALL!!!!! BALL!!!!! No!!! See BALL!" on it and I was prohibited from turning past that page. (Grover? If you're reading this? Putting a ball on page two would certainly keep anyone in my house from getting to The Monster at the End of Your Book.) We have moved on to looking at the mouse on all the pages. He does say, when asked, that the little critter is the brother, and then I point to his tiny little boy chest and say "you're the brother!", but all he cares about is pretending to shove that little mouse in his mouth and waiting for the next picture of a ball. HOW CAN I USE BOOKS TO PREPARE YOU FOR SOMETHING WHEN YOU DON'T CARE? Maybe the little critter should address that in his next adventure. "When your Momma is trying to tell you something important through stories and you keeping harping on about a BALL and a MOUSE and you're totally missing the point, Dude." Is that too long for a title? And then the book is over when everyone goes to the park and then it's time to read about the potty (which is totally not helping in that department EITHER). And then it's lights out and I lay on the rapidly decreasing side of the bed (I prefer to think of this as Hudson growing, not me expanding) while he falls asleep trying not to squeeze his little fat arm a million times because that is the softest thing I never want to forget.

I have no freaking clue what his is going to do when this baby shows up. He loves looking at babies at school. And anyone he sees in a stroller is "A BABY!" but when there is a real live crying infant in his house and his momma's lap, what is he going to do? I'm not going to go on about the loss of my baby, because I'm NOT sentimental. Hudson is going to be a big brother soon and I'm sure he'll do a good job (eventually. Probably. Or he'll try and feed a four-day-old infant M & M's which is how I welcomed my own brother into the family and is probably the reason he is now diabetic).

Now on to the pity party part of the post. God. Have you seen my ankles? They are horrible. Last night they didn't even fully deflate and I am so supremely screwed if they never go down until the baby is born. If my feet grow and don't go back to my original already boat size 10 feet, you are going to hear me crying as I throw out every shoe in my closet and have to start shopping at the tranny shoe store for yellow patent leather high heels in a size 11, please. None of my pants want to fit right. We haven't had a dryer hooked up since we moved in until last night, so I only have about 4 things to wear and 3 of those need ironing, which I am too lazy to do (see above where I fall asleep in Hudson's bed every night) and I'm just a big round, fat, hot, gross, bird rescuing mess. I pride myself on not being a complainer about pregnancy. But there. This one paragraph is my complaining for this week. And it didn't make me feel any better. Maybe if someone would come and let me direct them to where I want to put all my stuff that is still sitting in boxes in the garage and someone to rub my feet and go to the grocery store for me. And sit in my desk chair for 8 hours a day. Then I wouldn't have anything to complain about. We're having cupcakes at 2:15, maybe that will help. Unless someone looks at my ankles. Excuse me, my moose hooves. And then I might have two cupcakes.

P.S. Our old Landlord is horrible. I can't wait until I can delete him from my Outlook Contacts forever

P.S.S. JC Penney, your shipping charges on a chair that is on sale are outrageous. It almost doubles the price AND I WANT THE CHAIR.

P.S.S.S. We are out of Klondike Bars! Send Reinforcements!

P.S.S.S.S. My husband is actively keeping a copy of his lease from over ten years ago. Because he might need it?? Maybe I will have two cupcakes.

Just Call Me Diego

Rescuer of animals in peril! 

This morning at my office we had a hawk that appeared to be hurt.  It was standing in front of the doors when I went out to get breakfast, puffed up looking at itself in the window.  A guy shooed it off and it flew into a tree, but a little later it was down on the ground again.  It wasn't afraid of people, and a small crowd had gathered.  We could see it from the windows on our floor and it was out there, not moving for at least 30-45 minutes.  Another girl called animal control, who were absolutely no help what so ever.  She googled something about hurt birds and came up with a bird rehabilitation specialist (henceforth to be known as the bird lady). The bird lady said we should put the bird in a box (!!) and she would come and get it. 

Now I don't know about you, but the thought of grabbing a wild animal and stuffing it into a box seems a little foolhardy, but the bird lady said to throw a towel over it first.  I don't have any towels in my van, but I did have my child's blanket and Kaden's sheet that he likes to wag around.  A box was located and the sheets gathered.  It went off without a hitch.

When we tried to give the bird lady directions to our office, she didn't quite get it.  So the momvan became the animal ambulance.  We met the lady and she said the hawk was young and it probably ran into the window and stunned itself.  She said it can take a few days for it to recover from that and otherwise it looked fine.  She took it out of our Staples box and put it in an approved bird carrying apparatus and was on her way! 

Tim is calling me the falconess and cawing every time I call him and Haley was PISSED that I used Kaden's sheet to get the hawk.  We'll probably end up on the intranet as the animal rescuers.  As long as the don't show any pictures of me, I think that will be ok. 

I'm Trying to Ignore The Fact That I Have To Move

Remember how I had all these big plans to move the "big" stuff this weekend lickety split and we would be in our sparkling new house in a snap because I would be living in a mostly empty house for the earlier part of the week because I was going to pack it ALL up and be done with it? Yeah. Um. That didn't happen.

The house closing went well. Of course when you're signing over the next thirty years of your life, it all goes well.

Tim and his Dad moved some boxes out of our garage to the NEW garage, where they will probably stay - forever. I managed to pack approximately FOUR (4) boxes over the fourth of July. My delicate constitution prevented me from doing anything further. Also, Naps. And Hudson didn't get up until 10 on Friday and who are we to look a gift horse in the mouth by banging around breakable items and putting them into very noisy cardboard boxes? So we didn't.

And then we went to Nan's on Saturday afternoon and spent the night. I think Tim managed to buy dog food and take the recycling* while we were gone.

On Wednesday the daycare let my son get heat rash on the inside of his thighs so badly that he could not wear a diaper or pants for the rest of the evening so I was the supervisor for that little bucket of rainbows.

He had to stay home yesterday and today because it still looks so bad. He has scabs, people, scabs, on the inside of his tiny, chubby little boy thighs from some moron letting him run around with a wet diaper for too long and THEY DIDN'T EVEN CALL ME about it. SERIOUSLY, HE COULDN'T EVEN WALK. I got to call and tell the director I was not happy at all and that this was unacceptable and by the way he had a huge bruise and bump last Thursday on his head, and no one seems to recall how that happened either. I have officially become THAT mother. But I don't think I'm being unreasonable.

Anyway. Tim moved the heavy ass sleeper sofa with some virle young man from his office and I stayed at the (good) grandparents until after that was over lest I be unable to contain my third trimester hormones at the sight of two strapping young men doing heavy lifting. Actually, I was holding out for dinner because I knew I didn't have anything at home. And boy did they deliver! Supper, anyway. And the couch seems to be still in one piece.

Are you seeing a pattern here? I am easily distracted by Klondike bars and So You Think You Can Dance. (BTW, who got kicked off? We had to take the TV to the new house to be hooked up today and I have no idea what happened! Or what Cat was wearing!) I can't even read a book anymore, I am addicted to a dumb Solitare game my mother left at my house. Us Weekly and TV guide are about as highbrow as I get these days. I have the brain power of a coat hanger at this moment.

The boys and I are sleeping in the semi-empty house tonight for fun and then we are moving for real tomorrow. And the dogs are all getting haircuts and baths so they will be all clean and pretty to go in my clean and pretty new house. And then they can poop in my clean and pretty yard. And I might possibly make time for a bath in my new jetted (!!) bathtub. With a Klondike bar, because those are getting moved first thing into the new freezer.

Ya'll have a good weekend now. And if you see any fried pickles paying around let me know, I sure could use some.

*While perusing my town's website for some information, I ran across their recycling manifesto. Basically they are like, totally committed to the environment and stuff, so you should all, like, recycle! Yes! Let's recycle! Except we are going to make it super hard on you, the recyclers, because you can't have any green bins and shit, you have to take that stuff to one of our two "convenient" (not) recycling locations. P.S. You can only recycle cardboard on every second Tuesday and third Sunday between the hours of 5am and 8:46am and 4:28pm and 5:47 pm. P.S.S. Our glass bins are always full too, so check with the "convenient" recycling center of your choice before you purchase that wine or beer or hard liquor to make sure there's room to even take the bottle after you finish it. Maybe just drink it in the parking lot and throw it in real quick. Commitment to the environment, my ass.