Bank owned.

The things that disturbed me today. Get ready it could be a long one.

There is this wonderful bakery called sweetness and every so often in the mornings Anna and I go and get treats. I am always excited about the prospect of eating a fat Albert. It is a super yummy buttery flaky pastry shell in the shape of a muffin fulled with lemony creamy goodness and finished off with with a light dusting of crack to keep you addicted. Well this morning, no crack. I had to settle for Stromboli and cookie.

The baker has no idea of how dangerous it is to get people hooked then run out of product. She promised to deliver the goods tomorrow.

Who determines how to describe food on packaging? Who's hot meter do they use. The label on my chili relleno said mild. Liars. Thanks for the f*&king heart burn.

Hiccups in my butt. I will spare you the details, but just know growing a baby is not glamorous. They get hiccups, ALOT. And there heads are near well, your butt.

Having to pee when you don't really need to pee. How unfulfilling it is to get up in the middle of the night, which incidentally is not easy right now, to pee like 6 ounces.

Pineapples for ankles. Why can't the fluid collect in my boobs, making them perky and firm. That would be much better.

That internationally Oregonians must be viewed as freaks and crazies. The pregnant man, Springfield shootings, and now the shootings at the Zone. That just makes me sad. I will show some restrain and say nothing more. About that.

My husband mistaking my kind requests to do things as optional. They are direct command covered with nice words. Perhaps I will have to review this with him.

My midwife apparently hates me. I feel totally sold out. I would have expected a man ob/gyn to do what she did. As like a show of solidarity. But not a woman. I'm supposed to have sex every day from now until we deliver.
What the hell sort of punishment is that?
Did he pay her?
Can I do it alone?
I think I may have to file a complaint about that one. And page her relentlessly when she is on call at night and I am having post coital contractions. Paybacks baby.

Bank owned. A sign I am seeing more and more on houses for sale. How sad. But in the end aren't we all bank owned? Disappointed in the fact that we too are bank owned.
How to stop the relentless pursuit of stuff, consumption and obligation?

Laid. Off.

Not the good kind of laid I might mention. So dear Darren is going to lose his job. I don't mean to be pessimistic and it's not that I doubt his skill, worthiness, ya know overall badassness. It is just something that I know will happen. Not only because his department at work is closing that was a big hint but just something I know in my guts. I have been concerned that past few weeks as the words have been floating around on the hill. Just a doom in my belly, well above the baby. Not baby belly doom just a knowing. 

It sorta sucks I have to be honest. It sucks in so many ways I am confronted with a new sort of suckyness every time I think about it. Like his braces, he won't have the coverage he did before, how much will that cost? I'll have to add him to my insurance, more money. 

If I kill him he won't have as much insurance coverage, sorta forcing my hand. Do I like hurry up and do it before the coverage is gone? Can I really afford to wait? I feel overwhelmed by that decision. I had always kept murder as my plan b, but now what? Big decision.

Should I go for broke and take the maternity leave and through caution to the wind and just trust that we will not end up financially ruined? I know we won't lose our house and we won't starve. It would take a LONG DAMN time for me to starve to death anyways so I am confident in that arena. But our lives are SOOOO going to change and I think that is what scares me. The UNKNOWN.

Will he find another job with another company? Will he take a crappy job on the hill just to not be unemployed? I feel like grieving the loss of my tropical vacation next year. I have a sense we won't be on a beach, well a sunny warm beach after a plane ride, for at least a year if not two. Our retirements will continue to decrease both in what we contribute and what the market loses. 

I have to admit. I like my lifestyle. It rocks. I don't want it to change. I REALLY  don't want to be POOR. I hate feeling like I'm on a budget. We will be on a budget. A frankly SMALL budget. A maternity leave unpaid for 10 weeks budget. 

Goodbye savings. I had secretly hoped we could keep some of the money and go to Hawaii after we all got settled back into working after baby. I'll be forced to pretend at the community center in the hot tub.

Darren is a good guy. I know he will work. He always has and has a good work ethic. It's not him I doubt. It's the economy that I worry about. And the pregnancy hormones. I worry so much lately, If only I could afford some Internet ativan....

Birth Plan.

It's so funny now to hear those words. 

The long awaited birth plan. 

The plan for birth. 

My last baby as delivered just after I finished nursing school and had spent 3 whole months in labor and delivery which meant I knew precisely, Nothing. 

I had a birth plan. I had plans. 

I realize now, none of it matters.

I hate pregnancy hormones. 

They make you act all wacky and crazy. Darren said this crazy has been the best crazy so far. I don't know what to make of that. Silly man.

I do know that I have been reduced to tears a number of times this pregnancy and I am not a big crier. I have cried over broken chains on the side of the road. I have cried over the possibility  of my house flooding and the fact that other peoples did. I cried about Jon Travolta's son dying, god no parent should outlive their children. I could come up with at least a dozen more examples. These are just the most recent. 

I have had my feelings hurt so much more and that I do not like.

I have worried so much more this time around and don't know why. I don't think I am high strung or anxious. But who knows. Maybe I am. I worried about a miscarriage, I worried about the ultrasounds. I worry about the delivery. 

Like I have NEVER worried before.

I have held the hands of moms whose babies have died and felt my heart break with sadness and sorrow.

Small broken little bodies that were never meant to be and big beautiful babies that were so meant to be. Leaving behind such profound grief.

Here's the deal I don't really know it. I see it, I feel it. That's enough for me. I don't want to know it. I really really don't. 

No prolapses, No shoulders, No abruptions, No knots, No cord accidents, No rupture, No vasa previa's. Please. Did I miss anything?

All I want from this birth, all I need in my plan is 5 simple words. 

I WANT MY BABY SAFE.

I don't care about IV's. One, two whatever. Wherever.

I don't care about monitoring. External, Internal, continuous, intermittent. Whatever.

I don't care about Pitocin. Yes, no. Whatever.

I don't care about vag exams. I don't care about the lights or the music or the sounds in the room. I don't care if  you do or don't break my water. I don't care if I need a c-section. I don't care if you do or don't ask about my pain. You can directly speak to me. I do not need to give my express written or verbal consent and specific permission for every damn thing. 

I don't care if there are dude providers. I don't really even care who's in there. (unless they're really damn annoying, but we can cross that bridge later.) 

Here is what I know for sure. 

I work with the best labor nurses ever. I have seen it first hand time and time again. They amaze me and they are my friends. 

I am in good hands. Really DAMN good hands.

I trust them to protect me and look after me and the baby. I know I am lucky to have faith in the people that take will take care of us.

If there's a shoulder my symphysis will soo separate, it did with Julianna so feel free, FLEX those hips, I promise I won't be mad. 

A Day in the life of Judge Judy.

Like 6 years ago I gave my brother the junker MC clunker. A 1982 Toyota Tercel, yellow in MINT condition. All the doors opened and closed, had handles and even still had AC.
I got a bill of sale. I cancelled the insurance and never though about it again.

Until I got a notice 2 years ago that the car had been towed and they wanted $800 dollars or they were going to sell it. Sell, I don't care it's not mine. I sent the bill of sale and again quit thinking about it.

Until I got a collection notice. And a summons to appear in small claims court.

I feel like I did what I should have done. I sold the car. I got a bill of sale. I cancelled the insurance. I have all the documents. A letter from the insurance company about cancelling it and having always maintained insurance. I was prepared to see the judge. It does not seem just, right or fair to have to pay for what someone else did 4 years after I sold it, well gave it away really.

So I waited. Darren took the afternoon off. We showed up at the court house and waited in the long long line to get through the metal detectors. And pat down. Past the sheriffs. Armed sheriffs. To the court room filled with people. Small claims court is full of interesting people. Today there are lots. They read your name out loud. So and so vs HEATHER AND DARREN. Nice. I wanted to defend myself to these people. It's not like I defaulted on a loan or failed to pay an obligation. We are normal regular law abiding people.
They force you to go to "mediation". Sit across from one another and politely disagree.
Back to the court room.
It's hot, really really hot. It's freezing outside and now they compensate by cooking the hell out of you. There are dumb rules that say no drinks allowed. I thought this would be quick. I didn't eat lunch, I wanted to go out with darren afterwards.

They call the first case. It's two brothers, one suing the other for $7500 because he threw his stuff out of their mothers house when she moved into a care facility. They had restraining orders against one another and witnesses. The list begins, the judge wanting to know what added up to $7500.
An extension cord.
A set of tools.
Boxes of his clothes.
A guitar a witness said she saw in a free box in front of the house. She had on jeans and dirty white coat and messy unbrushed hair. She also smelled like a bar. Being pregnant your sensitive to smells. And she had lots. I'm getting warmer and warmer and it's already been 30 minuets. The estimated value so far is like $40.
$7500 is a long way away.
The next witness is supposed to testify to the fact that one dude threw away the other dudes food. Dude one claims there were mice droppings and holes in the food boxes. That's why he threw them away.
Because that is FOUL. I too would toss mouse poop covered food.
The witness has no teeth. He does not testify to throwing away food. He can't really say that he saw dude one throw anything away "per say". It is all very unclear and hard to understand, as he has NO TEETH and lisps quite a lot. Dude two starts getting really mad that he's not saying what he was supposed to say. He tells him that's not what you were supposed to say. Those two start arguing.
I told you what to say you idiot.
Sorry. I didn't remeber. What am I supposed to say? I am not an Idiot. f*&ck You.

Dude one is yelling across to dude two.
The judge is banging his gavel and slapping his hand on the desk. I feel like I am on reality TV. It's getting hotter.

Mattress, box spring, radio, all 10+ years old. So were at like $300. It's been an hour and 1/2. I'm sitting next to a child molester. There are two armed deputies that the judge called in because they are being unruly and yelling over each other. Standing up, shouting. They smell very very bad. Like a bar and cigarettes. I think two of the witnesses are homeless. There are at least 4 more cases ahead of us. I am certain the child molester sitting RIGHT next to me is looking at my belly and having impure thoughts about my unborn baby.
It's really really hot.
The sheriffs are going to have to shoot someone.
Someone is going to lung over me and nail me in the belly, then the sheriff will accidentally shoot me. I am going to die in a really hot smelly court room. I am not cut out for this. I want to cry. I don't feel safe between the sheriff with his hand on his gun and the child molester.
In the past when I've gone to the court house people have been nice to me. There are nice waiting areas with water coolers and moderate temperatures.
We've been sitting here for two hours.
There is no end in sight.
I really want to leave. Really Really want to leave. The toothless guy is asleep.

I am starting not care about what is just and fair and right. I whisper to Darren I want to just pay the nasty lady and leave. I don't care about the money. We go to the hallway and write her a check. Darren asks her how ofter the people from the other case help her win hers.

She says she comes to court twice a week and has never seen such craziness. This does not reassure me. At least the marble in the hallway is cool to lean against. I'm hot and thirsty and starving. And $800 dollars poorer.
I am FREE!
Moral of the story. If you sell a car, go to DMV and do a title transfer.

FOR the love of god, do a title transfer.

How sex ruined my life...a mans perspective.

So my husband tells me the story of his life.

As a young man he dreams of sex. 

He finds a girl and does whatever she wants for hope of sex.  

Less free time. Less man time.

He gets in relationship for steady access to sex.

He marries girl, thinking guaranteed sex. 

He gets sex but has babies. 

No more sex.

Still has relationship and no man time, but like a young man only dreams of sex.

Poor Poor Man.

A tale of Christmas Joy.

Darren and Katie practicing on the new doll. Katie had to fight to get the spoon back. The doll poops and she thinks it's great!
Please daddy give me the spoon...
Christmas morning, shocking.
Katie was like a wild animal.
A cute wild animal. We had fun. The kids loved their presents. I loved my picture and Darren will get to fulfill a lifelong dream of actually catching a fish when he goes fishing. I hope. I also hoped the house would be spotless when I woke up.

I went to bed and slept and slept and slept. 

Then I woke up. That's when things went down hill. 

Fast.

I love Cinabons. we ALWAYS have Cinabons while we open gifts. I went to sleep all warm and happy thinking about waking up and eating a Cinabon. 

But ALL the Cinabons were gone. All 18 of them. No one saved me one. Thoughtful. Darren told me that he only ate 4. 

4 cinnamon rolls in one afternoon.

The other 13 were eaten by three kids. That's like 4 and some each. 

PIGS.

Oh and no Christmas dinner as I had been asleep and didn't make it.  

We ate Mexican after a I cleaned the house. 

When Darren cuddled up to me in bed that night I told him I bet he wished he had a Cinnamon roll in his pocket. He turned over and went to sleep. First good decision for the day. What's the racket in the background you wonder? The karaoke machine. Great Gift. Great Great Gift.

6 inches and 25 feet.

On my way to work tonight I noticed alot of the houses along my street were dark. I like to think it's because everyone is tucked tightly into bed arms wrapped around teddy, parents snuggling.

But I suspect it's a much different night sleep than that tonight. I imagine people are camped out on couches and floors, perhaps a hotel, with unfamiliar sheets and walls. Kids wondering about their toys and clothes. Moms and dads laying there wondering... How much damage did the flooding do? Furniture, floors, carpets, wall, fridge, freezer, washing machine all full of dirty stinky river water flowing out of control, careless about what it ruins. Dresser drawers full of mud and muck and what used to be jammie's. How much will is cost? Stressed whispers in the night, worried hands and teary faces. It was a sad drive. 

I freaked out on my way home from work that morning when I saw odot closing my road. I whined but I live up there, I have to go through. 

Oh, good luck the lady said to me. 

A car was stuck, there was water up to the window line. I though it's going to float away soon.

My stomach dropped as I drove up my road and saw the river flowing down my road. My neighbors houses being splashed in my wake. You notice all the small graduations of the road when you can see who was just barely high enough to avoid the water. The neighbor behind me, flat ground separates us, their front yard was flooded creeping back around the side yard, inches from the house and their basement was filling. 

I wondered how much water does it take to travel 25 feet over flat ground? The field next to us was flooded, I have no idea of what the topography of the field is. Does it slant towards us? The neighbor across the street from us, their yard backs the creek and it was slowly creeping up. The back corner was flooded already. He staked a flag so we could see how much it was rising. 

The rain had stopped thank god, but for how long? I could not stop wondering how much more water would it take? I made Darren call in sick and promised to start the miserable work of filling and laying sand bags. I must admit, I was FREAKING out. 

This is our HOME. 

This is where we LIVE.

It is not much but it is OURS. 

It is all we have.

Not tangible touchable things but HOME. 

It's warm and dry. It's where we laugh and play. 

It is where my kids go when they need to feel SAFE. 

I was not feeling so safe.

I need someplace to put the kids to bed. I need someplace to bring our soon the be baby home to. I could only imagine the cost of repairs...goodbye 18 weeks maternity leave, goodbye savings. It was terrifying really. To know there was very little we could do other than sandbag. I called my mom, she said move furniture. Come sleep at my house. She said she'd pray for the water to stay away. 

Darren looked at flood tables to see how high the river could go, based on the last known flooding. So logical about his approach. But I wondered what if the ground wasn't the same? He said the river would have to crest 6 inches higher than they were predicting. 

I am supposed to bank on 6 inches. 

That's like 10 Oreo's!

That's about the time you start thinking about replacing the short little pencil with a new one.  

6 lousy inches?? That's all I've got??????

I have worked all night and am supposed to sleep in the wake, literally, of all this? 

He decided not to sandbag. He felt confident that we would be OK. He promised to come home and sandbag away if the rain started again. He promised to call of his friends and brothers to help if needed. 

Knowing that I have the most amazing people in my life, that was my solace. My friend who listened to me freak out and agreed I should totally take some benadryl so I would sleep. My friend who said she'd pray for me and send her husband and brothers to help if needed. My friend who would come over and mess up her new hair to help haul and shovel sand.

My friend who had sent home tamales that I warmed up and ate.  That finally lulled me to sleep. My mom who interrupted her busy day to pray to Buddha as she says, for the whole day. My friends who though of me when they looked and the news and hoped I didn't flood, those who worried about me and wished the the water away. 

It worked. 

I slept. 

I woke up to a dry house and a river that shrunk back to a creek. 

I felt warm and dry and grateful. I feel so much gratitude for everyone. 

I have so much more sympathy and heartache for those who have lost there homes or had them flood. The devastation is so complete. It ruins your things and your sense of security all at once. But I suspect it also renews your faith in human kindness. I know just the threat did for me.