Monday morning....not okay. He EXPLODED during the night. From both ends. Not on the approximately 1,000 square feet of tile on our main floor. Ohhhhh, no. On the carpet. Brown, green, shades only seen in the gut of an 85lb monster of a dog. Carpet cleaners were called, carpet cleaners came, carpet cleaners collected an exorbitant fee....the carpets were as good as new. Phew. Henry seemed back to his happy drooly self, end of story. We thought.
Tuesday morning. 3am. I smell something funny. Faint, but definitely poo-ish. I blame my dear J, thinking the fried feast he ate for dinner wasn't agreeing with his tum. Up again at 4 (notice a trend? Yes, the hourly bathroom marches have begun), I start wondering if there's not something more going on. However, the idea of lugging myself back out of bed and down the stairs is unfathomable, so back to sleep I go. Only when we awoke at 7:30 and J headed downstairs to let the dogs out did we find it.....another EXPLOSION. I'll spare the details, but just believe me when I say it was not pretty.
I should have paid attention to the stinky omen on the living room floor. Stay home, it's not a good day. No, siree. I had plans. Some fun, some mundane, all necessary. The new mom-mobile needed Texas plates. Then to the mall for J's birthday gift and perhaps a bit of baby browsing. A pedicure appointment for mama, and a few other random stops on the way home. Wanting to get the un-fun chore out of the way, I head to the county clerk. Where, believe it or not, there's NO line! And I miraculously have each and every document necessary to prove that this is MY car, I haven't stolen it off the streets and driven straight to the county for new plates. Hot damn, I might get this accomplished without so much as a return trip OR a meltdown! Get this- I even got a REFUND! The dealership overestimated the cost of registration, so the guy tells me I get money back! Tell me, dear friends, when's the last time YOU heard the department of motor vehicles say "hey, guess what, we're going to send you a CHECK!" And the guy even SMILED. Wow.
I bounce out, as much as a woman rocking a fine set of 100 degree heat incited cankles can "bounce", Texas plates in hand and visions of the (air conditioned, summer sale aplenty) mall dancing in my head. Fire up the auto, and notice a little orange light on the dashboard. Huh? Tire pressure? Heave my giant ass out of the car, do a quick walk around, and stop dead in my tracks when I spot a tire...a very flat, undrivable tire. J is approximately 45 minutes across town and absolutely unable to leave the office to help- he's the only man on the job today. I can't think of anyone else to help. So I cry and cry and cry. Because seriously, what's more effective than sobbing uncontrollably in a desolate east side county office parking lot? When J quiets me enough to get a word in, he instructs me to call our insurance and utilize that roadside assistance program, the one I told him over and over again that we didn't need. I sit for 95 minutes watching handcuffed inmates led in and out of the building until the Pop-A-Lock guy shows up to change my tire. He should really be working for Nascar, because in 10 minutes I'm back on my way. A little tired, and no longer up for the mall as lunchtime looms and my diet dictates that I not go too long between meals....but there's tomorrow.
The rest of the day just didn't go much better. The pedicure place was packed and particularly noxious today, so no pretty toes for me. I pull through Chick-fil-a for one of life's simplest sugar free joys- my Diet Coke. Wait in line for-freaking-ever behind an Expedition packed solid with teenage boys, burn approximately $45 in gas idling, finally get to the speaker to order my DC....and find out that the DC is temporarily "broke". How do you BREAK Diet Coke? Augh! Shove it, chicken place! I come home to find the stains clearly visible on the now dried carpet (I was confident when I left the house that I'd scrubbed them out....not so much). I decide to nap for just a few minutes and before I have a chance to get comfy on the couch, I get a call from the groomer, where I'd dropped Griffin off earlier in the day. "Um, we have a little problem with Griffin." OF COURSE WE DO! Why not? It seems my little angel isn't a fan of the groomer, which he made clear when he tried to bite her. Oh, fantastic. She agreed to finish the job if I'd come supervise (aka- clamp his face shut so he didn't take her fingers off). Nap over.
Alas....I'm just blowing off steam. As a whole, life is good. I'm thankful that tire held out as I cruised along the interstate. I'm thankful I have a husband who cared enough to purchase the roadside assistance in the first place (he obviously did it with his auto-repair-challenged wife in mind). I'm thankful to have a house at all- carpet stains be damned. I'm thankful Griffin didn't really bite the groomer, saving us from a pesky lawsuit. I'm thankful that I, uh, have toes. Homely chipped toenails and all. I'm reaching a bit here....but you get my drift. None of it really matters, because I'm thankful that as I sat in that east side parking lot waiting and waiting, my tummy bounced up and down and side to side- reminding me that life is really truly amazing, and I'm really truly blessed. And coolest of all, I'm ALMOST 31 WEEKS!!! We've got less than 10 weeks until we're holding the (seemingly very squirmy) little guy!! Here's a photo from last weekend, 30 weeks, and happy. So very very happy.
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