Oh Yes, He Pooped

This is the face of a very backed up little boy.

Saturday brought day 5 of no poop and this was an expression that he presented more often than not, understandably. This weekend’s main goal was to get David to poop. It’s good to have goals.

Ever since David turned one, we've had hard-core constipation issues (no pun intended).

At the 18 mo well check, my pedi poo-pooed my concern (pun intended) and so, it's something we've been dealing with for a while. It seems to be getting worse.

I’ll admit, David is a dairy freak. We have cut back significantly on his dairy intake, but the constipation is still occurring every time he has to move his bowels.

This weekend, we gave him Miralax, pears and I made Fiber One muffins laced with pears and prunes. I also gave him apple juice laced with prune juice.

I was going to get this kid to poop if it was the lastthing I did. The only problem was that of course, Sofia and William also wanted the - what will forever be known as - the “Poop Muffins” too. In fact, they loved them and wanted two and three. I cut Sofia off at one, but let William have a few. I let David eat as many as he would like, within reason.

You can imagine what how the latter part of the weekend went down.

Suffice it to say, David pooped. Oh yes, he pooped. And pooped. And pooped.

As did William, who does not have bowel issues. Our house was fairly offensive by 3 p.m. Sunday, but those pipes were cleared out!

Post Poop Joy!



***

More on the household front…

No word from the promising job for husband…He does have an interview/seminar thing he’s attending tomorrow. It’s probably not something he’d be interested in, but he’s going because…well, it’s not like he has anything else to do.

After blowing up at him over the state of the house last week (I had been gone for 12 hours and the house was a sty - on a day when he did not have the kids) I came home to a spotless house Wednesday evening. It was trashed within about 45 minutes, but it was nice to come home to.

And at the risk of sounding like some crazy Joan Crawford/Kate Gosselin hybrid shrew, my husband really sucks at doing laundry. I found a load my work clothes mixed in with towels and kid’s socks and underwear. For the love of all that is holy. Deep breaths.

He kept telling me that the boys’ dresser was overfull. I looked in to find pajama tops mixed in with regular tee shirts (gasp), collared shirts in the drawer (that should have been hung up) and just all sorts of laundry related crazy-making.

The cherry on the cake of my day was finding little fuzzy toddler socks in my tights.

I know he’s trying, but I may have to make him a laundry cheat sheet. I’m really not anal,
even though I know I sound like it.

I think we are on the right track with unemployment and Cobra, but I won’t hold my breath. I have an appointment with WIC in a few weeks. We definitely qualify income wise right now, but beyond that, it gets a bit fuzzy.

That’s it from here.

P.S. Oh yeah, Sofia has been having breathing issues since yesterday, so we're slated to visit the pediatrician this afternoon. Nebulizer treatments are not effective, so I suspect bronchitis.

Cautious Optimism - That's How I *Roll*

We took William in and *what a shock* he has an ear infection, or the other one didn't go away. My life has turned into one, big, juicy, ear infection. I feel like a nurse, dispensing all the different meds.

Did I mention that both the pediatrician AND the nurse asked how far apart in age the twins were? I always get such a kick out of this, but maybe notsomuch when it's coming from their doctor. I could tell he was a little embaressed that he didn't realize they were twins. Aside from their very different appearance, William is much bigger, taller and with a big noggin, so this throws people off. The doctor has seen them before, but not together. (We have their regular pediatrician in San Francisco, a 45 minute drive. We still see him for all well check visits because of William's history and him being there for all of that business)

And this just in...

We have a signed, six month lease (our preference) on our little house.

God Bless America.

Someone called Steve about a position yesterday.

I don't want to get all hopeful-like or anything, so I'll just stay cautiously optimistic for the time being.

Negotiations Suck

Ok, so it's been a wild ride the past few days.

Our little house went on the market for rent on Tuesday. Immediately, there was a slew of interest. We had a lovely prospective tenant all set to sign the papers today. A Nurse. Excellent credit score. Wanted it bad. Perfect, right?

She was told yesterday (by my boss/agent) that we wanted a 6 month lease.

Today, she tried to negotiate a 9 month lease. That would be fine were it not for the fact that my boss is telling me she is 90% sure she *needs* to sell *this* house come September 1st.

It's like being punched in the gut. Honestly. I feel like we just got settled here and now, the rug is being pulled out from under us. I'm sort of angry at my boss, but at the same time, I know her financial situation is shaky and she really may have to sell.

Due to this new development, we really *have* to have a 6 month lease because we may need a place to live come September 1st. My husband does not have a job and my job is certainly not secure. Who knows what our situation will be September 1st.

The woman would not sign a 6 month lease, so we let her walk.

Please, GOD, don't let this be a huge mistake. I think I am going to throw up from nerves. I do. I hate this. HATE it.

***

On a lighter note, I hosted playgroup for the boys this morning. There were about 5 people and it was just lovely. Great group of ladies. Of course, this is upsetting me even more because I think about how I don't want to get attached to this house or these ladies or this area.

On one hand, I know we should be happy we have a house to move back to if need be, in probably one of the most desirable areas in California - good school district, great weather, usually plentiful jobs, etc. It's just about 600 sq ft smaller than what most people would require for a family of 5. We could move back. The 3 kids could share a room. It could work. It would be tough, but it could work.

It may have to.

Have I mentioned how much I feel like I'm going to throw up?

Funk-a-Funk & All That Jazz

I awoke today in a funk. A funk-a-funk-a-funk. Like a dog with wet fur, I tried repeatedly to shake the ickies from psyche, but they just clung to me for dear life, as if feeding on my anxiety.

It all started last night, really. So many things weighing on my mind. My husband’s lack of a job, my own job instability and the abysmal results of my ongoing job search (no bites, only borderline sketchy recruiter types - it's ugly out there), the attempts to figure out Steve's Cobra application process and subsequent costs for our family and most importantly, the angst surrounding the monumental decision of whether or not to sell or rent our vacant house, a decision that needs to be finalized within the next 7 days.

Up to this point, I have been on auto pilot. There has been cause and effect, at least in my brain. I will do this and that will happen. Trying to go with the flow.

My situation is no different than thousands of families out there right now. In fact, according to many articles, it is slowly becoming the norm. This does not ease my mind.

I think, over the last few days, it’s all been hitting me. The uncertain future. The living on borrowed time. The horrible job market. The even more abysmal real estate market. The living on my one paltry 30 hour a week income for an unknowing undefinable amount of time and the accompanying heart palpitations. I finally let it all in and without the shield of Zoloft to blunt it, I am like a walking, open sore.

I did have a sort of cry fest to my boss this morning and while it helped a bit, she offered no words of consolation. In fact, she led me to believe that the company very well be in trouble, all of our future's uncertain. While not what I wanted to hear, it's probably what I needed to hear right now. Knowing the entire picture will help me as I try to navigate through all of this. That which does not kill me makes me stronger and all that jazz...

I’ll get over it. I’m the sole breadwinner right now. I kind of have to keep it together. But I’m allowed to have minor freak outs once in a while, right?

The cry helped a little to alleviate some of the pent up emotions. I knew I either needed a good workout or a good cry. The pouring rain was preventing any possibility of a workout, so the cry was just what the doctor ordered.

Onward and upward!

The Prius Capital of the World? Perhaps...

So this is an ode to Half Moon Bay, my new home.

I think I made it clear I was not an "ocean" person when I moved there 2 months ago. Let me clarify.

I grew up about one mile from the beach on the coast, just south of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is by far the foggiest area on the Northern California coast. Fog so thick you literally cannot see in front of you, so wet you are sopping by the time you arrive the 2 blocks to school. All your cars rust up, your houses always have a faint mold smell, no matter how fastidious you are about cleaning. The early Italian settlers (my ancestors) discovered that the verdant soil and moist air made perfect farmland. Dairy and pig farms, artichoke and cabbage crops populated the terrain.

This is all well and good, but for this girl growing up there in the 1980's, all it meant was cloudy, depressing days. If I did visit the beach, it was with a thick heavy coat and at the risk of getting windburn from the relentless, biting wind. The trees surrounding the coastline are permanently bent in the shape of the wind, from the persistent, unwielding elements. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, my only dream in life was to move somewhere where I was likely to see the sun. I wasn't asking a lot, just some Vitamin D and non frizzed out hair once in a while.

You can see why I may be a little less than enthiused to move to a coastal town. I'm not nearly as neurotic about my hair these days, but you know, I do have those tendencies, I am not going to lie.

But I'm here to say, Half Moon Bay is growing on me. It's nothing like my hometown. Granted, it can be overcast quite a bit, but it's also sunny quite a bit and nowhere near as overwhelmingly depressing as where I grew up. There is a relaxed, friendly vibe from everyone you meet and it's hard not to let it grow on you.

Besides it's small town charm, salty breezes and stunning coastline, Half Moon Bay has many historic feathers under its collective hat. Once a grazing land for the cattle, oxen and horses of the Mission Dolores, it was settled by Italian and Portugese farmers in the mid 1800's. It's primary local industries include farming, fishing and tourism. There's a sense of isolation living there, with a 20 minute (without traffic) drive over a mountain road to the peninsula (to the East) and a 25 minute drive north up a windy coastal highway to San Francisco. There is one big grocery store, no movie theater, no Target (say it isn't so!) The locals love the sense of isolation and strive to keep it that way. Today, the population is a diverse mix of hippies, millionaires, yuppies and rural farm workers and their families. To say the coast is eclectic doesn't even do it justice.

Besides being home to the annual Pumpkin Festival and the great Maverick's surf contest, I just discovered that it was the filming location for "Harold and Maude." Who knew?

And just based on anecdotal evidence, I am going to go out on a limb and say that Half Moon Bay might very possibly be the Prius capital of the world. I have never in my life seen so many Prius.' In fact, as I walked along the beach path, thinking about what I'd blog about, trying to count in my head how many Prius' I seen on a daily basis...a Prius drove by. I kid you not!

I think I am starting to like this coastal living thing. For now. Just wait until the rains start, I'm sure I'll have lots to whine about then.

Surf's Up!

As some of you know, we are moving to a rental house in Half Moon Bay next week (3BR with family room, big yard), renting out our current house (so if ya know anyone looking to rent an awfully cute 2/1, let us know!) And for those of you who didn't know, well, NOW you do! ;) It sort of just happened in the past few days and I've not had a minute to call anyone.

Email me for details...

Surf's up!

****

And a funny video...

Thank god someone is interested in cleaning around this joint. We encourage that.

William, that cheeky monkey trying to upstage his swiffer-loving brother.

Resolution...at last!

So it's official. We are moving.

We're moving to the coast (a small, desirable, eclectic area about 20 minutes from me "over the hill"), which I have mixed feelings about. Very excited as it's a great family house. A little anxious because it's literally steps to the ocean. Anyone who has known me for a while is familiar with my love (yes, that's sarcasm) of fog and all things ocean related. I grew up in a coastal town and have had a lifelong fear of the ocean. In fact, I have had a recurring dream since childhood that the ocean is chasing me.

Psychoanalysis aside, this is a good thing. The upside? We'll have 3 bedroom, bath and a family room, a large yard. The downside? I'll now have a 20-30 minute commute. I currently have a 5 minute commute, so this is going to mean I will really need to have my act together. No more going home and lunch and getting dinner ready, tidying up, throwing in some laundry. Still, I think the good far outweighs the bad.

So, I've been perusing craigslist for used furniture and boy, what a trip that is. Every once in a while, you will stumble upon a gem, but mostly it is just people trying to offload their dated, atrocious junk.

Looking at it makes me want to put on some Cyndi Lauper and have some Tang.
Seriously, people? Have you not heard of Goodwill????

Cases in point.

A lovely kitchen table, circa 1982 - asking $175



Something out of a doctor's office for $150



All that you ever wanted in a couch for only $125



Another kitchen set circa One Day At A Time

Living in a Shoe

We live in a small, 2 bedroom house with 3 kids. It's a cute-as-a-button, little pre-war cottage, but ever so tiny. Storage is minimal as I suspect people just didn't have a lot of stuff in the "olden days."

I try not to whine about it too much because I realize that there are generations of women in the world who have lived and continue to live with multiple children and family members in small houses, shacks and mud huts. Certainly if they could make it work, we can make do with our current situation. Still, most of the time, I feel like the lady who lives in the shoe who had too many children...yada yada

We are planning on selling the house and buying a larger house. That has been established. We are in the process of preparing the house for sale, which is a long and arduous process with my working outside the home half the time and having 3 chilren running around "the shoe" the other half of the time. All that said, it will happen, it has to happen, it's just going to take some time.

We moved the twins (from our bedroom) into Sofia's room about 2 months ago. At first, it seemed to be working. They went to bed early, she went to bed about an hour later, sometimes waking one of them, but nothing too bad. Now, they don't seem to want to go down and by the time I put her in there, all 3 of them are up to all sorts of shenanigans until sometimes 9 p.m. We're used to a 7 p.m. bedtime around here, that's how we *roll* so this just doesn't fly. In an effort to prevent me from going off the rails of the crazy train, we've been trying to strategize a way to make this work.

As a last ditch effort, I officially moved Sofia's toddler bed into a corner of our bedroom yesterday. This is by no means an ideal situation, but my options are limited. Sofia was thrilled, of course, thinking it was some special slumber party escapade with Mommy. Other than Mango laying claim to her bed out as his new lounging pad and a warm little body creeping on top of me at 5 a.m., the first night went pretty well. The boys fell asleep early (thanks to limiting them to one nap) and woke up late, most likely due to some accumulated sleep deprivation.

Anyhooties - until we sell the house and purchase a bigger one, this is how it will have to be.

As a sidenote, my boss did drag me to look at 3 houses yesterday, the twins in tow. The first was huge but would need at least $200k of work (not happening), the second one was perfect except for a huge, empty pool in the yard. It would need to be filled in and from what I hear, this can be quite expensive. The third house was home in probate and had what can only be described as "old person smell." From what I could see, a little old lady had lived there quite peacefully. It was all original but boy, that little old lady was neat as a pin, she was.