What're you lookin' at? | Ramblings from a self-proclaimed yada yada yada...ist

I really called it on the NaBloPoMo thing...

...because seriously. Two blog posts for the whole month? My lack of posting this November surprised even me.

But it wasn't without good reason. Between my work trip to New Hampshire, organizing this house, being pregnant, and for the last week, being sick, non-paid blogging had to take a back seat. I did take a stab at it last Wednesday around midnight when Kara should have been down for the count, but she decided to wake up and torture me for THREE AND A HALF HOURS before finally settling down. By the time Luke came in to check on things, both Kara and I were sobbing; he offered to take over, but I would not accept defeat. I did, however, call my sister Samantha the very next day to say that we wouldn't be able to make baby Danny's baptism that following Sunday. I felt absolutely horrible about it, but after countless days of coming home late from work, soothing Kara at night, and traveling on the weekends, we were all burned out. The thought of leaving the zip code after what I like to think of as The Night From Hell was more stressful than picking up the phone and calling Samantha, who was totally understanding about the whole thing. When we all woke up on Saturday morning with runny noses and raspy coughs, I felt even more confident that we made the right decision.

Luke and I also decided that for our own sanity, we were done with traveling indefinitely--our next trip won't happen until sometime after Baby Brother is born and we're feeling adventurous enough to get on the road with two little ones in tow. Luke's parents came to share Thanksgiving with us, so we weren't without family, and Christmas plans are still in progress. However it plays out, though, Luke and I will just be happy to be home.

OK, enough yapping. I owe you a shit load of pictures. Here are some of the latest of Kara:

 

Our little girl is eleven months old now. I am not ready for next month when she'll be one. Her burst of activity is amazing--she's cruising all over the house now, crawling only when she's feeling shy or when I'm chasing her and those cute baby legs can't keep up. She still has only two teeth, but I can see a bunch of white spots shining through her top gums, and I'm terrified they'll all come in at the same time. She dances, too, bouncing up and down, waving her hands, and doing this robot thing with her arms that reminds me of the zombies from Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video.

 

Nights have been hard since we moved; most of the time Kara will wake up crying at least once. Luke and I have taken to picking her up and rocking her back to sleep because it's the easiest way to get her back down. Eventually this will have to stop and we'll revert back to comforting her while she remains in her crib, but right now things are so hectic that we'll do whatever we can to score the maximum amount of sleep. Plus, as I think about what life with Baby Brother will be like, I can't help but enjoy those nights with her a little bit, even when they're super hard, and even though it takes an extra dose of creativity to hold Kara against me in a way that doesn't put pressure on my ginormous belly. Part of me wishes Luke and I had more time to enjoy our girl before adding another child to the mix, so when those snuggle-time moments present themselves, I have to take them. So what if they make me want to pull my hair out?

Kara seems to be enjoying the house. Luke and I are adopting open floor plans in as many rooms as possible to cut back on clutter and take advantage of all this new space. Our living room is the best example of this; aside from our sleeper sofa, love seat, a couple of end tables, and our poor excuse for an entertainment center, the only other items are Kara's Pack 'n Play and several cloth bins of books and toys. This means she can run around to her heart's content and we can clean up her messes in five minutes or less. Everybody wins!

The biggest parenting challenge I faced this month was my overnight stint in New Hampshire. Luke and Kara drove me to the airport at 11 a.m. Tuesday morning and picked me up about the same time that Friday. From the moment I learned about the trip, I started freaking out. Three nights away from home is a long time, especially when it's your first time away and you can't explain to your kid that you're coming back soon, OF COURSE you're coming back. Good-bye was the worst; I started bawling before we even got to the airport. Luckily, Kara was asleep, so I was spared any tears on her behalf (she hates when I leave the car without her), but trying to kiss her sweet little face enough to last me THREE WHOLE DAYS tore at my soul. The actual trip, though, wasn't too bad. It was nice to sleep in a king-sized bed and eat dessert every night and shower as long as I wanted. Plus, since my flight was out of Boston, I spent my last night strolling along the streets of downtown buying souveniers at Quincy Market and taking a quick peak at Fanuil Hall, which I had been calling Nathaniel Hall, thus portraying myself as a colossal idiot slash tourist. (My boss, who knew better, was very gracious. The mail folks who came across my postcards to Luke probably weren't as kind.) I also got to meet Ben Franklin. His business card read, "Have kite. Will travel."

 

So. That's what I've been up to this month. I'm well aware that I still owe you after pictures of the new house, pictures I originally intended to post in this entry, but I think we can all agree I've rambled long enough. Don't you worry, though; I've already saved the winners to my desktop. They are definitely coming.

No tricks, just treats

Tonight was Kara's first Halloween, not to mention Luke's and my first one as homeowners, so while it was a low-key event of indulging in the wonder that is satellite television and jumping to answer the doorbell, it was special, nonetheless. Kara was wearing her pumpkin costume when Luke came to pick me up at work, and she was admired by numerous trick-or-treaters and their moms when I passed out candy, baby on one hip, the goods in another. Since we only moved in on Tuesday, there wasn't time for creative decorating, but I wanted to make sure people knew we were "Halloween friendly" territory, so Luke ran to the store last night to buy some of those orange pumpkin bags you stuff with leaves and a few spooky window clings for the front door. I was so excited to have kids at our door and so grateful they didn't skip our house for lack of not knowing who we were that oftentimes I actually thanked them for stopping by. We handed out two to three pieces of candy to each kid, thus scoring major brownie points in the Cool Neighbors Department (one boy actually gasped), and Kara's adorableness went over quite well with their parents. A win-win for all, to be sure.

My favorite part of the night occurred while Luke was putting Kara to bed and two boys dressed as the Super Mario brothers came to collect their just desserts.

"Trick or treat!" they exclaimed.

"Wow, look! It's Mario and Luigi!" I said while dropping Reese's cups, Laffy Taffys, and Nerds boxes into their grocery bags.

"Luigi," who couldn't have been older than five, looked me straight in the eye and replied, "We're not real, you know."

"Thanks for clearing that up," I said.

My second and third favorite parts happened when a mini-Dorothy accepted her candy then tried to come into the house and one of the local teenagers welcomed us to the neighboorhood. "Did you just move in? I love the way a new house smells," he said. Was he being genuine or just aiming for more candy? Who cares? That's one smart kid.

Kara had a great time "helping" with the trick-or-treaters and generally melted my heart with her cuddly pumpkin self. Who knew ten-month-olds were so damn fun?

 

Look at me! A baby and a pumpkin! Such the multi-tasker, I know.

  

  Pumpkins don't get any respect.

 

Why does my mom think I look like a pea pod in this picture? The world may never know.

 

My fellow Americans, let me explain why I believe children under the age of one should be allowed to eat Kit-Kats, no matter what our silly parents say.

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There is certainly plenty to say about our big move and the process of settling into our new home (not to mention I owe you some seriously amazing after pictures that reflect thousands of dollars in paint and flooring), but that's for another day. In the meantime, Happy Halloween and Happy NaBloPoMo for those of you jumping on the bandwagon tomorrow. This is the first year I won't be participating, and I'm crying on the inside about it, but I can barely post once a week these days. Once every day for a month? Why not go ahead and ask me to stop searching for Baby-sitters Club books at the half-priced bookstore? Both are equally possible.

Bloggers* in flight

* I can call us that because even though Luke hasn't posted since June, he still does have a blog, and Kara certainly held her own during my back-to-work hiatus, and it makes for a short and catchy title, and it's one fifty-seven in the morning as I sit to write this people, give me a break, will you?

I'm tired.

It feels like the last couple of weeks have been non-stop around here. My little family did make the looong trip to Chicago two weekends in a row, once to see my sister Ryan off to Germany, and once for my nephew Danny's baptism, though it was canceled at the last minute due to the poor little guy spitting up constantly and his pediatrician's recommendation that Samantha and Dan bring him to the hospital for observation. Thankfully, it appears to be a simple case of acid reflux to the -enth degree, but he gave his parents a little scare, nonetheless. So the weekends, not exactly a time for productivity.

Plus, work has been busy, and I had to play a lot of advance catch-up to be able to take the first part of this week off. Then there's the Web training seminar I'll be taking in Nashua, New Hampshire, next month, for which I'll be gone three nights, and the very idea of being away from Kara that long has me feeling much like I did in the days leading to my return to work in March. It's been suggested several times that I bring Luke and Kara with me, but between my tight schedule and our tight budget, it's not a good idea. I just have to wear my big-girl panties and resign myself to a good cry on the nights I should be putting her to bed.

And of course, in between work and family and trips up north has been our house, our blessed, wonderful, pain-in-the-ass house that is eating our money and sucking our will to live. To be fair, it's not so much the house itself as it is some of the contractors that have been dragging their feet (I'm looking at you, Cutting Edge Flooring). The last loose end should be tied up tomorrow, and then we can finally collect our spare keys and collapse in a sea of cardboard boxes and Tupperware bins that unfortunately won't unpack themselves. I'm so sad about leaving this apartment--this modest, two-bedroom apartment, where I held Kara to my chest and sobbed the night we came home from the hospital, where the two of us spent hours of my maternity leave snuggled on the couch while the snow fell outside, content to just sleep and breathe each other in--and yet, so excited about our new home, a home that will see a properly sized Christmas tree and stockings along the staircase (I just listened to our holiday playlist on iTunes, can you tell?) and the pitter-patter of little feet that my heart smiles just thinking about it. It's a bag of mixed emotions I've got going on here, but I'm hoping the joy wins out once we're settled in and I can revel in hammering nail holes wherever I damn well please.

All of this would explain why my contest winners have yet to receive their prizes, but rest assured, friends, they're coming soon to a mail box near you.

In the meantime, pictures! Good ole pictures. They're like the the pinch-hitters of blogging, when words are not enough (or just really boring).

 

Here are a couple from last weekend, aka Ryan's American farewell. She and Jason probably won't visit until sometime next fall, so we tried to soak up as much of her as we could. The sentiment seemed lost on Kara, though.

 

In this shot, the childbearing sisters attempt to show off their offspring while the offspring couldn't care less. Way to ruin a Kodak moment, kids.

 

How cute is my nephew? Let me count the ways.

   

Okay, one more, but really, how cute IS he? And can you believe that come February, this picture will be my life? GAAAAH.

 

Here, Kara and Grandma Dunscombe have a meeting of the minds.

 

Kara wants YOU to know about the awesomeness of Daddy D.

We weren't in Chicago long enough this past weekend to pull out the camera very much, but I did catch one of Kara and my mother in a full-fledged hands-and-knees face-off. Grandma seems determined to win, but she's no match for Kara's adorableness. That always trumps speed.

 

One of the rare instances in which Kara allows herself to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of the highway.

And now, seeing as it's three in the morning and Luke is already hauling miscellaneous crap to our car, I'm going to sign off, but not before I tease you with the promise of after pictures the minute AT&T says we can.  

Of Painters and Clerks

I think houses are more expensive than children.

Really! After giving birth to Kara last December, Luke and I still managed to keep a hefty amount in savings while showering the baby with various Carter's onesies and stuffed blocks and board books written by Dr. Seuss and accommodating a dinner menu that featured several take-out orders a week. But now, after owning this home just 14 days, we've already spent my quarterly bonus, taken out an interest-free loan from my employer, and scrapped plans to upgrade our dining room set before the end of the year. It's daunting, and it's scary, and I don't like it. But I do like saving us the stress of moving our own boxes, dragging out the painting process, and eliminating the overall dog smell once and for all.

Finding a painter wasn't as easy as we thought it would be. Since we don't have a lot of experience with vendors in the home improvement area, we asked our realtor for a recommendation, and she passed along the name of a company who received glowing marks from one of her clients. I called the number and set up a walk-through/estimate for Thursday afternoon. The house is forty minutes from our apartment but only twenty from my work, so I made the appointment on my lunch hour and arrived with ten minutes to spare. That's when I received a call from Jessica, the project manager, who apologized and said she was running late and was I interested in rescheduling?

I said no, I'm not interested in rescheduling, I'm already at the house, I'd rather just wait. OK, she said. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

Thirty minutes later she was parking in my driveway and apologizing profusely for her tardiness. Se had a doctor's appointment that ran over and put her behind schedule. That's OK, I said. Stuff happens.

I gave Jessica a tour of the house and explained what needed to be done. There was much note-taking and head-nodding, and she sounded confident that her team could complete the job in three or four days. I told her about our flooring appointment for the week of October 20 and our desire to complete all painting by then. How soon can we get an estimate? I asked. Oh, this evening, definitely, she replied. Look for it on your e-mail.

I looked in my e-mail. All evening. Nothing.

At eight o'clock, there was a voice mail from Jessica apologizing for her tardiness in e-mailing the estimate (sound familiar?) and promised to have something by one-thirty the next day. I frowned. Luke's dad had graciously offered to drive down and help with painting the bedrooms; he planned to leave northwest Indiana on Friday at noon. If we accepted the quote, he wouldn't need to make the four-hour round trip. Is there any way we can get it in the morning? I asked.

Sure, sure you can get it in the morning, Jessica said. I'll stay up all night if I have to. I just couldn't get to it during the day, and I want to make sure we give you a good price without undercharging for the work.

The little voice in my head didn't give a rat's ass how long it took, that's your problem, how hard can it be, don't you have a formula for hammering these things out? But I didn't say that, just thanked her for the update. You'll have the estimate by nine tomorrow morning, she said. Thank you, I said. That would be great.

At eight forty-five Friday morning, I logged into Gmail with great anticipation, eager to see the numbers and run them by Luke so we could make a decision before his dad got on the road.

At nine o'clock, I hit refresh. And again five minutes later. And again. And again. AND AGAIN.

By noon, there was still no estimate, and I was mad as hell. But still I kept my cool! I left a voice mail with Jessica AND the owner explaining our urgency and how much we wanted to move forward with this project and could somebody PLEASE call me back?

Nothing. I never heard from the bastards again.

But all's well that ends well. Luke scrambled to do some online research on other painters in the city and found someone who was certified with the Better Business Bureau and who called us back when he said he would and also showed up for the walk-through on time. Imagine that! The icing on the cake was when he said the entire house (cabinets included!) could indeed be finished by the twentieth. But we didn't get that news until Saturday morning, so Luke's dad did come down, and the two of them attempted to work on the bedrooms, but there was an unfortunate sprayer incident and the ceilings took a gazillion years to paint and really, it's just better to hand this over to professionals and admit that when it comes to tackling eighteen hundred square feet of interior structure in just two weeks, we are not cut out for the job. Give it up for Jones Painting.

As for the crappy guys? Turns out their Better Business Bureau rating is just as disappointing as their customer service, so it really did work out for the best. I'd like to be the bigger person and write the whole thing off as a learning experience. I'd like to say I'm not interested in using my blog to steer unsuspecting Hoosiers towards greener, more qualified pastures. But alas, I'm not a bigger person, and Painters Unlimited won't get any love from me, that's for damn sure.

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I'm still in awe that so many of you are interested in my nerdy comics and controversially sacrilegious Jesus figurine. Even Luke's BFF put in a bid; if I knew he'd be interested, I wouldn't have even offered it to the masses. But that wouldn't be fair now, not after I got your hopes up, so instead I'm going to write the name of each interested commenter on a piece of paper and literally pull the winner from a hat; specifically, one of Luke's hats. Hopefully in the next couple of days, because this weekend we'll be in Chicago bidding my sister Ryan a fond farewell before she flies to Germany to be reunited with her husband Jason, who just finished a tour of duty in Iraq. We won't be back until Monday morning, after which I'll have to high tail it to the office and then do a final walk-through of the house to review the paint job. But rest assured, the goodies will be distributed soon.

My own private money pit

It's NOT really a money pit, of course. The house was built in 1996 and passed our inspection with almost flying colors. Also, the changes we're making are primarily aesthetic; it's not like they have to be done today or tomorrow or even next month. But hot damn, Luke and I haven't even owned the place a full week and already it feels like we're in over our heads.

But first things first.

In my last entry, somebody asked for details on the closing. Closing...was very boring. Basically it was an hour and a half of signing papers and passing Kara between Luke and me and our realtor. Which is pretty much the way you hope those things will go. No surprises, no bad feelings, just hammering the final nail on the home ownership coffin, so to speak. Our sellers bought another house in the same town, and they said they had a horrible experience with the owners, so horrible, in fact, that the parties were placed in separate rooms at the closing. Yikes.

Anyway, by 4:30 p.m., the keys were in our hands. We forgot the camera, so there are no symbolic photos of us removing the "For Sale" sign from the front yard, but we did walk through the house again and talk out ideas for potential improvements. Good thing part of our negotiations involved the sellers paying for a professional cleaning service to give the house a once-over, because apparently four dogs leave behind one nasty smell. Also, more animal hair than I've ever seen at one time. It's STILL not up to par, but it's better than nothing, and it didn't cost us a dime.

Our first weekend in the house didn't go as smoothly as we would have liked. My parents-in-law came from up north to help, and Luke and his dad performed some crucial wall repair while his mom and I hung out with Kara. (I'm suddenly not so crazy about my pregnant self breathing in paint fumes for hours at a time, so I won't be much help in that area.) They had a slow start, what with the master bedroom ceiling eating up a gallon and a half of paint and a bunch of time besides. Then, when Luke went back on Sunday to start on the second-floor hallway, he found that the color we picked is considerably lighter than what's already covering the walls, so we'll have to prime the whole thing, something we didn't plan for.

With limited childcare options, a house forty minutes away from our current residence, floors too dirty (read: HAIRY) for us to want Kara horsing around there much before move-in, and no paid time off for me to spend on this project (we're saving my last eight days for the actual move, Christmas, and Kara's birthday), we're looking into hiring professional painters to tackle the more time-consuming aspects of the house like the hallway and staircase, and maybe even those blasted green cabinets. Tile and carpet installation begin in two weeks, and my employer pays me well, so if spending a little more money is what we have to do to swing a completely painted house before move-in without sacrificing our new floors or our sanity, the choice is a simple one, for us.

Kara approves our choice of carpet, which we decided to install in the living room as well. The sellers scratched up the laminate flooring something fierce when they moved out, and while they left behind plenty of spare planks to deal with the aftermath, I'm not such a fan of it anymore, especially with very small children who are learning to stand on their own two feet. Plus, I just think carpet is cozier.

Thanks for protecting my accident-prone forehead, guys. Much love to you.

As nerve-wracking as it is, though, to determine which tasks would benefit from professional help (tee hee) and which ones we can handle on our own, it's wonderful that these decisions are within our control, and we don't have to go through a landlord to ask about painting or adding a phone jack in the loft. This house is ours. The choices are ours. Apartment living served us well, and we don't regret our time as renters, but this new chapter in our lives? It's pretty effing cool.

Closing time

So. Today is closing day! The day Luke and I officially become homeowners for the first time in our lives. Final walk-through is at 2:30 p.m., closing is at 3:00, and of course we're still waiting to get final numbers from the bank for our cashier's check because why should we expect things to run smoothly?

I came into work this morning with a huge rock in my stomach (aside from Baby Brother), and as excited as we are to begin this new chapter of adulthood, Luke and I couldn't be more nervous. And because everything's happening so late in the afternoon, I'm not sure how we're going to celebrate. Maybe remove the "For Sale" sign in the front yard. Possibly go out to dinner because there's dried Rice-A-Roni on the stove from last night and Kara will need to eat shortly after we close and our apartment is a good forty minutes from our new pad. Continue to hash out paint colors and a schedule of what we can reasonably expect to accomplish before our October 28th move-in day. Originally the plan was to spend three weekends painting the entire house and the last weekend moving in, but my nephew Danny's baptism is now set for on October 26 and by the way, Ryan is moving to Germany to reunite with her army husband the weekend before that, and there's no way I'm missing out on my last chance to see her before spring. This leaves us only two working weekends left, so the NEW objective is to simply finish the second floor before the new carpet and bathroom tiles are installed later in the month.

Not that any of this makes me the slightest bit uneasy. Or crabby. Or hungry for a big bowl of spinach dip and a day in my pajamas.

It's overwhelming, how much there is to do before vacating our apartment; so overwhelming, in fact, that all I can do is think about October in small, manageable chunks. Call the flooring company. Price-check options for Internet, phone, and cable. (Yes, after more than three years of doing without, the Frema-Useless Clutter household just might hop on the cable bandwagon again.) (Also, I'm thinking not so much with the Comcast.) Buy primer and paint. Figure out when to paint. Figure out what to do with Kara. I would totally put her to work if she could walk more than five steps at a time. Also, if she could be trusted to keep her gums off the paintbrush.

(Actually, we do have some plans for Kara. A friend of mine from work who I knew from my Saint Joe days is going to come to the house and keep her company next Saturday so Luke and I can tackle the upstairs at the same time. Marissa heard about our baby-sitterless plight and actually volunteered to baby-sit. Hopefully this will be the beginning of a beautiful, paid friendship.)

In more uplifting news, did I tell you how much fun Kara is these days? Oh, wait, I guess I did. But I want to document it here, too, that my baby toddles and eats yogurt and "reads" her board books the right way and still has to play with my hair when I rock her to sleep. Luke and I are constantly looking at pictures from her newborn days and marveling over how much personality she's developed since then, how active she is, and how she loves us through each fumble. I would never categorize myself as patient, and I'm embarrassed to admit how damn frustrating parenthood is sometimes, but despite my shortcomings, Kara still scrambles to my arms when I come home each day. The biggest fear I had about being a working mom--that she wouldn't want me as much--has now reversed into my biggest obstacle, at least when trying to tackle my daily to-dos. She can't get enough of me. But I wouldn't want it any other way.

It's amazing to think that soon, there will be TWO little wonderfuls vying for my attention.

This was taken last Wednesday morning to document me at 20 weeks. Tomorrow I will be 21 weeks. Where is the time going?

Kara doesn't know, either.

It's mind-boggling, how much I love her.

Let's Hear It For The Boy

Well, THERE went two weeks of personal blogging I'll never get back.

The mini-hiatus was unintentional, but life, it has been busy. Between welcoming sweet baby girls, working out insurance and inspection details for our September 30 closing, and keeping up with projects at work, I'm lucky I've managed to update my Parents blog. But, you know, they pay me, so it wasn't that hard of a decision to make.

Speaking of Parents, if you're a follower, you learned on Friday that a penis was discovered in my uterus.

Thanks to the cheesecake I had at lunch, Baby Brother was much more cooperative during his ultrasound than Kara was for hers, so we saw the goods twice. Also, his very adorable profile.

Oh, and we might've purchased a few little boy things. Maybe. Just a few.

I so thought this baby was going to be a girl (thanks for nothing, stupid old wives' tales), but disappointed would be the last word I'd use to describe what it felt like to learn about my son. Luke and I couldn't be more excited.

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I really appreciated all of your comments regarding our new house and our plight with the kitchen cabinets. Despite the amount of work we know it's going to take, Luke and I have decided to bite the bullet and repaint them a soft, creamy color. Paired with a khaki/tan shade on the walls, that should be enough to even things out and keep the first-floor rooms from clashing with each other, no matter what colors we end up using. I was quite impressed with Dr. Maureen's paint job, and after seeing her "before" pictures, I better understand why in certain cases, painting over the wood actually makes more sense than keeping the cabinets in their current condition. I have no idea what shape my cabinets were in before they were subjected to all that green, but after visiting the Valspar Web site to review paint swatches, I think I know where the sellers got their inspiration.

Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

The kicker? I actually DON'T MIND the color scheme in this room. But when you swap out the laminate flooring for a blah white tile and eliminate more than half the square footage, including the kick-ass island, what could have been a warm and inviting look becomes cramped and mismatched in a less impressive space. Oh, well. Live and learn.

The time between now and when we actually move in October is already making me nervous, wondering if we can paint every room and every damn cabinet prior to the second floor's carpet and tile job, prioritizing the items we want to add/upgrade in our home, counting every penny and trying to maximize it best we can. It's overwhelming now, but I trust that once we have the keys in hand, everything will suddenly appear much more managable. In the meantime, let's all ooh and ahh over Kara, who turned nine months old today and currently steals our hearts with her open-mouthed kisses, determination to walk, and ability to babble Mama and Dada at just the right time.

The apple of our eye indeed!

Much cuter than the professional shots she took at Target last month. We'll be redoing them this weekend at Portrait Innovations.

Today it's orchards, tomorrow undergraduate education. Sob.

Cribs, Frema-style

OK, first off, you all will be happy to know that tonight, Randy--yes, that Randy--left a comment on my last entry about the Cringe launch. According to my stat counter, which is how I confirmed it was really him and not someone playing a cruel, cruel joke, he found my blog after typing his full name into Google, which in turn led him to this set of diary entries. Don't worry, I've already reassured Luke that our marriage is strong and will likely outlive the newness of this shocking development, though pretty soon I might have to start stuffing dollars in the Randy jar, so happy am I that my old crush and friend is finally in the know about his kind-of published status.

(You caught the Friends reference, yes? Monica's obsessive talk about Richard? Chandler no likey? Monica coughing up dough for each Richard reference?)

(And the pun, it has officially been killed.)

Second, house talk! You've been waiting for it, I know. Our inspection was last Thursday, and Luke stayed home with Kara while I poked and prodded every nook and cranny of our future residence for two hours. It was the first time I'd been in the house since our showing, so it was comforting to see the place again and confirm we made the right decision. We so, so did.

And I have the pictures to prove it. Walk with me, won't you?

Here's the exterior. Originally Luke and I wanted to stay away from houses like this because there's no presentation to speak of, but after four months of fruitless searching, we suddenly became more open-minded. The trim needs paint, and the siding will eventually be replaced in a color that isn't yellow, but it's not hurting us for now.

Welcome to our living room. The laminate floors are new, and the space is more than our current living room and dining room combined. AND THEN SOME. Plus, lots of windows for plenty of natural light.

When I saw this corner, the first thing that came to mind was, "Playroom." Not that we'll turn it into an actual room, mind you, but this is the perfect place to carve out a books and toys area for Kara and Number Two. Since the house is a two-story, the last thing Luke needs is to spend his days trampling on the staircase to retrieve additional options for early childhood entertainment.

The dining room, which leads to the back yard. The chandelier is tacky ("tacky" being a theme that runs through the entire house, as you'll soon see), but the space is perfect.

First shot of the back yard. When I first saw it, I nearly wet myself because the lot was by far the biggest of all the many, many, MANY houses Luke and I have seen since May. The current owners have four dogs, which explains the poor condition of the lawn, but grass, it grows. I can totally imagine running around with the kids here, playing tag, wading in the kiddie pool, throwing a ball around, or simply enjoying hot dogs on the grill. This was one of the biggest selling points for me.

Second half of the yard.

Now, let's check out the upstairs.

(The upstairs! I grew up in a three-bedroom apartment building in Chicago with my parents, four siblings, and a dog. We owned the building, but space was tight, and lil' Frema dreamed of the day she would live in a house. She never imagined the possibility of a second floor.)

(Also, poor lil' Frema, missing out on all this cool stuff. Printing the Randy poem, buying a house. My adult self weeps for her.)

You're looking at the house's second big selling point (for us): the loft. At our price range and in our current market, Luke and I could be picky enough to narrow our search to at least three bedrooms, but a fourth for office space just wasn't feasible. Situated at the top of the staircase, this loft can hold a generously sized desk, filing cabinet, the works. This enables us to keep all things computer related out of our living room and our bedroom and award each child a bedroom of his/her very own, also a luxury lil' Frema would have died for. If we ever have a third, the gender-sharers can bunk up. The first one to complain gets demoted to the sleeper sofa.

Second view of the loft.

The first half of our bedroom. Notice I said half because this room is GINORMOUS. The fire-engine red paint has got to go, and it will, but I prefer to focus on the large window

and walk-in closet

and this whole other section I have no idea how to deal with yet. Library? Tea room? The possibilities are endless.

But I love that it's there.

The master bath. Which has its own closet. I am in love.

Not with the carpet, though. The current owners are the original builders, so why they approved carpeting to be installed in a room that is so NOT appropriate for carpet is beyond me, but it's an oversight that will soon be rectified, as Luke and I are having the entire upstairs re-carpeted and two bathrooms re-tiled. Or in this specific instance, tiled. We subtracted the cost from our offer specifically for that purpose. The carpet and tile have been chosen, and the deposit was made last night. I know it'll make a huge difference in getting the place to feel like home.

Also, in removing signs of life with FOUR DOGS. Blech.

Bedroom number one. It's smaller than the second bedroom, but it's closest to the master so I'm calling it number one.

Luke and I made offers on three houses earlier this summer, all of which fell through (thank God), and house number three also had non-master bedrooms that weren't identical in size, and it bugged the crap out of me. Here, it doesn't bother me at all, just because the house is so spacious that the chances of us tripping all over each other are slim, and also, again with the sleeper sofa if I hear so much as a peep about how Big Sister has the bigger room. She's the oldest. Them's the breaks.

The second full bathroom, which one day will receive more TLC by way of new cabinetry and mirror fixture but for now will have to settle for new paint and tile. Apparently, the sellers' daughter felt comfortable enough with me to leave remnants of her primping routine scattered across the sink.

Also apparently, she thought bathroom shelving was better used for storing beanie babies than her hair spray collection.

Second bedroom, first time you bear witness to the sellers' love for stars. But it won't be the last!

And as if the yard, master bedroom, and loft weren't enough to seal the deal, God planted a sign that this house was meant to be ours.

It's almost as if Harry Potter himself wanted us to live here. And really, who are we to say no?

There are two rooms left to show you. Two rooms I specifically saved for last because they almost--ALMOST--caused me to walk away. Which would have been crazy after all you've just seen. But that just shows you the extent of the tacky.

The kitchen in all its pea-green-cabinetry glory. With orange walls. Hold me.

The kicker? Is that the woman painted the cabinets JUST FOR THE PURPOSE OF SELLING THE HOUSE. Against her agent's advice. Because she wanted to list this room as "updated." Excuse me while I bang my head against her handiwork.

In all seriousness, this isn't the first house we've seen with painted kitchen cabinets; consequently, this isn't the first time I've looked down on a couple for painting their kitchen cabinets. We're not quite sure what to do with them. Stripping and staining would be quite the job, re-painting them is even less appealing, and replacing them altogether isn't in the cards, budget-wise. I figured we'd just leave them alone until next year and redo them with bonus money, but then I started thinking about color choices for the living room and how limiting the cabinet color is to our first-floor decor. Luke thinks I'm insane--"They're separate rooms!"--but there's no way I could move forward on a blue color scheme for the living room when those horrid green atrocities are visible from my ass print on the couch. If you have suggestions, bring them on.

The blow is only slightly lessened by the nice-sized pantry next to the fridge and adjacent half-bath, but we'll live. Even though that bathroom's tainted, too.

Because of course all the cabinets have to match! Sob.

Also, more stars!

So, that's our house. Luke and I worked damn hard to be able to afford a house on one income and take on a mortgage that won't keep us up at night, and never in a million years did I expect to find anything more than a suitable starter home to outgrow after five years. This place fell from the sky, and to label it a "starter" when there's so much room to play around with would be sinful. The negotiations were relatively painless, and a week later we had a signed purchase agreement and a September 30th closing date. Our apartment lease ends on Halloween, so the plan is to paint for two weeks, re-carpet and tile the third week, and move in the last weekend of October. Hooray for not having to make a mortgage payment until November.

And now, time for bed, seeing as tomorrow I'll be at the hospital with Molly welcoming baby Marin into the world! Be sure to check her blog for updates.

Take me out to the ball game (and house hunting, too)

Luke and I are experiencing a series of busy weekends; two weeks ago it was visiting friends in Kentucky; tomorrow we will leave for a four-day stint up north to hang out with family and specifically to see my brother-in-law, Jason, my sister Ryan's husband, who's home from Iraq until the beginning of August. And this past Sunday, we took Kara on her first big trip downtown. It involved a company-sponsored picnic at a minor league baseball game, walk down the canal, and parking at a nearby museum because it was too damn hot to let the car seat bake in the sun.

Things are OK here. After a month-long hiatus, Luke and I began house hunting again; we viewed a couple of properties on the south side of Indy boasting more homes in our price range and a respectable commute to my work. The first house was adorable but the living room was too small, and the second? Well, all I can say is sellers, STAGE YOUR HOMES. Don't leave bags of unopened Cheetos on the kitchen counter. Don't leave a collection of your husband's boxers on the master bed for all to see. Get rid of the '70s paint on the walls, and patch up the cracks. You can even get crazy and vaccuum your cat hair! Our realtor saw potential, but all we saw was BLECH. Also, filth. Also also, a crappy back yard, but the BLECH and filth weren't helping matters any.

Speaking of the home-buying process, somebody recently e-mailed me to request more information about our experience grabbing a piece of the American Dream. (Hi, Ingrid!) Seeing as we don't have a house yet, I don't know how helpful I can be, but I'm happy to share the steps we've taken thus far.

For years, various loved ones have tried to convince Luke and me to buy a house, but we had valid reasons for taking our time--the biggest one being our uncertainty regarding how long we would stay in Indianapolis. I accepted my current job in the spring of 2005, and by the time Luke moved in that September, I decided our stay would be short term. We spent almost every weekend traveling north to visit family, we had a hard time making friends, and Luke had an even harder time finding a job. Planting roots just didn't make sense. I paid special attention to the home-buying chapter in Suze Orman's Money Book for the Young, Fabulous, and Broke but didn't plan to act on it until we moved closer to home. In fact, right before we learned I was pregnant with Kara, we had agreed to begin what we assumed would be a long and ardurous job search in the Chicagoland area because we wanted to expand our family but we didn't want to do that without having our nearest and dearest close by.

Whoopsie.

Those two pink lines put a temporary damper on moving--I wasn't keen on switching to a new insurance plan or ob/gyn practice, especially since I loved my doctors so much--so the new plan was to resume searching after I gave birth. I wasn't happy at work, anyway, and it felt like the right time for a fresh start.

But this spring, everything changed again. I returned to work and found a completely different atmosphere from the one I left, one that was better in every way possible. I adore my new supervisor as well as the financial incentives that take the form of cash bonuses every three months. And now that we are a one-income family, those incentives are more important than ever. Plus, it didn't take long to see that my earning power was much stronger here than it would be in near Chicago. There's no way we could afford our current standard of living and take on a house and still keep Luke home with our kids--something that means a lot to both of us right now. The conclusion was a no-brainer: we had to stay here.

I'm glad we've stayed in apartments for as long as we did. I'm glad we were able to get through such a tumultuous time in our lives without stressing over costly home repairs or decreased property value or whether or not we bought into a good school district. It was absolutely the right move for us, and we have no regrets.

But suddenly, the new right move meant buying a house.

Thanks to a hefty year-end bonus (how awesome is my job, I tell you? Pretty freakin' awesome), we already had enough money for a small down payment stashed in our savings account. We met with a local housing organization to see if we qualified for any special loan programs (not so much, thank you, bonuses) (I'm just kidding, bonuses, please don't leave me), and then met with a mortgage lender at our bank to talk about how much house we were willing to buy. We got the name of a realtor from one of my co-workers, interviewed her over coffee at Panera, and then we were on our way. I thought we would have something in no time and close by the end of July, just in time to wrap up our apartment lease.

Again with the not so much.

It's not that we haven't seen a ton of houses that could possibly meet our needs. Hell, we even bid on a few, but the offers never worked out, and again, I have no regrets, because looking back, we were in much too much of a hurry and made compromises we probably shouldn't have made. The first house was great, but the living room had a funky "cut-out" in the wall that I realize I hate now. The second house had a dimly lit kitchen without access to much natural light. The third met our three-bedroom requirement, but one of the kids' bedrooms would have been much smaller than the other, and while I loved the other features, I never got over that one. I think I breathed a sigh of relief when that deal fell through.

We looked some more after that, but at that point we were seeing at least three houses almost every day in an area I wasn't crazy about, and they weren't working out, either, and soon we had to admit that for now, enough was enough. Even though our interest rate was fluctuating, even though we didn't want to renew our lease, even though we just wanted to be done with this process already. We made sure Pam knew we still wanted to work with her and stayed away from all things real estate for almost a month and a half. We increased our down payment. We opened our minds to other areas, based on recommendations from friends. We signed our lease for another three months, buying us a little more time. And we agreed to trust our gut; it's OK to walk away from something simply because it doesn't feel right.

We also decided to stick with our original mortgage number, which is probably the main reason this search has taken so long.

If the only change in our finances was an increase in the rent category, it would be easy to commit to a higher monthly payment, especially when an extra twenty bucks can buy a more sophisticated home, and especially when work is going so well (I really should write an ode to quarterly bonuses). But when we consider the effect this move will have on our heating, air, and water bills, not to mention the costs associated with actually maintaining a home, it's not something we can do and still be able to sleep at night.

So, that's where we are. I think the biggest lesson we've learned is not to settle. Buying a house is a huge investment that will affect us for years to come; our world will not collapse if we have to keep resigning our lease until we find the one that's right for us.

I have also learned that as of Sunday, I'm now The Type of Person Who Owns Tacky Resident Memorabilia:

In my defense, I needed a few more shirts for this physically awkward "too big for regular clothes but too small for most maternity wear" phase. But I probably won't wear this to Friday's cut and color in Chicago.

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Over at Parents, I've been talking about family cars and soap opera names. Does life get any better than that? I think not.

A six-month-old's lament

Dear Internet,

Why is my mom all about the disappearing acts lately? This hiatus was even lamer than the last one. I didn't even get a chance to post! What's up with that?

Grrr,
Kara

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Dear Kara,

When you type negative comments about your mother using her very own blog, remember she can read them. Also, that she has the power to take that pacifier away faster than you can crawl after her.

Love,
Momma

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Well, if my non-literate baby daughter took the time to ask such deep and meaningful questions, the least I can do is answer them. Maybe you're interested, too!

But really, it's quite boring. I never intended this place to collect dust for as long as it did. Every few days I'd intend to post, but first-trimester yuck caught up to me, to the point that once Kara was down for the night, I was down for the night. I could pull myself together long enough to post on Parents, but not for anything that didn't absolutely require some level of attention. Plus, I'm still feeling hella overwhelmed about this baby (as evidenced by my recent Parents freak-out), and I wasn't sure what to say about it here. I go back and forth between feeling completely off my game about having two kids so close together and completely guilty that I'm not one-hundred-percent over-the-moon about our new addition, which I know is a gift from God, a gift I will love just as much as Kara. But right now the big picture is hazy, as the every day is spent battling UTIs, trying to find an appetite (yet simultaneously wondering why I've only lost a pound), sleeping whenever I get the chance, and bemoaning my overall lack of energy. I don't want to complain all the time. I don't want people to think I'm asking for sympathy. But I can't pretend I'm over this hump yet, physically or emotionally.

It helps that Luke and I have put off house-hunting for a bit. Our whirlwind touring process ended with us making offers on three houses in two weeks, none of which worked out. In all three cases the counter was too high, and the sellers weren't willing to come down any more, and we couldn't afford to go up more than a couple of thousand. The first house we bid on was actually a pipe dream -- it had only been on the market one day, so we knew they wouldn't be desperate enough to go down as much as we wanted, but it never hurts to try -- but the last two offers were acknowledged to be quite reasonable by the seller's agents. It sounds like in each case, the sellers owed more than the houses were worth and couldn't accept much less than their original purchase price. Which, OK, but then why is your house on the market? Why not wait until the economy improves and get more bang for your buck? Whatever. Luke and I are taking the next couple of months to save up a larger down payment (thank you, July bonus) and clear our heads so we don't settle on something that won't work in the long run. I really hope all three of those houses are still on the market when we get back on track. Maybe they'll like our offers then, bastards.

(Not that I'm bitter or anything.)

Things around here are OK. Kara officially turned six months old a couple of weeks ago and weighs in at a whopping 21 pounds and 11 ounces and measures 28 3/4 inches long. She's crawling, pulling up on furniture, kind of submitting to a somewhat regular nap schedule, and laughing. The laughing is the best -- full-on, belly laughs that I didn't think were possible for babies, but they are. And on Saturday night, we caught it on video.

I look terrible, and my voice is super annoying, but surely you can get past all that to appreciate my beautiful baby girl. We couldn't be more delighted with her.

FYI, we haven't been able to get a reaction like that from her since, even with the magic word "Oopsie," so let's just thank our lucky stars we captured it when we did.

(It's totally inappropriate for me to watch this clip and wish I'd pointed at my belly during one of the "Oopsies," right? Probably yes?)

Also, in case you were wondering, the newest Frema-Useless Clutter embryo (who from here on out shall be known as Number Two) isn't doing so bad, either.

There's not much to see right now, but the first picture includes a tiny yet helpful arrow to indicate Number Two's current residence. This ultrasound was taken when I was exactly six weeks along and suggests a due date of February 11, 2009. If I have another c-section (which my doctor suggests), I'd go a week earlier, putting my children just shy of 14 months apart. Tomorrow I will be eight weeks. This early part of pregnancy is going exactly like I remembered -- loooong, and also BLECH -- and I'm already waiting in earnest for that second-trimester burst of energy that didn't come until around week 18 with Kara. Hopefully, Number Two will be more considerate, but probably not. I bet Kara posted crib notes on the wall of my uterus, instructing future siblings on proper prenatal behavior, just to spite me.

For those of you who haven't stopped checking this blog for signs of life, I will do my best not to flake out again, but see above regarding BLECH. Thanks for hanging in there.

For what it's worth...

I told myself it didn't matter, not having a positive pregnancy test. A blood prick from the doctor's office is way more telling than a first morning's urine, and the last thing I need to do is waste three-fifty on something that offers redundant information. But tonight I asked Luke to pick up a Target-brand HPT, anyway, frugality be damned, because I am a girl and biologically programmed to pee on sticks. I need proof. I need the two pink lines. Or in this case, a big blue plus sign.

Mission accomplished.

It's about damn time.

Congratulations, pregnant self! Call me crazy, but it's much more real now.

Things have been crazy-busy around here. Last Wednesday, Luke and I lost two hours of married life talking numbers with our mortgage lender and visited seven homes in four hours on Sunday. Today we saw three more plus the most promising one from the weekend, and tomorrow we will make an offer.

House hunting has proven to be one of the most interesting experiences of my life, and the most exhausting, especially when you're schlepping around a six-month-old who will only tolerate so much car seat before her screams permeate a twenty-foot radius. One house had a whole room shocasing African safari decor complete with elephant wallpaper border and an unfortunately persistent smell of cat. We also attempted to see two bank-owned homes listed at to-die-for prices, until we actually entered the homes and realized that's probably what happened. Somebody must have died. What else could explain the torn carpet, scribbled-on walls, damaged fences, and bugs seeping through the woodwork? If Luke and I could afford a more mature down payment and about ten thousand dollars worth of up-front maintenance costs, these bad boys would be a steal. But we have babies (babies! MY GOD), who would prefer to eat more than once a day, and I am not a fan of having to purge questionable living creatures from my happy place.

The house we are going with, our first choice, is adorable. Three bedrooms, two baths, roomy, fenced-in backyard, two-car insulated garage, brand-new carpet, appliances included, and closet space galore, all in a neighorhood with one of the best school systems in the Indianapolis area. Originally we were hoping to score four bedrooms, or at least three beds and an office space, but alas, we are first-time home-buyers living on one salary, so some of those wants will have to wait until next time. First Choice will definitely meet our needs as a soon-to-be four-person family for years to come, and today on our second walk-through, I got lost thinking about raising our children there--rocking them to sleep, setting up a Christmas tree, playing tag in the yard while Luke throws hot dogs on the grill--and now I am quietly freaking out because I am too emotionally invested in this transaction. We have a price cap that we will not (cannot) negotiate, and there are two other houses to act on should this deal fall through, so I'm not worried about losing my head, but if for some reason things didn't work out, I just might pull a Sally Field circa Steel Magnolias ("I wanna know whyyyyyyyy") and consume an entire pint of Chunky Monkey in one sitting. Which may or may not be appreciated by my embryo.   

Kara is fabulous. She's been sitting on her own for months now, but yesterday was the first time she actually pulled herself into a sitting position. That made me cry, too, as did thinking about how huge I'm going to be in a few months and I won't be able to hold her on my chest like I do now and wah wah wah more ice cream please.

It's getting harder and harder to keep my lips zipped about baby number two at work. I've already told my VP, my direct supervisor, two of my work buddies, and our sales and marketing analyst. If I can make it to my June 18th ob/gyn appointment and ultrasound without tipping off the CEO, it will be a bloody miracle. And seeing as life lately is already one big miracle, I doubt I'm due for another.

More options than an Old Country Buffet

While I was busy debating how to address my high school reunion, surprisingly, life carried on. Here's just a sampling of what's been occupying my time:

Great Aunt Flo Watch of 2008
Geez, you might be thinking, is she really still talking about this? Hell, yes, I'm still talking about this, today is day 55 of my cycle and still not a word from that bitch Aunt Flo. I took another test when I came home from work this afternoon because my stomach felt jittery before lunch, but alas, still negative, my fourth one since Mother's Day weekend. It's not so much that I'm freaked out about maybe having children THIRTEEN MONTHS APART, HOLY CRAP, but more like dying of curiosity; however, even that attitude isn't doing me any good, so I've decided to just sit tight until I'm presented with either two pink lines or a bloodbath in my underwear. I've been cramping on and off for days, and my gut feeling is that I'm not pregnant, but my gut also told me I would deliver Kara before her due date, possibly without drugs, and we all know how that went down.

While waiting for the latest test to register, Luke jokingly asked if there was a way to jumpstart my period. "If you can speed up labor, why not this?" he said.

Indeed.

Weight Watchers
Today marks week three of Weight Watchers 2.0, and things are going...okay. I've not been as dedicated as I was the first time around, so there were several incidents involving pancakes, bacon, and chicken strips, but I've lost 4.2 pounds to date--almost two pounds since last week--and that's not a bad thing. I've really enjoyed the ability to track my eating habits and calculate Points values online; it was through the Web site that I learned one point plus one point doesn't necessarily equal two. As in, three of the Weight Watchers one-point chocolate chip cookies are five points, not three, and I'm not sure why that is, exactly, but being off by a couple of points each day definitely makes a difference on the scale. I just discovered this gem a few days ago, and my newfound knowledge is bound to make a positive impact on next week's weigh-in.

I will say that I participated in a free health risk assessment at work the other day, and baby weight aside, I'm much healthier than I originally thought. In 2005 I was diagnosed with high cholesterol, and my efforts to bring it down were half-hearted at best. I was pregnant for most of 2007, and pregnancy raises cholesterol, so it wasn't until now that I was in a position to retest. I'm happy to report that all of my levels are in the optimal or near-optimal range, and I can breathe a little easier knowing I've reduced my risk for heart disease. It was in taking that test that I realized I'm doing Weight Watchers for more than just the weight loss. I've had an effed-up mentality regarding food for years, and I want to put my best foot forward and engage in a healthier lifestyle. I want Kara to look at me and see a strong role model for making good choices about food and exercise, and I want her to think that it's easy. I don't want her to use food to get attention, like I did when I made myself throw up for three weeks in junior high. I don't want her to obsess over supposed imperfections or compare herself to peers with drastically different body types or run to food whenever she needs comfort. But if I want that for her, I have to want it for me, too. And I do.

But hot damn, do I miss my spinach dip.

It's not all bad, though. I've been doing a little more in the kitchen, and on Tuesday night I used my Take Five! cookbook, a collection of Weight Watchers recipes with only five main ingredients, to make Pita Pizzas for five points a piece. And they were delicious. Isabel, you bonafide pizza lover you, they will not disappoint. I promise.

House
After months of hemming and hawing and pouring over Excel spreadsheets to make sure we are really in a financial position to do this, Luke and I took our first major step in becoming homeowners and mailed off an application to the Indianapolis Neighborhood Housing Partnership, a non-profit that helps first-time owners secure their first house. Now, Luke and I both have excellent credit (quick shout-out to myfico.com, where we purchased our credit reports and Fico scores from all three bureaus for forty-five bucks a piece), so we don't need to go through an agency to make this happen, but the INHP has relationships with banks throughout the city that will offer loans without requiring a down payment OR private mortgage insurance to qualified buyers. Plus, I took a (free!) intro-to-home-buying class last spring that they sponsored at a local university, and it was very infomative. It certainly couldn't hurt to see what they can offer us.

Our lease on this apartment is up at the end of July, but we'll definitely need more time then that to get our act together, so the plan is to switch to a month-to-month lease and close on a property sometime in September. We won't start looking until we've been pre-approved by a lender, which should allow us to move forward relatively quickly once we've found the house of our dreams. Luke and I are beyond excited about being able to do this and STILL have someone home with Kara. I know how lucky we are and I thank God every night for it.

My Gorgeous Baby
Kara turned five months old on Saturday, and she is taking the world by storm: scooting backwards, becoming more vocal, and as of Sunday, experimenting with rice cereal. She won't entertain more than a few spoonfuls before she's pushing away the spoon, but she's extremely interested in everything on our plates, so this is a good place to start.

Plus, she looks absolutely adorable in her high chair.

She continues to hold herself up really well and can sit unsupported for about ten minutes before toppling over like a house of cards.

She's also still snacking on her fingers and toes with passionate abandon.

So, to sum up, things are going really well right now, even if I feel a little like I'm burning the candle at both ends. Work is extremely busy, and I'm helping with a baby shower for my sister Samantha in June, which means invites needed to go out like, yesterday, and writing for Parents always keeps me on my toes. (Not sure why me wanting to clean my daughter's toes from a strange dog's germs is basis for telling me to relax, as if I couldn't wait to dip her foot in bleach or something, or why not wanting my five-month-old baby to be approached by a dog I don't know means I'm afraid of all dogs all the time, but whatever.) Sure, there are times I'm afraid of passing out behind the wheel, but really, what's a good night's sleep, anyway?

I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.