Update on life in general

Well, Sam turned one.

Sam ate cake.

Sam threw up cake. And sweet potatoes. And yogurt.

Mama should know better than to give a little boy a big cupcake after a big dinner.

Mama carved that information into her ever-forgetful brain while cleaning up said puke off of the ONLY shred of carpet in the downstairs of her house.

Sam had a party.

He drank a lot of juice.

He refused another cupcake (smart kid!) and opted for a nap instead.

Sam got way too many presents.

Sam is currently only interested in playing with an empty Diet Coke bottle.

I took the dogs to the vet on post earlier this week to get chipped. I thought it was a simple drop-off-pick-up-later situation. Oh how wrong I can be sometimes... What ensued was a nightmarish morning involving the receptionist asking me to fill out loads of paperwork (with what? My THIRD ARM?) while I held two maniac dogs and a squirmy baby. Odie continually slipped out of her collar, running around the entire office like a crazy banshee while Marci yodel-yelped along in encouragement. Sam was on a continuous freak-out cycle since it was something like a bajillion degrees in there. (Seriously? I'm ecstatic about fall's arrival as well. But this does not mean that we should all immediately crank our heaters up to 85. That defeats the purpose of being able to wear cute sweaters and jackets. K?) Then the non-people-person vet asked me if I had a carseat or a stroller for Sam. When I said no, she said, "You don't have a CARSEAT?" in a voice that implied that I drove here with Sam on my lap, or strapped to the roof. I tried to explain (through the child screaming and dog yelping) that it is not an INFANT carseat that I can just pull out whenever the urge strikes me. It stays in the car. Don't question me, you blatantly obvious childless woman! Just give my damn dogs the shots!
As she gets ready to do the shots, she tells me that maybe I should just reschedule. Because I am responsible for holding the dogs during the shots and chipping procedure. I just looked at her like she was an alien. I mean, REALLY? You don't have one single person in this office that qualifies as an assistant that can hold my dogs still during this? You want ME to hold my screaming-at-the-top-of-his-lungs child, a squirmy dog, AND a dog being given a potentially very painful shot? HAHAHAHAHAHA.
I guess she caught my drift because she got someone to come in and hold the dogs for me. For the record, they didn't really move at all. I think Odie enjoyed the attention. Then the clueless vet asked me to fill out MORE paperwork. Only this paperwork was SAT-style format, where you can only put one letter in each square. And of course, it asked for my name, address, phone number, email, alternate contact, blah, blah, blah. I asked if I could fill it out later (perhaps when there isn't so much CHAOS happening around me?), but when I suggested that I fill it out at home and send it in to the microchip place myself, she gave me a haughty "Ugh. NO." So. I continued to chicken-scratch out my info onto TWO separate SAT sheets of paper and handed them to her. If that had been ME, I think I would have opted to rid myself of the stressed-out mother, two nervous dogs, and wildly screaming, overheating baby and maybe filled the info in myself since, Hey! I have all of her information right here in front of me on these 50,000 forms she filled out earlier! Get outta here lady! But no. She is clearly more in tune with the animal kingdom than she is with real-life. After I finally filled everything out, she proceeded to give me intricate details about the recovery, billing, yadda yadda, I wanted to punch her in the face for wasting my time like this! I don't care! Trust me lady- I'm not going to give these dogs a bath in the next week, or rub their injection sites profusely, or brush their fur where they got their shots! I AM NOT AN IDIOT (no matter how much I might be giving off that vibe by bringing a wild child and two dogs by myself to your stupid clinic). Then the receptionist wanted to give me a detailed breakdown of what they were charging me for. At that point, with the door in sight, and Sam still shrieking, I would have paid a thousand dollars. Just get me the hell out of here.
Then the vet rushed out and told me to bring them BACK in 30 days so they could scan their chips and make sure that everything worked alright. HAHAHAHAHA And she thought I was out of my mind. No, vet lady, I trust that you did everything just fine. I will probably not show up here ever again, unless perhaps, one of my dogs randomly bursts into flames and all the other vet clinics in Clarksville are shut down for some reason. THEN I might come back here. But the flames must be real. And big. And not capable of being put out with my very own fire extinguisher.
Y'all, I was literally sweating through my shirt after that was over. My hair was SOAKING wet and there was a giant wet spot on my shirt where Sam and I were apparently having a fun sweat-exchange with each other. It was 50 degrees outside, and once I put the windows down and started driving home, everyone shut up and calmed down. So maybe the only problem with that whole visit was the sweltering temps? Nah, probably not. But it sure didn't make it any easier.
All the way home, all I could think about was, "What would that visit have been like if I had had TWO babies with me? Would I have thought to call ahead and ask for more details about the appointment? Would a double stroller even fit in that tiny waiting room? Is there such a thing as a four-seater stroller that I could potentially strap the dogs into as well as the kids?"

This pregnancy, while it still hasn't fully sunk in, has the ability to freak me out at times. My attached neighbor just delivered her baby last week. Whenever I hear those wild little newborn shrieks through our shared wall, I get the chills. I silently thank God that it's not me. I'm so thankful to sleep straight through the night (mostly).

I heard the newborn cries the other night while Steve and I were watching a movie, and when they didn't stop, I went over to see if I could help. Not because I think they can't handle it, but because I am aware that teeny tiny babies can push people to their breaking points with those incessant little cries (especially when enough sleep has not been had). Sure enough, my neighbor looked like he was close to that point. His wife is still in the hospital, recovering from complications that happened during her c-section. He was alone with two kids and the newborn. His 5yo daughter was trying to be helpful, but I could see from the baby's perspective that having a pacifier shoved forcefully into your mouth might not be the most comfortable of situations. So I picked the kid up and he fell asleep right in my arms. After he pooped quite a few times. Which, I gotta say, didn't bother me in the least. Those baby poops don't stink! While I was so happy to be helping my neighbor and providing him with a little bit of time to vent and pick up his house, I was never happier to hand a baby back. I loved walking back to my house and hearing the quiet and knowing that I could go to bed right then and sleep straight until 7am. (So this is what it feels like to be a grandmother!) I have offered up my services of holding a screaming baby anytime he feels like it's too much to handle.

I love Sam, and he was a cute cute cute baby, but I can honestly say that I don't miss him being a tiny, helpless newborn. I love the interaction we have now, his ability to hold a sippy cup to his own mouth, his smile when I've done something he finds funny. Lord, HELP ME when Second Baby comes. I can say that I am very thankful that we are given a full nine months to prepare for this extreme life change. But with only 22 weeks to go, I'm already feeling the pressure..