Just get out, already!

Does anyone else like to pressure wash as much as I do? Can anyone else possibly find it as cathartic, even therapeutic, as I do? I have washed the entire front deck, most of the pool deck, the privacy fence around the pool, and am taking orders. Need something washed? I'm your woman. I'm sure the neighbors are ready to kill me, though. (Hi, neighbor! I'll be done soon. Got anything you want washed?)

Anyway, this is supposed to be for Sam (www.temporarilyme.com). She's about six months past due and Karen Surgarpants is kind enough to host a bloggy shower to share late baby stories. What? Trust me, it feels like six months to her. (Hi Sam! Hope you're holding a wee biddy babe by now!)

I don't have much to contribute from the first two. The Dude was my first child. I was eighteen, and I knew everything. Except what labor felt like. Did not know that a backache could be considered labor. Long story short, got to the hospital twenty minutes before he was born. On his due date. Snore.

Now Lucy Apples is a bit more interesting. I had a doctor's appointment the first week of July. They did a sonogram and told me they had the dates wrong, that I wasn't due until the end of August, she was just too small. I alternated between rage and despondency. I was sooooo sick and soooo hot. I simply couldn't last another month. (This was the kind of abnormal "morning" sickness that can kill you and the baby) (And almost did) Because I thought I had another two years months, I thought it was false labor, when, in the third week of July, I felt contractions. Plus, I really wanted to get my hair done and it was almost time for my appointment . Cutting to the end, 6 lbs 3 oz, born in the hallway of the hospital. And yeah, they did still try to charge me for the delivery room, even though I never saw the inside of it.

SweetieDarling was the problem child. An uneventful first two trimesters led to the horror of the third. I'm only 5' tall. This child was giant. There simply wasn't room in there for her. She compressed everything. I couldn't breathe, walk, sleep, eat, or move. The week she was due, I tried it all. Driving down a bumpy road fast, jumping jacks (highly entertaining for anyone watching, I'm sure), and anything else you can possibly think of. Finally, I couldn't take anymore. I called my doctor, at home, at 5 pm on a Saturday night. I made threats I don't care to repeat in polite company. He met me at the hospital at 7 (I was kind enough to let him finish his dinner) and broke my water. One hour later we started pitocin and she was born at two minutes before midnight. She was a toddler. 24" long, 10 lbs, 14oz. See, I told you there wasn't any room!

You can find the story of Piglet's birth here. He was early, no waiting involved.

I hope Sam has an easy labor and birth. She certainly deserves it after waiting this long!

You got served! Or GTFO...

So I'm standing in my kitchen last night, loading my dishwasher, minding my own biddness when guess who pulls up in my driveway? Yeah, the Sheriff. Now, I'm fairly hard to rattle, and I do tend to keep my cool at all times, but I'm pretty sure that a police car in the drive is never good news. Thankfully, Him and SweetieDarling were both home, so I didn't have that fear. (You know, the one where they take off their hat and say "Ma'am, I've got some bad news). Officer Fife spends a good ten hoursminutes shuffling papers and saying important stuff on his radio, while I'm in an agony of suspense. Finally, he comes to the door and, like he doesn't know I'm hovering on the other side (waiting to see if his gun is out) does his official policeman knock. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of the Official knock, it goes a lil somethin like this:

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!!!!!!!!

I answer the door all nonchalant, cause I'm cool like that and he verifies who I am and hands me a....wait for it......five day eviction notice!!!!! FIVE DAYS to get out of the house I've lived in for TEN years. Well, good folks of the internets, lets get one thing clear on the frontside: I'm not late with my mortgage. I haven't violated my agreement with my mortgage company in any way. I know that this is a mistake, a clerical error, the wrong account number transposed, any number of things. I know that, even if this summons is somehow legit, that I can fight it (I do have a bit of a legal background), but even knowing these things, I was more scared than I have been in a looooonnng time. And I don't like to be scared.

Because I got served in the evening, I had all night to worry about this. No one I could call to straighten it out, no one to reassure me that of course it was a mistake, that I wouldn't have to find a place to rent, pack up my house, uproot my children, board the dogs I have left, all in FIVE DAYS. It was one of the longest, scariest, most alone nights I've had for a while.

I had all night to ponder the sweat equity I've put into this house. How I bought it at an auction for $50k and made it worth many times that. How I gutted it down to the bones and rebuilt it the way I wanted it to be. How everything is geared to my height of only 5'. All the cabinets, shelves, anything I need to reach, I can. How the pool is located right up against the east deck, like another room in the house and how I would miss laying under the 80' oak tree in the front yard even though I curse it and wish blight on it when I'm cleaning up leaves and acorns. How the frogs just started singing in the pond last week, and the koi are just now waking, and how piglet's room gets flooded with the morning son and how DARE someone try to take my home. HOW DARE THEY? And then I got mad, good and goddamned pissed off is what I got. Who in the hell has the right to make someone feel vulnerable in their own home? How could someone be so careless as to go through all of the motions of filing an eviction order and not verify that their information is correct? Yes, law is boring and tedious, but it's a very detailed profession. DETAILS, like who you are seeking to evict, are very important.

I spent a night in hell because an under(if at all)paid intern at the law firm picked up the wrong file. I did my time as an intern and I know how easy it is to make a mistake, but I trained my share of interns too, and it was my job to catch their mistakes. Somebody didn't do his job. I know who, and why, and girlfriends, me and him's gonna have us a face to face reeeaal soon. Like Monday. I know what you're thinking, it was a mistake, they happen. Which is true and I admire your live and let live thinking. But a few too many mistakes have happened with this particular attorney for it to be coincidence anymore. He got bested by me a hundred years ago, in another lifetime, and just.can't.let it go. I'll let you know if there are any survivors.

But on a more positive note, I'm really appreciating my house right now. And I'll get that "breathe" tattoo next week.