I just saved a BUNDLE on car insurance.

We stayed in today.
No playdate, no errands.
Just me and the munchkin.

I made a lemon bread. Got new car insurance, canceled the old. Found a pediatric dentist, made an appointment. Downloaded an insurance card, paid the utility bills. Downloaded a months worth of doctors appointments into my calendar. Emailed the preschool teacher some sample promotional fliers and offered to update her collateral. Vacuumed. I returned 2 calls, mailed 2 gifts, did 2 loads of laundry. I compulsively counted 6 color coordinated M&Ms into 6 plastic Easter eggs (which I hide in my pocketbook as 'treats' for a crisis) and I think I blog posted as if I was tweeting. I looked on CL for childcare workers, and ultimately picked up 9 shirts at the drycleaners, filled the tank and denied myself $45 worth of prenatal vitamins. I made one set of social plans and wrote out a birthday card. I confirmed a menu and calendar for my mother to take Ellie and emptied out the fridge. I was...somewhat productive.

During that time, I also allowed the cherub to self entertain.

The good thing about a Montessori preschool is it teaches independence.
I'd have to say the downside is that limits aren't clearly defined.

photo subtitled:
ELLIE, also productive, learns to get stepstool, open cabinet, obtain Cheerios, obtain bowl from second cabinet, bring BOTH to living room and pour self a snack.

Who has the heart to yell with that kind of industry?
I congratulated her on being enterprising.

Oh.
And that's when I vacuumed.

Oh stop it.
I don't really hate flowers.
I just think it's a lot of money for something that dies.
I'm more of a just tell me in words and I'm happy kind of gal.

Seriously.
Enough with the hate mail.

Suburban Anxiety

Someone just rang the doorbell.
Several times.
Aggressively.

I yelled down. "Who IS it???"
No answer.
Ellie's in the tub.

I go to the window and see a man, shifting, foot to foot, loosely holding a vaseful of flowers.
No car on the street. No uniform.
Just a guy and flowers.

Now I know tomorrow is surgery date.
And the chances of a random crazy doing a "flower scam" to break in and what? Molest me? Steal from me? The chances are slim.

But I also know tht my friends know about me and flowers. So unless it's someone Doug knows...

Maybe I watch too much CSI but to be fair, flowers or not, I'm not whipping my door open for anyone during the middle of the day.

He left.
I opened the door.
No note, no vase, no post-it saying "We tried to reach you"
Nada.

I wait for a call.
Maybe the florist will try and reach me.
Nothing.

The phone rings.
AHA! It's Heather.

"Did you send me flowers?" I asked.
"Hell no" she hooted. "If I wanted to send flowers to the nursing home, I would."
The girl KNOWS me.
I fucking hate florists, flowers, floral deliveries. All of it.
$4 at Stop and shop for carnations, hooray!
Anything else: edible arrangements, chocolates, flowers, bah. I donate.

No, I'm not grateful to be thought of.
It's like sending a vegetarian Omaha Steaks.
I dislike the consumerism, the mark up, the waste. Send me a note. $.44 and I'm yours. But flowers? Now I have to trim stems, smell them, replenish water, find a place to display them, look at them, SMELL them..then they die. What was the point? $50 to say "Hi"? Next time, just say "hi" ok? Thank you and really, thank you. But don't waste your money.

So finally I go outside. I hunt on the ground.
A note under the bushes.
From the florist.

"We tried to deliver"
Sigh.

I call.
"Can you tell me who from?"
They tell me.

Shit.
They are from people I like.
A lot.
I'm going to need to thank them.
Yet it's the second or third time they've sent flowers...

So now Ellie and I are going to drive to the florist.
Hi ho, hi ho
it's off to the nursing home I go....

Really? The Door? AGAIN?

Apparently we only have 1 backdrop in this house.
The door. Every pregnancy picture ever taken is in front of this damn door.

Me - 13 weeks.
Same size as 20 with Ellie.
I'm going with twins vs loose unfit abdominal muscles.
Uh huh.
That's my story.