Shocking, I Know

For the past two days, we (well, the women of the family) have been up at at 'em by about 7:30 am, with Bean dressed and eating breakfast by 8 or 8:15, which is WELL in advance of her having to be ready for school. Most previous mornings have seen me at 8:58 shoveling the last of her oatmeal into her maw, frantically stuffing her feet into her DAFOs and shoes, and promising the dogs that I would walk them when I got back.

Needless to say, this is a much more relaxed option. The only difficulty is that Peabo starts needing a morning nap about 9:00, which is riiiiiiight when we need to leave for school. I'm going to try and get her to A) take a cat nap from 8 to 9 (yeah, right) or B) push through until about 9:45 when we get home. Bean actually has a wheelchair on order, primarliy for transportation purposes (the buses have latchdowns for strollers and wheelchairs, and she could just use a harness if she were more independently mobile), but it's not here yet and I have been led to believe---don't wait up. So long as we have it for kindergarten and beyond though, I'm not too worried.

Still and all, it's pretty amazing to be calm as I get ready to get out the door in the morning. Amazing to have the dogs walked and thus not likely to pee on the piano leg in frustration with me. Amazing to be able to drink a cup of coffee before I go. The reason behind all this, I think, is that both kids are starting to hit the sack at about the same time. It's an early night (5 to 6 pm, give or take a few minutes), and paradoxically it's because Peabo is sleeping MORE during the day (regular naps, of longish duration, thank you Baby Jesus), and Bean is transitioning out of napping entirely. As much as I was horrified at that thought, it's not so bad to just have one to wrangle at a time, or most of the time, I should say. It's still a bit of a witching hour around here starting at 4 or 4:30, but we push through and then by 7:00 I'm doing my zombie impersonation on the couch. Or cooking dinner, for a nice change from take out.

I recognize this will all abruptly change in the future, at a point not yet determined, and when I least expect it, but for now? For now this will do.

Mirabile Dictu

It is 10 pm on a Thursday night, and I am presently knitting and watching American Experience (well, okay, *technically* I'm blogging, but work with me), with only Gene for company.

Note that. ONLY GENE for company. Both girls are in bed.

Yeah. I know.

I am not fool enough to think this is the way it's going to be for all eternity, but for tonight, I am thrilled to feel halfway self indulgent.

Marooned

Although in a far more luxurious fashion than say, Robinson Crusoe. Because we are having the floors in our house refinished (and in some cases, carpet replaced with hardwood due to DOG DAMAGE), the past four days have been spent camping out on the boat. Camping is really a misnomer, as this is a 3 bed, 2 bath job with heat and a fridge and a tv and all that good stuff; still, it requires a certain amount of confined living, which, with two small girls, can be a bit much at times, particularly if one is trying to nap and the other is not.

I was initially told that the floors would be finished yesterday and we could go back today, but upon talking to the rep it turns out that they are one day behind the original estimate and today is the last coating---but come hell or high water, we ARE GOING BACK HOME TONIGHT. I don't care if I have to crawl along the baseboards, we are going home. Because at home, you see, there is no rat damage.

Ah yes, the rat. It would seem that while our poor dear boat was in the yard up in the Delta this summer for some work, a nasty little rodent decided to hop aboard, and had himself a fun trip back to the Bay Area. Gene didn't find out what was up until well after he brought the boat back and let me just say, Mr Rat had himself a FINE time ripping the hell out of upholstery, Tostitos bags, pieces of Bean's toys and books (this was really the most angrifying part for both parents---go figure) and of course, tasty hoses and such. You can use your imagination to establish what kind of hoses we are talking about. Thank goodness, Gene is incredibly handy and clever and able to fix most if not all the damage, but it put a serious dent in his weekend, not to mention his olfactory glands. The little bastard hit basically EVERY system onboard, and it's probably a miracle the boat didn't actually start sinking, but it is just the most infuriating thing, not to mention the grossest. As much as I have bitched about the boat in the past, she is really a member of the family, and it's hard enough that we will be saying goodbye to her in a few months (sold to a friend in the Seattle area---so at least she's going to a good home). To think that she had to endure a disgusting amount of damage from some pestilence of nature is almost too much. Gene said last night that he wished he could dig up the rat and kill him again, which I can completely understand.

However, we are still afloat, have survived the incredibly rainy weekend (which on the boat is rather cozy), and can go home tonight. And the rat is dead. Long live the rat.

Pathetic, Yet Exciting

Two weeks ago I splurged at Old Navy and a thrift store, and bought myself some "real" pants as opposed to maternity gear; I didn't want to spend a lot of money on sizes that I might not wear for very long (hope springs eternal), but it was definitely time to shift out of the mat wear.

Anyway, I discovered this past weekend that I was hiking up said new pants all day, which was gratifying. Okay, so they are low rise, but you know, it's okay to have lost weight in my bottom regions even if my post-partum stomach isn't exactly abalicious. So, I pulled out a regular belt, my favorite. And okay, yes, I can only make the first hole, but you know what? I am WEARING A BELT. For the first time in probably close to a year. This is deeply exciting.

And perhaps a tad pathetic.