In retrospect, I probably should have just stayed home this weekend, since it turned into kind of a Goat Rodeo, but we all convince ourselves that what looks a little crazy one minute can quckly change the next. That was not the case this weekend.
Abby was gifted with a weekend with the Grandparents, which in turn meant that Uriah and I were gifted with a weekend of semi-alone time (Finn stayed with us; he's too little in the boots yet to be too far from me). Uriah and I dropped her off on Friday night after work. I guess I should have had a snack before we left for Blue Springs, but we were in a hurry to get her weekend started and everyone was ready to go when I got home from work, so I quickly changed out of my work clothes and off we went. Our plan was to drop Abs off, visit for a few minutes and then find some dinner (my plan was sushi - I have been thinking about sushi since we stumbled into the sushi buffet a couple of weeks ago). But, as luck would have it, Uriah's sister brought her two kiddos over for a visit and before we could blink, it was 9 pm. One cocktail does not a dinner make when you're 30 and my crabbiness started coming out. We left quickly after that because I was about to go Angry Hungry Girl on my husband, and since it was too late for sushi, we ordered a quick appetizer to go on our way home. Finn, of course, was without his bedtime routine (bath, bottle, snuggletime) and felt it unnecessary to go to sleep until around 11:30pm.
I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn on Saturday morning and went to work where I was productive for a couple of hours. Finn spent the morning with The Dad and had a good, long morning nap, so he was ready for a wild rumpus when I got home. Uriah had a wedding at the club, so he was out the door almost immediately and Finn and I were left to our own devices. I was bound and determined to go to the park yesterday afternoon. First, because it was beautiful outside and the leaves are just starting to change and second, because I'd never been to Loose Park and wanted to take the perfect Saturday opportunity to meander aimlessly with my camera.
In order to get to the park from our house, we have to take a rather unsavory route through a seedy area of the city. It's the kind of area where you make sure your doors are locked, your windows are up, and you're wearing an extremely dark pair of sunglasses so as not to make eye contact accidentally with anyone. I crossed the streets that make the news every night. For homicides.
And then we crossed an invisible line and suddenly the houses were crisply painted, the yards were freshly manicured and the dogs were groomed. Cars had all of their wheels and Tom Sawyer had clearly been working the neighborhood fences.
Loose Park was all I thought it was going to be. Rose garden, green grass, ponds with geese, leaves just starting to change color. There's a playground full of kids who were laughing and having a good time and every single breed of dog imaginable was being walked. I snuggled Finn into his baby pack and we struck off down the walking trail to explore the park. Here's what I love about parks: the people. Every single person that I passed said hello or smiled. Some commented on the "little baby" and asked how old he was; most just nodded a greeting and continued on their power stroll. Finn and I took the time to stop and smell the roses and admire a bride and groom having their pictures taken (made me think fondly about our own wedding last year). We made a wide loop, played in the grass for a bit and then came back to our car.
When I turned my car on, I noticed that my gas light was on. Somewhere I heard that you can drive a certain number of miles once your gas light comes on, and I really think that I have 30 miles, once my gas light comes on, before I have to get gas. I said a quick prayer that we'd make it back to our own neighborhood and I promised myself (and the guardian angel who was watching over me) that I was going to fill the car up immediatley. I crossed my fingers and pushed the pedal down through the blocks between The Passeo and Troost Ave. We got back to our neighborhood, but I decided that first we needed to stop at the grocery store and I'd get gas before we went home. Finn and I meandered up and down all of the aisles, looked at some random bottles of wine, laughed at the names of the Ben&Jerry's ice cream, and read some cards. I made a mental list in my head of what we could have for dinner this week and decided to go through my cupboards before I did a big shop. And then we checked out.
And the clerk told me that my card was stolen.
Excuse me? Stolen? But I'm holding it right here, IN MY HAND, and it has my name on it. Do you want to compare it to my driver's licnese? The name's the same, honey! She did not care. She just wanted to be paid for the groceries, preferably with a card that wasn't hot. I paid for my groceries, while calling my bank and freaking out at the exact same time - you know that feeling you get in your stomach: like a bowling ball has been dropped into it and if this is truly as bad a situation as your overactive imagination is making it out to be, a bathroom is going to necessary ASAP. But it's Saturday evening and there was nobody at my bank, so I left them a message (it's a credit union, they'll be working on Sunday). I went home, unloaded my baby and my groceries and logged on to my bank account. All my money was there; the same amount that was in there last time I checked. Clearly nobody had stolen my card, but I called the card company anyway, where the nice customer service worker, we'll call him Stu, told me to hold onto my panties while he checked into it. (I may have been using my raised voice at the time, partly because I was freaked out and partly because Finn was crying in the background and I needed to talk over him). Stu told me that there were no holds on my card, there weren't any unusual charges on it, nothing had been reported stolen and it looked good from his end. The only thing different, he said, was that although my card had my married name on it,the account was still in my maiden name. He said to call my bank on Monday and have them change that. And then Stu told me to have a good weekend.
I felt better knowing that someone was not enjoying a leather bustier on my dime. I felt even better knowing that I had panicked all on my own and figured the situation out and had not called Uriah and vented my frustration (which is what I almost always do - this usually involves me having an anxiety attatck on the phone and Uriah telling me that there's nothing he can do about anything right now as he's at work providing for our family and could I please just wait until he gets home and then we'll figure it out together?). I felt so relived and grown up, in fact, that I though it would be a good idea to rent a RedBox and enjoy an at-home-cheap-ass-date-night with Uriah once he got home from said evening of providing for our family. So, I loaded Finn up in the car again, and down the street we puttered. Literally.
See, in my haste to get home and check my bank account and call the credit card, and have an anxiety attack and not call my husband about it, I'd forgotten to put gas in the car. And that 30 mile thing...that's a myth that was proven false last night. We got to the end of the street before the little Civic died. I guess coasting into the gas station on fumes is also a myth. So, I took Finn out of his carseat and hauled his sweet, fine 12 lbs bum back up the street to the house. Where I called Uriah and told him what happened in an only semi-anxious voice - probably I was just out of breath from having to walk up the hill with the baby. Uriah left work early to put gas in my car; we did not watch a RedBox, we did not even watch SNL, heck, we barely made it through the news.
And Finn was up and ready to go by 8 this morning, with nary a morning nap in sight; Abby came home from the Grandparents, feeling all sorts of spoiled and full of tween attitude complete with snotty voice and pouting face. And I am ready to have an anxiety attatck on the deck. Is it Monday yet?
In retrospect, I probably should have just stayed home this weekend, since it turned into kind of a Goat Rodeo, but we all convince ourselves that what looks a little crazy one minute can quckly change the next. That was not the case this weekend.
Abby was gifted with a weekend with the Grandparents, which in turn meant that Uriah and I were gifted with a weekend of semi-alone time (Finn stayed with us; he's too little in the boots yet to be too far from me). Uriah and I dropped her off on Friday night after work. I guess I should have had a snack before we left for Blue Springs, but we were in a hurry to get her weekend started and everyone was ready to go when I got home from work, so I quickly changed out of my work clothes and off we went. Our plan was to drop Abs off, visit for a few minutes and then find some dinner (my plan was sushi - I have been thinking about sushi since we stumbled into the sushi buffet a couple of weeks ago). But, as luck would have it, Uriah's sister brought her two kiddos over for a visit and before we could blink, it was 9 pm. One cocktail does not a dinner make when you're 30 and my crabbiness started coming out. We left quickly after that because I was about to go Angry Hungry Girl on my husband, and since it was too late for sushi, we ordered a quick appetizer to go on our way home. Finn, of course, was without his bedtime routine (bath, bottle, snuggletime) and felt it unnecessary to go to sleep until around 11:30pm.
I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn on Saturday morning and went to work where I was productive for a couple of hours. Finn spent the morning with The Dad and had a good, long morning nap, so he was ready for a wild rumpus when I got home. Uriah had a wedding at the club, so he was out the door almost immediately and Finn and I were left to our own devices. I was bound and determined to go to the park yesterday afternoon. First, because it was beautiful outside and the leaves are just starting to change and second, because I'd never been to Loose Park and wanted to take the perfect Saturday opportunity to meander aimlessly with my camera.
In order to get to the park from our house, we have to take a rather unsavory route through a seedy area of the city. It's the kind of area where you make sure your doors are locked, your windows are up, and you're wearing an extremely dark pair of sunglasses so as not to make eye contact accidentally with anyone. I crossed the streets that make the news every night. For homicides.
And then we crossed an invisible line and suddenly the houses were crisply painted, the yards were freshly manicured and the dogs were groomed. Cars had all of their wheels and Tom Sawyer had clearly been working the neighborhood fences.
Loose Park was all I thought it was going to be. Rose garden, green grass, ponds with geese, leaves just starting to change color. There's a playground full of kids who were laughing and having a good time and every single breed of dog imaginable was being walked. I snuggled Finn into his baby pack and we struck off down the walking trail to explore the park. Here's what I love about parks: the people. Every single person that I passed said hello or smiled. Some commented on the "little baby" and asked how old he was; most just nodded a greeting and continued on their power stroll. Finn and I took the time to stop and smell the roses and admire a bride and groom having their pictures taken (made me think fondly about our own wedding last year). We made a wide loop, played in the grass for a bit and then came back to our car.
When I turned my car on, I noticed that my gas light was on. Somewhere I heard that you can drive a certain number of miles once your gas light comes on, and I really think that I have 30 miles, once my gas light comes on, before I have to get gas. I said a quick prayer that we'd make it back to our own neighborhood and I promised myself (and the guardian angel who was watching over me) that I was going to fill the car up immediatley. I crossed my fingers and pushed the pedal down through the blocks between The Passeo and Troost Ave. We got back to our neighborhood, but I decided that first we needed to stop at the grocery store and I'd get gas before we went home. Finn and I meandered up and down all of the aisles, looked at some random bottles of wine, laughed at the names of the Ben&Jerry's ice cream, and read some cards. I made a mental list in my head of what we could have for dinner this week and decided to go through my cupboards before I did a big shop. And then we checked out.
And the clerk told me that my card was stolen.
Excuse me? Stolen? But I'm holding it right here, IN MY HAND, and it has my name on it. Do you want to compare it to my driver's licnese? The name's the same, honey! She did not care. She just wanted to be paid for the groceries, preferably with a card that wasn't hot. I paid for my groceries, while calling my bank and freaking out at the exact same time - you know that feeling you get in your stomach: like a bowling ball has been dropped into it and if this is truly as bad a situation as your overactive imagination is making it out to be, a bathroom is going to necessary ASAP. But it's Saturday evening and there was nobody at my bank, so I left them a message (it's a credit union, they'll be working on Sunday). I went home, unloaded my baby and my groceries and logged on to my bank account. All my money was there; the same amount that was in there last time I checked. Clearly nobody had stolen my card, but I called the card company anyway, where the nice customer service worker, we'll call him Stu, told me to hold onto my panties while he checked into it. (I may have been using my raised voice at the time, partly because I was freaked out and partly because Finn was crying in the background and I needed to talk over him). Stu told me that there were no holds on my card, there weren't any unusual charges on it, nothing had been reported stolen and it looked good from his end. The only thing different, he said, was that although my card had my married name on it,the account was still in my maiden name. He said to call my bank on Monday and have them change that. And then Stu told me to have a good weekend.
I felt better knowing that someone was not enjoying a leather bustier on my dime. I felt even better knowing that I had panicked all on my own and figured the situation out and had not called Uriah and vented my frustration (which is what I almost always do - this usually involves me having an anxiety attatck on the phone and Uriah telling me that there's nothing he can do about anything right now as he's at work providing for our family and could I please just wait until he gets home and then we'll figure it out together?). I felt so relived and grown up, in fact, that I though it would be a good idea to rent a RedBox and enjoy an at-home-cheap-ass-date-night with Uriah once he got home from said evening of providing for our family. So, I loaded Finn up in the car again, and down the street we puttered. Literally.
See, in my haste to get home and check my bank account and call the credit card, and have an anxiety attack and not call my husband about it, I'd forgotten to put gas in the car. And that 30 mile thing...that's a myth that was proven false last night. We got to the end of the street before the little Civic died. I guess coasting into the gas station on fumes is also a myth. So, I took Finn out of his carseat and hauled his sweet, fine 12 lbs bum back up the street to the house. Where I called Uriah and told him what happened in an only semi-anxious voice - probably I was just out of breath from having to walk up the hill with the baby. Uriah left work early to put gas in my car; we did not watch a RedBox, we did not even watch SNL, heck, we barely made it through the news.
And Finn was up and ready to go by 8 this morning, with nary a morning nap in sight; Abby came home from the Grandparents, feeling all sorts of spoiled and full of tween attitude complete with snotty voice and pouting face. And I am ready to have an anxiety attatck on the deck. Is it Monday yet?
Today, as the leaves fall furiously off the trees and push us solidly into a new season, I'm mourning the loss of the summer. This was quite possibly the most jam-packed summer in Hefter History: we spent some quality time in Minnesota for Sarah's graduation hoopla (hooray for Baby Sister!) and a wedding shower for Emily with the aunties and girl cousins; then there was the flurry of activity that surrounded Emily and Jerad's wedding festivities (my first brother-in-law!), and a Fourth of July visit from my cousin and his best girl was spur of the moment and much needed. Those last few weeks and days waiting for Finn to arrive made for a wonderfully full and exciting summer. 
