Fly, little butterfly

My big girl officially started school yesterday.

Eva handled it with her usual aplomb.  She even let us take a few pictures - an operation I would normally compare to chopping off my own appendages with a rusted butter knife.  All we're doing is trying to get a record of her life, and we get treated like we're the paparazzi and she's Britney Spears on her way to another breakdown.

Anyway, yesterday morning she clearly felt she had matured because while I was getting ready (making a half-assed attempt to look presentable to the other parents) she came into the bathroom and leaned against the door jamb.

Eva:  "So...whatcha doing?"

Me:  "Oh, getting ready.  Doing my makeup"

Eva:  (casually)  "So...um...do you think maybe it's kinda important for me to have some this morning?"

Yeah, right.

As if I'll send you off on your first day of kindergarten looking like a tramp.  (note - the "I'm-a-Slut-Red" toenail polish Eva is currently wearing occurred in a moment of maternal weakness).

You know, I don't remember my first day.  I do remember watching a kid eat a bottle of Elmer's glue and then vomiting grey all over his artwork (in some cities, that's considered performance art).  I also remember really loving my teacher, Mrs. Peterson.  But beyond that, my memories of kindergarten are fairly hazy.  

But going back with Eva was SO COOL!

It was so interesting watching her manoeuvre her way through the first-morning stuff.  We trouped into the gym and she had to raise her hand when her name was called...then follow her new teacher to her new classroom.  She had to draw a picture of her summer vacation...she drew a tent and a giant warship with cannons (I remember her going camping with her dad, but I don't quite recall a battle at sea.)

Another interesting part for me was looking around and considering all the potential of these fresh-faced little trolls.  Which kid will be Eva's best friend?  Which kid will torture her by making fun of her name?  Which kid will be the snob?  The athlete?  The clown?  The inappropriate dresser?  (note to self - remove Eva's toenail polish asap)

It almost overwhelms me, thinking about what role my child will take on.  School opens up so many possibilities...so much joy, success, laughter...and yes, occasionally, tears and heartbreak. 

But the first day is over.  

My girl marched up those steps with that piano-sized backpack, smiling and confident as though she had been doing it all her life.  

Fly, my beautiful little butterfly.  We are so very proud of you.  

Trust me...you'll like it.

Okay, I know you're going to laugh at me for making my own granola.
Trust me on this one.
It's worth it.

HOMEMADE GRANOLA (from my friend Laure)

• 3 parts rolled oats
• 1 part sesame seeds
• 1 part sunflower seeds
• 1 part chopped almonds
• 1 part chopped walnuts
• 1/2 part wheat germ
• 1 part coconut

• 1 part raisins, craisins, chopped dried apricots, etc.

For every 10 parts of dry ingredients (NOT including fruit) add 1/2 cup vegetable oil and 1/2 cup honey. Stir until granola is moistened.
Spread on cookie sheets, not more than 1.5 inches thick.
Roast at 250F (120C)...stirring occasionally, until crunchy and brown. It takes about 1/2 hour, maybe more in total.

Cool, then stir in dried fruit.
Store in an airtight jar and use within a week or two.

This is so darned good with yogurt or with milk...some blueberries...we go through it like crazy.

p.s. We replaced the !%@?$&! sump pump and cleaned out the mould. GRRRRRRR.

Naps and monsters

This weekend was the last weekend before Eva starts school.  It was just super - filled with playgrounds, swimming pools, farm-fresh corn and sweet tomatoes.

But the best part, by far happened Saturday afternoon.

We put Adele down for her regular afternoon nap and of course, she went down like a champion.  Eva's not much of a napper now...at five, she's getting a bit beyond needing one.  But this was Saturday afternoon...she had gone to bed late on Friday night...and her grumpy side was rearing its ugly head and BITING OUR FACES OFF just a little too often.

So I convinced her to come lie down with me.

The day was unbelievably hot and humid so she was covered in her customary layer of sweat and sunscreen, just stinking of summer.  We curled up between the cool sheets (400 threadcount Egyptian, on sale at Winners), cuddled up close, and it took only about 30 seconds for her to begin breathing deeply.  

Now, naps with my beautiful little girl have always been one of my life's greatest pleasures.  I always say, "okay, Eva...I think it's time for you and me to take a little walk"  She knows what I mean and may occasionally protest a bit, but she always winds up trotting off to the bedroom.  

I'm telling you, nothing can compare to lying down in the middle of summer, cuddled up with your child, with a slight breeze moving the curtains and the gentle noise of the streets humming in the background. Eva didn't sleep long, but it was long enough to take me back to when she was a baby and we started our weekend nap tradition.  I know these are stolen moments now...that my little girl is getting bigger and very soon she won't nap at all.  So Saturday's little nap just topped me up and made my spirit overflow.  

Speaking of overflowing...(note abrupt change of topic here)

...our basement pump and dehumidifier have failed us.

And failed us in SPECTACULAR fashion.

The pump is located in a corner in the basement where we never go, behind a low section of wall we never really see.  We store some old boxes and suitcases there and have pretty much left it alone for about a year.

Well, we shouldn't have.

This summer has been like monsoon season in Bangladesh.  It has rained at least every second day...and not just slight rains.  It has rained enough that one might consider building a freaking ark.  

We were so, so stupid not to check that corner at least once in the past few weeks.  Because today, when I went downstairs and found a light sheen of water on the basement floor surrounding that corner, I began moving suitcases and boxes.

IT WAS LIKE SOMEONE HAD JAMMED A GIANT STICK OF DYNAMITE DOWN OSCAR THE GROUCH'S THROAT.  AND lit the fuse...AND left his greasy green furry remains spattered all over the bottom of the wall.  I would post a photo if the camera lens hadn't shattered at the sight of it all.  OH THE HORROR.  OH THE HORROR.  OH THE HORROR.

 I just went to the hardware store and bought the most toxic mould-killer I could find (if you know me and bacteria, you'll understand my hysteria) and I am about to go down and do battle.  

I'm a prairie girl.  I'm not used to humidity like this.  I'm not used to mean green bacteria and spores spawning in my home.  If I had a hazmat suit, I'd put it on.  IT'S THAT DISGUSTING.  

If I never post again, you'll know that I lost the fight.

ACK

Wish me luck.  

Assuming pleasure means PINK

Eva and I went shopping for back to school clothes today.

I pulled out an adorable little khaki-coloured dress.  

Me:  "What do you think of this one?"

Eva:  "No, no, no.  Not that one.  I need a dress with MORE PLEASURE"

Uh...right.

Daddy doing double duty

I have to leave for a two day retreat to prep for relaunch of the show.
It'll be fun, but leaving my little family is so darned hard!

Hopefully my colleagues aren't offended when I crawl under the table, sweeping up their crumbs. Or when I helpfully cut their meat into pea-sized pieces. Or when I incessantly repeat my mealtime mantra, SIT ON YOUR BUM AND FACE YOUR FOOD. YES, YOU HAVE TO EAT THE GREEN ONES. I SAID SIT ON YOUR BUM AND FACE YOUR FOOD. YOUR DESSERT IS RIDING ON THIS. YOU DROP THAT ON THE FLOOR AND I SWEAR YOU WILL NEVER GET ANOTHER MEAL IN THIS HOUSE AS LONG AS WE BOTH SHALL LIVE. FOR THE LAST TIME, SIT ON YOUR BUM AND FACE YOUR FOOD. YOU'RE KILLING ME, EVA. KILLING ME DEAD.

What am I going to DO during my meals, for the next two days???
Have adult conversations and quietly enjoy the food?
SAY WHA???

I miss them desperately, already.

Good morning, sweet maggots

Because of my job, I leave the house at around 4 in the morning while everyone else is slumbering silently.  Well, almost silently; Eva snores like a jumbo jet landing on the lawn next door.

Before I head out, I generally slip into the girls' room for a quick goodbye (unless I don't have time because I'm searching frantically for taxi money).   I've always had a sort of superstition about leaving without giving them kisses.  It's as though I think that my goodbye kisses will somehow protect them.  Forget those annoying seatbelts, kid, MAMA'S KISS WILL KEEP YOU SAFE.  Go ahead and jump in the car with that stranger who offers you a Kit Kat...MAMA'S KISS WILL KEEP YOU SAFE.  Dumb, I know, but when faced with the overwhelming stress of sending your little butterflies off into the big bad world, you hold onto any talisman you can find to keep the zillions of daily dangers at bay.

Anyway, I slip in and go to kiss them...Eva snoring gently, Addie in her usual position on her stomach with her hands down by her sides.  They're so beautiful when they sleep...so sweet and soft, and for a brief shining moment, NOT MAKING A MESS.

Now, here is another example of how different my trolls are.  With Eva, I could tie my kiss to a cinderblock and drop it on her head from three feet up, and she wouldn't wake up.  With Adele, I could stand across the street and THINK about kissing her, and she'd wake up.  This morning, she stirred in her crib when I kissed my hand and brushed her head with the tips of my fingers...but she went back to sleep.  Eva, of course, didn't MOVE.

That little moment kept me warm inside for much of the morning.

Violent change of topic - there's a spider THE SIZE OF MY HEAD living in our compost bin.  I swear, that ugly mother builds her web out of TWO-BY-FOURS across the mouth of that bin every single freaking day.   Today I smashed through it with a squishy bulb of fennel and some celery that had miraculously turned to green rope while hiding in the back of my produce drawer.  Hoping she'll finally get the message and GET THE HELL OUT OF MY COMPOST BIN.  Hate those things with a passion normally reserved for flying during thunderstorms and picking soggy turds out of the tub with my fingers.

On that tidy note, I'm off to make supper.  

Ruining my child's future, one duotang at a time

So yesterday I went to buy Eva's school supplies.  I must admit that I stood there blinking momentarily at the cash register, wondering if my poor French skills were to blame for the fact that the total amount due seemed to be MORE THAN THE COST OF OUR HOME. But no, I wasn't lost in translation...we really did need a second mortgage to pay for all this stuff.  No clue how my parents did it with four of us.  Not only that, but finding everything on the list is like searching for the freaking holy grail.  In this case, the grail was a SINGLE YELLOW DUOTANG. 

The handy-dandy school supplies list said she needed - among other things - FOUR duotangs of differing colours...one red, one blue, one green, and one yellow.  The first three were easy enough to find but I swear, that yellow one aged me five years.  I wandered the aisles with my overflowing cart, envisioning what might happen if I sent her to school with one red, one blue, one green, and one ORANGE duotang. 

I could just picture it.   Kids would make fun of her.  She'd be confused and feel bullied.  She'd begin to hate school and would agonize over that moment every day when she had to face that blasted ORANGE duotang.  She'd quit school in fourth grade and become an agoraphobic bum, living in our basement eating chips and flipping aimlessly through the channels.  We'd have to pay for her therapy and cable bills, and would never be able to afford retirement (although now that I think about it, after paying for school supplies, we'll never be able to afford retirement anyway).   OH WHERE ARE YOU YELLOW DUOTANG???  Finally found one (ONE!) hiding under a stack of construction paper pads.  I practically pumped my fist in the air in victory.

Got up early today...started my new gig upstairs in radio!  

Now I know you're thinking that "early" means 5 or something.  NO, no, no, grasshopper....five o'clock is for wusses and babies.  My alarm now goes off at 3:45 am...and let me tell you...3:45 is DAMNED EARLY. 

At that hour, I have to take a taxi to work.  Of course, it was only AFTER I had dialled the number that it struck me: I HAVE NO CASH.  Hoping to find a misguided and forgotten twenty dollar bill, I opened my wallet only to be attacked by moths and tumbleweeds.   This prompted a spectacular round of swearing (silently, mustn't wake the slumbering family) as I tore on tiptoe through the house searching for change.  Raided my husband's wallet, finding enough money to get me about to the end of the block.  Finally I remembered my secret lost-change-found-in-pockets stash down in the laundry room.  And there was enough.  The gods of early-morning radio were indeed smiling on me.

As for tomorrow, not sure what the hell I'll use to pay the driver because everything else we had went to pay for EVA'S BLASTED SCHOOL SUPPLIES.  

One last note...Addie's rash has disappeared.  It was indeed a vaccination reaction.  It's too bad, really...I was starting to like my baby polka-dotted.  It added visual interest.  But SO glad she's better!

Spots and marshmallows

About ten days ago, Adder had her one-year shots.

Today, she broke out in a spectacular lacy pink pattern all over her body.  And it is indeed spectacular.  Started a bit on her face...really light this morning.  Part of me figured it was just a minor skin rash because she's teething and is drooling her body weight every half hour.  Also my view on childhood illness is...NO FEVER, NO STAY HOME.  By the time we picked her up at daycare in the afternoon, there was still no fever but her entire body was spotted pink.

I'm pretty sure that it's a reaction to the MMR shot.   I read a bit on the internet about MMR reactions, so I'm fairly certain that's what it is.  I must admit, it's a total pain sorting through all the anti-vax crap.  Some scary stories out there and while I KNOW they're written by the ill-informed, it's hard to ignore sometimes when your child is clearly having some sort of reaction.

Anyway, we're keeping an eye on her.  

Eva, meanwhile, is farting fire.  Last night she and her papa went camping at Orford and had a blast.  Addie and I were on our own and I couldn't believe how QUIET the house was.  Unless Eva is sleeping, our house knows no more than 2.3 seconds of consecutive silence at a time.  So let me tell you, getting a call this morning that started, "HI MOMMY!!!" pretty much MADE MY DAY.    

She described her day but the MAIN EVENT...the EVENT that she COULDN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT...she ate seven marshmallows!!!!   SEVEN!!!!  She said it like it was SO MUCH.   Personally I think seven shows remarkable restraint.  Seven is a marshmallow appetizer for me, particularly when my ass is parked in a lawnchair in front of a campfire.  Seven.  Pfffft. Grasshopper.

Tomorrow - unless her rash explodes - Adder will go to the g'rents in Sainte Julie.  Eva is staying at her aunt Isabelle's in Orford...and Etienne and I are actually taking time for OURSELVES.  Chillin like villains and then going for a lovely dinner at a sweet little bistro in Outremont.  

Can't wait.

Randomness

Eva came with me on the bus this morning and we walked hand-in-hand through the Village, on our way to work.
Going through the Village is always fodder for interesting coversations: "Gee, people on this street sure like rainbows!"..."Why are the two naked men on that poster soaping each other in the shower?"..."Why is that man dressed up like a woman?" That sort of thing.

1. Today in the Village we wandered along and came across a rumpled woman with wild hair and even wilder eyes. She'd clearly been out all night, and shrieked when she saw us.

Woman: "HEY! Make sure you don't forget who you are!"
Me: "Okay...don't worry, I won't"
Woman: "I'm sure you won't. You know, you should try INVISIBILITY."
Me: "Maybe I will"
Woman: "I'm sure you will. Soon you won't have a CHOICE"

This sort of interaction always throws me a little. I mean, I know she's a crazy lady whom life has kicked in the head once too many times. But admittedly, there's a teeny weeny piece of me that kind of wonders, WHAT DO YOU KNOW, LADY? I know that's crazy. But if I suddenly disappear, you'll know who called it.


2. Arriving at the cafeteria at work, Eva said, "why are they renovating? It was so beautiful before". Must remember to make appointment to GET EVA'S EYES CHECKED.


3. Sore back tooth. Radiating up to my eye socket. This is not good. Should perhaps also make appointment with dentist...it's been shockingly long since I last saw one. I worry they'll just look inside and say, "ALL THESE SUCKERS GOTTA COME OUT" and fire up the chainsaw. Perhaps I should deal with this before I have to start enunciating for a living again, instead of just waving my arms and throwing things at people.

That is all.
As you were.

Add it to the pile

You know, one thing that no one truly prepared me for was the GUILT.

Rational, irrational...it all pretty much gets stirred into the great big melting pot overflowing with reasons why I suck as a parent.

Guilt because I'm way too impatient.  Guilt because sometimes I just can't listen to that blasted Pink Martini CD any more without wanting to HURL.  Guilt because to be brutally honest, I don't really enjoy watching my child play soccer (she's really not very good and she doesn't try very hard).  Guilt because I find Disney Princess Monopoly STUPEFYINGLY BORING.  Guilt because I keep suckers in my purse for Eva because SOMETIMES I NEED THIRTY SECONDS OF SILENCE AND LORD KNOWS THAT WON'T HAPPEN IN THIS LIFETIME UNLESS THAT KID'S MOUTH IS OTHERWISE OCCUPIED.

But today...today was special.

For a variety of reasons, I had to take Addie to work with me.  

This means that we had to wake her up.

Now, Adele is teething.  She's a sleepy little bucket of snot and drool.  Whiny, clingy...all she wants is to be close to Mama and Papa.  She had trouble getting to sleep last night, and when she finally did, she woke up a couple of times.  So this morning, waking her up...you betcha, rhymes with HILT.  Poor little maggot...sound asleep...and we had to wake her up.  Her hair was soaking wet on one side from the drool, and Etienne dressed her while she half-slept.   Breakfast was a bottle and some dry cereal (she gets fruit as a snack midmorning at the daycare...yeah, let someone ELSE feed my hungry child.  GUILT).

I figured things would be quiet enough at work for me to keep Addie for a few hours...it's the Olympics, we have a short show, one story was already lined up, only four reporters to assign.   But rioters in Montreal North had other plans.   A nutso morning.  NUTSO.   No time to entertain an 18-pound tornado spiralling around the newsroom.  Turned my eyes away for five seconds and she was sucking on a fossilized empty mustard packet.  Took that away, turned away for another five seconds, and she was emptying a garbage can into her mouth.  Dealt with that, turned away for another five seconds and looked down to see my child with a fistful of computer cords between her jaws.

So that is why, only ten minutes into my shift and at a time when she is usually just waking up...I hauled my sleepy baby girl up the escalator and dumped her in the lap of the lovely daycare teacher, thinking at least she would be safe there.  Perhaps they might even feed her. Or change her diaper, even.

Then I scuttled back down to my desk, with Addie's cries ringing in my ears.

Now, I know that it's important for kids to have strong role models...mums who are challenged and happy...families that are financially secure...and so on.  I know that they learn valuable social skills and gain strong immune systems at daycare and so on and so on and so on.  

I can justify this whole thing all I want.  

But in the end, my guilt still explodes like a cop car in Montreal North.

This morning, I really and truly felt like a crummy mummy.  

The one good thing I can find in all of this:

The sun will come up in the morning...

And I will get to try again.

After all...there are so many multitudes of OTHER ways I can royally suck as a parent.

Clearly, I've got my work cut out for me.

Big girl

This morning, on waking: "You are not fancy, Mama".
Me, sleepily, "wha?"
Eva: "MAMA. YOU KNOW, I WILL ALWAYS BE FANCIER THAN YOU".

Gee, thanks. So glad we've got that straight at 5:57 in the morning. Come here and let me breathe on you my dear...I'll show you FANCY.

Tonight was a big night for Eva...we were at Etienne's parents' place. Had a lovely supper and then she and her Grandmama left for about a half hour. When they returned, Eva was bouncing off the walls and giving off sparks, she was so excited.

We went out front and she proceeded to show us how she can ride a two-wheeled bike on her own. The bike is an old one handed-down from a cousin. It was a bit small...her knees alternated smashing her chin every time she pedalled. But she did it...rode in uneven circles around a nearby parking lot, skidding her feet along the cement to stop herself. I was so proud! Even more so when she wiped out and didn't even cry.

You know, the past year hasn't always been easy for Eva. Her happy little world was invaded by a blue-eyed Tasmanian Devil...a wee little monster who spatters food, leaves trails of assorted toys and Tupperware everywhere, and poops in the tub when sharing a bath (and then laughs evilly when Eva streaks out of the tub in disgust). A little monster who takes up a lot of Mama and Papa's time...and who has forced Eva to do a fair amount of sharing and growing up over the past twelve months.

Watching her ride that too-small bike tonight, it really made me realize how very quickly this whole parental ride is moving along.

I also realize how very lucky I am.

Screw fancy. I'm just happy to be here.

I like them better dead

For the past few days, Coco has been leaving little presents for us around the patio.

Cute little furry grey presents with tiny tails and sweet little paws, all in various states of chewed-up-edness.

Generally, I am quite fine with scooping up the wee body parts outside the back door, because it means the little bastards are not in my house.

Until tonight.

Etienne and I were sitting with Eva at the kitchen table this evening, when she let out a whoop. 

A MOUSE.

IN THE HOUSE.

(hey, I almost have a Dr. Seuss book there.  But I digress)

The little bum immediately scooted into the radiator near the back door.  Coco lurked there for quite some time, jamming her paws into it repeatedly and then bouncing back in expectation. 

NOTHING. 

We tried to help by turning on the radiator and smoking the little sucker out, but that didn't work either.  And yes, I know that's cruel.  NATURE IS A CRUEL MISTRESS, BABY.

So now I have a mouse that will likely bake in my radiator.

I have a daughter cowering in her bed because "the mouse might come out".

I have a good friend coming to stay tomorrow...a good friend who is very understanding about this sort of thing, especially considering what happened to her the LAST time she was here (Coco left a still-twitching mouse on Cara's pillow during a thunderstorm.)  But there's only so much wildlife a visitor can embrace in a house.

Coco, meanwhile, has blithely scampered off to cruise the hood.

I am too tired to worry about it.

Blithely scampering off to cruise my BED.

I have a feeling Cara's the one who will find the mouse anyway.

Thunderstorms are in the forecast.

And this time, I put TWO pillows on her bed.

Hallooo???

So I was all concerned that no one was reading.
Almost no one left comments.

(This is me being optimistic; maybe the problem really is that no one is reading

A few people have said that leaving comments is next to impossible.
SO I went into the "moderate comments" section and shook it up a little.

Hopefully it's easier.
So...please try again to leave comments.

That way I'll know you care.

Bless the Parental Insurance folks

It looks like I don't have to pay back the money.
They gonna let dis one sliiiiide.

I can not begin to explain the relief.

I had been thinking of ways to explain to Eva that working in a sweatshop is kind of like being in school...that assembling dolls is kind of like playing with them...that sewing logos on brand name pants is kind of like wearing them. Looking for ways to explain that living in a one bedroom unheated apartment under an overpass and scrounging the streets for thrown-out food is kind of a way of family BONDING...and it's good for the environment, too!

But looks like life will continue along normally...which, after the scare we had, is so extraordinarily wonderful, I can't begin to describe it.

IN the "OTHER" category....went to a wedding on the weekend. Left the girls at a friend's house...which clearly illustrated how different my trolls are.

Eva gave me tons of kisses and ran behind the car like a crazed farm dog. She practically had to be restrained by the babysitters.

Addie, meanwhile, didn't even look back when I handed her over. Part of me is delighted that she has no separation issues; that I can leave her and know she will be fine and happy. But a little piece of me feels like, I AM YOUR MOTHER, YOU LITTLE MAGGOT. I AM THE AUTOMATED TELLER OF YOUR FUTURE AND YOU CAN START SAYING THANK YOU BY CARING WHEN I PUT YOU IN THE ARMS OF SOMEONE YOU'VE KNOWN FOR TWO HOURS.

She hit the nail home by being happy as a clam, sleeping and eating like a champion, and even busting out the word "lait" - for the first time - in our absence.

Thanks, kid.

You know that cash you want for those shoes in grade nine? The ones EVERYONE wants and you HAVE to have? FUHGEDDABOUTIT. Even though it looks like I will indeed actually have the cash now, thanks to some kindly soul at the Parental Insurance Board.

Insert evil laugh here.
LOVE MAMA

Why I don't deserve my husband

So right now I have a headache that feels like a tympani festival is in full swing inside my head.  A tympani festival with clarinet and accordion accompaniment, being performed in a packed high school gym at 40 degrees.  With humidity.  And a tone-deaf fat guy named Mo who forgot his Right Guard this morning singing along next to me.

Reason?

Adele.

Okay, not my dear sweet lovely little wonder of a beautiful baby girl who, with her amazing sister, makes my life brighter every single day.

But rather, her $%#$@* birth certificate.

You see, when a child is born, one must send in the LARGE FORM BIRTH CERTIFICATE to the Province's parental insurance folks.

Eventually, one gets a note saying, "dude, send in the large form birth certificate".

Well, with it being summer...and with them giving only two weeks notice...I missed the deadline.  

So rather than sending me a note saying, "DUDE YOU FORGOT, SEND IT IN OR WE'LL SEND MO THE MUSIC LOVER OVER TO POUND OUT A FEW TEETH"...instead of that, they send me a CLAIM.

A claim demanding that I repay the benefits I received in the past year.

Yeah, you read correctly.

I. MUST. REPAY. IT. ALL.

Remember that amount that I complained about during my 11 months off?  

Well, suddenly it seems like a pretty BIG FREAKING AMOUNT.  Pretty much like plunking down cash for a new minivan.  A really nice one...with a DIAMOND-STUDDED STEERING WHEEL, HOME THEATRE WITH SEATING FOR 30 PEOPLE, AND HUBCAPS MADE OF SOLID GOLD.

That's basically the amount they want back.  Well, it feels that way. 

So after having three heart attacks, crying for much of the evening, and admiring my husband's cool demeanour in the face of this storm (have I mentioned lately how much I LOVE MY HUSBAND???  REMEMBER THE FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE PART?  THIS IS PRETTY MUCH WORSE AND DUDE IS COOL AS A CUCUMBER)...I am anxiously awaiting 8:00:01 tomorrow morning to call the folks responsible, so I can try to sort this out.

At least everyone is healthy.

We will manage this.

But you know, I'm feeling a TAD BIT O' STRESS TONIGHT.

Wish me luck in the morning.

And send my beautiful husband a bottle of Scotch.  

He deserves it.