The inspection

My sister Natalie has been in search of some waterfront property ever since I gave her my idea about a year ago. Dad found the deal I've been waiting for, and informed her of the place (only 4 miles from our house) the other day. She loved it, and decided to get it inspected prior to the purchase. Smart girl! Especially since she had me to do it for her while she tend to her studies and protecting the USA down in Madison. I believe her rank is E 19 or something like that in the guards, and don't ask me what her major is in college this time... hmmm...

She asks me to get a babysitter. "Sure Natalie, I'll try" I assure her. Little does she know, I haven't been on a date with my husband in almost a year since my babysitter became unavailable, and I'm overly particular about leaving Max and Layla with just anyone.

Layla falls asleep like a good girl, and Max is watching his BELOVED little Einstein movie and sitting perfectly content while the breeze flowed through the Van windows to make it unbelievably pleasant. Meanwhile I tramps around the half acre lot with the inspector, not a thought of worry to fill my head.

We check the well. The inspector gushes over the amount of money that was put into it for her, and what a "rare find" this property is. I squish a bug a little harder than I normally would have. The seller's rosy wind blown cheeks shine as he beams a smile to the inspector that only a experienced suck up could pull off. He pulled up on a motorcycle that contorted the inspection by becoming the topic of discussion many more times than this mother with limited nap-time freedom would have liked. Then he tipped his glasses down to say hello to me, and held out his hand "Hi, you must be Natalie's YOUNGER sister?" and he had me too.

We three walk to the garage, and he opens the door. Seller brags that he's installed an automatic garage door opener and hits the button to demonstrate it as if it's a new invention. The door slowly lifts, and as it opens it reveals his gleaming motorcycle. First we see the sleek silver muffler, spotless and sassy, shaped upward like a flame for effect. Then the glistening black gas tank, appearing puffed like a male birds chest when he needs his mates attention. Slowly we see the bottom rim of the frayed leather hanging from the double seat, a nice touch I thought. Then we see MAX!

Somehow, he managed to get freed from his car seat straps, out of the van, and over that HUGE HOT muffler! Up on the seat, keys in hand, and every button pushed in discovery, sits Max. I catapult through the garage to rescue my son. The seller shouting, "that bike is poorly propped, and those mufflers could burn him if it tips over!" and I get goose bumps as I imagine my son lying in a hospital bed covered in burn bandages. Never EVEN MIND... what else he was doing with the buttons and keys at this point, just apologize repeatedly hands shaking.

"Back in the van Max" I say. Kissing his cheek and spanking his butt at the same time. We have renamed spanking in our house to love taps. I try to explain to Max every day, that the reason I may scold or spank is because I know what's right, and what's wrong, and must teach it to him. That I teach him because I love him very much. It still never feels right to spank him, nor does it make sense to hit someone because you love them. I remember despising my lovely Mother for spanking us with a wooden spoon, and never once thinking about what I had done, or that she was trying to teach me a lesson. Only that she was mean. I vow daily to stop spanking my son, and almost daily, I have no where else to turn with him. He's not the type of kid that cares if he's shunned away to a corner or his room. He's not programmed to respond to rewards (yet). I've gathered all the advise I can from wonderful parents I know, and various books that I've found, but not a single approach has worked with my dear boy. He is utterly, and completely, strong willed, not afraid to stand up for himself, and EXACTLY like me. So now I know why my Mother
whopped away at my wee little butt with vigor! Life is a circle.

I put Max back in his new car seat, and buckle him in. This type of car seat allows for the child to just use the standard shoulder strap seat belt in any vehicle and basically just boosts him a bit higher so the strap is not in the perfect place to snap his neck if we were to crash. He is in the third row of the new Chevy Van we reluctantly bought thinking it would make us feel officially old (which it does effectively). I remember looking out the back window of the station wagon as a child, after tiring of sitting between the front row seats and listening to the "old people jabber". Watching everything get farther and farther away, in a sort of reverse world. Trying to fixate my eyes on the lines going by until I was sufficiently dizzy. I suppose my children will not have this memory as they will be in car seats until they are practically adults themselves thinking back on child hood memories.

Yanking on the shoulder strap with all my weight, I feel I have him safely restrained (or trapped one might say). He gladly takes back his movie and M&M bribe, and I peer over at Layla who looks like she's been rustling a bit. I watch her sweet face sleep for a bit, and check to see if she feels hot. She angelically does not move a muscle, so I head follow the inspector who is passing by the van with a wink and a HUGE heavy ladder to climb atop the roof with.

He props the ladder poorly against the house, and I wonder how this sixty plus man who claims to have been doing this work for a lifetime, ever survived! As he approaches the top, seller and I see him start to fall backward, and we rush to push him back to safety. Seller spots him while he does his inspecting, and I can't believe what I just saw! He plays it like nothing happened, and quickly finishes pecking at the roof. Suggests Natalie install a rubber roof, and explains to me what that is as he props his ladder against the porch in the same cock eyed unstable position he almost just died because of. Seller and I walk way around it as we see it could fall down with a mere feather brushing, and head into the house to look at circuits and gas lines.

After a few moments, I get the overwhelming urge to check on my children. My motherly instinct served me well because as I burst out the front door I see my two year old, at the top of a 200 foot flight of stairs that lead to the rocky water below! Had I not come at that second, he could have been at the bottom of those stairs, or already washed down river. This time, I picture search teams, with tall boots, in an assembly line, sifting through the water searching for a body. I refrain from screaming my sons name as not to startle him and make him jump and fall down the everlasting flight of steep stairs that leads directly into the water.

I kneel down next to my little man, as he points to show me what he's found. "Look MOM! It's beautiful!" he exclaims. I try to explain that standing here on the edge of something so high up is very dangerous, but quickly give up seeing he can only think of the majesty he just saw. "Back to the van Max". I lock him in this time, not bothering with the car seat. Now the only air that can sweep through must come from the front windows, and I worry that it will get too hot in there for them. I tell Max he can sit up front (he loves to pretend to drive) and give him his water. I check Layla, she feels cool, so I head back to the house.

Inside, two men are once again speaking of motorcycles. I try to refocus the conversation back to the inspection, but they are undeterred. Bored, frustrated, and a bit worried about my kids, I excuse myself, seeing the inspector was now down to just filling out the paperwork anyway. He assures me that when he's done, he will just come out to the van for my autograph. As I head back, I glance back over at that unstable ladder to see if it had tipped over yet, and wouldn't you know it. There is my son. At the top.

I always wondered if your heart has so many beats in it, and when that number is up, you're life is just over. And if so, when your heart skips a beat, if you've just gained a second or two more life you would not have otherwise had. I know when I met Zach, my heart skipped a few beats, and it occurred to me that these life giving moments were reserved for really spectacular things. Things that weren't going to happen more than a handful of times in your life, giving you just enough extra time in your life for maybe one last kiss.

My son, just bought me an entire make out session! I stumbled over my own feet as I extended my arms upward to my smiling son. As I lift him off, the tall ladder crashes down, and both our hearts skip.

This time neither say a word, and we silently walk back to the van holding each other tight. Layla is awake now, and brings color and elasticity back to my face with her quick smile. We all sit together in "my office" and wait. Some flying bugs come and go. Some poop as well. Finally the inspector comes out to again rave about the rare find this place is. I wearily lift my sweaty forehead to nod in agreement and ask him how much we owe him.

As I'm writing the check, I realize, that there was a big lesson learned here. And that I would NOT be jealous of Natalie and her waterfront property ever again.

Fate

Spoke to a friend yesterday about the exact thing I spoke of in my last blog (Oct 08). Just checked her blog, and was finally inspired to write my own. Well again that is. I had apparently already been inspired once before in Oct, and somehow happened to recreate a blog that already existed. Now I'm baffled, because from her blog, I clicked create blog, only to end up back here, where I once wrote, but had completely forgotten! Where is fate trying to take me here?

I decided to write today because I'm feeling some of those same feelings. Apparently my coping skills kick in instinctively telling me to write it down. Let it out. My son sits here and watches "Cars". We are waiting for the new baby to arrive, trying to stay in and not catch any more illnesses. The time just doesn't move. It's been a long time since I've wished for more time. Like when I was younger, and wanted to play at the park just a little bit longer. What do I love to do so much these days, that I would wish for more time? I guess I need to find something. It used to be teaching my son, apparently until around October of last year. He was a studious little lad before that time, always paying close attention to detail, and sitting with me in wonder with eagerness for hours.

So is it me, or him? I lost interest in the repetitive play really fast. I could never ever be a factory worker, or paper pusher. I need to think, and solve problems, and relate to people. His creative pretend play is still too repetitive for me, and I am ashamed to say, I just hate it. I am 30 years old, but still really love to pretend and imagine, but not about the same two dinosaurs roaring at each other over and over. And I guess I can only pretend to cook eggs and noodles a couple of times as well. I guess I'm just really horrible at taking care of a two year old for more than about 2 hours!

We woke up this morning at 6:30 a.m. A little earlier than usual, but not much. Got up and ate breakfast as usual. Max finally started feeding himself with a spoon at 26 months! He just refused to make a mess, and there is no learning to eat, with no mess. Anyway, he ate his cherrio's, and I ate mine. I've given in to letting him watch a cartoon after that, while I check my email and bank account etc. After breakfast, we generally do some activities at the table, and listen to music. We play a few musical games, read some books, and then go and get dressed for the day... in no particular order.

Today, we have done EVERYTHING we normally do - for the entire day, and it's only 10:39 a.m. Even the bath and movie afterward (in progress). It's scary. What are we going to do the rest of this day? Can we really just spend our lives from here on out watching T.V.? I will not have it! I hate the notion of watching it even once a day! Where will this road take us? We not only have 9 more hours to fill today, but 3 more years before school! I'm really scared.