Merry-Merry-Go-Round-and-Round

This past week proved to be milestone week at our house. We kicked off the festivities by refinancing our mortgage. Combining the two into one tidy, expensive little bundle and tying up all those nasty adjustable arm loose ends. I like tidy. One payment a month that won’t change for 30 years. I’m not a huge fan of expensive, but I live in Boulder. I’ve grown used to the premium cost of living in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

Next up on the Milestone Amusement Park adventure was the bean’s birthday. That little teeny, itsy-bitsy baby turned three. Yes. THREE. (I called management and demanded my time back. So far no dice.) When the sun came up that 22nd of September aka birthday, she was officially vaulted into BIG GIRL STATUS. (According to her.) What this meant for her obviously slow to catch on parents is:
1. TIME FOR BIG GIRL BED!
2. No more calling her baby. (Even though I explained that she always will be. To me.) “No! I a BIG GIRL! I da SIS-TER!”
3. Graduation to big girl cups. (Apparently those sippy cups are just so last year.
And:
4. “I don’t need a car seat.”

This last one — needless to say — didn’t go over so well for either of us. She had just witnessed her miraculously grown up sister say good bye to the booster and thought it was her time too. It took some serious wrangling and some serious discussions to finally convince her. “Yes, honey, you are big now. But you still really have to be in that car seat. Or Mommy will get arrested.” To which she replied, “Oh yea. ‘Cause the police are da bad guys.” Well...no...

On her birthday we let our guilty conscience over what we’ve termed “poor second baby” turn into a race to the finish to make sure it was magic time when she got home from school. We’d decorated the house, painted her new bed red, purchased mattresses and brought them home, set up the bed (complete with the favored stuffed friends like two Olivias now undressed, one Lily – sans purple purse and clothes of course, Raffi the goldendoodle named after Nanners’ goldendoodle, and baby night-night – who started this journey with her at less than age one), wrapped presents and assembled the Skuut bike. I was nearly in a sweat by the time that pick up time rolled around. But you should’ve seen her expression when she saw that bed. It was official. She had arrived.

And ever since, we’ve been dealing with the fall out of having her free to roam the house. There’s the perky little “morning mom!s” as she jumps on the bed jamming an elbow into my full bladder. And finding her bed full of matchbox cars. The waking up her sister because she’s up early and bored. The getting up 100+ times because she can. And, my personal favorite — dressing herself in FIVE pairs of panties. “Why?” “I don’ know” (shrug).

Then, on Wednesday, my amusement park ride tour culminated in buying out the b-partner after five years of business together. I was so anxious driving there that I had to remind myself to breathe. I don’t know why. It just felt like I was about to drive off a cliff. And you’d think it would be nothing after delivering two c-section babies, running a marathon, moving across the country, and quitting a well-paying job to start a company, etc. I guess it was the finality. The fact that I now owe a sum of money against a company that I am fully, solely responsible for. It’s all me, myself and I. (And shit.)

We signed the papers, exchanged the stock certificate, took the b-partner off of the bank accounts and headed off to lunch at Salt to toast change. It was all very amicable and warm-fuzzy. And after a glass of red sparkling wine and a plate full of peach/gorgonzola/proscuitto flatbread and some yummy greens, I was a bit fuzzy too. I drove home and the hubby was waiting with a card, flowers and champagne (for toasting later). It was all so surreal. And so, so kind. (Have I mentioned that he’s the best?)

Then, later that night, after the girls were all snug in bed, the hubby returned home from a work dinner around 9:30 and told me the Jeep had broken down and he had to get a ride home. And, while I wish that I could say our next stop at Milestone Amusements was the purchase of a new car —finally — I only have a towing and an expensive auto repair to add to the list of prizes. We are so painfully stubborn about having another car payment (since we now have none) that we are just going to wait for that damn heap of metal to run away from home before we ever replace it.

The next morning I woke up to one-car-wrangling with the hubby. Then, finally headed to my bank appointment to re-apply for the business credit card. I arrived to be told that they had taken it upon themselves to shut it all down. Rather than waiting for the new application to process as they had promised. This was what I won at the Wells Fargo bank stall during my amusement week. A free roller-coaster ride with the whole business at stake. And I’m actually still buckled in and stuck upside down on a loop. About to puke.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: If you could drive in a Big Car, would you...drive in a Big Car. Spookie Daly Pride.