I’m back! Okay, where to start? Well, we helped my parents and brother and sister-in-law move on Saturday. It’s been freezing all month here but on the day we choose to carry heavy objects up and down stairs San Diego decides,

“Hey, how about 85°? Does that sound like fun? I think that would be awesome! Your air conditioner in your car broke a few months ago, right? All the better! Oh and your driving around two hot cranky kids that aren’t having any fun at all? Sweet!”

It was about as un-fun as things can get (But is moving ever?). It was, however, pretty exciting to see their new place. Once we were done with my bro and sis we headed over to my parents to help them. We had helped them take one load early in the morning, but the rest of the day had been consumed by my brothers stuff, because HE HAS A LOT OF STUFF. Once we were finished they were pretty much almost done (for the day) and so we decided to help by providing a whole bunch of KFC and some strawberry champagne for celebrating. No one had eaten all day so they were very grateful. I just wanted to eat KFC.  Everyone is extremely relieved to get out of there. They can finally live like tenants now and not prisoners of war. They have a toilet, two actually! And heat! Hell, they can even hang things on their wall if thy feel so inclined! I know my Aunt and cousin read our blogs (old landlords captors) so I have a little message for them.

Dear Asshole and Asshole Jr,

You will have to find someone else to control now. I know you want to play it off like you gave them a place to stay to be helpful but you really just wanted one more thing in your life you could control. A helpful relative doesn’t charge an arm and a leg for rent for a TRAILER.  A helpful relative fixes toilets when they break. A helpful relative doesn’t tell you when you can or cannot hang things on your walls, yell at you for hanging up a wind-chime on the patio, whether or not they can collect their OWN mail out of the mailbox or not or how many things they can have plugged in at one time, etc. No one believes you were trying to do anything nice for them. So give it up.

The end.

Today Kayla had her first Occupational Therapy appointment. She loved it! She now calls it “the fun doctor”or “the toy doctor.” They therapist noticed her “tics” right off and said she would probably need physical therapy as well. It’s still not known whether or not they can do anything for them. They’ve decided she is a “Sensory seeker.” I could have told you that. She prefers bright colors, smears food all over herself at every meal (still at almost three), would rather be upside down, spinning, etc. at all times and things to that nature. Hopefully we can work on those things as well as her letting us know when she has gone to the bathroom (and possibly even help with potty training) and learning how to dress and undress herself. It’s pretty strange that she still can’t even take her own pants or shirt off. But it’s soon to get better! I am so, so, SO proud of all the things she CAN DO. She has gone well above everybody’s expectations as to what she would be able to do. She has much less than half a brain left and somehow she can manage to say things like “It’s dark in here.” That’s my girl.

Sunday night (I know, I kind of went out of order) we ended up having to call the cops on some guys out front of our apartment complex. We secretly watched from our balcony as two African American guys came up and started beating the crap out of three other guys. Another guy that happened to be driving by got out of his car and tried to help stop the fight. Instead of stopping, they decided to jump him instead. About four more African American men came out and the all six of them were beating the crap out of this guy that was just trying to help. This is when I decided to call the cops. While I was gone the hubbs said one of the guys looked like he pulled out a gun. All the girls that were around watching started screaming and some guy was yelling “Put that away! Put it down!”

Operator: 911, what is your emergency?

Me: Hi, I’m at ************* St. There are about six African American males beating up a guy in front of our apartment complex. (I didn’ know about the possible gun at this point)

Operator: Yes, someone has already called and the police have already been dispatched.

Me: Okay, thanks.

We live about one full mile from the police department. It took them about an hour and fifteen minutes to get here. I think, even if they had walked here the entire way, it wouldn’t have taken over an hour. That’s pretty ridiculous.

Anyway, shortly after I called, someone yelled to everyone that the police were on their way and everyone took off. Me and the hubbs were like, “What the heck just happened?”

Have I mentioned we are moving? Oh, we are sooo moving.

By the way, my pregnant friend had her first appointment today. He gave her an ultrasound and she has a dot baby. She called me to tell me about how much she loves her little dot. It’s not quite bean sized, just a dot. So she is probably around 4-5 weeks pregnant. He wasn’t sure about the due date but decided it was probably somewhere around Halloween. She goes back closer to the end of the month to get a better idea of a due date. That way the baby will be easier to measure.

Tomorrow I am participating in Sarcastic Mom’s breastfeeding carnival. It sounds like an awesome idea. Everyone blogs about their breastfeeding stories. So look out tomorrow for that. I promised myself when I heard about it that I wouldn’t ait until the last minute to start writing the post but just like high school, it’s tomorrow and I haven’t started yet. So that’s what I am going to go do now. See you tomorrow!

Click here for details!

Breastfeeding Carnival

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