We folded with our first realtor and let her know we are officially moving on. She was heartbroken. (Actually, she said she was "relieved." But let's pretend she was heartbroken, because I don't like what she's implying. We are easy clients, really!) Anyway, we got another referral, and I'm impressed with him so far. He happens to have the exact same name as a famous country singer, which has caused much delight and embarrassment around our house. Let me explain.
Immediately caught up in the spirit, I downloaded "The Gambler" from iTunes and have been singing it for several days now. My mom asked if I giggled when the realtor introduced himself. And DH joked, "I can't wait to ask him how we know when to walk away, and when to run." Yesterday I got an email from the realtor, and in his professional signature block, directly under his name, there is a small line that says "...not the singer!" I smiled and immediately forwarded it to my mom, saying I thought she'd get a kick out of that, and sharing DH's humor on the subject. A few minutes later, I got a response to my email... from the realtor! I had accidentally hit "reply" instead of "forward." *doh* Are there any songs about crawling under a rock?
Yesterday was my first day back at work. Which really means my first day back to spending time in the spare bedroom wearing sweats and using the desktop computer. Just as I suspected, it was wonderful and horrible at the same time. DH was traumatized leaving Bean at the day care in the morning -- when I spoke with the director and the teacher later, they both said all the teachers were worried about him after he left. Meanwhile, safely at home away from that part of the experience, I enjoyed my 8 hours of "freedom." (Since when is working considered freedom? Wow, I've changed a lot!) I actually got 4 loads of laundry done and picked up the house while sorting through 378 emails and conversing with actual adults about grown-up concerns. I thought about Bean all day and couldn't wait to go pick him up, but it gave me something fun to look forward to rather than feeling like a terrible panic. However, when I arrived at the day care center, it was my turn to be traumatized. Bean himself was napping and immediately smiled when I picked him up. The teachers are very nice and the center is lovely. But the sight of all those babies with just a couple of caregivers -- I nearly barfed. So far this is NOT having it all. DH and I were up late last night talking about alternatives. Our first mission is to try to find someone to come to our house and watch Bean while I work upstairs. Most important quality: must love babies. Second most important quality: must be willing to work for peanuts. Know anyone?
I would be remiss in not pointing out this article, which documents what DH and I have said for years... first borns have it harder. It's a plight, really. A downright plight. DH and I are both first children from families of all middles and youngests. Oh what injustices we have endured! We are now accepting gratitude from our younger sibbies for "exhausting" our parents into relaxing the rules. You're welcome. Will it be different for Bean, who is the first born of two first borns? He's obviously at high risk for a type A personality and an anxiety disorder. I wonder how the dog fits into the birth order equation, as really it's her who gets away with murder around our house. Her most recent scam is to sneak out her doggy door with household items and strew them across the lawn, from Bean's stuffed animals to dry erase markers to my breast pump.
Speaking of Bean, he had his two month check-up today. Two months! He's now officially been alive longer than most Hollywood marriages last. He weighs 12 lbs 10 oz and is 23 1/2 inches long, both in the 75th percentile. Way to go Bean! The pediatrician switched his GERD medication, so hopefully that will help more with the reflux. He was a champ throughout the appointment and while getting his vaccinations -- the doc said she can't imagine that he's ever fussy. I plan to give her a call at home this evening to prove otherwise. He's hitting all his developmental milestones, too, which is fabulous. Smiling, following objects with his eyes, turning his head to look at us, cooing, and holding his head up for a brief time. His new favorite pastime is looking at the white tag on the bouncy seat and cracking up. I'm not sure if I should be worried that he's more interested in that than the bright green turtle hanging next to it, or proud that he's already showing an aptitude at reading, just like his mommy. It really is a hilarious tag, what with the "Made in China" and care instructions and all. Maybe I'll figure out how to post a video so you can share the fun. (Let's hope he gets his technology aptitude from his father.)
Now I have a prayer request -- very sad, read on at your own risk! One of my coworkers is 30 weeks pregnant. I have reason to suspect she struggled with IF, although we've never talked about it. About the time she found out they were expecting, her husband was diagnosed with aggressive cancer. He recently passed away at home after being in hospice care. I cannot even imagine how horrible this must be for her, life is so difficult to understand sometimes. Prayers up.