Mini Backseat Driver

So, Brynna has become a backseat driver at the tender age of three. I'm not sure what prompted this, except that I am surrounded by it. My husband works the passenger side brake like it's going out of style and has been known to cringe in fear of death. Let me make clear that I am not a bad driver. He has bad brakes. He assumes, therefore, that everyone has bad brakes. When he drives my car, he stops us on a dime about a quarter of a mile before every stoplight.

My mom is the original nervous passenger. She usually keeps it under control when I'm driving (mostly, I think because I drive just like her). However, my brother is sixteen and therefore, required by law to drive everywhere and she just can't help herself.

In short, car trips that don't involve someone telling someone else how to drive are few and far between in my world. Of course, it's still a shock when your three-year-old screams "Slow Down!!" or "Watch Out!!" from the backseat.

Today, she told me that I needed to stop in the middle of the road. Obviously, a nondriver directing here. So, I calmly explained that I just couldn't do that. The screaming continued. She invoked God - "God wants you to stop in the middle of the road," and Pandy (our magic sleep buddy)- "Pandy really needs to stop." Finally, about three minutes from home, she finally got to the crux of the matter. "Mommy, if you don't stop soon, I will have an accident in my car seat."

Well, dear, if you had told me that 10 minutes ago, we could have stopped. Now, we will have to wait until we get home.

She made it by the way, but at least I feel better about this bout of backseat driving.

Big, big news

So, I am pregnant! It's news so big, I keep trying to make it cute and/or exciting, but it's too big and I can't get it without just blurting. I'm barely pregnant, too. Just five weeks in, so it's still exceptable, nay expected to keep it myself. But now everyone in my family, my boss, my husband's boss and a select few of my friends know. I can restrain myself from calling people up out of the blue, but I can't seem to keep my mouth shut once I'm actually having a conversation with someone.

And the worst part is that no one is as excited as me. I don't blame anyone. Second children aren't as exciting, plus it's not time to be excited yet. The baby won't be here until December, so really, you just can't sustain excitement that long.

I can though. I am so excited I can barely stand still. And I can't decide which is more pressing, looking online for the perfect coming-home-from-the-hospital outfit or looking for the elusive and nearly non-existant cute, plus-sized, maternity clothes.

And there is so much else to do. I have to find my maternity clothes that I already have and analyze what I need and go through the baby stuff and analyze what I need. The only thing I know for sure is that I need a bathtub. I threw the last one away because of a really annoying leak. I have to decorate a nursery, which means I have to find a new home for a playroom. And what am I doing? Blogging and watching Gilmore Girls. It doesn't seem like December will ever get here and it also doesn't seem like I can ever get everything done in time.

Thank God for my husband. At least I don't need to stress alone.

Babysitting the Rabbit

First of all, I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted. I know, I know, it's been a month and I truly apologize. I love you all (or both, whatever). I will do my best to do better.

Today, though, I speak about the joys, nay the ectasy, of keeping PomPom over Spring break. (Note the sarcasm). I have often wondered what possessed people to keep anything other than dogs and cats and possibly fish for pets. Today, I tell you, I still marvel.

For those of you who don't know, PomPom is the classroom rabbit in my daughter's Montessori class. Cute little thing, mostly white with those sticky-uppy, velvety ears. I love those ears. My new boss has a pet rabbit named Henry. I went to visit Henry and learn all about pet rabbits in preparation for this experience.

Henry is very personable, although it seems his favorite activity is sleeping, litter trained and playful. PomPom is anti-social, skittish and scratchy. Yes, did you know that picking up a rabbit puts you in iminent risk of having your hands shredded like cheese? It's true.

You can't blame PomPom, though. My most horrific moments came as Brynna played in the same room where PomPom took temporary residence. She was so happy just to be in the same area as PomPom that her playtime would often errupt into ear-bleeding shrieks of joy. I was convinced that the bunny would have a tiny cardiac arrest and I would be in the not-so-pleasant position of replacing the bunny-kins. This, thankfully, did not happen.

It was during these moments, though, that I realized why such a scary event would not kill a poor, scared, animal of prey. He's used to it. Maybe not the squealing, it seems to be a pretty quiet classroom, for a classroom. But, this rabbit's only company is 20 3-5 year olds. Poor thing. They also only visit for the last hour or so of his normal waking cycle and then hang around, keeping him awake, long after he should have gone to nappy-ville.

It was nearly impossible to get him to come out for a romp around the playroom, but then I realized, who would want to get out of their nice, comfy, safe cage to dartt between the feet of 20 pre-schoolers.

Oh, and did I mention the smell. Ten minutes after cleaning out the cage, you could again smell the smell.

All in all, though, we really did have a nice time hosting PomPom. My husband and I learned about small animal care and Brynna had a blast playing hostess for the furry, little thing. I'll be better prepared next Spring Break. Oh, yes, we'll do it again. It's worth it.

But he can't stay more than a week. I mean it.