It's a miracle

We have carpet.

It is even better than the initial color.

I think I might weep.

Color me pissed off

So after bringing the wrong color carpeting to my house on Friday, Empire assured me they would bring the correct color the very next morning. The installer's exact words were, "We can pick it up at the warehouse at 7:30 and be here right after that."

Imagine my surprise when at 9, 10 and 11 a.m., there were no installers at my house. I finally got on the phone at 11 to find out what was going on and was informed by a phone operator that my account had a notation that the new carpet they picked up at the warehouse was also the same (wrong) color, so they didn't even bother loading it on the truck. They also didn't bother calling me to tell me that.

Because it was a Saturday, my sales guy was not answering the phone and there was no one who could do anything to alleviate my situation. Translation: there was no one who would listen to me bitch.

After many phone calls and assurances of money being rebated (yes, I just made a new word) and a call to a general manager, it was decided the carpet would be installed this morning.

I met the installer at the door and told him we might as well start this event at the truck because I needed to see the carpet first. I joked on the way there that if it was wrong, I would be causing great bodily harm to him.

Hot damn, it wasn't the right color AGAIN.

I couldn't make this stuff up, people.

Because we need this carpeting and we just can't stomach screwing around with it anymore, we had them send over a salesguy with the samples and we picked something entirely different.

So help me God, if that carpet comes tomorrow morning and it is wrong, I am going to physically shove the entire roll up the salesperson's ass.

Even more mindless drivel

Have you ever thought to yourself, "Self, I wonder what exotic and life-changing thing Amy is doing right now?" And you ran to check my blog, but realized I only update at night after the kids go to bed because that's the only peace and quiet I have? And you wept, because you needed something more in your life? And you weren't sure why I was phrasing everything as a question? Like an up-talker?

Have I got some fabulous news for you.

I have up and joined Twitter. Now you too can subscribe to my Tweets and read about my adventures as they happen. In real time. Because trust me, there are some things that can't wait for the evening. I mean who isn't going to want to see updates from the timeout mat where I have to employ a leglock to keep my 2-year-old from running away? Or the bench at the playground where all the nannies are texting God knows who on their phones for 45 minutes while their charges throw sand? Or the bathroom where I am trying to pee by myself but my toddler keeps opening the door asking if he can flush it for me?

I asked Josh if he wanted to be my first follower. He said no. I told him it would be fun! With an exclamation point! And he said no, again. Because he hates fun. And puppies. And rainbows.

So I invite you to follow me and my tweeting on Twitter. There's a little thingy in the sidebar over on yonder to the right and you can click it to subscribe. I'll try to bring my A-game. Maybe Josh will jump on the bandwagon eventually.

Of course it's not right

We ordered carpet from Empire (yes, the annoying "588-2300 Emmmmmpiiiire" jingle people) for the basement, with the guarantee it would be installed three days from when we ordered it. We specifically told them we wanted it today. It was the whole reason we went with them versus the other guy.

The told us they would arrive anytime between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. Of course, we waited all day and they showed up at 4:30 p.m.

AND OF COURSE, THE CARPET WAS THE WRONG COLOR. Of course it was. Because nothing about this godforsaken remodeling project ever goes right.

So now they have to bring the correct carpet tomorrow morning. Can you sense my love for this development?

He said, she said

Last night I had book club, so Josh was in charge of the children and bathtime and bedtimes. As I was running out the door with my book and bottle of wine in hand, I reminded him to thaw out a bag of milk for Emmie. I had fed her around 7 p.m., so I figured she would be squawking for food again before I got back.

When I arrived home at 10:45 p.m., she had not yet woken up. Josh had already thawed the milk out, so I told him to just give her a bottle when she woke up because it's only good for 24 hours after it's thawed. He argued that he was going downstairs to paint (yes, the remodeling is STILL ongoing) and that I should just give it to her myself.

I don't give her bottles because I don't want her to get confused by the boob in such close proximity, so I told him he was going to do it, by God, and I retreated upstairs. I may or may not have included the phrase "Just do it. You're freaking killing me." Because I am mature like that.

I went to bed and thought I heard her fuss for a few minutes around midnight and then stop. I smugly went back to sleep because HA, I had won. When she woke up at 3 a.m., I brought her into bed and fed her and all was well.

This morning, I asked Josh what exact time he had given her the bottle. He looked at me like I had a squirrel perched on my head and asked what time I gave her the bottle. I said I didn't give her anything except the boob at 3 a.m.

Sure as shit, there in the fridge was the bottle of milk. Meaning, my daughter slept from 8:30 p.m. to 3 a.m. -- an unprecedented six-and-a-half hours.

Sweet jesus, she slept almost through the night and I didn't even realize it was happening.

Taking a look

Today I had to take Emmie in for her abdominal ultrasound. You know, one of tests she doesn't need to have done because there's nothing wrong with her except being skinny.

It was funny because I am used to seeing her on ultrasound, not seeing ultrasounds done on her. I half expected to see a fetus pop up on the screen and wave it's little skeletor arm at me.

The technician said everything looked fine. Emmie was talking and twisting and trying to grab the ultrasound wand and generally acting like a thriving seven-month old. Well, a seven-month old with a cold. A pathetic runny nose and little cough. Poor kid.

She didn't even cry when they stuck the needle in her arm for the blood draw. She was super interested in the Snoopy bandaid afterward, however.

Not so successful was the attempt to collect her urine sample. With wee babies, they use this plastic bag contraption that gets taped in place and is supposed to collect the urine. Except Emmie somehow successfully peed around the bag. Twice. I have to take the stealth pee-er back for one more test on Friday, so I can just keep trying until then.

I plan to have her sit in a bowl until she has to go. I figure she can't outsmart me then.

Do, re, mememe

I was tagged by both Sarah and Bailey for this meme, so I figured since I had nothing better to bore you all with today, I could bore you with "Six unspectacular quirks about myself."

1. I eat one thing at a time on my plate because I hate taking bites of different things and mixing up all the flavors. So, for example, I will eat all my fries and then all of my burger. Or I will eat all of my steak and then all of my potato and then all of my veggies. It's even influencing my child's eating habits since I only serve him one thing at a time, because that's how I eat so that's how I serve. If we give him more than one thing at once, he gets overwhelmed and won't eat anything.

2. I must have more than one pillow to sleep well. I take one and lay it the correct way at the top of the bed and then I take another one and turn it the long way and sort of hug it and put it under the side of my head. Josh only sleeps with one pillow and throws his second one on the floor and I just don't understand how we can even be compatible. On the nights he is out of town every week, I also take his pillows and do the same thing, giving me four pillows in my configuration, no matter which way I face. It's heavenly.

3. I talk to my mom every day, sometimes multiple times per day. Usually, it's something mindless or something I need to bitch about. Example: today I called her to tell her that I got screwed with my bridesmaid dress alterations. The local dry cleaner charged me $88 freaking dollars to take the dress in and shorten it. I almost had a heart attack. They said it was because the top of the dress had horizontal pleats and they had to take it in a full size. (I ordered a size too big because I was 11 weeks postpartum and a fatass when I had to order it. I wasn't 100 percent sure I would lose enough weight, so I went bigger. Apparently, that was a costly mistake.) But that phone call to complain to my mom was our third conversation of the day. And for the record, she felt bad for me.

3. I hate bananas. Don't like the smell. Don't like the texture. Don't like the peel. Don't like anything about them. Hate them in smoothies and can taste even the tiniest amount in anything. Banana bread might be the grossest idea ever. But of course I have to hide this from the children. Emmie eats a mushed-up banana every morning and Jack made me share a banana with him the other day. Oh. My. God. The horror.

4. I make the bed every day. I can't stand the sight of messed-up sheets and just knowing the bed was unmade while I was gone from the house would send me into a panic. I used to make it before I even got in the shower in the morning, but now I tend to get out of the shower and make the bed before I even get dressed. I like a neat start to my day and I like to feel like I am getting into a fresh bed at night. Josh does a good job of at least making it look like he made the bed, but he just pulls the sheet up willy nilly and then covers it with the comforter. And he refuses to do the throw pillows the way I like them. But I let it slide because he makes an effort and I can just fix it my way later.

5. I don't know how to swim (as in stroke, kick and breathe). As a matter of fact, I am not that big of a fan of water. Instead I just paddle and keep myself afloat. I am such a baby about deep water that I must have one of those wacky noodle/tube/floaty things and/or a lifejacket. I even wear a lufejacket when I snorkle. You can't be too careful in the open water, in my opinion.

6. No matter how few or many items we need from the grocery store, I always wander around the store looking at stuff. It drives Josh insane to the point he won't go with me and will instead tell me to make a list and he'll just go himself. But I like poking around and you just never know when an item on the shelf might jog your memory that you need more of whatever it is. This also results in a lot of off-listing and extra money spent.

I am supposed to tag six other people, but I am too lazy. Instead, I invite all you readers to share one unspectacular quirk about yourself in the comments.