quickie

My kids are seriously spoiled. Aaron got more toys today than he can possibly know what to do with, and KCB got a ton of cute clothes and she ISN'T EVEN BORN YET.

Oh well, it's all good. Mama got S1 of Chuck, an iPhone docking station, and a post-natal spa package. So I guess I'm pretty spoiled, too. :)

Points of Order

Just a few thoughts:

1. Yes, I stole the idea for this month's header from Meghan. Yes, I think she'll get over it. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
2. Irish people should always wear sunblock. The 2nd degree sunburn on my shoulders agrees.
3. I am currently torn between really wanting to return to work and continuing to stay at home for awhile. In the pro column for gainful employment is the second income that our family has been used to for awhile now, and the incessant stream-of-consciousness ramblings of my toddler will be much more bearable in smaller amounts. In the pro column for staying at home, I can plan an extended trip to New England and Newfoundland in July and August. And, you know, not having to...like...work.
4. I support Arizona's new immigration law. There. I said it. Maybe I have a slightly different perspective living less than a hundred miles from the border, but the way I see it is this: drug cartels and gangs = bad. By toughening up our immigration laws, we are cracking down on the number of corruptive influences that make their way into the country. Yes, I realize that a number of people come here to find work to support their families. Well, here's what I have to say to that: DO IT LEGALLY. No, I do not think that I should have to support you and your family and have my taxpayer dollars fund your health benefits when you aren't even in this country LEGALLY. I understand that Arizona's new law raises concerns about racial stereotyping and can sympathize with those who are here legally who may be subject to unfair treatment. But on the other hand, these legal citizens have probably been through the ringer in getting legal status, so if it were me and I did all that work, I might be kind of pissed if someone were reaping the advantages not having put in the work.
5. This "Everyone Draw Mohammed Day" is Stoopid. You're just fueling the fire, people. Stop being immature and leave well enough alone.
6. The Library of Congress recently archived all tweets. So that years from now, our children's children can look up what we had for lunch on any given day of the year.
7. This is awesome. I would like to meet this Nerdlington J. Techsupport.
8. Boston has no drinkable water. And MORE IMPORTANTLY, Bostonians can't get their Dunks and Sam Adams has stopped brewing. This will have HUGE repercussions, people. HUGE. Thankfully, Dunk has found another way for people to get their fix.

Points of Order

• There are TWO WEEKS LEFT, PEOPLE. Dig deep down in those pockets. Pretty please? DONATE. Every dollar helps. Thank you.
• The Christmas spirit has struck me early this year. Santa's list has been made, and I'm counting down the days until I can put the tree up. This will be our first Christmas "at home" here in SD. I'm not counting That One Year I Gave Birth to My Firstborn Child Who Was Born 3 Days after Christmas.
• Check this out: Traffic Tirades. A friend of mine here in SD started this blog as a safe way to vent her road rage. I update the Twitter feed for this blog. You can follow us on Twitter, and you know you want to. @traffictirades
• .backwards is everything now and relocated was work at cubicle My (see what I did there? I'm so clever.)
• Ian will begin to commute up to 29 Palms during the week soon, and will only be home on weekends. We're getting a practice go of it this week, and IT SUCKS. That is all.

The Pilot's Wife Rules of Driving in the Rain

Recently, SoCal has been hit by some rather unfavorable weather. In fact, I'm seriously considering asking for my money back: I signed up for sunny and 70, folks, not rainy and 40!

Now, don't get me wrong. I, as much as the next person, enjoy a rainy day at home, in bed with a good book, but what I truly don't enjoy is the Monday morning commute with a bunch of weenie SoCal drivers. And, on days like today, I really envy my husband, who can just fly over all this commuter crap.

So, you see, I grew up in Atlanta, in a part of the state that sees some CRAZY ASS WEATHER. On more than one occasion, my mother literally had to drag me down to the basement so I wouldn't be sucked up into the sky by the funnel cloud of which I so desperately wanted to catch a glimpse. So, needless to say, driving in the rain isn't that big a deal to me. Because, let's face it, on I-285, it's sink or swim, bitches. Actually, more like drive or DIE.

So you can imagine my frustration as I attempted to wind my way down the I-15 this morning. On a normal day, the flow of traffic on that highway can be expected to be about 80mph or so, so you can imagine my consternation at having to drive 40 FRAKKING MILES PER HOUR through what can only be described as heavy drizzle.

With my patience wearing thinner and thinner (as well as that of my son, Aaron, screaming from the backseat, "GO GO GO GO!), my exit came into view. THANK YOU LORD. However, blocking my ability to exit the highway is Joe Douchebag, who is trying to merge into the flow of traffic by COMING TO A COMPLETE STOP, sitting in the right hand lane with his blinker on. Really, people, how hard is it to MERGE? (And alternatively, for those already in the flow of traffic, don't be an assface -- let the bastard in!) They even put up those ridiculously asinine ramp lights to help you out with that. (And don't even get me started on those...because really, it makes COMPLETE sense to require drivers to come to a complete stop, before giving them approximately 50 yards to merge into 80mph traffic!) But no, here sits Joe Douchebag, at zero miles per hour, completely blocking the right lane, and apparently oblivious to the horn on which I have been leaning for the past five minutes. (And all I got for my trouble was an extended middle finger!)

So, with that delightful little introduction, I give you, dear reader (and dear Joe Douchebag) The Pilot's Wife Rules of Driving in the Rain:

1) Turn your headlights on.
This really is a no brainer. Combine the fog of the marine layer with the steam rising off the road, and basically any moisture falling on San Diego is going to create a bit of limited visibility. Trust me, this isn't for your benefit alone: it also helps the people behind you from smashing into your rear bumper. Leading me to #2...

2) DON'T TAILGATE.
Taking into consideration that 98% of the population of Southern California reacts to rain in much the same way that Atlantans react to a single snowflake falling from the sky, you'll be doing yourself a favor by allowing a little extra space between you and the car in front of you. So, at the very least, when the idiot in front of you can't seem to remember if THIS is his exit or not (in spite of the fact that he probably makes this commute EVERY DAY OF HIS LIFE) and slams on his brakes in order to squint at the sign, you'll be far enough behind him to react appropriately. A general rule of thumb for this is one car length for every 10mph. That, however, is not to say...

3) See that sign? That's the speed limit!
If the posted speed limit is 65 miles per hour, why don't you maybe try going 55 when it's raining? Really, 35 mph is a bit excessive.

4) Pump your brakes.
Should the cars in front of you not read this blog, and don't know to turn on their headlights or drive faster than a normal person can run, don't slam on your brakes when they ultimately slam on theirs. Water on the road = hydroplaning. Ease on up, huh?

5) If you really can't hack it, pull the frak over.
If you can't stand the heat (or my horn), get out of the kitchen. Pull over to the right, turn on your hazard lights, and wait it out.

6) OBEY THE LAW.
I'm talking to you, truckers! You know that little law that FORBIDS you from driving in the lefthand lane? Well, just because it's raining doesn't mean that it doesn't still apply.

I really think that if everyone took these simple rules into account (read: if everyone was as awesome as I am), we could all just get along swimmingly.

OpLove

Recently, I signed our family up to participate in a photo session compliments of Operation: Love ReUnited, a non-profit organization in which local photographers can participate by donating their services to local military families.

We had our photo session yesterday at Old Poway Park, courtesy of Tony Eisenhower Photography.

To view our photos, contact me by email at bree.brown@mac.com and I will provide you with the password.

photo courtesy of Tony Eisenhower Photography

Wedded Bliss

Excuse me whilst I barf. (As I'm repeatedly told by my husband, I'm so unromantic.)

Today is my and Ian's three year wedding anniversary. Thanks to the Marine Corps, we have spent this day together only once. (And that day was actually my due date, and we spent the evening at my company Christmas party, where I got to watch everyone else get drunk.) Yet in spite of all that, the past three years truly have been some of the best in my life. Recap? OK.

December 18, 2005 - The Newlyweds drive to NYC for their honeymoon in Bree's grandfather's Buick. They split the driving, but somehow, Bree ends up driving the last leg through the city. Screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and threats of divorce ensue.

December 19, 2005 - Bree comes down with The Plague.

December 19-21, 2005 - More wailing and gnashing of teeth. But hey, if we were going to be stuck inside, at least it was a nice room (Renaissance Hotel in the middle of Times Square). Yeah, Marriott Discount!

December 21-24 - Did I mention that we were visiting NYC during the transit strike of 2005? This severely limited our excursions to those things within walking distance. We did share a cab with some interesting folks out to Ellis Island, however. We got to see some awesome shows (Rent, The Producers, I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change), went to see David Letterman, and took in the sights.

December 25, 2005 - Bree refuses to drive in the city again. Makes Ian drive first leg back to MA. Streets are obviously deserted, and this is the easiest drive EVER.

December 31, 2005 - The Newlyweds celebrate NYE with friends in Manchester. Little Purple Hands!

January 1, 2006 - Bree drives Ian to MHT airport to catch a flight back to to Pensacola. Ian, having been "overserved," didn't come to bed until about 1.5 hours before we were supposed to leave for the airport. As a result, he is sticking his head out of the car window on the way to the airport and hiccuping through the security line.

Mid-January 2006 - Bree packs up her U-Haul with all her wordly possesions, grabs a co-worker to drive it for her and makes her way to Wilmington, NC, where Ian will be stationed at MCAS New River. Ian and Bree ("Bree-an" from here on out) settle in to their new place, and go about their new lives together.

Mid-March, 2006 - Oops! Is that a plus sign?!

Mid-July, 2006 - Bree-an's lease comes up, and Ian is supposed to finish up training any day now. Bree-an moves into their friend Shaun's beach house.

August, 2006 - 5-months-pregnant Bree and Ian begin their drive West. Before they can leave the house, however, Bree leaves her cell phone locked in Shaun's hosue. The drive "West" goes something like this: North Carolina, Washington, D.C., Boston, Maine, Toronto, Ohio, Missouri, Amarillo, Flagstaff, San Diego. 4 days of searching yields an overpriced apartment in Del Mar.

December, 2006 - One year of wedded bliss. 32 hours of contractions, 3 hours of pushing and voila! Aaron Patrick Brown, in all his glory.

August, 2007 - Sick of the overpriced apartment in college-kid ridden hell, Bree-an and offspring move to an overpriced townhouse.

September, 2007 - East coasters invade and successfully surprise Ian on his birthday.

October, 2007 - Ian deploys for Iraq. One day later, Bree and Aaron evacuate their home from SoCal wildfires threatening San Diego.

December, 2007 - First anniversary solo. Aaron's first Christmas and birthday in New England.

May, 2008 - Ian returns from Iraq!

July, 2008 - Bree-an buys their first home together.

December, 2008 - Ian is away at a three-week training in Yuma, AZ, and Bree spends the second of three anniversaries solo.

So there you have it. Through all the ups and downs, however, we still have the best time. Ian makes me laugh more than anyone else I know (with the exception of those Peyton Manning MasterCard commercials), and there is no one I would rather wait for to come home. I'll always be waiting, and I'll never stop loving you, Ian. I love you. Happy Anniversary.

Adventures in Babysitting

This morning was an interesting one for me. Two days a week, for sanity-saving purposes, I take Aaron to daycare. Those treasured Tuesdays and Thursdays allow me time to job search, go on interviews, get some stuff done around the house, and, like today, go get my hair cut. I wake up on Tuesdays and Thursdays a happy person, because I know that I won't be losing my temper on an hourly basis, fighting the stubborn will of an almost-two-year-old all day long. I don't think I'm a bad mother for those two days, because I think it provides me a breath of fresh air, since it seems that my son inherited his stubbornness, short temper, and hardheadedness from his mama. And when you put the two of us together for an extended period of time, tempers flare and he usually wins. 

So you can imagine that this Thursday morning (sidenote: yay Thursday! Tonight The Office and Grey's Anatomy come back!!) I was pretty much happy go lucky. Until I walked into Aaron's room to wake him up and get him dressed. HE WASN'T THERE. Um, ok, so the gate in the hallway was up, so there were limited places he could be. Guest room? Nope. Bathroom? Nope. Did he manage to sneak into our bedroom whilst I was performing -- er, morning duties? Nope, not there either. OK, he can't climb over the gate, so what's going on? I call out his name -- no babbling response. I start to panic. But before paranoia sets in, i walk back into his room. Why is that blanket in the corner? Ah ha. There he is, sleeping soundly on the floor tucked in the corner of his room, fully hidden from view underneath the blanket. 

I get him dressed, get his shoes on, and tell him we're going bye bye. (He waves at me.) Ok, let's go. Where are Mama's car keys? .... hmm, where are Mama's car keys? 

"Aaron? Keys?"

"teeeeeeees."

"Aaron, where are Mama's car keys? You know, KEYS? For the car? Car goes beep beep."

"Buh-beep."

"Yes, good job. Beep beep. Where are Mama's car keys?"

"Teeeeeeeees."

Getting nowhere fast, I scour the house for the keys, looking in all the usual places: in the sofa cushions, behind the loveseat, in the broiler (yes, that is a "usual spot."), behind the TV. Nothing. 

After a full thirty minutes of searching EVERYWHERE, (it's a small house, and there aren't that many hiding places!) I'm starting to fear a full day at home alone with child and no way to leave. The thought is petrifying. So I intensify my search. OK, think like a toddler. Nothing too high, so the keys are definitely below my waist. What did we do yesterday? We ran around the living room. Under the coffee table... no. On the bookshelves? No. Double check the couch cushions and behind the loveseat. No. Windowsill? No. Ok, what else did we do? Pulled out more toys from the toy box. The toy box. YES. The sight of that SAC keychain almost makes me cry. Hurry up, kid, you're off to daycare, and Mama's on her way to sanity. 

Coming Soon to a Bedroom Near You...

(get your mind out of the gutter, people.)

... A Toddler Bed. Yes, that's right. This morning, I awoke to a loud thump, followed by the sounds of my child's screams. Fear not, everything and everyone are fine; I think Aaron was more scared by what had happened than he was hurt. Nontheless, we have lowered the mattress in his crib to the lowest possible setting, but given Aaron's recent tendency to climb everything (including into his high chair, on to the kitchen counter, up onto his changing table, and into our bed), I am under no illusions that soon, he will be the proud occupant of a Toddler Bed. Yes, apparently my son has monkey genes.