Oct. 5th, 2010

rivka: (smite)
Alex had a doctor's appointment this morning for her annual check-up. It's Michael's day at home, but I decided to go in to work late and take her to her appointment so he wouldn't have to haul along both kids.

We rushed out to the car with juuuust enough time to make it to her appointment. We approached the car on the street side and I buckled her into her booster seat. And then she said, "Mom! What's on our car?!"

Safety glass. Safety glass is what she was seeing. Someone threw half a brick through our driver's side window. The brick was sitting on the passenger seat.

IMAG0265 IMAG0267

As I called the doctor's office and then the police non-emergency line, someone came out of the apartment building behind me and said he'd seen the guy. He heard the window break, looked out the window and yelled, and saw the guy run away. No description; it was dark. He called the police, who never showed up.

We keep our GPS in a hidden compartment. It was still there. We mostly keep home-burned CDs in the car, but we had some purchased ones in there too and from a quick glance I think they're all there. (I didn't do a comprehensive search, because everything was covered with glass.)

The police came in less than 15 minutes to take my statement and give us an incident report. Baltimore City doesn't actually investigate car break-ins or even, I understand, car theft. But they do come by and take your information and give you a paper to give your insurance company. He asked me if anyone had any problems with me. Rather than give that question the complicated answer it probably deserves, I told him I didn't think the break-in was anything personal.

Michael called our insurance agent, who pointed out that we have a $200 auto glass deductible and that it might not be worth our while to file a claim. And indeed, when he called the auto glass company they priced the repair at $297. Not worth filing a claim and having our premiums go up. They're going to send a truck out this morning to do an onsite repair and clean all the glass bits out of the car.

This is, like, the most hassle-free crime victim experience ever. But I still feel rattled. And annoyed that we missed the doctor's visit, because it took them three months to get her on the schedule for this appointment and the woman I talked to said her doctor's next available well-child visit was in January. At least she said they'd waive the missed-appointment fee.
rivka: (I hate myself)
Colin was inexplicably up half the night - crying, nursing, and being hard to settle. WTF, Colin, you are not a newborn. Old enough to sing parts of the 1776 soundtrack = old enough to SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT.

Our car got broken into, emphasis on "broken."

One of the kids spilled water all over one corner of our new-ish couch. I discovered this by sitting down and getting my butt drenched. After I had carefully dressed for an Extremely Important Career-Affecting Meeting scheduled for this afternoon.

Re-dressed in different clothes for my E.I.C.A.M., I showed up at the other person's office to find it empty. His assistant forgot to add it to his calendar. I waited a half an hour because she assured me he had just stepped out briefly. Nope.

My back really hurts. This situation was not helped by having to dash across campus for my putative E.I.C.A.M. and back again.

I unwisely allowed myself get sucked into an online argument about why the Confederacy seceded. Did you know that New Hampshire didn't outlaw slavery until 1865, whereas Jefferson Davis's wife rescued a slave boy from a cruel master and taught him to read? Therefore it is incorrect to say that the Southern cause was morally reprehensible! (Why am I unable to stop talking to this person!?)

I'll have the kids by myself this evening, and I can't even feel sorry for myself because the reason I'll have them by myself is that Michael has to go to an awful, stress-inducing meeting.

I have obtained for myself a chocolate peanut butter brownie and a soothing cup of tea, so things are not as bad as they could be. But I still have to say: today is so unbelievably fired.
rivka: (for god's sake)
How could I forget the cardinal rule of children's literature:

The beloved pet always dies in the end.

In my defense, I would never have dreamed that that trope started as early as the I Can Read series. But it does.

Alex sobbed. "Why would they WRITE a children's book like that?" she demanded. Um. Not sure. In middle grades novels, the dog dies to symbolize the lost innocence of childhood. But I-Can-Read books are for little kids.

Worst. Mother. Ever.

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