Craigslist is a great thing. One can buy used couches, used clothes, toys, cars,etc. The national news too often reminds us you can also find used women (aka hookers/escorts) and murder victims through their social site. I do not use it for those latter purposes but have been known to buy and sell household items now and then. At one point, we had a couch, bed, bed frame, table, washer and dryer all off Craigslist. Living in Austin is expensive and my household is notoriously cheap.
Last weekend I found a Kindle reader for sale that I had to have for my own. The owner and I talked through text messages (that sounds so ridiculous) and made plan to meet up and make the deal. I have a few rules about doing deals on Craigslist and one is that I do not go to someone's home if I can help it. Public places are always best when it is possible. Obviously, if I am buying a couch I do not expect the owner to haul it to a store parking lot but I did not think it was too much to ask when purchasing a hand held e reader device.
The plan was to meet at an HEB and make the transaction there. Remember I did this all through text so I should not have been surprised when a 15 year old kid approaches me and pulls an Amazon box out of his back pack. I should not have been surprised but I was and now I also felt old. After inspection, the Kindle looked perfect so I asked why he was selling it. His answer, "my sister does not want it."
"Does she know you are selling it?" I asked.
"She didn't take it to college; she left it in her room" was his response. To which I responded, "you didn't answer my question." He finally assured me she was okay with it and who I am to stand in the middle of some good ol' sibling rivalry if he was lying so I bought it.
I was so excited to get it home and get it going. Fast forward two hours later when Amazon.com representatives told me, "Ma'am this device was reported stolen." Insert jaw drop her.
The kid looked like boy scout but then again so did Ted Bundy. I summoned up my best mom tone and call the little thief. I left the most direct voicemail I could telling him I would do a reverse look-up on his number and report him to not only Craigslist, Amazon but also his parents.I told him this was not a joke, and I was not amused. I then called Amazon back after remembering I had the Amazon box the device had been mailed in to its owner before getting swiped by the Boy Scout Bandit. Amazon was amused but not helpful; however, because I was trying to do the right thing they gave me a $30 voucher.
Long story short: the kid called back freaking out with tears in his voice saying he had no idea. He said his sister came clean that the Kindle had mistakenly been delivered to their house and she did not return it. She told him to sell it and she would split the cash with him. Nice. He then offered to mail my money back to me. The Boy Scout Bandit was actually just a Boy Scout after all.
Later that day I got a text from him saying, "I don't want you to think I stole it or something. I don't steal". And my faith was restored that there are good kids out there and some not so good older sisters. (My older sister is awesome for the record.)
And guess what arrived yesterday....my new Kindle. I put the voucher to good use.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Just Another Reason Why I Will Never Be Rich....
Her name is Jessica. She is yet another reason I will not ever be rich. She also reminds me of something I really like about myself.
Big Boy B crawled out of his for the first time 3 days after he turned 18 months. That night he did it 3 more times right in front of me. That was also the night he started sleeping in a big boy bed. His crib has remained in a corner of his room and many nights he asked to sleep in it over his new bed. "I wan' Boonie bed," he would say at bedtime. I resisted calling his new bed a "Big Boy Bed" because well, B is my baby and I do not want to push him into that "big boy" territory any earlier than necessary. Regardless, I have been successful in keeping him out of the crib since that night.
Last week Hunt put B's beautiful baby crib on Craigslist. It did not take long to sell and last night a 7 week old baby, Riley, spent his first night in B's crib. I hope he had sweet dreams. Jessica is Riley's mom. She looked very young and Riley was her second son. She looked like any young mother from a small town in Texas. Jessica told me they lived way out in the country, it took them about an hour to get to downtown Austin. They were driving a Chevy Dooley truck- a good indication that she was telling the truth.
I instantly recognized the exhaustion in her eyes and the love on her face as she inspected the crib. I fought the urge to hug her and instead I pointed out the minor points she may see as imperfections like where Boone started cutting his first teeth. I ran my fingers over the teeth scrapes and got a little emotional. I told her I could have painted over them but I did not want to do that. I couldn't do that. She gave me a slight smile and tilted her head to me. I could tell she understood what I was feeling.
Jessica and her husband decided to make the crib part of their family. H could not be home when they came by last night so I was handling the transaction alone. She asked if I would take $10 less than our asking price. I agreed and her husband started taking the crib apart; I left the room.
Long story short: I not only took $10 less than the asking price I also packed her a bag full of B's baby clothes to take with them. She was dumbfounded when I pulled out the bag of clothes. "Don't you have family that needs this?" she asked. I explained that I knew a lot of people who may need them but she had crossed my path today and she could take them if she wanted them. Tears filled her eyes. She and I sat down like old friends and we went through the clothes.
H got home, I told him about the transaction. I also told him about me giving her all the clothes. "Weren't you taking those to the resale shop for credit?" he asked. "I was," I responded with a smirk. Jessica needed the clothes and I was in a position to help. As I told her, I would rather give things to people I know are grateful and will use them than sell them just to make a few bucks. We are on this Earth to help each other along our paths. Last night my path crossed with Jessica's for a reason.
I come from a long line of givers and I am thrilled I inherited that family trait. My Nannny would be proud. I like that and I wish Jessica a good night's sleep.
Big Boy B crawled out of his for the first time 3 days after he turned 18 months. That night he did it 3 more times right in front of me. That was also the night he started sleeping in a big boy bed. His crib has remained in a corner of his room and many nights he asked to sleep in it over his new bed. "I wan' Boonie bed," he would say at bedtime. I resisted calling his new bed a "Big Boy Bed" because well, B is my baby and I do not want to push him into that "big boy" territory any earlier than necessary. Regardless, I have been successful in keeping him out of the crib since that night.
Last week Hunt put B's beautiful baby crib on Craigslist. It did not take long to sell and last night a 7 week old baby, Riley, spent his first night in B's crib. I hope he had sweet dreams. Jessica is Riley's mom. She looked very young and Riley was her second son. She looked like any young mother from a small town in Texas. Jessica told me they lived way out in the country, it took them about an hour to get to downtown Austin. They were driving a Chevy Dooley truck- a good indication that she was telling the truth.
I instantly recognized the exhaustion in her eyes and the love on her face as she inspected the crib. I fought the urge to hug her and instead I pointed out the minor points she may see as imperfections like where Boone started cutting his first teeth. I ran my fingers over the teeth scrapes and got a little emotional. I told her I could have painted over them but I did not want to do that. I couldn't do that. She gave me a slight smile and tilted her head to me. I could tell she understood what I was feeling.
Jessica and her husband decided to make the crib part of their family. H could not be home when they came by last night so I was handling the transaction alone. She asked if I would take $10 less than our asking price. I agreed and her husband started taking the crib apart; I left the room.
Long story short: I not only took $10 less than the asking price I also packed her a bag full of B's baby clothes to take with them. She was dumbfounded when I pulled out the bag of clothes. "Don't you have family that needs this?" she asked. I explained that I knew a lot of people who may need them but she had crossed my path today and she could take them if she wanted them. Tears filled her eyes. She and I sat down like old friends and we went through the clothes.
H got home, I told him about the transaction. I also told him about me giving her all the clothes. "Weren't you taking those to the resale shop for credit?" he asked. "I was," I responded with a smirk. Jessica needed the clothes and I was in a position to help. As I told her, I would rather give things to people I know are grateful and will use them than sell them just to make a few bucks. We are on this Earth to help each other along our paths. Last night my path crossed with Jessica's for a reason.
I come from a long line of givers and I am thrilled I inherited that family trait. My Nannny would be proud. I like that and I wish Jessica a good night's sleep.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Box of Treasures
My husband calls me a hoarder.... I am over it. I like to keep things; not empty wine bottles or dirty diapers or anything of that sort. There is no need to check your local listings, I will not be on A&E anytime soon but I do have stuff. He refuses to accept that he does too but we are different in that his "stuff" stays packed away in the attic. He does not care to look at it, read any of it or acknowledge or honor it in any way. I mean c'mon, who wouldn't want to frame their award for "Most Likely to Get A Date to Anything". Yes, it did at one time exist within the KA Order (aka fraternity) and my beloved won it one semester. I am so proud.
Anyway back to me: I think wanting to keep your stuff hidden is a bigger issue than wanting to be surrounded with things you love.....just sayin'
We have decided to rent our house out sometimes as a way to make some extra cash. Austin has some high profile events and we live downtown so it is kinda a no brainer. In the spirit of full disclosure I have to admit that secretly I pray these helps me to be able to stop working some day. Every dollar helps..... To prepare for the guests that will eventually enjoy our beautiful home I am clearing some things out. We will have to remove most personal belongings so if I do not clean things out now ALL of my treasures would be exposed in that cleaning exercise so I am getting a head start. I am also saving myself the headache and frustration of hearing my hubby take deep sighs and keep repeating, "Really Wendy?" when he makes another load to help me pack.
Last night I found a plastic storage bag filled with letters and cards. My heart stopped for a second and I was transported back to a time in 2010 when I was one my extended hospital bed rest. I was not able to fully sit up and so my reach was very limited. I placed the cards and letters I received from friends and family in a storage bag and kept them tucked in the side of the bed. When I needed some encouragement the loving words so many of you wrote me were easily within my reach.
You know the end of the story, Baby B was born, I was released and the healing and journey of life began for the Fosters. I was not sitting up yet when I was discharged. My back could literally not support the weight of my head providing further proof that I have a huge brain. Needless to say I did not carry any bags in the door and really did not care where anything ended up at that point. I forgot about the bag until I discovered it last night. I was so happy to find that treasure and rediscover the precious memory of my time on bed rest. I am sure you think I am crazy but being chosen to go through that journey provided me with much reflection and feel a sense of calling.
I sat down and read every single card and letter. Every line, every word. Then I smiled. I am loved. I transferred the storage bag filled with love to a memory box (one of many) for safe keeping. Some things do not change; I want to keep those within my reach.
Anyway back to me: I think wanting to keep your stuff hidden is a bigger issue than wanting to be surrounded with things you love.....just sayin'
We have decided to rent our house out sometimes as a way to make some extra cash. Austin has some high profile events and we live downtown so it is kinda a no brainer. In the spirit of full disclosure I have to admit that secretly I pray these helps me to be able to stop working some day. Every dollar helps..... To prepare for the guests that will eventually enjoy our beautiful home I am clearing some things out. We will have to remove most personal belongings so if I do not clean things out now ALL of my treasures would be exposed in that cleaning exercise so I am getting a head start. I am also saving myself the headache and frustration of hearing my hubby take deep sighs and keep repeating, "Really Wendy?" when he makes another load to help me pack.
Last night I found a plastic storage bag filled with letters and cards. My heart stopped for a second and I was transported back to a time in 2010 when I was one my extended hospital bed rest. I was not able to fully sit up and so my reach was very limited. I placed the cards and letters I received from friends and family in a storage bag and kept them tucked in the side of the bed. When I needed some encouragement the loving words so many of you wrote me were easily within my reach.
You know the end of the story, Baby B was born, I was released and the healing and journey of life began for the Fosters. I was not sitting up yet when I was discharged. My back could literally not support the weight of my head providing further proof that I have a huge brain. Needless to say I did not carry any bags in the door and really did not care where anything ended up at that point. I forgot about the bag until I discovered it last night. I was so happy to find that treasure and rediscover the precious memory of my time on bed rest. I am sure you think I am crazy but being chosen to go through that journey provided me with much reflection and feel a sense of calling.
I sat down and read every single card and letter. Every line, every word. Then I smiled. I am loved. I transferred the storage bag filled with love to a memory box (one of many) for safe keeping. Some things do not change; I want to keep those within my reach.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
My Yesterday
“Mommy look!!!” I lifted my head up just in time to see Ella spinning herself, stomach down on the doctor’s chair with legs lifted high and arms stretched out. She got through one rotation before hitting the exam table and starting in with the expected tears. B, at this time, is screaming that he wants to go home. “No doctor Mommy, no doctor”.
Ella recovered in seconds and decided B may stop screaming if the lights were turned off. Then laugh if they were turned on…. A disco effect was soon in play and B was officially freaked out and climbing up in my arms for safety. I am yelling at E to stop it and telling B to calm down. Where was the damn doctor?
B went from being sprawled on the floor kicking to trying to turn the door knob while on his tippie toes. He also spent a lot of his time pulling at my knees saying “Up Mommy, get up” with a very stern look on his face like “Are you not hearing me woman?????” The only time he was calm was if I stood up held him. I would have done that all day if my sciatic nerve was not threatening me to seize up at my next movement. I could not stand up and hold 32 pounds. It just was not happening. Ella was trying to help but she keep trying to discipline B by saying, “Little boys who scream don’t get Christmas.” That was not helping his screams and damn those Love and Logic parenting classes. I must be using that line of reasoning (Little children who ____ don’t get ____” ) too much for E to catch on to it so quickly. I tried to make a mental note.
By the time the doctor walked in 25 minutes late she found me sitting with my head buried in my hands while my elbows were resting on my knees, barefoot on her exam room floor. B was lying in front of the door screaming for a baseball that was left in the car. Ella was lying on the exam table like a patient waiting for an exam. She had just explaining to B he was not having to get a shot…until he was 4 then he would get LOTS of shots. Bstopped screaming for his baseball, looked at me and said “No shots, no shots, Mommy!!!!” The screaming resumed. I laughed; it was all I could do. I was tired. B returned to the floor.
He was knocked by the opening door and he scrambled to my lap. The crying instantly stopped. The doctor opened with her usual perky, “How are we in here?” I answered with my smart ass comment of, “do you have a doctor’s note on why you’re late?”; she politely laughed as did I but I was completely serious.
B has a hernia and will need day surgery to have it repaired. He doesn’t care; the doctor gave him a bouncy ball after the appointment so he is happy for now. Ella was upset she was left out (who knew day surgery was so popular?) so she also got a ball and now I had 2 happy kids. Great.
We loaded up and heading somewhere to waste time for an hour until Ella had her doctor’s appointment. I tried driving a while to try and get them asleep but with $4 a gallon gas I couldn’t afford to go too far so I opted instead for a playground near E’s appointment but not before finding a Sonic for a large coke. The kids of course, woke from their drowsy state while in the drive through and asked for food. Two Wacky Packs and one large Coke later we found the playground. There was a shaded bench for me and lots of room for the kids to burn some energy. We parked, unloaded, and brushed all the French fries that were spilled from the Wacky Pack out of my car then made the 200 meter walk to the playground. I got seated, opened my iPad to read and notice E walking up to me. “I have to go potty, Mommy”. She did not like my suggestion of picking out a tree to go behind so we loaded up AGAIN, wrestled the park’s basketball out of B’s hands- he is screaming again- and head off to find a potty. I decided to go straight to her appointment; there is a potty there and a very small playground in the back year area of the office. We unloaded again; I found a place in the shade, B jumped directly into a sand-pit type area (I offered a silent prayer that it was okay for him to play in it). I pointed E to the potty and she looked at me straight faced, “I don’t have to go anymore”. WHAT?
E and B went off to play in some Bamboo trees that lined the yard. Apparently, she also gave him a lesson on Presidents because soon she went back to her appointment and Boone was trying to whack down trees. I got up and ran to him grabbing the stick he was using as a dull axe telling him to stop and asked what he was trying to do. He replied, “I Abe Lincoln, Mommy”.
I jerked him up while thinking “my kid is a genius” and brought him with me for a time out. He was quiet….too quiet…. He was sipping my coke. Nice.
The day eventually ended. I convinced the kids it was bedtime at 730. Lights were out all over the house by 9PM. I survived.
Ella recovered in seconds and decided B may stop screaming if the lights were turned off. Then laugh if they were turned on…. A disco effect was soon in play and B was officially freaked out and climbing up in my arms for safety. I am yelling at E to stop it and telling B to calm down. Where was the damn doctor?
B went from being sprawled on the floor kicking to trying to turn the door knob while on his tippie toes. He also spent a lot of his time pulling at my knees saying “Up Mommy, get up” with a very stern look on his face like “Are you not hearing me woman?????” The only time he was calm was if I stood up held him. I would have done that all day if my sciatic nerve was not threatening me to seize up at my next movement. I could not stand up and hold 32 pounds. It just was not happening. Ella was trying to help but she keep trying to discipline B by saying, “Little boys who scream don’t get Christmas.” That was not helping his screams and damn those Love and Logic parenting classes. I must be using that line of reasoning (Little children who ____ don’t get ____” ) too much for E to catch on to it so quickly. I tried to make a mental note.
By the time the doctor walked in 25 minutes late she found me sitting with my head buried in my hands while my elbows were resting on my knees, barefoot on her exam room floor. B was lying in front of the door screaming for a baseball that was left in the car. Ella was lying on the exam table like a patient waiting for an exam. She had just explaining to B he was not having to get a shot…until he was 4 then he would get LOTS of shots. Bstopped screaming for his baseball, looked at me and said “No shots, no shots, Mommy!!!!” The screaming resumed. I laughed; it was all I could do. I was tired. B returned to the floor.
He was knocked by the opening door and he scrambled to my lap. The crying instantly stopped. The doctor opened with her usual perky, “How are we in here?” I answered with my smart ass comment of, “do you have a doctor’s note on why you’re late?”; she politely laughed as did I but I was completely serious.
B has a hernia and will need day surgery to have it repaired. He doesn’t care; the doctor gave him a bouncy ball after the appointment so he is happy for now. Ella was upset she was left out (who knew day surgery was so popular?) so she also got a ball and now I had 2 happy kids. Great.
We loaded up and heading somewhere to waste time for an hour until Ella had her doctor’s appointment. I tried driving a while to try and get them asleep but with $4 a gallon gas I couldn’t afford to go too far so I opted instead for a playground near E’s appointment but not before finding a Sonic for a large coke. The kids of course, woke from their drowsy state while in the drive through and asked for food. Two Wacky Packs and one large Coke later we found the playground. There was a shaded bench for me and lots of room for the kids to burn some energy. We parked, unloaded, and brushed all the French fries that were spilled from the Wacky Pack out of my car then made the 200 meter walk to the playground. I got seated, opened my iPad to read and notice E walking up to me. “I have to go potty, Mommy”. She did not like my suggestion of picking out a tree to go behind so we loaded up AGAIN, wrestled the park’s basketball out of B’s hands- he is screaming again- and head off to find a potty. I decided to go straight to her appointment; there is a potty there and a very small playground in the back year area of the office. We unloaded again; I found a place in the shade, B jumped directly into a sand-pit type area (I offered a silent prayer that it was okay for him to play in it). I pointed E to the potty and she looked at me straight faced, “I don’t have to go anymore”. WHAT?
E and B went off to play in some Bamboo trees that lined the yard. Apparently, she also gave him a lesson on Presidents because soon she went back to her appointment and Boone was trying to whack down trees. I got up and ran to him grabbing the stick he was using as a dull axe telling him to stop and asked what he was trying to do. He replied, “I Abe Lincoln, Mommy”.
I jerked him up while thinking “my kid is a genius” and brought him with me for a time out. He was quiet….too quiet…. He was sipping my coke. Nice.
The day eventually ended. I convinced the kids it was bedtime at 730. Lights were out all over the house by 9PM. I survived.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)