Squeak Rattle Thump

Now that I am calm, after two months of dwelling on this…I will write my Car Saga down for future generations to read and learn from.

 

I bought my Toyota Corolla S in 2005.  It was the first new car I had ever owned that I totally picked out on my own…and loved it dearly.  She was blue and had a spoiler on the back.

I drove that sucker for nearly 200,000 miles.   It was paid off in three years. 

I loved her dearly.

She was a wonderful car...not a hint of issues.  

The Husband decided that we needed to sell her back in the Fall.

No.

The Husband decided that we needed to sell her back in the Winter.

No.

The Husband set up a sell with a Fellow Co Worker without letting me know at the end of January.

Yes he did.

I relented.  She was getting older, and had a lot of miles, and we were crowded on drives.

So we sold her.

During the two weeks before the Sale of the Corolla…I was scrambling to find Another Car.

I HATE car shopping.  Despise it.  This was making me NUUUUTTS.

I liked Camrys.  And I liked Accords.

So I settled on a nice used pretty Camry from the Salesguy that has sold us every other Toyota we have owned.  This would be his fifth sale to us.  Clean CarFax…pretty car.  What could go wrong?!

Salesguy makes it quick and painless and we are headed home with our pretty New Camry.

Nearly home, and I start hearing this freaking fracking awful rattling from the roof.  What the heck?

Get into our neighborhood…the roof sounds like it is going to come off.

What in the world!

Get out of car…check trunk for the five gallon bucket that HAD to be rolling around in there…cause that’s what it sounded like.

No bucket. 

Trunk was empty.

Shit.

Call Salesguy.

He apologizes…apparently it is a common complaint amongst this year of Toyota for the sunroof to rattle.  Bring it in on Monday (this was Friday) and we’ll check it. 

Question 1:  Then why in the hell didn’t you fix it when you got it?  Huh?

Rattle Rattle Rattle all weekend. 

Take it in…

They call…it needs to go to the body shop to fix the roof.    We can take you next week.

No shit.  Could’ve told you that myself, and I am NOT a mechanic dumbass.

Ok.   Whatever.

So I drive the Rattle Trap another week and a half.

They fixed the roof after four days in the Body Shop.

Halfway home…I start noticing another noise. 

It isn’t coming from the Roof…it’s the freaking Floor Board or something under there on the passenger side

Thump thump…rattle…thump…pop pop pop.

Are you kidding me?

This is starting to tick me off.

Call Salesguy again.

Bring it in Monday…we’ll take a look.

Take it Monday…they keep it a few days.  It’s a broken blah blah blah part.  You are all fixed!

Uh huh.  I bet.

A few days later…Pop Pop Rattle Thump…Rattle…Thump Thump.

This time coming from the Driver’s Side.

Are you kidding me?  Really…are you freaking fracking kidding me?

Call the Service Manager from the cell phone with the toddler yelling in the background…So sorry!  We’ll order the part that we fixed for the Driver’s side…blah blah blah.

A week and a half later…the part is in.

I take it in…its in for a few days…I pick it up. 

And I take the longest test drive EVER. 

Up roads.

Down roads.

Parking lots.

Side roads.

Silence.

Blessed silence.

So I go for two weeks with the quiet non rattling car. 

I’m happy.  The car isn’t making any noise that it isn’t supposed to.

Let me stop here and clarify the picture a little...every single time I have had to drop this car off...I had to drive 25 miles to the dealership, remove car seat, move car seat to rental, drive 25 miles back to work...lather rinse repeat.

I was sick of it.

Really sick of the car seat thing for sure.

We drove to Myrtle Beach…we drove to the Inlaws for the nephew’s Christening…

On the way home…

You guessed it…

THUMP

THUMP

POP

RATTLE

THUMP

The Toddler was asleep…so I started cussing…profusely.

Monday morning…I didn’t call my Salesguy.

I emailed him…and the Service Manager…and the Sales Manager…and told them to come and get the car.

I had had enough.

I didn’t have time for this shit.

I didn’t say shit…I deleted that word. 

I said ‘garbage’.

Told them that I didn’t have time to be driving it back out there.

So they called and profusely apologized.  I heard blah blah blah blah…and more blah.

And the tech showed up to pick up the car, and I took her for a ride in it.

Yes, that freaking thumping and popping is making me nuts for 80 miles a day…do you hear it?

Yes ma’am.

I unloaded all my crap out of the old car.  Car seat and all.  And tossed it into the rental.

I really hate installing a car seat now...even though I have it down to a science.

She drove away with Creaky.

Once it arrived at the dealership…the Husband decided at this point to pull his testosterone in the mix.

I had had enough.  I was in the state of mind to just tell them to keep it and just drive the truck for the year that The Husband is gone.

Ugly me was about to come out...and really make a stink.  

Again…I DESPISE car shopping.

The Husband called Salesguy and said to keep the car.  We want a New One.  We want a New Deal. 

Now.

And we will be keeping the rental car until it is done.

Thanks.

And after four days of negotiations, and Salesguy leaping through hoops and fire…we got a New Deal.

I picked up my brand spanking new Camry on Friday.

It’s very pretty…and it doesn’t make extra noises.

If it does…I will cry.

Obsessions

Ahhh...Therapy...there is no shame in it.
So in preparation for the Deployment, I've started seeing a Therapist.
She's awesome...and is my age...with a three year old, and aging parents that live in another state...and she gets it.
Her husband gets to stay home more than mine...but I won't hold that against her.  Because her job is to listen to people's trials and tribulations all day.  That would make me nuts.

First visit was nice...get to know you.

Second visit was a Vent Fest.  Vent about rude people questioning about having an Only Child.  Vent about the Deployment.  Vent about The Parents.  Vent about the In Laws.  Vent about The Dog.

She also found the story of me tossing The Husband's uniforms down the stairs, and me with my six month preggo self going down and kicking and stomping the hell out of them, quite amusing. 

That's the way I cope.  I bottle up and explode when I am alone.

I felt fifty pounds lighter when I walked out.

I also realized another one of my coping mechanisms.

I will chew the hell out of an issue.  Obsess, research, re-research...obsess some more...and then I will put it in the back of my head and say 'eff it'.

Then I won't obsess anymore.

Kind of like the three pound  can of Pecan Poppycock I buy from Target ever year around Christmas.  I eat that crap for three days, and then I am done when I get to the bottom of the can.  I'm good for another year.

I will latch onto something else.

Right now, I can't really mull anything over in regards to The Deployment.  The Husband just got details this weekend, and we will go over them tonight.

And I kinda just don't want to.

So instead...I am researching Birthday Plans for The Toddler's Big Four (in August I might add) and Tshirts for him to wear to the Deployment Ceremony...and a Banner for the Welcome Home.

Therapist said those were all positive things...and it helps.

Yeah, until you get mad because you are crying over all the designs on Cafe Press and want to go kick a wall because you are picking out another damned shirt for your kid to wear to a military function.  The last one was a Welcome Home Daddy shirt...this one is more smart ass than anything...I guess I want people to KNOW we feel like shit right now.

I'm a little narcissistic that way apparently.

I'm at ANGRY with coping.

Angry that I have to let him go for a year.

Angry that I have to deal with this again.

Angry that it is what it is and I have to play nice.

But it's ok.

It's his job...and the benefits are good...and blah blah blah.

It still suuuuuucks eggs.  Big rotten stinky eggs.

I'm going to bite Reality...before it bites Me

Yesterday evening, we went to the beach and played in the sand for two hours, until it got too cool and windy to justify being out there much longer.

During that time...we had a conversation with a family from Canada.

And when it came up that The Husband was going Overseas...The Canadian Husband said 'You act like he's going to the store or something...not gone for a year'

I guess I do.

What else am I supposed to do?

Everytime it comes up...should I start wailing and pulling at my hair?

Because that is what I really really want to do. 

But I am a Soldier's Wife...I can't do anything about his Orders, or his Job. 

My heart can be breaking into a thousand pieces but I have to stand there and take it...and smile...or grimace.  Whatever.

I can't snap in front of The Toddler, because this is not going to be a Big Deal.

Daddy is Going to Drill.  That's it.  That's all.

It is what it is.

And I am scared...and worried...and reality has sunk in.

Especially when I set the timer on our camera and took our required family beach picture.

This is it...the countdown is on.

Just sitting there watching The Toddler shovel sand...it hit me...this is It.

And soon The Husband will be gone...for a year. 

And this is going to suuuuuuck.

So BITE ME Reality.  You can just BITE the big one before you Bite Me.

I already know this is going to suck.

I already know I am going to cry and throw a tantrum in the next few weeks.

I already know I am going to get bitter and bitchy.

So there...I'll Bite YOU First.

Personal Questions

We are on vacation...YAY!

The Husband leaves in a few weeks for overseas...BOO!

The Toddler has had an absolute blast on our trip...YAY!

All three of us are having a great time...and maid service is divine.

But if I get one more stinking personal ass question from people about the fact that he is an Only Child...I'm gonna drop kick someone into the Lazy River.  I am.  I really am.

This vacation has REALLY brought out the people who feel it is up to them to question our Decision to have Only One.  It's been constant.  And annoying.

Folks...I CHOSE not to procreate more than once.  It was a very deeply personal decision that The Husband and I made.

He left when The Toddler was a week old for a year to Iraq.

I had UNBELIEVABLE post partum depression.

The Toddler was soooo sick that I am not sure how I maintained a shred of sanity.

And we are happy with ONE.

I do not feel the need to stretch myself out even more.

I do not feel the need to explain it to you either....We use the 'we're good with One' when asked in casual conversation how many we have, or if we are planning more.  It usually stops there.  Sometimes it doesn't...then heeeeeere we go.

It's not a financial thing...that's probably the last Con on The List.

It's an emotional thing and 'we are happy with our ONE' thing.

SO STOP FREAKING ASKING PERSONAL QUESTIONS ABOUT IT.

None of your business 'Why'. 

None of your business 'But He Will Be Lonely'. 

None of the knowing smiles and the 'Oh, you'll feel different later'.

Nope. 

And don't give me that damned 'Oh, you never know!'  Yes I freaking do.  The Husband did the right thing for us and took care of the issue.  I'm not sharing that with you either.  None of your business.  Like the rest of the conversation.  Can we talk about something else other than my reproductive cycle?  Cause...that's what we are really talking about here...  you know that right?

Or my favorite...the 'oh...he's an Only' thing.  Whatever the heck that means.  Usually...it's a thinly veiled jab at the fact I am actually playing with my kid or talking to my kid...rather than letting it run amuck and terrorize other kids.

(Not ALL parents do this...but it seems as if the ones who do allow their children to run wild... feel the most  need to criticize my choice to have Only One)

And to the Chick at the pool this morning with your FIVE children... that chose to tell me how to get my cranky three year old to love the water as much as her weird two year old, suck it.  And then informed me 'oh, I have five...I pretty much know everything'.

You should have stopped there...and we could have ignored each other in silence.

But no...you had to freaking push.

I conversationally said 'oh we're good with just The One' when you asked if he was 'It'.

Then you had to keep going.

And pushing.

'But he will be lonely'  No he won't.

'He won't learn to play with others'  He's doing just fine right now with your weird kid.

(Don't EVER mention your child is in daycare to Those Moms...that's a whole other Judgment down upon your Only Child Bearing Head)

'But don't you want more'  No.  We are good with One.

I tried walking away.

Sick of The Game now thanks...you just HAD to keep plucking.

'Why?!'  OMG...Really.  NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.  There I said it.

Really...I am not that stunning of an example of genetics that requires me to breed.  Really...you aren't either lady.

And your 'sorry to offend you' didn't work either.

You didn't offend me...you just didn't shut up fast enough when I said it was 'none of your business'.

If I had been offended, you would have known I was offended.  I was sick of talking to you and your self righteous all knowing self.

Really...none of your business.

You're lucky I didn't ask if you had another hobby other than sex and obstetrics.

But there were kids there...and you were annoying me.

I haven't asked one single person with multiple children WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY?  Honestly, I don't care.  Inside I am wondering if you are insane...but I will not walk up to you and ask...I won't.

I promise.

I haven't asked one single person with multiple children anything personal...ever.

Stop judging those of us with One Child.

There are some deep reasons as to why people choose to have One.

Infertility
Financial
Emotional
Mental
Physical

It's freaking personal.

None of your business.

Not up for discussion.

We are very happy with our beautiful, bright, loving, happy Gift.  He's our One.

Next time someone asks me why we are choosing to have Only One...I'm going to ask when their last period was...what they pay in mortgage...results of last PAP smear...what their credit score is...

You know...since we are asking incredibly personal questions...why not?

It's my Party...

I might cry today...

I'm turning 36 today.

I don't know why that is giving me an anxiety attack.

It's just 36.
Not 40 for crying out loud.
But 40 is now a hell of a lot closer than it was.

I should be happy that I am turning a healthy 36...

Well...other than the raging pinched nerve in my neck that has my shoulder in a freaking knot...and will probably require more freaking physical therapy to get it working right again for a while. 

Or the damned 'freckle' that the opthamologist found in my eye and is now sending me to have digital pictures taken in two weeks so that they can monitor it and make sure it doesn't turn into 'melanoma'.  Yeah...not a word you EVER expect to hear at the eye doctors office.  That's a whole new thing for me to Google the hell out of.  It's quite common...but I didn't have my laptop handy in the docs office, so I was practically twitching from lack of info until The Husband handed me his IPhone at lunch so I could look it up.  *sigh*   And then I bought the biggest pair of polarized sunglasses ever in the history of me buying sunglasses...because that put the fear of everything in me.

Or the fact I am seeing a counselor to deal with issues in regards to The Deployment.

I'm gonna have to mention 'the freckle' at the next visit.

But hey...35 was fairly good to me:
I still have a job.
The Toddler is growing by leaps and bounds.
All of our bills are paid.
I didn't wig out on anyone.
It was a pretty good year.

I looked for gray hairs last night.  So far, I have none.  But I am also blonde...and hoping that they aren't hiding in there...and just keeping the thought that I don't have any as my 'I'm aging really well' mantra.

The girls I work with...they all talk about lines and wrinkles.  I don't have any.  My face is nice and fat...so that is one plus to being about twenty pounds overweight.  I have plump fresh skin...or plump anyway.

I am sporting a fresh set of highlights in my hair.  A little too highlighted...but that is what happens when you do a home job and The Toddler and The Husband interrupt you and you lose track of time.  But they look 'sun kissed'...or 'sun slobbered' really.  They'll be fine.

I'm just freaking out a little. 

My mom was my age when I was in first grade. Was she really my age when I was 6?   Because she was such a MOM....I never thought of her as anything else.  

I met The Husband when I was 17...and turned 18 two months later.  We have now been together more than half of our lives...

Holy Crap.

Ok...another heart palpitation...

Let me get through 36 in one piece please...Thanks.

It's all in the Details...

The Husband got his Deployment Details.
And it's put me in a Deployment Slump.
I guess it became reality when we got dates to write on the calendar and to work around.
When it's just 'out there', then there really isn't a reality to it.
There is now.
There is paperwork and everything.
We know where he is going.
He knows what he is going to do.
We know when he is leaving.
Let's just say, it's a tad earlier than we had thought, and it was a hard pill to swallow.
But it's ok.  The faster he goes, the faster he comes home.

But in all seriousness, I am worried about this next year.
I am terribly worried about him and his safety. 
I don't want those cars pulling up in my driveway with the uniformed military members and their somber expressions.
Ever.
This is the Man I grew up with.  We were high school sweethearts.  We've been together over half our lives, we share a beautiful little boy that is having problems keeping his clothes on at daycare (a whole other story).
This is the Man I love.

I'm worried about doing it all again.
The first deployment was, in all honesty, a freaking living hell.
I was miserable with a newborn, post partum depression, trying to work full time, keep my sanity, and had a kid who stayed sick.
I had pressure from everywhere...my job, myself.

This time I am doing things different, but I am still really worried about my sanity.
So I am seeing a counselor starting this week. 

I think I have my ducks in a row....psychiatric counselor....housekeeper (still freaking trying to hire one by the way), doggie daycare for the Dog once a week or so, babysitter for The Toddler once a month. 

I'm just desperately trying to grasp this bull by the horns....but I really don't want to lift my arms up and do it...I'm just exhausted thinking about it.

I thought about quitting my job while he was gone...but then remembered that I kind of need one when he gets back home.  This is not exactly the best economy to mess around with employment status. 

My Employer is pretty good about working with me and everything that goes on.  I am lucky in that regard.

My parents will be able to come and help some when I need them too.  If it hadn't been for my mom last time, I'm not sure what I would have done.  She also made me nuts and made me second guess myself on everything, but that too, is a whole other story.

So the next few weeks will be a whirl wind of getting stuff together and grasping the whole situation.  I know it is his job, and I know it is his duty...and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.  But somewhere along the way, I'll have a wall kicking, snot fest and tantrum. 

Last time I balled his uniforms up and kicked them down our stairwell and stomped them. 

Yes I did.

Getting Religion...

We have “Come to Jesus Meetings” at our house.

This means, if you are acting up, and threats of removing toy, TV program, or in my husbands case…computer time, doesn’t work. 

We go to a quiet corner in the restaurant, camper show, store, etc…and we have a “Come To Jesus meeting”.  Most of the time it is a bathroom stall…and as I go in, I explain in a loud voice to those who are present “he is three and we are about to have a Come To Jesus meeting”.  I usually get silence, but sometimes a chuckle.

Basically, I (or The Husband if I didn’t catch on first), will kneel down in front of the sorrowful Toddler and explain very seriously what he was doing and why it was not appropriate.  The talk can last thirty seconds, or in some cases, a few minutes. 

“Come to Jesus meetings” usually work really well.

It give the Toddler a moment to correct himself and get his head out of his butt.

It gives us a moment to chill and reset the situation.

This morning…I am explaining to The Toddler on the way to daycare that we are going out to dinner tonight with The Husband’s Friend Rick and he needs to show his manners. 

The Toddler contemplates this and asks if we are going to Elm Copawow…

His favorite Mexican restaurant that he cannot pronounce.

Yes we are.

He pauses.

Then says “Yes.  Cause I don’t want to go to the bathroom and see Jesus”

Me either babe…me either.