The Pilot

First of all, THANK YOU to those of you who so kindly inquired about my postpartum depression. I am fine! Well, as fine as I usually am. I just had my usual short lived bout with some weird anxiety crazies caused by my lady hormones being thrown out of whack, but now I am over it.

Whew! Back to happily staring at new baby for hours at a time.

The funny thing about PPD is that, for me, it really has nothing to do with feeling sad or depressed but instead makes me feel super weird and I stress out about things that are completely stupid/out of my control/both. Like the new car.

Brent decided awhile back that we needed a new car. I was all about making it work with the Volvo and was optimistic about putting three car seats across the backseat, but Brent (the car seat putter inner) was more of a skeptic. And then when the Volvo started spewing plumes of black smoke, he pulled the Safety of the Children card and convinced me to start shopping. You see, the Volvo has been a bloodthirsty moneysucker for as long as we've had it. WE HATE THAT CAR. But since it was paid off, we put up with it and its variety of thousand dollar trips to the mechanic for this and that and what the hell is that? It's going to cost how much?! Anyway, "we" started shopping around. And by this I mean Brent started obsessively trolling Craigslist and driving by dealerships and test driving things that were WAY out of our price range and then bribing the kids not to tell me.

And then, a mere two days after Clementine was born, Brent found The One. The deal! The car of all cars! And like a hunter stalking his prey, he moved in quickly for the kill.

The dealership tried to screw us over, as dealerships are wont to do, but Brent fought the good fight and wheeled and dealed and played hardball and after 48 hours of hassle and red tape and intense haggling, the car was ours!

Except when he got it home and I saw it for the first time, I couldn't help but notice how much it looked like an SUV.

"It's not an SUV," Brent informed me. "It's a crossover SUV."
"What does that even mean?" I wondered.
"I don't know."

So I now drive an SUV. And although I don't begrudge anyone else for driving their SUVs, I have to say that I'm really not an SUV driving person. I eat organic vegetables! I am concerned about air pollution! I am aware of my carbon footprint! I should be driving a Prius, for chrissake. But again with the three car seats. You just can't win.

The idea of driving around this gas guzzling people mover pretty much freaked me out. And I now realize that it was mostly those postpartum hormone crazies, but I sort of had a mini identity crisis over this car. It was hard enough becoming a soccer mom, but now I am an SUV driving soccer mom. It's a lot to take in when you are already teetering on the brink of postpartum sanity and you recently turned 36 and haven't realized that HELLO! You are a soccer mom! Nobody cares what kind of car you drive. It's a young person's world and you are old. Get over yourself!

Sigh.

Also, this is my first ever non-shitty car and when you've lived a lifetime with nothing but shitty cars, you begin to drive your shitty cars with pride and sort of wear this ownership as a badge of honor. I still don't quite feel like me in such a decidedly non-shitty car. I guess I am kind of a martyr like that.

The good news is that my PPD weirdness didn't last for long and now I am all screw you Mother Earth! I have gas to guzzle and soccer games to drive to in my not shitty car!

Just kidding. But I do have to say that it's nice having that second row of seating because it means that the big kids can squabble and kick the seats all they want because I'm waaaay up front now. Ha ha, suckers! Enjoy the backseat. (Also, air conditioning! Hell yeah!)

Some of you are like Enough whiny narrative about you and your first world problems. Show me pictures of the BAYBEE! 

And I am sorry to report that this is the only picture of Clementine from the week. When you are the third kid, that's just the way it goes.

With neither one of us working right now, there is a lot of family time to be had. I am finding that I love the noise and commotion and energy of the bigger family. I'm not so excited about all the laundry the little people produce, but when I think about how much fun these three will have growing up together, I know it will all be worth it.

And so, identity crises notwithstanding, life is good. We are happy and healthy and we can all fit into one non-shitty car. Oh, and my thrift store shopping habit yielded a Pokemon Monopoly game that kept Brent and Jack busy for the entire weekend.

Not related:
Sawyer: "Mom, our new baby is so awesome!"

Also not related:
Jack: "Mom, can I pet the baby?"

Related:
I confess that I have no conclusion. But I promise more baby pictures next time.

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