I should preface this post by saying that everything and everyone is perfectly and 100% FINE.

I had every intention of blogging about this as it unfolded, but for obvious reasons, I was much too upset too do anything but cry and worry last night. Tonight, everything is much, much better… and best of all, Mr. D is putting Scout to bed so I can have five minutes all to myself and my lovely Interwebs.

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Due to a series of all kinds of ridiculousness, I finally had my first appointment with an OB/GYN yesterday…

By my count, I was16 weeks and 4 days.

With Scout, I had my first appointment at 4 weeks. The first sonogram was at 8 weeks. There was another at 13 weeks and the BIG ONE at 18 weeks.

Poor Baby #2. Getting short changed already.

Unfortunately, he or she spent its first weeks of life in the UK, where prenatal care is somewhat… lacking.

It depends on who you ask (or who happens to offer their unsolicited opinion), but the Brits just don’t give into our cu-razy American notions of preventative care and prenatal vitamins.

In fact, they find our need to be seen by a doctor on a regular basis somewhat hysterical and quite unbecoming. As one commenter on my “American Mom in London” blog wrote to me:

In the UK pregnancy and childbirth is considered to be a natural thing, not an illness or abnormal medical condition. Gynecologists and obstetricians will only be brought in if there appears that there are — or will — be problems.

I would suggest that in the USA it is to the advantage of expensive medical specialties like obs/gyn to pretend that pregnancy is dangerous.

Not “dangerous”, so much as nerve-wracking, exciting, full of anxiety and fear, happy, stressful…

Not necessarily bad things, but it really does help to have the support and guidance of… oh, I don’t know… someone that ought to be knowledgeable on the topic.

Of course, upon moving back to the States, I had the equally distressing task of dealing with our health insurance system. We had a few weeks and a long, cross country drive ahead of us before Mr. D started at his new company, so  I applied for a short term policy. However, once they found out I was preggers, the company refused to write the policy.

(Something about it being a “preexisting” condition and the company not willing to accept the liability down the road. Basically, a bunch of C.Y.A. BS…)

So, I had to pass on a visit to the wonderful OB/GYN in Dallas who delivered Scout. I was feeling fine and not even my “nerves-excitement-anxiety/fear-happiness-stress” could justify paying out of pocket.

Even after Mr. D started work, it took three more weeks to wade through the paperwork while I continued to wait and wait and WAIT!

So here we are 16 weeks and 4 days later.

After waiting so long, I was beyond excited about my appointment (and the subsequent blog post/photos that would surely follow).

Things started a bit hectic, but once I met my new doctor, I felt very comforted. We went through the basic info and I asked her a few questions. Then she checked for the heartbeat and couldn’t find it…

… and I felt my heart stop too.

In case you haven’t heard, my new home state, “the eighth-largest economy in the world”, is broke and plans to start issuing IOUs to taxpayers owed refunds and creditors…

While we scratch our heads in disbelief, wondering where all of that money went, the DMV has been forced to close two Fridays out of every month and car registrations have gone from $150 last year to $450 this year…

Guess what two things just happen to be next on my “To Do” list this week?

(hint: new drivers’ license and re-registering the car. Oy!)

This accounts for a majority of my conversation today…

“Mommy. Where did my yellow truck go? Where did my yellow truck go? Where did my yellow truck go? Where did my…”

“You’re holding it.” (The answer is always “You’re holding it”.)

Five minutes later…

“Where did it go? Where did it go? Where did it go?”

“Where do you think it went?”

“I’m holding it!”

Mom was right. I DO understand now that I have kids and I’M SORRY!

We’ve been in our new house for almost two weeks and I’ve devoted that entire time to finding a place for everything (putting everything in its place) and potty training Scout… Oh yeah, AT THE SAME TIME.

It’s been madness, but that’s a whole other post of its own…

In the meantime, I’ve put off doing things like finding a new preschool for Scout or making any new friends for me. I figured that stuff would come eventually, once we’re settled and feeling a bit more with it and together.

Besides, I’ve never had trouble making new friends in the past. I like people and have every reason to believe that I am likable. In other words, I try not to bring too many neurosis to the first playdate. (All bets are off for the second…)

Surely I’ll run into another mom at the park or the grocery store. We’ll greet one another and laugh at how similar our crazy kids are. I’ll mention being the new girl in town. She’ll suggest we get together sometime and just like that, I’ll have my first mommy friend. Sigh!

(Or I could almost run into her with my car as I meander through the Gymboree parking lot (Hi, Ashley!) or blog about cooking spray, since that’s what worked before… )

After all, it didn’t take long for us to get acquainted with the neighbors on either side. Both seemed eager to check us out… er, meet us, eying the box of diapers being unloaded out of the car (“Oh, you have kids, too…”) and offering neighborly assistance (“Drop by if you need anything”).

They seemed really nice and I, a bit too eagerly, asked one of the moms if she stays home with her kids too.

She smiled at me indulgently (the same way I smile at Scout when he requests ice cream for dinner) and said, “Oh no. That’s crazy. No one stays home with their kids around here…”

Mr. D, not missing a beat, quickly stepped in and changed the subject while I digested this information.

Did you catch that?

Apparently, NO ONE stays home with their kids in all of Northern California. NO ONE.

Sure enough, our neighborhood is a ghost town by 9am. I walk Scout to the nearby park and he’s the only kid not accompanied by a grandparent or nanny. Neither of the two churches that we’ve tried so far even offer a moms’ group, something that was absolutely integral to our parish in Texas… and let’s be honest, to my overall well being and sanity.

Slightly bothered by this, I got online last night and Googled for moms groups in my area. To my relief, I found a few promising ones. However, to my utter horror they come with a few… RULES.

#1 You have to submit a photo before even being considered.

Hmm, do you think this one captures the “real me”?

#2 If approved, there’s a 30 day “cooling off period” in which one of three things can happen…

1. For some reason you can’t make it to any of their “fun, exciting, and different things to do as a group” within the first 30 days, they boot you (and your child) out of the group…

“What if I’m a little busy applying for a new California drivers license and filing damage claims with my moving company?”

“TOUGH!”

2. They decide that THEY DON’T LIKE YOU and boot you (and your child) out.

3. They like you. You like them and everyone carries on wearing pink in Wednesdays, but no dangley earrings on Fridays. Tra-la! Tra-la!

#3 NO DRAMA, MAMA. I’m talking zero tolerance, baby! If another mom goes to the organizers with a problem she’s having avec vous, it’s au revoir. No take backs. No questions asked. Tattle much?

Oh-kay. So, it’s been my experience that any group that has to put a “no drama” clause in their rules and/or has rules in the first place, probably has way more drama than I can tolerate, which is NONE at all…

Sorry, but I didn’t rush in college and I’m certainly not rushing in the real world… especially for a playgroup.

This past Christmas/birthdays, I sent our nieces and nephew board games.

I had read how great they were for developing social skills, graceful winning/losing, strategy, creativity, blah, blah, blah.

Based on the “thank you” I received from one of my sisters-in-law, the kids really liked them and I was rather proud of myself for choose such good gifts.

Talking to Mr. D’s parents a few weeks later, I learned that the biggest hit this holiday season was actually…

HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL!!!!

“Oh the girls just loved their new HSM this and their new HSM that,” my mother-in-law told me.

I have never felt so completely out of touch.

Obviously, I’ve heard of HSM, but at ages 5 and 6 I thought my nieces were still a little young for it. How can this be happening already? I bought them princess dresses last year, for heaven’s sake! One of them had her last birthday party at the American Girl store…

Could they be crushing on tween hearthrobs already?

Well, shows you how cool and with it I am, I witnessed my niece turn bright red when her dad teased her about the photo of the Jonas Brothers hung on her bulletin board.

In short. They are.

Once I got past the initial “But they’re still BA-BEEEEEEES”, it dawned on me that I was about their age when I had my first “crush”, except it wasn’t on any slick, cleverly marketing Disney-bot.

It was on… (so embarrassed. so embarrassed. so embarrassed.)

Magnum P.I.

About a week later, he was replaced by William Shatner, as none other than…

Okay. Stop laughing. What can I say… It was the 80s and I guess I’ve always had a thing for older guys.

So, ‘fess up. Who was YOUR pre-pre-prepubescent heartthrob?