Coincidence or "the curse?"

Zach and I took Mia to the zoo. If you haven't ever taken a neglected 22-month-old to the zoo on Friday the 13th, you have been deprived of the experience of a lifetime. We dropped the babies off at the Van Wagoners. Mia didn’t want to leave, so she cried. She whined all the way to the zoo, cause the sun was in her eyes and we didn’t have anything to put in the window. She started crying when Zach dropped us off at the entrance. The first animal we saw was a giraffe. Mia wanted to ride it. And when she realized she couldn’t, she started crying. Then, we left to go see something else, and she started crying. We got to the water fountain shaped like a lion. She loved it! And then another girl came to fill her canteen- guess who started crying.

Ready or not, here we go

Our van, filled with two babies and a toddler, broke down on the freeway on the way home today. The transmission went nuts and the engine started overheating. We had to get off in American Fork and take refuge from the 102 degree heat in an Office Max. We were the only "customers" in the store, and they kept asking us if we were finding everything okay. I quit explaining we were actually just loitering after the second salesperson, and we kind of hid out in the office section on the comfy chairs. I bought a Dasani so we wouldn't be complete freeloaders.
So here's my concern: our plan of rescue. I called my mom and asked her to trade her car with my dad's van (luckily, he was just pulling up to the house) and come load it with all three car seats and all the boxes of crap we were transporting from their house (which we had just left) to our apartment. When she arrived, Zach would see if he could get the van back to his dad's auto shop in Sandy for a free diagnostic, at which point he would get a ride home from his mom. We utilized four parents to get out of that pickle- the exact number of parents that we don't have living in Ohio. Where we plan to move in exactly 25 days. 1,735 miles away.
So what? you say. You would have just called a tow truck, a mechanic, and a taxi. But a mechanic, and tow truck or taxi driver wouldn't have hunkered down on the floor of Office Max and helped me wrangle Mia and change her poopy diaper, simultaneously keeping hungry Bree's binki in her mouth, while Zach transferred our crap from the broken van to the good one. And the tow truck and taxi driver wouldn't have stayed with me when I got home to help feed all three kids (an hour late) and put them to bed while Zach took the car to the shop.
Without all four parents, today would have been messy. Not to mention the fact that we'd be hundreds of dollars in the hole.
Independence Day is going to be a month later for us this year. August 1st. I have a feeling August isn't going to be nearly as... convenient... as was July.

Blessing Day

Cut me open

I got my gallbladder out Friday. It’s Sunday- 5:00 am, and I have just started breastfeeding the babies again. The anesthesiologist said it would be fine- that nothing would get through enough to affect them. What an odd man. I was scared to death, had actually broken down in tears while Zach was gently joking about the table I would be laying on, and how I wouldn’t care how cold the room was. So I’m lying on said cold hard table, and the guy hands me a huge tube syringe and says, “Here, knock your self out.” Everyone giggles and I just cringe and shove it back. “Noooo!” When I woke up I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cough without feeling a huge sharp pain in my left side, and I started crying again. Next day I come to find out I was premenstrual for the first time in about a year. Ah ha.
I’m still in a lot of pain. I could take more drugs, but they turn me into a zombie. Actually, worse- zombies can walk. My milk supply has been cut in half, and Mia is really having a rough time with me unable to pick her up. She throws little squealing tantrums- “Noooooo!” in a high pitched voice. Super-sonic pitched. Aaaand the drugs just kicked in. Night.