Today I noticed that we had put away more savings than we had planned - a nice surprise with baby not too far away & several appliances that could finally die at any given moment. To celebrate, I asked my Husband if he wanted to do a short-notice date night. It's not a regular thing for us, so Jake was stoked. We both looked forward to it all day & planned to walk the dogs, go out for a nice meal & then see where the wind blew us.
Stress strikes me down most days. I have small panic attacks, work through them as usual & move on. Mostly, I've learnt to deal. Mostly is the operative word. Sometimes things overwhelm and stump me for what can be hours & sometimes days. So when I got home & seen the golf balls, I may have had a slight meltdown.
Our neighbours over the back, you see - are (for lack of being able to filter my absolute rage for these people) a bunch of assheads. From the parents all the way down to the screaming toddler. We have had some serious issues with them that called for police coming to the house and a security camera being bought for the back yard. With the knowledge that we were going out, I turned said security camera on and happily chatting to the dogs, went about checking it was all in position. Well it was, with about six golf balls hanging in our anti-dog-escape fencing directly above it. Of course, paranoia kicked right in - "They've been trying to knock the camera down with golf balls so they can climb over and hurt the dogs or break in!!" I felt sick to the core. I put the dogs inside and went directly to our next door neighbour to ask it maybe their kids had been playing with the balls and put them there. She knew nothing of it and had pretty much the same reaction as me "Those bastards!"
That was the end to date night. I was not leaving the house or my dogs with the knowledge that these people were actively trying to knock the camera down.
Jake came home & I pointed to the balls, I had by then brought inside. He excitedly said "Golf Balls!" with a lopsided goofy grin that I could have decked him for. How could he not be concerned about where they came from & why I was obviously upset!? "I collected them when I took the dogs walking on the golf course." That was his next cheerful little sentence. I actually buckled with relief, causing a flood of "are you ok's" & many apologies after I explained what had been the obvious scenario in my mind. We laughed it off, took the dogs for a walk & got ready to hit up one of our favourite restaurants.
Our night was fun & relaxing. There was Mexican food, discussions about what to ask at prospective day-cares for Charli & then 3 rounds of horrendous bowling (mostly on my part). We headed on home with take away dessert - another of our favourites; Gooey Caramel Cheesecake. Music up loud & keen for pyjamas, we roared onto the highway in my beastly little Yaris, Betty... and there it was, the next source of destruction for my fragile little anti-stress bubble. A Possum. Too late to brake in time and going too fast to swerve on the wet road, with cars coming up behind me & cars on the highway next to me. I had nowhere to go - I tried to judge my car placement on the road to get over the top of the cute little critter. I got his tail. I checked the rear vision mirror to see that he was fine & that another thoughtful human was trying to do the same & managed to swerve over little possum as well. Beyond that though, I don't know of little possums fate.
I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, the overwhelming nausea set in super quick. Breathing through my nose to try and quell my stirred up Mexican dinner reappearing, I only got half way home before I couldn't hold it down anymore. I managed to get off the road & the door half open before I spewed all over the door frame - then again in the gutter before my dear husband took the keys and got us the rest of the way home. He also cleaned the car spew and let me sob a little about my little possum buddy and what part I might have played in scaring or hurting him. He also got me a spoon & my slice of cheesecake & sat with me while I then pondered if I was okay enough to remove myself from the couch.
I realised tonight at some hazy point during delicious dessert and salty tears that as much as I freaked out, I never wanted to forget. I don't want to forget the hilarity of my short-lived golf ball obsession. I don't want to forget my Husband showing me his daily route to walk the dogs & which houses have dogs that bark & where Nelson & Maggie both always stop to wee. I don't want to forget the high-five & little excitement I got when we decided that we would read the BFG to Charli, even though she is still growing in my belly. I don't want to forget sore fingers from bowling balls and the surprise of getting a strike among all of the gutter-balls. I especially never wanted to forget my Husband, reassuring me with pats on the leg & stories about how fast and smart possums are, cleaning the spew out of my car without even a question or being asked to & taking the next small step for me when I am stuck whimpering on the lounge.
Because its all of the thousands of days like these that will end up being my life & really, whats not to love about that.