I love EBAY. Seriously love it. I love the junk, the bargains, the thrill, the insight into the human mind.

Today two auctions I was watching ended and I seriously have the urge to email the winners and say, "um, what were you thinking?" Like why would you pay $27.01 for a USED Hanna Andersson striped romper for your son when you could simply order a NEW one for $28.00. Doesn't sound like a bargain to me. No way was I about to pay more than $12 for it myself and even then that is pushing it.

And then there is the person who paid $26.00 for a USED pink terry yoga workout set. When you could just take your butt over to Chadwicks.com and get the same thing NEW for $29.99. I am all about used clothes, but not at these prices people!

But whoever you are, those that feel the need to pay close to retail prices for USED clothing, check out the EBAY listings I am posting tonight. I got the goods baby, fill my Paypal account with the green stuff please so I can buy even more junk. Mama needs those cute pink Coach flip flops!

Tuesday night some whack-job psycho tried to kill me and my family. This is only a slight exaggeration.

It was about 9:30 at night. We had stayed too late at my in-laws for dinner and were just then on our way home. O was hysterical in the backseat, A was asleep. M was 1-2 minutes behind me in his car since we had met at my ILs after work. I was on auto-pilot cruising down the peaceful, windy road that leads to our development, my mind focusing on the things I needed to do that evening once the kids were in bed.

I see lights coming at me. Not too strange since it is a road and cars do travel in both directions. But there is a large center median filled with palm trees that runs the whole length of the road, dividing it in two, one side for eastbound, the other for westbound. I am westbound, heading home. In the left hand lane of the westbound side. The lights that are coming at me are not on the eastbound side, on the other side of the palm trees. Those lights are in my lane, they are coming right at me.

My body reacts before my consciousness is able to relay what is happening. Somehow I move to the righthand lane of the westbound side, somehow I lay on the horn and curse obscenities at this person before my brain fully comprehends what is happening. He (or she) continues on by me, in the lefthand lane of the westbound side going east. Still trying to wrap my mind around this near tradgedy - the speed limit is 45 on this road, a head on collision could be fatal - I realize that this person is now headed right at M, who was just a minute or so behind me. I am frantically fumbling in my purse for the elusive cellphone - why is it never in the cell phone compartment!!? I can't find it. I am almost home, I pull into my driveway and dig for my phone. Finally I find it and am about to call M to warn him when I hear the heavy roar of his engine coming down our street. I burst into tears, so happy my family is all safe. I grab a still hysterical O from his carseat and snuggle him tighter and closer than he wants.

M tells me it is a good thing that I didn't call him, the distraction of him answering the phone might have casued an accident that I was trying to prevent. He did see the car coming right at him as well. Luckily he was able to move aside as well. He thinks the 6 cars behind him were able to as well. We didn't hear any sirens so hopefully that meant no accident. As I sit and type this I so wish I had had more wits about me and turned around that night and followed that car out to the traffic light and told them exactly what they did wrong. But of course I didn't and we have no way to know who it was. M says it was a black Mercedes sedan. That was all he could tell. Our best guess is that this person came out of the golf club that is right before our development and instead of taking a wide left that would have placed them in the eastbound side, they took a short left, putting them in the westbound lane headed east.

Were they drinking, were they old, were they confused or just plain stupid? We'll never know. I'll put a sign up in our community center to warn my neighbors to watch out for other drivers like this and I'll keep myself in the righthand lane. I'll hug my babies and my husband just a little tighter as well. Someone was watching out for us that night and I am so greatful.

My baby is growing up. How do I know this? It's not because he started crawling, or that he is now pulling up to standing. It's not those 8 teeth in his mouth or the growing hair that is starting to curl above the nape of his neck. It's that I just spent an hour in his room weeding out the clothes that don't fit him anymore and replacing them with a new stash of clothes in the next size - having two of the same sex is actually quite convienent, instant wardrobe! Going through the baby clothes and packing them up, not knowing if they'll ever be used again causes an actual physical ache. I try to smell the clothes but they don't smell like him, they smell clean and fresh, not that warm yeasty milky smell that is O. He's still my baby and still needs me desperately but I feel a tug on that first string, that first tug of letting go. He is only 8 months old. But he is already 8 months old.

But back to the clothes. I know he is growing up because there are bright shocks of red and yellow and orange now in among his clothes where once there was only baby blue, a splash of pale green and yellow, but mostly a sea of baby blue. I read somewhere the idea of making a quilt out of old baby clothes. I'm going to learn to quilt and do this. Wrap up my sons' babyhoods and hold them close to me, a little part of them always.

Now if only I could bottle that smell.

My 2-year old woke me with a big hug and brought books into our bed to read and snuggle. My 7.5 month old was ecstatic as always to see him and there was much baby laughter. Then there was the sound of my beautiful Grind and Brew automatically making my morning coffee. Bliss.

Next on the agenda, some semi-me time at the flea market. I had O in tow so not 100% me time, but good enough. He's the easier of the 2 to take shopping these days. Some good bargains were had by me, 2 beautiful framed prints for $30 total which remind me of our vacation to Mexico last year. I got some fresh produce, including freshly picked strawberries - there is something to be said for living in Florida. Two new hand towels for my guest bathroom that fit in perfectly with its beachy tropical theme. And "as seen on TV" super suction type hooks so I can finally have somewhere to hang my bathrobe. Yay. Besides that just lots of good browsing. Was sorely tempted by the unbranded capri pants in Lilly Pulitzer prints, but I restrained. I may not be so good next time!

The best part, having a funnel cake for breakfast. God bless the flea market.

I want this. No, I must have it.

I swear God sent me an angel today. Actually two of them. It was such a stressful morning, nothing out of the normal, but lots of screaming baby in the car routine, hitting every red light with baby still screaming in car, people blocking the roadway with baby screaming in car. And we all know what a screaming baby can do to your nerves. So basically I was shot. Now, I would never hurt my child and it was a good thing he was strapped in his carseat b/c I really had this strong urge to just shake him until he stopped crying. I know better and wouldn't have, but Good Grief do I understand the urge.

So we are out doing errands and a man came up to me and said "What a beautiful happy baby. He must be such a joy to you." and he walked away. Then a little bit later, another man came up and said "What a happy boy, you can tell you take such good care of him."

Now, I tend to get a lot of comments on O b/c he is damn cute if I do say so myself, and also b/c I live in Florida the land of displaced grandmothers. And that is what got me, men usually smile at the baby and move on, but these two stopped, chatted, tickled his feet and their words touched me. He is my joy, I do try my best to take care of him. I feel somehow these men were sent and came in to pull me back from the edge of the cliff, the end of my rope.

Gotta go snuggle my baby and be thankful for his fat, healthy, if sometimes crabby self.

I am never travelling over the holidays again. Too many people, too much stress, too many canceled flights. I am thankful we got all our baggage though, somehow, someway. So many people on our flights didn't and usually if something like that is going to happen, it will happen to us. Our return flight was canceled and we arrived home 24 hours later than originally planned, but oh well.

But the piece de resistance of the trip was when I was at baggage claim, waiting for our 6 bags to appear. A was at my left side helping me find the bags going around the belt - it was one of those long snakelike belts, not the circular kind. A little crowded to our left but yards of open room to the right. The bags are going by, a woman sees hers and decides she needs to reach between me and A to retrieve it. Now reaching between two people to get a bag means you physically seperate them. Remember there are yards of free space to my right, there is no chance she would miss her bag if she just stepped right. But no, she pushes between me and my 2 year old. So as I am reaching around to grab his arm, I say "excuse me, you are seperating me from my child." And she looks at me and says "and you are seperating me from my luggage!" I am momentarily floored but manage to say "And which do you think is more important!" while reaching around to A and pretty much forcing her to walk 2 feet to get her bag.

I am willing to cut some slack and admit she probably didn't even notice the 3 foot tall munchkin there and was just reaching for her bag, but her comment takes the stupid people of the year award in my book.

I am so glad to be home.