THE STORY! And it's SOOO good. Totally worth the wait.

Before our story can commence, I must send a resounding "thank you" to all the mothers and fathers and sitters and godmothers (etc., etc.) who hit me up here or on facebook to offer advice and kind words.  Yes, my baby girl is still fussy and still wants to be held all the time, but we continue to have tiny victories day by day.  For example, I am typing this with BOTH HANDS and looking at the baby monitor while she sleeps IN HER CRIB, where she has been for an HOUR.  Holy crapballs.  Last night she slept for three consecutive hours in her crib.  What did I do?  Stared at the video monitor the entire time.  Because I am a fool.


Moving on.


Here it is, folks!  The story I have been dying to tell for ages and ages and needed both energy and two typing hands to tell.  Oh dear ... now I realize I've built it up way too much.  No matter.  It still involves ENEMIES and DANGER and HIGH DRAMA.  Prepare yourselves.


Okay, so it was 12:30 AM, and I was doing what I do -- sitting up in bed, rocking the baboo and staring at the clock with bleary eyes -- when I heard a huge CRASH right outside our window.  That was weird, because even though we live in one of those old city houses that is close to the street and close to our neighbors' houses so we usually hear EV-ER-Y-THING (yes, everything), it had just gotten cold enough to close the windows, so the noise was 95% gone.  The CRASH was so loud that I jumped and "eeep!"ed.  The crash was followed by the squealing tires of a car peeling away from in front of our house, and I turned around just in time to see the headlights of a car fleeing.


I headed downstairs to see what happened, figuring we had left our garbage can out and it was now road rash.  I went to the front window, and saw ... Jeremy's car ... on the street, and not in the driveway where it should be.  He had left it on the street so when I got home from work he could pull it in after me.  Obviously he had been too tired or forgotten.  


But, I seem to remember the car being parked in front of OUR house, not our neighbor to the south's house.  Hmmm, very curious.  It when then that I saw the front of his car, which was smashed to smithereens.  


PANIC.  Someone had smashed my husband's beloved Camaro convertible.  The car that represented all that was young and carefree about him.  The car he bought the DAY WE MET.  The car he loves so much he defends it up and down when I point out its bazillion flaws and beg him to buy a sensible car.  


All I could think was I am going to have to be the one to tell him his car has been violated.  I wanted the car out of our lives, but not like this, NOT LIKE THIS (standing in the middle of the street, directly under a street light, arms in the sky, head thrown back, screaming up at the moon).  


A few minutes later, the cops were in front of our house.  Our neighbor to the north had heard the noise and ran outside to find some neighbors across the street on their porch smoking.  They had seen the whole thing, and she called the cops to report it.  


GET THIS:  The witness-neighbors said they saw a green four-door sedan come flying down the street, then slam on its brakes right in front of our house, crank it into reverse, smash the car backwards 20 feet, throw it back into drive, and drive off.


Ummm ... I'm no scientist, but that doesn't sound like an accident.  The cops actually asked Jeremy if he had any enemies, and when he came back in to tell me that, I laughed and laughed and laughed, because I could never imagine Jeremy with an enemy.  He is easily the world's most likable person.  And then it hit me.  This hit was meant for ME.  


Who is the only person in our house who is likely to have enemies?  Oh, I don't know, maybe the sarcastic, bitchy, blog-writing, bad-grade-giving, grouch?  Yeah.


Jeremy was quick to point out that it was HIS car.  Well duh, but I had JUST convinced him that we should trade his car in towards a reliable and boring crossover.  You know, something we can FIT THE CARSEAT IN.  We were like two weeks away from that GLORIOUS moment.  So, number one -- my enemy knew I was about to get something wonderful in my life and they snatched it away.  


Number two -- I had JUST gotten the use of my car back, after it had died for the ten-millionth time and taken a week to get fixed.  I had only driven it to work and was looking forward to the next day when I could, oh, I don't know, actually LEAVE THE HOUSE DURING THE DAY for the first time in over a week.  But no, my enemy knew of this and wanted me to be trapped in my house with a crying baby who is easily soothed by riding in a car.  


Number three -- remember my suspicions that someone cut my brakes this summer?  (Okay, I just spent ten minutes looking for that post so I could link back to it, but I couldn't find it, so either I am overtired or I never wrote about it, but trust me, it totally happened.)  Well, obviously they started there, and their evil plan was foiled when my friend was nice enough to drive me to work and Bob at The Auto Surgeon fixed my car in one day.  It all fits.  


Okay, so I have a confirmed enemy.  One who is willing to injure things loved by ... well, not me, but my husband.  NOW WHAT??


I guess all I can do is fall back on my old friend anxiety and practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE.  And if you drive a green four-door sedan?  Sorry.  I'll be attacking first and asking questions later.  And if my enemy is a student who thinks if I am trapped at home then I won't be able to show up and grade their papers?  Oh, I'll always find a way.  ALWAYS.  


Please send binoculars and anti-anxiety medication.