Anyway, I'm digressing--the surprise was much better than a used iphone. Saturday morning he told me that he had managed to buy some tickets to the Jason Mraz concert for the end of October. And since the tickets he got are somewhere in the first few rows, maybe I'll be lucky enough to have sweat flung on me...or get a good shot at grabbing his bum. And even though we may have had to sell our firstborn into child slavery to pay for them, I've got three other spares, right? So in a couple months I'll get to spend an entire evening with Mraz...just me and my little Mraz. Oh, and I guess Jeremy will be there too. Not everyone knows his music, so I stole a description from some website:
Jason Mraz is an American singer-songwriter, born and raised in Mechanicsville,
Virginia, a suburb of Richmond. Jason Mraz is an eclectic artist with multiple
and varied stylistic influences, including pop, rock, jazz, folksy country, and
hip-hop/rap. Jason Mraz's clear, strong tenor voice and easygoing, optimistic
lyrics gained popular acclaim in 2003 when his first single, The Remedy I Won't
Worry, began to receive regular play on radio, MTV, and VH1.
I was also surprised to find out that Jeremy had signed up to donate blood in one of those Carter traveling blood-mobiles that was going to be parked at our church on Saturday afternoon. A little background: Jeremy HATES needles, getting shots, and the sight of blood in general. Once in Florida when we were on vacation, he got really sick and had to go to the E.R. to get some shots. He had to sort of stand up and lean on the bed so the nurse could shoot him in the bum, but right after she gave him the shot he started swaying, went really pale, and almost passed out. She said that happens sometimes....usually to men, not women. SO he had to get another shot to help him recover from getting the first shot. He has yet to live that one down. All I have to say is that it's a good thing that the women have the babies...or there would be a serious baby shortage due to the abundance of babies of a much larger, hairier, male kind.
Anyway, he was so nervous driving up there that I thought he's pass out before they even stuck him--he was seriously all sweaty and jittery. And apparently hearing about how I had to have a zillion needles in my arms and my nether-regions while having Alex and Maddie, and how I had my abdomen and insides cut open and sewn back together to deliver the twins, all that didn't help him get over his nerves and fear of a tiny, minuscule little needle.
We had to go in shifts because one of us had to stay inside the church gym to watch the kids, so I didn't get to hear or see all the drama when they finally did put in the needle. I tried to bribe someone on the inside to take my camera and put it to good use when he was sprawled out unconscious on the floor of the bus, but no one would. (Jessica, i know you're sad about that).
When he was done, I got to go in and hear all the other men in the bus whining about getting poked too. WUSSES! And they are apparently in desperate need of blood, because even though mine was carbonated and 79% Diet Coke, they still took it. But I did almost got kicked off the bus because I was too wiggly and kept knocking things off that the nurse perched precariously on my arm or the edge of the bed. I know, such a troublemaker. Right before I left the bus, a total torrential downpour started and I got drenched running back into the church to retrieve the others. Oh, what we'll do for a really cool free Carter Blood Care t shirt--size Really Huge, a powerade, and some NutterButters. Oh, and to save lives and all that.
As we were planning our attack on how to load the four kids, and strap the two into their carseats without getting even more soaked, we looked and one of our tires was totally flat. Like almost driving on the rim flat. (The same tire that I supposedly had fixed while I sat with the twins for an hour and a half at NTB the week before. GRRRR. NTB, shame on you.)
New plan: Try to drive in this crazy storm without ruining what's left of the wheel to the nearest gas station, so Jeremy can stand out in the storm to fill it up with air. Oh, and all the kids have to be screaming about needing to pray for the tire, generally freaking out about the rain and tornadoes, and acting like total spazzes or the plan will be ruined. Mission accomplished. Alex screamed, "THE PRAYER WORKED!" --and it's a good thing we made it or we'd have some serious faith issues on our hands.
I think his exact words when he looked up and saw me trying to take a picture were "I'm glad you're enjoying this." But I'm pretty sure he was being sarcastic. At least the free giant tshirts came in handy as makeshift towels. Thanks Carter. Oh, did I mention it was 5:55 on a Saturday night? We used the handy but "old, crappier, slower" iphone to look up a few tire places online, though every single one was closed or as one guy said, "We're walking out the door right now...and we're not stopping." Thanks, random tire guy. Anyway, we decided to risk it and drive to Walmart in the hopes they'd take pity on us. And they did because they were supposed to be closed at 7, and the guy said that they were really busy but he'd let us come back at 7:00 and he'd fix our tire because he could use the overtime. That gave us time to drag all the unhappy, hungry, traumatized kids back home so only one of us would have to come back. Thanks Walmart, for authorizing overtime.
But sadly, this is not the end of the tire story. In fact, the best part is yet to come. The part where I get an after hours tour of the Walmart garages with the skeevy little perv of a tire guy that kept staring at the twins (and I'm NOT talking about the boys here). I'll write more when the twins (and I AM talking about the boys here) are taking a nap.