When I was little my dad worked for the IT department at Morton Salt, so I guess it's fitting that "When it rains, it pours" fits my life.

This isn't a "woe is me" post; some people have their stresses and problems spaced evenly throughout their lives. I have stretches where I'm at a "cruising altitude" and just kinda coast along, interrupted by rapid-fire missile attacks that put my life-piloting skills to the test in a major way. Mayday, mayday!

I'm going through one of those times right now, but that's not what I'm writing about. I'm prompted by this story to write about the last episode (episodes?) that occurred in 2003-2004. (You can see why I'm not complaining -- I've gone about 5 years without any major trouble.)

In early 2003, with UberElder 2 years old and UberYounger due to be born in a few months, Dilf and I decided to sell our house located on a busy street and buy one in a subdivision where our kids could run around in their own yard. We were lured by new construction, because -- it's all pretty and smells nice and we got to pick all the fixtures and all that other stuff that lures people to buy new construction.

The only problem was, we didn't sell our house in time. And rather than extending our contract to give us more time to sell, Kirk Homes decided to keep our $13,000 in earnest money and sold the house to someone else. For more money. Ka-CHING, Kirk Homes! I'm really surprised you're going bankrupt, with business acumen like that! I would've thought the devil would show up for your soul, first, but then life is full of surprises!

UberYounger entered the world, and we decided we might just stay in our little house on the busy street. My brother went missing, then was found the next day; my dad found out he had cancer and underwent surgery, then another one when he found out he had ANOTHER cancer elsewhere; a little thing like losing a house didn't seem so important anymore.

We also talked about what size of family we would want. While considering this, I weaned UberYounger to the bottle and realized I had post-partum depression because I felt JUST LIKE I DID when I weaned UberElder -- which was, in short, not good at all. I also became pregnant again. Then I miscarried. So, my OB-GYN put me on a very low Zoloft prescription and sent me to a therapist. A psychologist.

I laid it all out there for her -- losing the house, having a new baby, my brother's problems, my dad's cancers and his subsequent surgeries, my third pregnancy, the following miscarriage, the post-partum brought on by the weaning exacerbated by the miscarriage, the having my house on the market for a year with multiple contracts that fell through (we were still trying to sell and buy elsewhere) and having to constantly run out of the house with two babies while people looked at my house -- and when I stopped, she looked at me and said (as a therapist in Hinsdale, estimated median house or condo value in 2007: $849,752): "You know, some of my clients come in here struggling to accept that their manicure appointment was canceled that day."

She seemed to think I was actually handling everything quite well, under the circumstances.

I have had other times, besides that one and now, that seemed to hold a concentration of stressful situations. It's almost as if someone was studying me: "Now let's see what she'll do if we throw THIS at her..."

I would imagine I am quite fascinating to watch in action.