What a day. When I got back from my wonderful walk in Balboa Park, I ran upstairs to change. I noticed the trunk at the foot of the bed was open, but didn’t think about it. When I got in the closet, I saw my jewelry box on the floor. Empty. I called my husband to ask if he’d been rifling through our things. Negative.

By now, my heart is pounding and I’m headed out the nearest door. It was the back door. A glass panel had been broken. Full panic mode. I called the police and sat outside. The neighborhood gardener came by and looked around inside to make sure no one was there. No one was.

I became paralyzed with the fear that they’d taken the laptops. Of course they would take the laptops, right? Their thieves, so they would take the valuables. My entire existence at Egg Marketing is on 2 computers. Without them, I’m finished.

They didn’t take a single computer.

At first glance, it seemed they took a handful of useless jewelry (try hocking that, a##holes) and an empty purse. But wait, what’s that big blank spot on the dresser in my office?

Where my camera used to be.

My beloved Nikon that I have been telling myself I didn’t deserve buying for years. The one I saved up and so proudly bought not three months ago. Gone.

Upon further investigation, they also took my Flip camera (just as I decided to get back into vlogging) and the point and shoot we gave Max.

Bitches.

(Sorry Mom, there may be some ugly words in this post). And by “bitches,” I mean it. Turns out several of my neighbors saw two women in a white truck outside my house. They thought it was weird THAT ONE WAS WALKING OUT OF MY BACKYARD WITH A CAMERA BAG but shrugged it off. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They described the women and the truck but didn’t take down the license plate. So we’re sunk. I have no hope of my stuff coming back.

At first I was stunned. In shock. But now I’m fucking mad. Fuck! (sorry Mom). It’s such an invasion of privacy to have your stuff rifled through and the single most personal item I own taken. It hurts my heart.

And the hub said they had to be watching us and our patterns. Because the entire thing happened within 10 minutes of me leaving.

Of all the houses in all the world, they had to rob ours.

I awoke at 6:35. Woke Max up. Started my coffee while I stood grumpily (par for the course on a Monday) in the kitchen. Got his breakfast ready. Drank coffee. Opened eyes.

Looked out window. Saw snow. Snow?? Snow was NOT in the forecast.

“Hey Max. It snowed. Uhhh, I better make sure you have school.”

School cancelled. Great. I don’t have to pretend to get dressed.

We’re leaving for our trip to Montreal Wednesday, so mother-in-law, hereto referred to as Granny, was due to arrive this afternoon at 4. Cleaning spurts ensue in between bouts of work.

2 o’clock rolls around. She calls. Her connecting flight from Houston is cancelled. Hopes to get on the 7 pm flight. Doesn’t happen. By 7 pm she is comfortably nestled in the in-airport hotel and our nerves are shot. All plans shot to hell.

And to top it off, the snow is slushy and no fun. Spent longer getting suited up than actually playing in the snow.

A nice dip in the temperature means she’ll probably miss her early flight tomorrow, and who wants to mess with ice-covered slush-snow? Sigh. Hope we make our flight on Wednesday.

I’ve written, though it’s been a while, about how sensitive Max is. He’s been better but still cries if you cut his toast, don’t catch his kiss when he blows it or give him a red shirt when clearly he wants a blue one.

Still, I felt better at soccer practice. Day 1 there was a 6-year-old sobbing like someone was beating him because he did not want to play soccer. I watched his mom coax, cajole and threaten him out of the corner of my eye and I wanted to hug her. Because I understood. Max has done the same thing. (That kid is now the best player on the team a few weeks later).

At their first game, the son of a couple I’ve befriended started crying on the field. He wanted his mommy. She might have been embarrassed, but I knew how she felt. They eventually pulled him and took him home.

He’s not the only one.

When you have one child, you don’t have much to compare to. You can look at other kids but it’s the behind-the-scenes stuff you can’t measure. Is it normal? Are you handling it right? Know what I mean?

By the way, Max is ROCKING at soccer! He’s not the fastest, but he’s dedicated. Sigh of relief.