Housing Update:

BIG FAT NOTHING!  
We closed on our house...on Tuesday. (Without money, but the buyers were supposed to close today, and everything was supposed to fund by at latest, Friday).  Our buyers DID NOT close today.  The lenders need "more employment information".  So everything done in good faith is now up in the air, waiting for some more good faith.  Whatever.
Until they close, the money doesn't appear.  
Until the money appears, we can't start moving crap.
Until we start moving crap, we really can't clean, because everything is crowded and horrible. 
Until everything stops being crowded and horrible, I'll continue to be grouchy and prone to migraines. 


Poop, poop, poopy-poop, crap.  I'm angry and frustrated and cynical.  Until next time.

Too many questions.

Me again.  Answerless. Yet again.  When will I know what's going on with the moving process?  No clue.  When will I know when I'll need help moving?  No clue.  When will we be able to put our tons of crap into our newer larger home to accommodate said amounts of crap?  NO FREAKING CLUE.  And let me just say this anger is NOT aimed at those of you that have offered your services and time, not at all.  I honestly appreciate it.  I just hate the fact that I have nothing to tell you.  And if I do tell you something, I'm changing it at least twenty times before anything actually happens.  And then there's the situation of the guy that's renting from the owner of the home we're buying.  Today we are going to do a scary drive-by to scope it out, and see if there's any evidence that he's getting his stuff and moving it.  And I feel kind of bad, because he's been on the same roller coaster we all have--one day needing to get out, and the next day hearing that something didn't go through, so he's good for a while longer.  (Btw, it looks like things are moving along at the house that we'll move into.  Hopefully he also remembers to clean his toilets).  Anyway, that's my update for you all.  Things could happen this week, but we don't know. 

In other news, I am now convinced that I would be a serial killer if I had to confine myself into a small space with people I love and not be able to put things where I want them.  Funny how something so little will put me over the edge.  How having a mountain of boxes in my way, and the dishes and silverware all willy-nilly will make me stay awake at night and plot some kind of revenge on everyone and everything.  Also a bit on the scary side.  

In other news, the process of packing and having things unorganized and what-not isn't hard only for me.  Syd has recently begun to look like an abused baby.  More abused than normal, anyway.  She's gotten a black eye, and a lot of bruises and cuts within the last week. 

And we've had less time to just sit with her and tickle her arms and legs, so she's been pretty clingy.  I'm thinking that once you get used to "Princess Status", it's not an easy role to just give up.  I feel bad that Riley and Cole were little at a time when Jeff and I were always going--and life was just too busy to have a lot of time to just sit and rub little arms and legs.  But we tried to schedule it in whenever possible.  Sydney, however, seems to think it's her daily right, because she's so beautiful that there isn't anything Jeff or myself should or would rather be doing. 

Honestly?  She kind of has something there.  Youngest kids are the luckiest ones, for sure.  I can honestly say that now.  Because parents know that they won't have this time again, and so they try to cram in every second they can, because that time goes so fast. Okay, that's all for now.  Hopefully I'll have some more news--GOOD news--later this week.  Later y'all.

Two out of three ain't bad.

First off, this is not a homage to Meatloaf's song with the same name.  But it is in reference to it.  Because I find that song extra insulting.  Have you ever listened to the words?  Probably not...because Meatloaf, (aside from his role in Fight Club), is in my opinion, pretty lame.  However, the song, "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad", fits my life experiences at this time.   Fits this household's life experiences at this time.  Let me just say that at first this post was labeled:  "Bleh".  And I had to change it.
Okay.  So, you know when you get to the end of a really good dream, and by really good dream I mean the kind where everything you want pretty much falls into your lap...not the gross kind.  Anyway, everything you want just keeps getting put into place, and it feels like that's the path your life is now on...missing paperwork?  Found it!  Continual headaches and exhaustion?  Not anymore!  Constant phone calls to and from Realtors, Lenders, and Financial inquirers, etc.? No more answering of my phone is required! Those have been my dreams of late. Pretty much continual awesomeness.  And then?  And then I woke up.  And I'm freaking sicker than I have been in forever.  I mean, I can't talk, I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't be in the same room as normal people and NOT sound like I'm going to hack up both my lungs in loud, obnoxious bursts.  But that was okay, because I had stuff to do.  I had things to pack; things to clean.  

And Jeff has been preoccupied with putting sprinklers in our backyard--a job that was supposed to last two days, and has turned out to be an ongoing two week job, due to the way Americraft hastily put our sprinklers together willy-nilly.  After the digging, the fitting, the gluing, the BAZILLION runs to Home Depot, he thought he was done.  And FOUR more times of that same routine, he was.   As you can see, Jeff's been busy too. 
So last Monday, I was mopping my floor...and not hating it and being positive because it's my new tile.  And I was thinking that it was just so much easier to clean than old, cheap linoleum.  
Until I saw a water spot.  Where I hadn't yet mopped.  Immediately I was ticked with Syd and her not-cute habit of throwing her sippy cups to the floor when she gets tired of carrying them around.  And then there are big puddles of Apple Juice in various places.  Occasionally, she gets by me...usually when JEFF is supposed to be watching her.  Anyhoo, this wet spot was different...it looked like instead of a spill, that it was more like a drip.  From way up.  So, that's where I looked.  And there was a teeny drop that chose to fall at that moment.  From the ceiling, just out of a spot that I never would have noticed had I not been standing right under it.  Just over a week away from our closing date...the inspection and the appraisal had just passed, and things were starting to actually happen.  This is when panic started to set in.  
From there Jeff and I were convinced that the kid's toilet was leaking.  And it was.  There was water all around the base of it.  Jeff fixed it, and sealed it better.  And now it doesn't leak.  For the sake of time and effort...I'm now just going to outline what came next:
-Happiness for one day
-Then back to panic on Wednesday night
  (Jeff had just laid down, and I was in the kitchen getting some medication that would hopefully knock me out, and help me avoid coughing in Jeff's face all night.  In grateful relief I started the dishwasher and looked up where we "used to have a leak".  And I saw a YELLOW water stain, in a different area than the first time).
-I wake Jeff to tell him to go look at it.  We are both tired, and get less than 2 hours of sleep that night.
-Jeff comes home from working all day then racquetball at night, and checks ALL possible water sources:  the kid's bathtub, toilet, sink, washing  machine. 
-Meanwhile, I do laundry in our crappy washer and dryer. (Laundry relaxes me).
-Seeing no alternative, Jeff opens up a hole in our ceiling...exactly six days before our supposed   closing date on selling this house.

-After the hole is opened up, Jeff sees that not only is there a hidden light socket behind the drywall, but the exact spot he's opened up has been opened before.  (We are the only people that have lived in this house...Ah, Americraft, you are truly a classy home builder).
And finally, after all that?  We find that our crappy dryer is the cause of all the damage.  I had told Jeff that something was wrong with it...that we kept getting water in the dryer, and the clothes would take like FOUR cycles to get dry.  That's not an exaggeration.  One day I hung two pairs of pants out to dry, and they were done before the clothes that were put in the dryer were. Anyway, in the hole, Jeff saw that water was dripping out of a sheet metal pipe...where a screw had been placed.  Apparently, eight years of lint build up in a non-code dryer pipe will foil all your plans. And trap so much water where there should be only air flow, that it will put a literal pool in your ceiling.  Good stuff to know. 

And here's what Jeff drug out of the vent...

Water and smelly lint that had been in there for who knows how long.  Who knew the result of cleaning stuff would be so nasty?

So now, even though we only have 6 days before we are supposed to close on our new home...we need to pack, we need to sleep, we need to get better so we can have a little freaking energy.  And, we need to patch, mud, tape and sand that hole in the kitchen.  And texturize it so it doesn't look like we just fixed a leak and lose our sale. And then we need to use as little laundry as possible because both our washer and dryer are completely jacked.  So, no relaxing for me.  

Needless to say,   After my "Grateful" post I didn't feel overly excited to blog about my last week. Luckily the sprinklers now work, thanks to Jeff and the leak is now not leaking, thanks to Jeff.  So, two out of three ain't bad, right?  Yeah, but it's still pretty sucky.   Fingers crossed, we'll get mad amounts of stuff done this next week.  And if that happens, I will be grateful, even if I still feel like absolute crap.

Grateful

Sometimes it's hard for me to remember the things I need to...to remember that I'm grateful for so many things in my life.  On one hand I get frustrated and ask "why me?" and then on the other hand, I will occasionally get a reality smack, and realize I have so much.  I have a family that loves me, friends that care about me, and all the necessities a person needs and a lot of things that aren't all that necessary, but I want.  I have limbs that work, a brain that is usually functioning, the ability and reasons to laugh, and so many more things that I can't even remember, much less document at this time.  What it comes down to, really, is that when I weed out my whining and boo-hooing, I'm at a place I'm very happy with.  

See?  How can I be a sad-sack when I've got such goodness all around me?  (Except for Syd...I told her she couldn't pour water all over the carpet, and her cries of objection ensued).  
I've said before that I'm on Facebook a lot.  Simply because I'm a voyeur and I enjoy reading people's thoughts and feelings during the day.  It makes me feel a lot more normal.  (And sometimes provides daily humor, affirmation, information, etc). I've found that the random thoughts and feelings that occur in me aren't all that individualized.  That there are a lot of people that are just as insecure, or ticked, or happy, or scared, or whatever, just the way I am, at any given time.  Not that this should be overly surprising, but I think we all feel incredibly alone sometimes, or that no one could possibly understand our deeply personal and peculiar emotions.  
I have been following one of my "friends" on Facebook and this person, I've decided, is deeply disturbed.  Not that their thoughts and feelings don't make for a good story, but at times I feel myself thinking:  "Come on.  We all have crap days, we've all dated complete losers, we've all had people we trusted completely screw us over..." and so on, and so forth.  But this person seems to be taking their life very personally.  To an almost alarming degree.  To the extent of a depressed adolescent--and as we all know that means A LOT of drama.  I take turns feeling deep sympathy for them, and rolling my eyes in frustration.  In the end, though, they've encouraged me to open my eyes and see how easy I have it.  I felt bad for a while for taking their pain and turning it into a life lesson, but now I'm okay with it.    
Anyway, after a VERY long introduction to my smallish point, I'm grateful and I need to express that more often.  This whole house thing had gotten me down, I'll admit it.  Not that it should have, but I've kind of been in this weird funk in which I'd been trying to get excited and motivated about my house, about summer, about possible vacation plans, about just doing normal everyday stuff, and I really couldn't, because it just felt futile.  Nothing was for sure--I didn't know what projects to start, because I wasn't sure if I could finish them, or if I did finish them, if they'd be appreciated, because our home may not be ours for very much longer.   
Today I went with Jeff and Bob and Maida, (my in-laws, for anyone not in the know), and the kids, and we looked through our soon-to-be-new-home, again.  Or I guess I should say, new to us.  It was built in 1978, and it's been fully remodeled.  Jeff and I had actually looked into building a new home.  But I kind of felt that that decision, for us, would be kind of wasteful.  Not that I'm saying building new homes is wasteful, it's just that we felt we wanted to find a place without neighbors so close, and maybe an established neighborhood--as we've been in a newer one, and see all the weirdness that occurs.  Lots of squished homes and tons of solicitors, and people that believe they have much more space than they really do...i.e. horse trailers and over five vehicles, and three families to a single dwelling.  I know this happens in older neighborhoods, too...but I'm hoping it's not as commonplace?  I don't know. More space was our main concern...and these days, if you buy a lot to build on, chances are your neighbors will be VERY close. 
Moving on.  It was nice to see our possible new home again.  This time it was a more relaxed walk- through.  We DID notice that the guy living there right now is incapable of flushing the toilet after he uses it, and Cole was pretty grossed out about it...(when he does it, it's not as gross, apparently). 
This time around it felt like this house is even more for us.  It wasn't as "perfect" as I remembered it.  There were more bumps and chips and things that made it look more like a home that we can make our own, despite the fact that there have been all those upgrades and such.  So even though it contains things that I've been wanting forever, we can still make changes that will make it ours.  I'm really excited to get started.  

This is the "old farm" copper kitchen sink.  And I'm not sure if you can tell or not, but the counter tops aren't the formica stuff--they're wooden.  And gorgeous.  Something I'm sure will bring out even more of my obsessive compulsive side, as I'll be overly concerned about anyone cutting stuff on them and so on and so forth, but I'm excited.  Way excited.  My picture isn't as fantabulous as the real thing, but when we move in, you're all invited to see for yourselves.  ;) Anyway, that's all for now.  Hopefully this will be the week that we will know some specifics.  Good thoughts only, and loads of being grateful.  Life is good. 

By the way...

I think things are progressing.  I don't know--my realtor is still out of town, and things aren't exactly clear.  Our loan processor has questions we can't answer and I'm too afraid to ask our realtor when she's going to be back, as the nature of her trip is personal and kinda sad...so, here I am:  Wanting to get the appropriate information for the appropriate enquirers, but not wanting to step on any toes, or seem like an uncaring wench.  So I remain in a state of confusion and angst.  Ugh.  

In the meantime, I do have something that keeps me really quite busy.  I don't have as much time to be frustrated and think about unpleasant possibilities.  And before you assume, this isn't a form of my abusive nature, she chose to do these things, herself.  Syd seems to think that if it's small, and if it's open, it's hers.  And even if she gets stuck, scraped, or bumped, it's my fault.  And how DARE I have allowed it to happen. 

(That's her "screaming in indignation" face, btw).  Jeff and I have been showing our home like, twice a week.  I'm really hoping that after April is over things will slow WAY down, because I'm done being so much meaner than usual.  I can't help it...I clean and clean and clean...only to have someone possibly show, and depending on how clean it is seems to have a direct link to how long they stay.  A negative link, because it seems like after I take the time to vacuum and dust, and make sure that all Syd's toys aren't just off the floor, but out of sight, the people looking at our house stay for little more than four seconds.  It's the visits when I've had two seconds notice and there is still paper on the floor from Riley and Cole's newfound origami obsession, and a smell of recent poopy diaper in the air, that's when they decide to hang out for a half hour.  I still haven't figured the system out. 

Anyway, that's all for now.  I think we are on the up and up...but as I said before, I don't know for sure...and there isn't a "for sure" way to find out right now.  Meanwhile, I've been missing bookclub and any weekend activities that may or may not be fun, but don't allow me to be here at anyone's beck and call to judge my home.  As exciting as that sounds, I'm burned out.  Big time.  
In unrelated news, the kids are almost out of school, and I'm VERY stoked about this.  Also, fyi, it's time for Jeff's work's annual Lagoon Day. (It's on Memorial Day, btw).  And remember what I said last year about getting someone to come along for ten bucks and they can have a fun-filled day at Lagoon, and occasionally let Jeff and I actually ride together?  (Yes, watching my three children occasionally is a requirement).  If you're interested, let me know.  If not, no worries.  Just thought I'd bring it up.  

Have a fantabulous week.

Making myself manic.

So it's now getting into May.  Well, we have exactly one week and one day until it's officially May...from the time this is being typed.  First off, I need to answer a question:  Yes, I DID in fact take the kids out of school for Riley's birthday.  I would have done that Cole's birthday, as well, but his was during the spring break.  I remember having to go to school on my birthday like, every year.  And it blew.  So I ask them whether or not they want to go, and surprise, the answer is "no". I get extra "good mom" points for that...only to be taken away when some fiasco like locking my toddler in the car comes along.  It's all a system of checks and balances.
Anyway, I was going to keep it on the down-low, but we are back on for the dream home.  It's almost been a week and I can't think about anything else.  I'm not sleeping and I'm craving sugar, and I'm living in this in-between state of "should I start on this?" and "am I just setting myself up for more disappointment?" Basically, stuck in limbo...keeping my house clean, and trying to keep my mind on other things...but massively failing. So there it is.  And, the saddest part, is that Riley and Jeff both are sharing in my manic activities.  The idea of our possible new home is taking up their thought processes, as well.  And so we seem to be brain dead.  Er, more so than usual.  
My realtor is gone for the week, and I have had questions every second of every day.  
Anyway, that's that.  That's what's happening here.  I've started jogging again--that's kinda new.  I feel better about myself, and it helps with the nonstop mind-tease of the house and all the possibilities.
May...that's when it supposedly all goes down.  I'll let you know more when I do.  But after thinking about it, I realized that I might as well say what I'm thinking now...so if it doesn't work, you'll know why I'm bitter about everything.  And if it does work, you can hear how properly grateful I am for all the good vibes that I know have been sent this way.  And a big "THANKS!" to you all, btw.  Because I think this second chance has a lot to do with some help from my friends. 
Okay, that's all for now.  I'm kinda tired...and kinda anxious.  That's usual for me these days.  Later Gators.

Smiley Riley is 10.

Thanks to those that sent shout-outs to Riley.  She got to read them, and she felt pretty special.  For those that may not know, or happened to miss my last post, Riley turned 10 on Wednesday.  How is it possible?  I'm a mother of a 10 year old. And I am a mother of a 16 month old...both girls.  Both so incredibly different.  And I'm the mother of a seven year old boy....I have to keep telling myself that I'm still a hot chick.  I know that's really, really superficial, but I feel like my life has turned into this time-warp.  And I stand still while everything and everyone whizzes by me..leaving those moving vapor-trails as they spin into the future.  "Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'...into the future." I now know exactly what that means.  That it's not just some drugged-out has-been talking about something he knows nothing about.  (Just a partially drugged out, has-been).
I fear that one day I'm going to look in the mirror and really see myself...and I'll be this sad, old lady that still tries to "wear what the kids are wearing".  And "pretends she's 25 years younger than she really is".  The sad part? I can honestly see myself doing this...and being too far gone to have any shame over it. 

Anyway, back to my daughter, because this post is, after all, about her.  Mainly.  Ten years ago to this very night (I'm typing this on the 14th, but who knows when it will get posted), I remember I was laying in my tiny hospital bed...and I got up to go take my contacts out, because I'd just finished nursing Riley--and it was really weird--and I thought I may as well try to get some sleep, because I'd been excited and up since around 4 am when she was born.  I got slowly out of bed, and felt amazing--I could move!  I could breathe!  I was a little shaky, but I didn't feel like I had a 100lb tumor stuck to my lungs and chest, and I really thought I'd go look at myself in the mirror, and love that I was skinny again, and that my stomach would be back to normal.  I had just had a natural delivery, after Riley finally came 2 weeks overdue, so I should have had at least one thing go my way.  Right?  
Well, first off, I remember my reflection showing me that my hair was freaking scary.  I smelled pretty ripe, and my face was greasy.  My happiness at being a mommy did a lot for my demeanor, but not my physical appearance.  And then it was time for the real test.  I needed to see my stomach.  Because it didn't have an 8 and 1/2 pound baby in it anymore...so it had to have been somewhat smaller, right?  I mean, isn't that science? 
I lifted my nightgown, and of course I was sucking it in, because now I could.  And I again consulted my reflection.  However, it didn't look like I'd lost that much weight.  And then, I exhaled. Basically letting my stomach OUT and it just....dropped.  Like, to the top of my thighs.  It was THE grossest thing I'd ever seen.  And Riley, my first born, had made this happen to me.  Something so small, and so sweet and that I surprisingly loved beyond comprehension as soon as I held her in my arms, had horribly disfigured me.  Forever.  
*rant* Or so I thought.  I mean, I'll never have that tight skin that women have BEFORE giving birth, again.  Even Madonna doesn't have it--not that I'm saying her stomach doesn't look great after all the exercises and such that she does.  But you can tell the texture is just...different in her lower abdomen.  And believe me, I can spot it.  Never underestimate the power of a neurotic's eye.  It's a genetic thing.  And once again, I totally missed the boat.  THANKS ANCESTORS.*end rant*
Anyway, it was then and there that I realized there would be so many sacrifices I'd have to make for this kid....willing, and kinda unwilling.  And though that sounds less-than-great, it's the truth.  I have made sacrifices.  But I'd do it a million times over.  The smiles, the love, the sense of achievement she's brought into my life, have made everything beyond worth it.  Ten years ago I was a much different person than I am today, but I was less.  Though I whine about getting old, I guess there's really no way I'd rather do it.  
Well...that was kind of weird, I know.  But the fact that I've made it this far is a bit mind-blowing to me.  In the next ten years what will be happening?  Will she be attending college?  Will she be married?  Will she be happy?  Just as long as she knows that she's loved...that she and her brother and her sister, and her father are my everything.  And that I'm grateful for every day I have with them. If she knows those things, then regardless of how old I am, it will be worth it.  :)
(fyi:  I'll also keep telling myself I'm still a hot chick...cause that's just what I do).

So, Riley woke up and let both me and Jeff sleep in.  On HER birthday!  Is she the best kid, or what?  She didn't even keep coming in to our room, begging us to let her open presents every two minutes after 8:00 am.  Like someone who will remain nameless.  Or not.  Cole.
We got to get up at around 10:30 and we didn't eat breakfast, because we went down and watched Riley open gifts, and then got ready to go to Pirate Island Pizza.  Which was pretty much awesome, because that place is a ghost town on Wednesday afternoon, and we had the entire building to ourselves.  Our waitress actually apologized to us for not being able to sing to her, as there were only two servers on staff at that time, so they gave her a baggie of treats, instead.  Worked out perfectly--she's like her dad in that the whole singing part of birthdays is best forgotten about.  Technically this was the year that we were supposed to let both kids have birthday parties.  But with our house going back on the market and us being in the middle of a bunch of crap in that area, we have postponed it to next year, when hopefully, life is a little less out of control.  Emphasis on "hopefully".  However, both Riley and Cole were total champs about this decision, and I was reminded again, of how fabulous my kids are.  

After gorging ourselves on pizza and breadsticks, (totally screwing Cole's system up, I might add, as we just weren't even thinking about it, and neither was he), the kids went nuts with all the tokens and went to work winning tickets to buy necessities like plastic bracelets, and small sticky toys that get hair and goo all over them, and sea animals that Syd can choke on. Basically everything I hate.  
While they were doing that, I let Syd run around and touch all the blinking lights...until I noticed the ticket/prize guy giving me the look that said I needed to exercise more control over my toddler.  She was a little stinky anyway, so I decided to take her out to the car, and change her diaper.  I went and got my bag, and the keys from Jeff, and went to take care of business.  

I unlocked the keys with the remote, sat Sydney next to her car seat and shut the door so she could play around while I put my bag on the passenger side seat and threw the keys with it...grabbing a diaper, shutting the door and going to the opposite back seat, so I could grab Syd and change her.  However, somehow...the car was locked.  And Syd was inside, and it was the first warm day we'd had in forever, and the windows were all up.  I kind of panicked for a few seconds.  Syd was fine...she'd found some stuff to eat on the floorboards, and so she was content with that.  But Jeff was inside the arcade with Riley and Cole, and the keys and my phone were on the passenger seat...mocking me.  My dilemma:  Trying to get to Jeff, to anyone, while my baby is locked inside the car, alone in a parking lot, getting continually warmer, with no fresh air.  I ran to the emergency exit of the arcade, and pounded on it.  The ticket/prize guy looked at me, pretended not to see me, and then looked away.  I didn't go anywhere.  I kept the car within my sight and continued to stay there, looking straight at him, and finally he rolled his eyes, and opened the door for me...about to tell me that I wasn't supposed to enter that way, until I cut him off with, "I need my husband over there--I'm a moron, and I locked my baby in the car."  His eyes got all wide, and he called to Jeff while I stood there, knowing that Syd was screaming in the car.  Jeff followed me out, and here's what we saw:

Jeff called the police and we waited...and when one showed up, he took a while, trying to get the car door jimmied.  Luckily, I left the keys on the front seat, because he ended up pushing the unlock button on the remote of my keys. Syd was just fine the entire time.  It was like a game to her.  
Yet another reason I won't be winning any "Mother of the Year" awards.  Luckily everything turned out okay.  After that, I was done....I'd had way too much excitement. 

First Riley had to go spend some money at Toys R Us.  (Some rituals are too entirely awesome to break), and then lastly we came home.  I took a nap while Jeff and Riley made cupcakes with no frosting--her idea.  She's not a frosting fan.  (Neither am I). It was really low-key, but that's something I'm grateful we all agree on:  Low-key is how we prefer stuff.  Unless it's about me...and then you can bring out the fireworks, and it's all good.  

Riley read all of her shout outs, and felt great, and ended up telling Jeff and I that yet again, it was the "best birthday ever".  I'm thoroughly enjoying this part of her childhood, and I don't look forward to the time when this whole ordeal will turn into, "My birthdays ALWAYS suck".  Which is something I went through from about 16 to 25.  Maybe she'll luck out and that phenomenon will skip her. Fingers crossed.  
I'm so lucky to have you, Sweetie.  Your birthday is always exciting for me, because it reminds me of how much you've changed my life--so much better than I could have imagined.