Saturday was a weird day for me. I woke up with a sore back and neck from the crap of a mattress we have. I also played the rolls of "The Soccer Ball" and "The Pillow" in the "Ella Show" that ran all night long. When I woke up, I found Tim gone to work and Ella and Mia both in my bed. I grabbed my computer and did what I do best...facebook. On my home page someone posted a picture of what I thought was just a really cute little girl...I was right. She was a really cute little girl. A really cute little girl that was only a few months younger than Ella and who was dying of cancer. I clicked on the link that took me to her parents blog. Whoa. Wasn't prepared for that! On their blog, they had posted family pictures that had recently been taken. Taken in a rush...before she died. You couldn't tell by looking at them that she was sick. They were beautiful.
The whole story really hit home. They were a family of 5. They had 3 girls. The youngest was Ella's age. One of the blogs was about regrets. Mom was talking about how she had so much time to do everything she needed to do at home because the little one just slept most of the time. But she went on to talk about how she would give all that time up to just have that little girl under her feet. How she'd give anything to take 45 minutes just to change the washer and dryer because she had a little helper. Again, I say, whoa.
As I read that blog, tears streaming down my face...I looked over at 2 of my 3 sleeping angels and was so thankful for those feet in my back all night. The rest of the day, I still got irritated, I still got upset and even angry a couple times...but I was thankful. Thankful for my life and all the good and bad that comes with it. I took a little extra time that day to listen to the girls when they wanted to talk to me. I took the time to watch their painful little shows and listen to their slightly off key made up songs. I took time to thank God for everything He had given me.
When Tim came home I shared the story with him and I'm fairly certain he only understood about the first word, because I was blubbering through the entire story.
As if that story wasn't enough for one day...we settled into bed and watched the movie "Changling". It's a true story about a woman in the 20's who son went missing. Whoa. More to think about.
Let's just say that between the blog in the morning and the movie that night, I went to bed with a whole new persepective. I know I'm still going to get irriated with my kids, but I will be thankful everyday that I have that opportunity.
Deep. I know.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Are You Smarter than a 2nd Grader? Because I'm Obviously Not!
Oh my goodness. What are they trying to teach these kids these days? I feel like a complete idiot when I try to help Mia with her homework. And if I feel like an idiot, how do you think she feels? Um...it sort of makes me a little mad. Ok...a lot mad. Why are they trying to make everything so difficult?
Seriously...the math is insane! One of tonight's problems went a little something like this(ok...exactly like this. Is that plagiarism?):"Take a shape with 5 sides. Choose a vertex. Draw lines from that vertex to the other vertices that do not share sides with the first vertex. How many shapes are formed? How many sides do they have?" WHAT?!?!? What does that even mean? I thought a vertex was something used in time travel!! Or the thing in the Bermuda Triangle where countless ships and airplanes have disappeared. I didn't realize it something to do with 2nd grade geometric problems! And when I used spell check on this post, it didn't even recognize the word 'vertices'. What's that tell you? I think they're making things up! I don't even think this stuff exists. I feel really bad now because I actually got onto Mia for not listening in class. I thought if she had been listening, she should know what a vertex was so she could explain it to me then I could turn around and explain it to her. I know, bad mom...it was really just me trying to cover my butt for not being able to help the 2nd grader with her math homework!! Blame it on the kid. It's obviously her fault, right? Um, no...it's not. It's the stupid person who made up all these stupid words and wrote this stupid curriculum.
There have been several times I've called my sister (the teacher, she should know everything right?) and read some of the problems to her. She's even confused...and she teaches 4th grade, so she's required to be smarter than a 2nd grader!! What happen to learning addition and subtraction by adding and taking away?!?! Apparently now days you have to have a college education to make it through 2nd grade. I wasn't aware of that and sent Mia to preschool and we played with blocks, watched Barney and Dora the Explorer. Shame on me!
Remember when 2+2=4? Not so much anymore: "If Danilyn already has 2 rocks and picks up 1 at the playground and another 1 on the way home then trades 2 to Ariana for 1 from the river and 1 from the mountains, how many rocks does Juan have?" Ok, so I made that up, but it's not far off. And note the names in the problem. They don't use Suzy and Katie any more...Gotta update the names and be a little more 'diverse'. Whatever.
I don't have a 'real' college education. I went to beauty...I mean "cosmetology" school (that just makes it sound a little more sophisticated) but I should be able to help my 2nd grade daughter with her homework! I think it's some sort of conspiracy with curriculum companies. Not sure what their goal is, but if it has something to do with making adults feel stupid and confusing the heck out of kids, then they're succeeding.
This sort of thing really does wonders for the parents who are already questioning their parenting skills.
*This blog is a little 'unfinished' but it was written in lei of banging my head on the wall.
Seriously...the math is insane! One of tonight's problems went a little something like this(ok...exactly like this. Is that plagiarism?):"Take a shape with 5 sides. Choose a vertex. Draw lines from that vertex to the other vertices that do not share sides with the first vertex. How many shapes are formed? How many sides do they have?" WHAT?!?!? What does that even mean? I thought a vertex was something used in time travel!! Or the thing in the Bermuda Triangle where countless ships and airplanes have disappeared. I didn't realize it something to do with 2nd grade geometric problems! And when I used spell check on this post, it didn't even recognize the word 'vertices'. What's that tell you? I think they're making things up! I don't even think this stuff exists. I feel really bad now because I actually got onto Mia for not listening in class. I thought if she had been listening, she should know what a vertex was so she could explain it to me then I could turn around and explain it to her. I know, bad mom...it was really just me trying to cover my butt for not being able to help the 2nd grader with her math homework!! Blame it on the kid. It's obviously her fault, right? Um, no...it's not. It's the stupid person who made up all these stupid words and wrote this stupid curriculum.
There have been several times I've called my sister (the teacher, she should know everything right?) and read some of the problems to her. She's even confused...and she teaches 4th grade, so she's required to be smarter than a 2nd grader!! What happen to learning addition and subtraction by adding and taking away?!?! Apparently now days you have to have a college education to make it through 2nd grade. I wasn't aware of that and sent Mia to preschool and we played with blocks, watched Barney and Dora the Explorer. Shame on me!
Remember when 2+2=4? Not so much anymore: "If Danilyn already has 2 rocks and picks up 1 at the playground and another 1 on the way home then trades 2 to Ariana for 1 from the river and 1 from the mountains, how many rocks does Juan have?" Ok, so I made that up, but it's not far off. And note the names in the problem. They don't use Suzy and Katie any more...Gotta update the names and be a little more 'diverse'. Whatever.
I don't have a 'real' college education. I went to beauty...I mean "cosmetology" school (that just makes it sound a little more sophisticated) but I should be able to help my 2nd grade daughter with her homework! I think it's some sort of conspiracy with curriculum companies. Not sure what their goal is, but if it has something to do with making adults feel stupid and confusing the heck out of kids, then they're succeeding.
This sort of thing really does wonders for the parents who are already questioning their parenting skills.
*This blog is a little 'unfinished' but it was written in lei of banging my head on the wall.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Quest for a New Home
In 1996, right after Tim and I were married, we moved into our first house. One we built from scratch, with our own two hands(Ok, maybe it was the hands of a builder and many contractors, but Tim did nail in a roof tile or two). This house isn't just a house...it's our home. A home that we brought all our babies home to. A home where we celebrated our babies first birthdays and so many other memories. {{Mush. Mush. Sap. Sap.}} The place where I started this blog that lights up the lives of so many people on a daily basis. {{Givin' myself a little ego boost if you don't mind.}} This is our home...the home that is less than 1400 sq ft. A home where 3 little girls live in less than 1400 sq ft. A home that Tim has to share with 4 women, in less than 1400 sq ft. A home, that sadly, we have out grown.
Tim and I were going to stay here forever. We love this house. We really do. For years we said, "We're going to stay here forever. We love this house. This house is our home." {Just wondering if you've figured out that we love this house and this house is our HOME, yet?} But, as time went along, our family grew. Our kids grew. And the house, well, the house shrunk. Next thing we know we had a pre-teen who needed her "own" space, a little one who also needs her own space, because she's 2 ('nuff said, right?), and a 7 year old who has to sleep in the bathtub because her sister's require their own space, and we don't want her in our bed, either. We've run out of room here. It was time to move on.
I came to realize that we wouldn't be here forever and I was READY to move on! Bring it, Baby! This past October, we listed our house. We started doing almost (I say almost because it's impossible to do it all!) everything our fabulous, award winning Realtor (just in case he reads this), told us to do. I started taking down all the pictures of my babies that have hung on the walls for years. With every picture I took down, I shed about a million tears. I had no idea how bittersweet it would be. Something that I wanted so bad was happening and it actually hurt! I wanted to have a tantrum and say, "I CHANGED MY MIND! I'M NOT LEAVING! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!" (As if someone was forcing me...) But I knew it was just my female emotions and I kept reminding myself this was best for us. Best for our family. {{Mushy-mush again}} Maybe, if I had my own space where I could get dressed without an audience and little ones pointing out my every flaw, I would be a little less grumpy. Maybe if we had a house where each girl could have their own room, bedtime would be a little less painful. Maybe if we had a little extra space where the kids could drag their junk, rather than to the living room or my bedroom, we would have less twisted ankles. Maybe...just maybe.
So, the sign went up and I was excited. Tim was a little reluctant to sell until we had a place to go, so we listed it a little too high, so we wouldn't get any offers. Tim didn't say that, but I know that's what he was thinking. {{What a great strategy, right? I'm totally rolling my eyes when I say that.}} But, have you ever tried to sell a house while you're living with a bunch of pigs? T-O-R-T-U-R-E. Wait...I need to rephrase that...have you ever tried having a house listed (because we weren't really trying to sell it) while living with a bunch of pigs? It ain't easy. It seemed like at at a moments notice, someone would want to show it and I would have to tie up the kids to keep them from undoing all the cleaning I was doing, then load everyone up and find some place to go, so some strangers could walk through my house and NOT buy it. In the meantime, we were also on the hunt for our new home....
We looked at only 3 houses before we found "the one". The "Pot House" on Bonita. We met our Realtor to look at this house we had our eyes on for years. It was on the market a couple years earlier and we just assumed it sold. We pulled up outside, with all 3 kids in tow. (Have you ever tried LOOKING at houses with 3 kids? That's a complete blog post in itself!) Anyway...We get out of the car and she says, "The tenants are here and his wife just got home from the doctor, so she's in bed." WHAT?!?! Are you serious? Super weird!! And...EEEEWWWWW!!! But we went in anyway. As soon as I walked in the door, despite the creepy guy on the couch, I felt this calm come over me. I was home. It was literally that, "Ahhhhhhh..." feeling. Then Tim came in behind me and, if I remember correctly, I think he actually sighed out loud. He felt it, too. We proceeded into the kitchen that had been completely remodeled and I felt it again...and into the laundry area and so on. We moved from room to room and, even in the current master bedroom where the icky woman was laying in bed, I STILL felt at home (however it was a little strange seeing the icky woman in my room). Oh, and the house was a complete disaster. There were dog pins in the dining room (note: dog pins in the dining room. Eewwww!) and you couldn't even see the floor in the kids rooms. Then there was the weird smell throughout the house. The dogs perhaps? I mean...there were dog pins in the DINING ROOM. (Can you tell that bugged me a bit?) But I still just felt this calm about me, despite the mess. I honestly didn't care. We walked into the converted garage where there was a bed and TV in a small open space and a huge room in the middle of the room. It was "storage" he said. And it was locked. "Oh, sorry. That's my nephew's room and we haven't seen him in like 3 weeks. He has the key. But, um, yeah. It's just storage." A little strange because it was the biggest part of the room. A room, inside the room. But whatever...we could deal with that. It had a small bathroom so we were already planning our remodel into the new master suite. We head out to the backyard and there was that sigh again. A beautiful new pool and all kinds of room for the kids and the dogs. We. Were. Home. As we walk back in, Tim leans in to the Realtor and asks, "What is that smell?" She responds..."Do you want the truth?" Tim: "UM...yeah." Realtor: "I think he's growing pot and that's why we can't get in that "storage" room." WHAT?!?! OMGeeee!! We just drug our kids through a pot house!!! No wonder I was so CALM!! I was high!!! (For the record, I'm aware you can't get high off the smell of growing MaryJane.) We just walked through a pot house. I've never even actually seen pot in real life. As far as I know, that's the closest I've ever been to it. (I know. I know. I'm so perfect. But I won't rub it in.) Wow. That was...interesting. But, we had fallen in love, none the less. We were hooked. (He!He!) We found our home. The "pot house". We headed out the front door and thanked the pothead for letting us in.
When we got home, we had to clear our heads. "If it was just a little less...but we really can't at that price," Tim said. Excuse me, honey...You can find me in my very public master bedroom sobbing into my pillow. The next day, Tim went out of town for a few days and when he came back, the first thing he did was get on MLS. Next thing I know, I hear him on the phone with our Realtor...the price for the "pot house" had dropped $98,000. Are you kidding me?!?! $98,000!!! You can't be serious! Someone hacked into the system and is totally messing with us right now. Do they know what they're doing to us?!?! Draw up the papers, Baby! We're makin' an offer!! We literally thought about it for about, um, 1/2 a second. There was no question that we had to jump on it before someone else did. Initial here. Sign here. Bam! It's done. We just made an offer on the "pot house". I thought about asking for the contents of "the" room. I am a stay at home mom, after all, and I could probably have myself a little home business...possible enough to pay the mortgage. Maybe have home parties and stuff...sort of like those new "botox parties", or whatever they're called. In fact, maybe we could combine the two..."Come get high before you get injected with poison!" But, neh...I thought it might make it a little harder to get it that price, so I let it go.
Moving on (ha! 'moving on' and I'm talking about moving. I didn't even catch that until I was proof reading!)...This house was a short sale...and has quite the back story. I'd tell you the story, but I've told it so much, I'm sort of sick of it...so too bad for you! But the "short sale" part...ugh. Have you ever been through a short sale? I DO NOT recommend it unless you don't really care how long it takes and you don't mind your dreams being crushed if it falls through. It's already been 3 months since we made the offer and still...NOTHING. My heart aches for my home. It's now empty (yeah, he took the pot) and I drive by longing to water the plants and pull the weeds (and I don't even do that here). Would it be weird to do yard work on house that is empty and doesn't belong to me?
In the meantime, we've looked at countless other homes. Our poor Realtor probably hates us. Nothing measures up to the "pot house". I have yet to walk into a house and feel that "sigh" I felt when I stepped foot in it. I had no idea that trying to find a new home was so difficult and defeating. I suppose for most people it's not quite so daunting, but for us it is. We're not the type of people to settle for something. It has to be perfect. It must have 4 bedrooms, 2-3 baths, bonus room, preferably custom, a pool in a decent yard and in an established neighborhood, on a budget of about $5. Did you know that most people that live in custom homes in established neighborhoods built the house and live there until they DIE? Or they want about a million dollars for it? We have about $5 to spend. Not exactly ideal circumstances.
Yesterday I looked at 5 houses. Yes...FIVE. I walked into one that got a very small "sigh" from me, but only had 3 bedrooms. Deal breaker. Not even worth sharing with Tim. I think I've come to the conclusion that we need to just stop looking until we know what's going to happen with the "pot house". Every time I walk into a house, I think, "Hum...maybe. But what if the 'pot house' comes through and we've settled for this..." Then again, what if I pass up another house that has that "Ahhhhh..." feeling because I'm waiting for this one? I think I need therapy.
We've since taken our house off the market until we know we have a new home to go to. I love my motor home, but I love to call it my vacation home...not home sweet home. Even though I did shed some tears over that decision, too, because again...I felt defeated. Like we were giving up, but then I realized...I don't have to clean my house anymore, so maybe it's not so bad.
I felt the need to blog about this because it's such a huge part of my life right now. Every evening I get online and look for new listings that might suit us. I look through my "pot house" pictures, that I took after a walk through we did after they moved out. {{OMGee...you were totally thinking I was snapping pictures of the house while the people lived there and I had a picture of the icky chick in bed and the creepy guy on the couch, huh?}} I spend hours debating weather we should keep the pot room and make use of it or rip it out and make it our master suite. Then a few more hours designing my master suite. I plan pool party after pool party in my beautiful backyard and planning the meals I'll prepare in my newly remodeled kitchen (ok...figuring out where I'm going to take the food out of the take out boxes and put them on plates). It's an obsession, ok? Deal with it.
P.S. Must clarify: I mentioned at the beginning of this story that our Realtor was a "he" and later that "she" was showing us the house. We have a "team" of Realtors. "He" is "the man". "She" is the one we work directly with.
Tim and I were going to stay here forever. We love this house. We really do. For years we said, "We're going to stay here forever. We love this house. This house is our home." {Just wondering if you've figured out that we love this house and this house is our HOME, yet?} But, as time went along, our family grew. Our kids grew. And the house, well, the house shrunk. Next thing we know we had a pre-teen who needed her "own" space, a little one who also needs her own space, because she's 2 ('nuff said, right?), and a 7 year old who has to sleep in the bathtub because her sister's require their own space, and we don't want her in our bed, either. We've run out of room here. It was time to move on.
I came to realize that we wouldn't be here forever and I was READY to move on! Bring it, Baby! This past October, we listed our house. We started doing almost (I say almost because it's impossible to do it all!) everything our fabulous, award winning Realtor (just in case he reads this), told us to do. I started taking down all the pictures of my babies that have hung on the walls for years. With every picture I took down, I shed about a million tears. I had no idea how bittersweet it would be. Something that I wanted so bad was happening and it actually hurt! I wanted to have a tantrum and say, "I CHANGED MY MIND! I'M NOT LEAVING! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!" (As if someone was forcing me...) But I knew it was just my female emotions and I kept reminding myself this was best for us. Best for our family. {{Mushy-mush again}} Maybe, if I had my own space where I could get dressed without an audience and little ones pointing out my every flaw, I would be a little less grumpy. Maybe if we had a house where each girl could have their own room, bedtime would be a little less painful. Maybe if we had a little extra space where the kids could drag their junk, rather than to the living room or my bedroom, we would have less twisted ankles. Maybe...just maybe.
So, the sign went up and I was excited. Tim was a little reluctant to sell until we had a place to go, so we listed it a little too high, so we wouldn't get any offers. Tim didn't say that, but I know that's what he was thinking. {{What a great strategy, right? I'm totally rolling my eyes when I say that.}} But, have you ever tried to sell a house while you're living with a bunch of pigs? T-O-R-T-U-R-E. Wait...I need to rephrase that...have you ever tried having a house listed (because we weren't really trying to sell it) while living with a bunch of pigs? It ain't easy. It seemed like at at a moments notice, someone would want to show it and I would have to tie up the kids to keep them from undoing all the cleaning I was doing, then load everyone up and find some place to go, so some strangers could walk through my house and NOT buy it. In the meantime, we were also on the hunt for our new home....
We looked at only 3 houses before we found "the one". The "Pot House" on Bonita. We met our Realtor to look at this house we had our eyes on for years. It was on the market a couple years earlier and we just assumed it sold. We pulled up outside, with all 3 kids in tow. (Have you ever tried LOOKING at houses with 3 kids? That's a complete blog post in itself!) Anyway...We get out of the car and she says, "The tenants are here and his wife just got home from the doctor, so she's in bed." WHAT?!?! Are you serious? Super weird!! And...EEEEWWWWW!!! But we went in anyway. As soon as I walked in the door, despite the creepy guy on the couch, I felt this calm come over me. I was home. It was literally that, "Ahhhhhhh..." feeling. Then Tim came in behind me and, if I remember correctly, I think he actually sighed out loud. He felt it, too. We proceeded into the kitchen that had been completely remodeled and I felt it again...and into the laundry area and so on. We moved from room to room and, even in the current master bedroom where the icky woman was laying in bed, I STILL felt at home (however it was a little strange seeing the icky woman in my room). Oh, and the house was a complete disaster. There were dog pins in the dining room (note: dog pins in the dining room. Eewwww!) and you couldn't even see the floor in the kids rooms. Then there was the weird smell throughout the house. The dogs perhaps? I mean...there were dog pins in the DINING ROOM. (Can you tell that bugged me a bit?) But I still just felt this calm about me, despite the mess. I honestly didn't care. We walked into the converted garage where there was a bed and TV in a small open space and a huge room in the middle of the room. It was "storage" he said. And it was locked. "Oh, sorry. That's my nephew's room and we haven't seen him in like 3 weeks. He has the key. But, um, yeah. It's just storage." A little strange because it was the biggest part of the room. A room, inside the room. But whatever...we could deal with that. It had a small bathroom so we were already planning our remodel into the new master suite. We head out to the backyard and there was that sigh again. A beautiful new pool and all kinds of room for the kids and the dogs. We. Were. Home. As we walk back in, Tim leans in to the Realtor and asks, "What is that smell?" She responds..."Do you want the truth?" Tim: "UM...yeah." Realtor: "I think he's growing pot and that's why we can't get in that "storage" room." WHAT?!?! OMGeeee!! We just drug our kids through a pot house!!! No wonder I was so CALM!! I was high!!! (For the record, I'm aware you can't get high off the smell of growing MaryJane.) We just walked through a pot house. I've never even actually seen pot in real life. As far as I know, that's the closest I've ever been to it. (I know. I know. I'm so perfect. But I won't rub it in.) Wow. That was...interesting. But, we had fallen in love, none the less. We were hooked. (He!He!) We found our home. The "pot house". We headed out the front door and thanked the pothead for letting us in.
When we got home, we had to clear our heads. "If it was just a little less...but we really can't at that price," Tim said. Excuse me, honey...You can find me in my very public master bedroom sobbing into my pillow. The next day, Tim went out of town for a few days and when he came back, the first thing he did was get on MLS. Next thing I know, I hear him on the phone with our Realtor...the price for the "pot house" had dropped $98,000. Are you kidding me?!?! $98,000!!! You can't be serious! Someone hacked into the system and is totally messing with us right now. Do they know what they're doing to us?!?! Draw up the papers, Baby! We're makin' an offer!! We literally thought about it for about, um, 1/2 a second. There was no question that we had to jump on it before someone else did. Initial here. Sign here. Bam! It's done. We just made an offer on the "pot house". I thought about asking for the contents of "the" room. I am a stay at home mom, after all, and I could probably have myself a little home business...possible enough to pay the mortgage. Maybe have home parties and stuff...sort of like those new "botox parties", or whatever they're called. In fact, maybe we could combine the two..."Come get high before you get injected with poison!" But, neh...I thought it might make it a little harder to get it that price, so I let it go.
Moving on (ha! 'moving on' and I'm talking about moving. I didn't even catch that until I was proof reading!)...This house was a short sale...and has quite the back story. I'd tell you the story, but I've told it so much, I'm sort of sick of it...so too bad for you! But the "short sale" part...ugh. Have you ever been through a short sale? I DO NOT recommend it unless you don't really care how long it takes and you don't mind your dreams being crushed if it falls through. It's already been 3 months since we made the offer and still...NOTHING. My heart aches for my home. It's now empty (yeah, he took the pot) and I drive by longing to water the plants and pull the weeds (and I don't even do that here). Would it be weird to do yard work on house that is empty and doesn't belong to me?
In the meantime, we've looked at countless other homes. Our poor Realtor probably hates us. Nothing measures up to the "pot house". I have yet to walk into a house and feel that "sigh" I felt when I stepped foot in it. I had no idea that trying to find a new home was so difficult and defeating. I suppose for most people it's not quite so daunting, but for us it is. We're not the type of people to settle for something. It has to be perfect. It must have 4 bedrooms, 2-3 baths, bonus room, preferably custom, a pool in a decent yard and in an established neighborhood, on a budget of about $5. Did you know that most people that live in custom homes in established neighborhoods built the house and live there until they DIE? Or they want about a million dollars for it? We have about $5 to spend. Not exactly ideal circumstances.
Yesterday I looked at 5 houses. Yes...FIVE. I walked into one that got a very small "sigh" from me, but only had 3 bedrooms. Deal breaker. Not even worth sharing with Tim. I think I've come to the conclusion that we need to just stop looking until we know what's going to happen with the "pot house". Every time I walk into a house, I think, "Hum...maybe. But what if the 'pot house' comes through and we've settled for this..." Then again, what if I pass up another house that has that "Ahhhhh..." feeling because I'm waiting for this one? I think I need therapy.
We've since taken our house off the market until we know we have a new home to go to. I love my motor home, but I love to call it my vacation home...not home sweet home. Even though I did shed some tears over that decision, too, because again...I felt defeated. Like we were giving up, but then I realized...I don't have to clean my house anymore, so maybe it's not so bad.
I felt the need to blog about this because it's such a huge part of my life right now. Every evening I get online and look for new listings that might suit us. I look through my "pot house" pictures, that I took after a walk through we did after they moved out. {{OMGee...you were totally thinking I was snapping pictures of the house while the people lived there and I had a picture of the icky chick in bed and the creepy guy on the couch, huh?}} I spend hours debating weather we should keep the pot room and make use of it or rip it out and make it our master suite. Then a few more hours designing my master suite. I plan pool party after pool party in my beautiful backyard and planning the meals I'll prepare in my newly remodeled kitchen (ok...figuring out where I'm going to take the food out of the take out boxes and put them on plates). It's an obsession, ok? Deal with it.
P.S. Must clarify: I mentioned at the beginning of this story that our Realtor was a "he" and later that "she" was showing us the house. We have a "team" of Realtors. "He" is "the man". "She" is the one we work directly with.
Friday, February 5, 2010
You're NOT Perfect, So Get Over Yourself!!
Nothing gets under my skin more than people who thing they're "perfect" or live the "perfect" lifestyle. That drives me insane!! (I know...short trip.) "I just had the greatest workout! I feel so energized! I feel like I could scrub my house from top to bottom...all 10,000sq ft of it! And then I'll whip up some super healthy, super yummy dinner for my family and all my kids who eat anything I put in front of them! And after that we're all going to the park to run laps for some healthy family fun!" Really? Is your life that perfect? Do you really do all that? I bet you sleep really good at night...or do you even need sleep? You probably stay up all night knitting socks for the homeless, huh? And are so energized by the good work you do, that you just keep going and knit them a hat and gloves to match, huh?
Here's the deal...I hate to clean so I only do it when I have to. If you drop by my house unexpectedly you might want to bring a nose plug because no telling what it'll smell like in here. You might also consider bringing a shovel so you can make yourself a path to the couch that is ripped and has stuffing coming out of it. Please don't take your shoes off, because while my floor appears clean, it's just camouflaging all the crumbs and dirt that I have yet to vacuum up.
I also don't work out...AT ALL. I keep saying I should, but honestly...I don't want to. Someone said, "When you really learn to love yourself you'll start taking care of your body." Um...excuse me, but I love myself very much. I love myself so much that I like to treat myself to a Reese's now and then to show me just how much I love me! I'm not saying one shouldn't take care of their body, but I think that some people are a little obsessive about it. It's ridiculous. They want to make sure everyone knows how healthy they are, too. I threw a pizza party in one of my girl's classes and the kids were, naturally, asking for ranch dressing. One obsessive mother said, "Oh...that just drives me nuts! Do they know how fattening it is to put ranch on pizza?!?!" REALLY?!?! You're serious right now? Please tell me you're kidding!!! It's PIZZA!!
Oh, and my kids are horrible eaters. Gracie lives on meat, bread and pasta. It's a wonder that kid doesn't weigh 300 lbs. Just about the only thing she eats is carbs. I use to say the only veggies she eats is corn, then someone reminded me that corn wasn't a veggie! It's a grain!!! Mia is a little better. She does like most fruits and a few veggies...but that's about it! One morning she ate an entire container of strawberries for breakfast. That came back to bite her in the butt...literally. And she LOVES chocolate! In her perfect world she would be able to dip all her fruit in chocolate and live happily ever after. Oh yeah...she likes beans, too. Fruit and beans. Yummy. {{Note the sarcasm}} Needless to say, she's very regular. Now Ella...she'll eat everything but won't eat anything. She likes the taste of just about everything you put in front of her, but she just doesn't eat. She'll take a bite or two of everything, then be done. We actually have days that she hardly eats anything all day long. Is that even normal? She's like a camel or something and stores it up, I guess. She'll go for a week and hardly eat anything, then for several days she eats everything in sight. Those days one or both of her sisters usually gets bit. Dead serious.
Although, I can say that all three of my girls do love them some green beans! Canned green beans, drowned in butter and salt. But hey...it's a green bean!!! Yipee!!
I don't cook very often, either. And when I do, it usually includes a pound of butter. Paula Dean is my hero!!
We're not perfect like some claim to be. I might be grumpy sometimes. I might be lazy sometimes and I might even feed my family "Shame Sticks*" for dinner, but we're happy...and I'm still a size 8 (most of the time).
P.S. *Shame Sticks = A stick of butter on a Popsicle stick rolled in sugar. As seen on 'According to Jim' on ABC.
Here's the deal...I hate to clean so I only do it when I have to. If you drop by my house unexpectedly you might want to bring a nose plug because no telling what it'll smell like in here. You might also consider bringing a shovel so you can make yourself a path to the couch that is ripped and has stuffing coming out of it. Please don't take your shoes off, because while my floor appears clean, it's just camouflaging all the crumbs and dirt that I have yet to vacuum up.
I also don't work out...AT ALL. I keep saying I should, but honestly...I don't want to. Someone said, "When you really learn to love yourself you'll start taking care of your body." Um...excuse me, but I love myself very much. I love myself so much that I like to treat myself to a Reese's now and then to show me just how much I love me! I'm not saying one shouldn't take care of their body, but I think that some people are a little obsessive about it. It's ridiculous. They want to make sure everyone knows how healthy they are, too. I threw a pizza party in one of my girl's classes and the kids were, naturally, asking for ranch dressing. One obsessive mother said, "Oh...that just drives me nuts! Do they know how fattening it is to put ranch on pizza?!?!" REALLY?!?! You're serious right now? Please tell me you're kidding!!! It's PIZZA!!
Oh, and my kids are horrible eaters. Gracie lives on meat, bread and pasta. It's a wonder that kid doesn't weigh 300 lbs. Just about the only thing she eats is carbs. I use to say the only veggies she eats is corn, then someone reminded me that corn wasn't a veggie! It's a grain!!! Mia is a little better. She does like most fruits and a few veggies...but that's about it! One morning she ate an entire container of strawberries for breakfast. That came back to bite her in the butt...literally. And she LOVES chocolate! In her perfect world she would be able to dip all her fruit in chocolate and live happily ever after. Oh yeah...she likes beans, too. Fruit and beans. Yummy. {{Note the sarcasm}} Needless to say, she's very regular. Now Ella...she'll eat everything but won't eat anything. She likes the taste of just about everything you put in front of her, but she just doesn't eat. She'll take a bite or two of everything, then be done. We actually have days that she hardly eats anything all day long. Is that even normal? She's like a camel or something and stores it up, I guess. She'll go for a week and hardly eat anything, then for several days she eats everything in sight. Those days one or both of her sisters usually gets bit. Dead serious.
Although, I can say that all three of my girls do love them some green beans! Canned green beans, drowned in butter and salt. But hey...it's a green bean!!! Yipee!!
I don't cook very often, either. And when I do, it usually includes a pound of butter. Paula Dean is my hero!!
We're not perfect like some claim to be. I might be grumpy sometimes. I might be lazy sometimes and I might even feed my family "Shame Sticks*" for dinner, but we're happy...and I'm still a size 8 (most of the time).
P.S. *Shame Sticks = A stick of butter on a Popsicle stick rolled in sugar. As seen on 'According to Jim' on ABC.
Monday, February 1, 2010
"What?!?!?! I'm in the shower!!"
Showering. Alone. Without interruption. That's not too much to ask, is it? Isn't showering something one usually does alone, anyway (note I said usually, for those of you with your mind in the gutter)? Apparently, once you become a mother, the only time you get a chance to shower alone is if you do it in the middle of the night, or you're in the hospital.
On a normal day, I have every intention of getting up early to shower before the girls wake up, but 10 out of 10 times, I hit the snooze button until the last possible moment, then take them to school in my pj's (with a sweatshirt over them so you can't tell from the car, duh!). Then I come home and try to occupy Ella so I can have a few moments of peace. Yeah, like that'll ever happen. She's usually right outside the bathroom door, most of the time stripping because she wants to join me, or doing the pee-pee dance and expecting me to put her on the potty, or just standing there causing trouble. The latest antic was opening the blinds on the door right by the shower and "dancing in the sunlight"...while the cord on the blinds got tangled in the wrought iron cross hung on the wall. I spend my entire shower yelling at her to leave it alone because she was going to knock herself out cold. On second thought...maybe I should have just left her alone. Then I might have had some peace. Oops...did I just say that?!?!?
On the days that everyone is home, I have a parade of family members coming through...at least one or more of the girls asking for food, or telling me about something that happened at school, or Tim...just standing there. AAGGGHHHHHH!!!! You know what!?! If you want a show, you're gonna start payin' for it, Buddy!
I even try locking the bedroom door to keep them out, but either Tim or Gracie will unlock it and let everyone in. It never fails. Someone needs to use the bathroom because the other one is in use (YUCK!!). Or someone needs a band aid. Or a brush. Or a Q-tip. The list is endless.
On Saturday I thought I had my chance because both girls had friends over so they were occupied and Tim was home to occupy Ella. Prime showering time, right? I walked in and locked the door behind me. I was going to take my time. Relax. Renew. (She said in her best spa commercial voice.) I stepped in the shower and took a deep breath. Ah...Nice. This time no one was going to unlock the door and come in...they were going to stand outside the door and pound on it and scream until I got out. I have no idea what they were even saying. All I know is that I couldn't barely catch my breath after the pounding started and I couldn't get out fast enough. I rushed through the shower and ran to the door (I would have jumped out right away but I figured if someone had cut off a limb, Tim would have stepped in...maybe). When I got to the door...no one was there. Not a sound. Complete silence. Apparently it was just the fact that I was in the shower the caused the chaos. As soon as the water went off, all their troubles went away. Amazing really. Especially since the point was for the water to wash all MY troubles away.
What is it about Mommy having a few minutes to herself that makes everyone go bonkers? I don't think they mean to, it just happens. I don't get it and I never will, but I guess I just need to get use to it...Dang it!
On a normal day, I have every intention of getting up early to shower before the girls wake up, but 10 out of 10 times, I hit the snooze button until the last possible moment, then take them to school in my pj's (with a sweatshirt over them so you can't tell from the car, duh!). Then I come home and try to occupy Ella so I can have a few moments of peace. Yeah, like that'll ever happen. She's usually right outside the bathroom door, most of the time stripping because she wants to join me, or doing the pee-pee dance and expecting me to put her on the potty, or just standing there causing trouble. The latest antic was opening the blinds on the door right by the shower and "dancing in the sunlight"...while the cord on the blinds got tangled in the wrought iron cross hung on the wall. I spend my entire shower yelling at her to leave it alone because she was going to knock herself out cold. On second thought...maybe I should have just left her alone. Then I might have had some peace. Oops...did I just say that?!?!?
On the days that everyone is home, I have a parade of family members coming through...at least one or more of the girls asking for food, or telling me about something that happened at school, or Tim...just standing there. AAGGGHHHHHH!!!! You know what!?! If you want a show, you're gonna start payin' for it, Buddy!
I even try locking the bedroom door to keep them out, but either Tim or Gracie will unlock it and let everyone in. It never fails. Someone needs to use the bathroom because the other one is in use (YUCK!!). Or someone needs a band aid. Or a brush. Or a Q-tip. The list is endless.
On Saturday I thought I had my chance because both girls had friends over so they were occupied and Tim was home to occupy Ella. Prime showering time, right? I walked in and locked the door behind me. I was going to take my time. Relax. Renew. (She said in her best spa commercial voice.) I stepped in the shower and took a deep breath. Ah...Nice. This time no one was going to unlock the door and come in...they were going to stand outside the door and pound on it and scream until I got out. I have no idea what they were even saying. All I know is that I couldn't barely catch my breath after the pounding started and I couldn't get out fast enough. I rushed through the shower and ran to the door (I would have jumped out right away but I figured if someone had cut off a limb, Tim would have stepped in...maybe). When I got to the door...no one was there. Not a sound. Complete silence. Apparently it was just the fact that I was in the shower the caused the chaos. As soon as the water went off, all their troubles went away. Amazing really. Especially since the point was for the water to wash all MY troubles away.
What is it about Mommy having a few minutes to herself that makes everyone go bonkers? I don't think they mean to, it just happens. I don't get it and I never will, but I guess I just need to get use to it...Dang it!
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