SO. Our property management company got in touch with us today, very worried that we had been without water or plumbing this weekend. Luckily, that's not the case. They promised to have someone out to fix the issue today.
The plumbers arrived right before I went to pick the kids up from school, took a look in the bathroom, and gave me a lecture on the importance of flushing. Yes, really.
I listened intently (because flushing is complicated, yo!), and didn't interrupt because I knew that it wasn't going to be that simple. I knew that because I saw what the bathroom looked like before we cleaned it up. They were just seeing what we couldn't get to. And when I say 'we', I really mean Robert, because my previous post showed how useless I am in such situations.
I went to get the kids and when we got back, they had pulled out the big guns. They had to take the toilet off and snake the drain with the large drain rooter.
Umm hmmm, it was way more of a problem than simply not flushing.
Two hours later, they finally left. The younger guy? It was his first day on the job. Betcha he's going to think long and hard about day number two. (Pun not completely intended.) I know I would. That was 500 kinds of gross.
I feel badly for the owners of this house. They just bought it in November and they've had several big issues already. Now we just threw another huge one in their lap - if the toilet backs up again in the near future, they are going to have to dig down and under the slab to be able to figure out and fix the issue. That sounds like big money.
For the millionth time this year, I'm so glad we rent.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Who, me neurotic? Looks like it.
Last night Robert headed to bed and I stayed up to write a blog entry. I straightened up a little (why does nothing ever stay clean?) and then decided to go downstairs and switch out the laundry before heading to bed.
As I walked down the steps, I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. This house is two levels, the upstairs has the bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen/dining/family great room, and the sun room. Downstairs is the main entrance, the garage, a bonus room, laundry room, and a half bath. The rest of the length of the house is an earth basement accessible with a small, square, access door right outside the bathroom.
We usually keep the door to the laundry area closed because there is just the odor of damp earth, especially if it's been raining a lot. I was in the middle of doing laundry, so the door was open. I thought that maybe that's what the smell was - same smell only stronger because of the open door.
I flipped on the light and walked in.
What the....?!?! There was what looked like mud everywhere and the smell...whooo boy! Wickedly awful.
Then I looked closer. There was standing water on parts of the floor, but no water where I was standing, which meant that it had to be coming from....the bathroom.
I tiptoed over, and opened the bathroom door. Frankly, and without getting all gross and descriptive about it, it looked like the toilet vomited.
I gagged, and retreated.
Oh. No. Nonononononononononononono.
First things first - how bad is the damage? I couldn't really tell, but the entire area wasn't wet, so that was good. But I needed to get things out of the closets - and for that I'd need help. I'd also need help facing that toilet.
Gross.
I cleaned off my feet and came upstairs and had to wake Robert up. Together we went downstairs tag teamed that hussy.
Let me say, I'm usually pretty good in a crisis. I don't normally panic or over react, which is ironic, because I totally tend to panic and over react in a non-crisis situation. Robert, God bless him and his infantry experience, has seen enough actual nasty, disgusting stuff that some little toilet over flow is no big deal. ::shudder:: But for me? That was like walking into a war zone without prior warning. Blech.
We moved everything out of the closets, cleaned up the mess, made sure we could use the upstairs bathrooms and sinks without creating another overflow situation, cleaned ourselves up, and then Robert went back to bed.
But me? I scrubbed myself down with Clorox wipes, then washed my hands, legs and feet with soap and water, slapped some hand sanitizer on for good measure, changed clothes, and tried really hard not to think about what had just happened....
which didn't work. I couldn't go to sleep, didn't want to get into bed, even though I knew I wasn't even the one of us in the worst of the mess and had thoroughly cleaned myself up three times over.
Even now, 24 hours later, I have to fight not to gag when thinking or writing about it. And I can't wash my hands enough today. I swear that odor is actually in my nose permanently.
So hopefully tomorrow the plumber will come and figure out and fix what the problem is. And then I can clean the bathroom and laundry area one to twenty more times, then scrub myself down with bleach and a scouring pad and find a way not to see, um, what I saw last night when I walked into that room when I close my eyes. But what I really want to do is board up that entire area and start using the laundromat in town.
So please excuse me, I need to go and wash my hands and think really hard about puppies and rainbows.
As I walked down the steps, I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. This house is two levels, the upstairs has the bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, kitchen/dining/family great room, and the sun room. Downstairs is the main entrance, the garage, a bonus room, laundry room, and a half bath. The rest of the length of the house is an earth basement accessible with a small, square, access door right outside the bathroom.
We usually keep the door to the laundry area closed because there is just the odor of damp earth, especially if it's been raining a lot. I was in the middle of doing laundry, so the door was open. I thought that maybe that's what the smell was - same smell only stronger because of the open door.
I flipped on the light and walked in.
What the....?!?! There was what looked like mud everywhere and the smell...whooo boy! Wickedly awful.
Then I looked closer. There was standing water on parts of the floor, but no water where I was standing, which meant that it had to be coming from....the bathroom.
I tiptoed over, and opened the bathroom door. Frankly, and without getting all gross and descriptive about it, it looked like the toilet vomited.
I gagged, and retreated.
Oh. No. Nonononononononononononono.
First things first - how bad is the damage? I couldn't really tell, but the entire area wasn't wet, so that was good. But I needed to get things out of the closets - and for that I'd need help. I'd also need help facing that toilet.
Gross.
I cleaned off my feet and came upstairs and had to wake Robert up. Together we went downstairs tag teamed that hussy.
Let me say, I'm usually pretty good in a crisis. I don't normally panic or over react, which is ironic, because I totally tend to panic and over react in a non-crisis situation. Robert, God bless him and his infantry experience, has seen enough actual nasty, disgusting stuff that some little toilet over flow is no big deal. ::shudder:: But for me? That was like walking into a war zone without prior warning. Blech.
We moved everything out of the closets, cleaned up the mess, made sure we could use the upstairs bathrooms and sinks without creating another overflow situation, cleaned ourselves up, and then Robert went back to bed.
But me? I scrubbed myself down with Clorox wipes, then washed my hands, legs and feet with soap and water, slapped some hand sanitizer on for good measure, changed clothes, and tried really hard not to think about what had just happened....
which didn't work. I couldn't go to sleep, didn't want to get into bed, even though I knew I wasn't even the one of us in the worst of the mess and had thoroughly cleaned myself up three times over.
Even now, 24 hours later, I have to fight not to gag when thinking or writing about it. And I can't wash my hands enough today. I swear that odor is actually in my nose permanently.
So hopefully tomorrow the plumber will come and figure out and fix what the problem is. And then I can clean the bathroom and laundry area one to twenty more times, then scrub myself down with bleach and a scouring pad and find a way not to see, um, what I saw last night when I walked into that room when I close my eyes. But what I really want to do is board up that entire area and start using the laundromat in town.
So please excuse me, I need to go and wash my hands and think really hard about puppies and rainbows.
Friday, May 10, 2013
I'm not that Mom or maybe I am...
I have a deep-rooted, unshakable fear in regards to parenting.
Well, actually, I have more than one, but the one that surfaces most often is that my parenting isn't...enough.
not good enough
not consistent enough
not effective enough
not adaptable enough
and so on and so on.
I spend enough time over-analyzing this that I think you could safely say I'm borderline obsessed.
Robert and I have very different parenting styles. We had lots of talks about what we would do when we had kids before we had kids.
My, my, how things have changed. Because with kids, it is not always that simple. And then there's the matter of personal baggage. I have it, Robert has it, I think most people have it. And isn't it awful how that type of thing pops up when you least expect it and often don't see it until you say or do something and you think - UH OH.
I admit it freely, I watch other moms (and dads) with their kids to see how they parent. Along the way different parenting styles have (and I'm sure will continue to) influence how I parent at times. I prefer to think of this as my being adaptable. More often than not, this is for the better. I know people that think I'm too strict, I know people that think I'm not strict enough, I know people that think I'm a great parent, and people that think I'm a lousy parent. They are probably all a little right. I make a lot of mistakes and I am so very flawed.
Recently a comment was made about my kids that cut me to the core. My first reaction was to be indignant as in "Oh no they didn't!" Then my feelings were really hurt - mostly because the people making the comment haven't really spent a lot of time around my kids to get to know them. And I felt these people would have been ones to love and accept my kids no matter what. Obviously, I was mistaken.
However, everyone is entitled to their opinion and to their feelings. And truthfully, I can almost see their point. Well, okay, I've at least tried really hard to see their point.
While I think my kids are flat out amazing (and they are), they are sometimes like puppies greeting you after a long absence. They are loud, they get a little frenzied, like to jump around, and then they will settle down. Do Robert and I remind them to settle down before they are probably ready? Yes sir. Does it always work? Nope.
But I love that my kids are happy to meet new people and to greet people they haven't seen in a while with open arms. I'm thrilled that they view new social experiences as something positive rather than being scared and hesitant. Neither Robert nor I are like that naturally. I force myself into it a lot because I feel like I'm supposed to be outgoing, but it's hard and exhausting. However, once I get to know you, I am outgoing. I don't really understand it, but I've accepted it.
Since we've moved, I have had both the kids' teachers, their new principal and office staff, our neighbors, the staff at the Y, numerous people at church, and a handful of strangers compliment my kids on their manners and behavior.
That right there answers my question. Am I - are we - doing enough.
Yes. Yes we are. But we are never going to stop trying to be better parents, either.
I'm not going to be the mom that hovers over my kids about every little thing. It's too exhausting and with my two, it would be counter productive. I'm not going to fling them out into the world unprepared for what they'll find. I'm not going to lie to them to save their feelings, but I'm not going to purposefully hurt their feelings if I can help it. I'm not going to constantly farm them off to other people or trot them out like show ponies. I am not going to expect perfection or ever make them feel like they aren't enough for me.
I am going to try and lead by example which is so much harder than it sounds. I am going to be their biggest defender and strongest supporter. I am going to listen to them no matter what they do or don't want to talk about. I am going to treat them with respect. I am going to love them, whole-heartedly every day of my life. I will respect their opinions and decisions even if I don't agree with them, because let's face it - we have all learned something really important the hard way.
So if I don't parent like you and you want to judge me for it, I'm okay with that. I can even understand it. We are all only human, after all. But I say this with complete and utter conviction - you decide you don't like/approve of/or want to get to know my kids? Your loss, friend.
Well, actually, I have more than one, but the one that surfaces most often is that my parenting isn't...enough.
not good enough
not consistent enough
not effective enough
not adaptable enough
and so on and so on.
I spend enough time over-analyzing this that I think you could safely say I'm borderline obsessed.
Robert and I have very different parenting styles. We had lots of talks about what we would do when we had kids before we had kids.
My, my, how things have changed. Because with kids, it is not always that simple. And then there's the matter of personal baggage. I have it, Robert has it, I think most people have it. And isn't it awful how that type of thing pops up when you least expect it and often don't see it until you say or do something and you think - UH OH.
I admit it freely, I watch other moms (and dads) with their kids to see how they parent. Along the way different parenting styles have (and I'm sure will continue to) influence how I parent at times. I prefer to think of this as my being adaptable. More often than not, this is for the better. I know people that think I'm too strict, I know people that think I'm not strict enough, I know people that think I'm a great parent, and people that think I'm a lousy parent. They are probably all a little right. I make a lot of mistakes and I am so very flawed.
Recently a comment was made about my kids that cut me to the core. My first reaction was to be indignant as in "Oh no they didn't!" Then my feelings were really hurt - mostly because the people making the comment haven't really spent a lot of time around my kids to get to know them. And I felt these people would have been ones to love and accept my kids no matter what. Obviously, I was mistaken.
However, everyone is entitled to their opinion and to their feelings. And truthfully, I can almost see their point. Well, okay, I've at least tried really hard to see their point.
While I think my kids are flat out amazing (and they are), they are sometimes like puppies greeting you after a long absence. They are loud, they get a little frenzied, like to jump around, and then they will settle down. Do Robert and I remind them to settle down before they are probably ready? Yes sir. Does it always work? Nope.
But I love that my kids are happy to meet new people and to greet people they haven't seen in a while with open arms. I'm thrilled that they view new social experiences as something positive rather than being scared and hesitant. Neither Robert nor I are like that naturally. I force myself into it a lot because I feel like I'm supposed to be outgoing, but it's hard and exhausting. However, once I get to know you, I am outgoing. I don't really understand it, but I've accepted it.
Since we've moved, I have had both the kids' teachers, their new principal and office staff, our neighbors, the staff at the Y, numerous people at church, and a handful of strangers compliment my kids on their manners and behavior.
That right there answers my question. Am I - are we - doing enough.
Yes. Yes we are. But we are never going to stop trying to be better parents, either.
I'm not going to be the mom that hovers over my kids about every little thing. It's too exhausting and with my two, it would be counter productive. I'm not going to fling them out into the world unprepared for what they'll find. I'm not going to lie to them to save their feelings, but I'm not going to purposefully hurt their feelings if I can help it. I'm not going to constantly farm them off to other people or trot them out like show ponies. I am not going to expect perfection or ever make them feel like they aren't enough for me.
I am going to try and lead by example which is so much harder than it sounds. I am going to be their biggest defender and strongest supporter. I am going to listen to them no matter what they do or don't want to talk about. I am going to treat them with respect. I am going to love them, whole-heartedly every day of my life. I will respect their opinions and decisions even if I don't agree with them, because let's face it - we have all learned something really important the hard way.
So if I don't parent like you and you want to judge me for it, I'm okay with that. I can even understand it. We are all only human, after all. But I say this with complete and utter conviction - you decide you don't like/approve of/or want to get to know my kids? Your loss, friend.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Beauty is a beast
Through an enormous gift of genetics, I have been blessed with an abundance of body hair. TMI, I know. No, seriously, I know.
It's also ironic that at this stage in hormones/life that the hair on my head is thinning rapidly yet now I'm seeing random black hairs pop up where previously there were none and should never be any. They don't appear to be getting any thinner or finer. In fact, I'd say they are multiplying. It's distressing. My tweezers are about to go sue me for mandatory vacation time.
Lucky for me, there are an endless supply of beauty/grooming/maintenance products and options. Shaving is my method of choice and I'll leave it at that.
With that in mind, on Tuesday (when I actually started this post) I woke up thinking, "Crap! I'm volunteering with Sara's class today. I need to shave. Because my volunteer activity for the day was going to be getting in the pool with 22 kindergartners while they learned about water/pool/swimming safety.
Woo. Hoo.
I'm sure that most of the kindergartners wouldn't even notice whether or not I shaved. But I bet the other moms will. And, if I'm being totally honest, I mind. We moved to a more, umm, organically oriented area so I'm sure there are tons of women around here that don't shave their legs or armpits or pluck their eyebrows. I'm not one of those women.
So I'm in the shower and I'm shaving. The shower in our bathroom is HUGE. It's a standalone shower, so there's no tub edge to elevate my leg. Technically, this should make shaving easier, but for some reason it doesn't. I guess because with a straight leg the shower washes off the soap faster than I can shave it off. But whatever. The shower also has a light in it, which any gal can tell you makes shaving easier because it's a LOT easier to shave off hair you can see versus hair you cannot see. Light comes in handy for that, as it turns out.
I get out of the shower all happy and clean and freshly shaved. However, I do not shower with my glasses on because...duh. Who does that? Well, I might have to start because I missed HUGE sections of leg hair. I mean, it was bad enough that I then had to sit on the edge of the tub and reshave my legs with my glasses on. Frankly, it was a bit disconcerting. Any annoying. Am I really at that stage? Where I can't even see well enough without glasses to shave my legs? Oy vey! I think it's time to consider lasik. Otherwise, it's going to be a long, hairy summer.
It's also ironic that at this stage in hormones/life that the hair on my head is thinning rapidly yet now I'm seeing random black hairs pop up where previously there were none and should never be any. They don't appear to be getting any thinner or finer. In fact, I'd say they are multiplying. It's distressing. My tweezers are about to go sue me for mandatory vacation time.
Lucky for me, there are an endless supply of beauty/grooming/maintenance products and options. Shaving is my method of choice and I'll leave it at that.
With that in mind, on Tuesday (when I actually started this post) I woke up thinking, "Crap! I'm volunteering with Sara's class today. I need to shave. Because my volunteer activity for the day was going to be getting in the pool with 22 kindergartners while they learned about water/pool/swimming safety.
Woo. Hoo.
I'm sure that most of the kindergartners wouldn't even notice whether or not I shaved. But I bet the other moms will. And, if I'm being totally honest, I mind. We moved to a more, umm, organically oriented area so I'm sure there are tons of women around here that don't shave their legs or armpits or pluck their eyebrows. I'm not one of those women.
So I'm in the shower and I'm shaving. The shower in our bathroom is HUGE. It's a standalone shower, so there's no tub edge to elevate my leg. Technically, this should make shaving easier, but for some reason it doesn't. I guess because with a straight leg the shower washes off the soap faster than I can shave it off. But whatever. The shower also has a light in it, which any gal can tell you makes shaving easier because it's a LOT easier to shave off hair you can see versus hair you cannot see. Light comes in handy for that, as it turns out.
I get out of the shower all happy and clean and freshly shaved. However, I do not shower with my glasses on because...duh. Who does that? Well, I might have to start because I missed HUGE sections of leg hair. I mean, it was bad enough that I then had to sit on the edge of the tub and reshave my legs with my glasses on. Frankly, it was a bit disconcerting. Any annoying. Am I really at that stage? Where I can't even see well enough without glasses to shave my legs? Oy vey! I think it's time to consider lasik. Otherwise, it's going to be a long, hairy summer.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Just thinking about over thinking
I saw this on Facebook and actually laughed out loud this morning:
For me this is so true. Especially #1. Hello, my name is Brooke and I'm a chronic over-thinker. Often the the detriment of whatever or whomever I'm thinking about.
Funny how that works!
Example 1: Stupid, stupid PCS (military ordered move) cleaning. I cleaned our house. I bitched about cleaning our house. Then I cleaned it again. And again. And again. I had heard a nice variety of things about how strict the privatized housing office was on PCS cleaning. Better safe than sorry, I figured - and I manged to re-aggravate my carpal tunnel getting it all done. But I was determined not to give these people one. more. dime.
Did my husband try to help me? Yep! Did he get really frustrated with me? Oh heck yes! Let me quote him, "I feel like, no matter what I do, it's not up to your standards." To which I WISELY did NOT reply, "Want it up to my standards? Make it spotless." I also didn't point out that they weren't MY standards. They were the military/housing office standards.
Imagine my relief/surprise/pleasure when, at our final inspection, the lady walks through, double checks all the blinds and cabinets and announces us done and fee free. Now, also imagine Robert thinking (no idea if this is true) "Awesome. Now I can live with her again!"
Was it worth it? Meh. The jury is still out on that one. I am a perfectionist in certain areas. It's why my overpacked, always cluttered house drives me crazy on a constant basis. I'm fine with things not being perfect all the time. I mean, we live in these places with two young kids after all. But I do notice. Like the stack of papers on the bar that have been sitting there since we unpacked boxes two weeks ago. Or the Legos scattered across the playroom floor. Ideally, I'd love for those things to have been handled by someone else. But I know good and well that will never happen. Why is that? Because it only bothers me. And, despite my longing for a eternally clean house, that's not truly feasible without driving myself crazy. So I do the best I can and try to let the rest of it roll off my back. Some days that works way better than others.
Example #2
Any sort of strange personal interaction. Someone scowls in my direction? I automatically think - oh no! Did I offend them in some way?
How silly is that? Sometimes (and believe me I should totally understand this), a person is just in a bad mood. If I'm concentrating on something I make a mean face. I know because so many people have mentioned it. I'm rarely upset or trying to be mean, my face just has a mind of it's own. Plus, I'd look like a total idiot walking around grinning all the time. My friends would call the really nice folks in white jackets with the hypodermic needles to come and get me.
I also mentally obsess about conversations that I don't want to have that I'm going to have anyway. Like a confrontation. By nature, I will avoid confrontation at all costs - especially with unreasonable people. I feel people should be able to sit down and rationally and calmly discuss things - even if they are things said people disagree on. But as much as I prefer to avoid confrontation personally, I will jump right in there to defend some one I care about.
Of course then, after all is said and done, I will replay it all in my head and critique the situation. What could I have said or done differently? What should I have said or done?
Over thinking.
Example #3
Making a decision (especially that involves other people) about something I don't really have an opinion on or care about either way. I will try to figure out what the majority wants and suggest that. However, that always seems to backfire somehow. I need to just put on my big girl panties and make the decision already. I'll spend more time over thinking something I really could care less about than I do on something I care a lot about. What's wrong with THAT picture?
I could come up with more examples, but now I have to go obsess about this post and whether I made the point I was trying to make or if I got too off topic or whether or not people will think I'm a lunatic or if I've offended anyone or..well, you get the idea. Also, I feel the urge to pick up some Legos. ::snort::
For me this is so true. Especially #1. Hello, my name is Brooke and I'm a chronic over-thinker. Often the the detriment of whatever or whomever I'm thinking about.
Funny how that works!
Example 1: Stupid, stupid PCS (military ordered move) cleaning. I cleaned our house. I bitched about cleaning our house. Then I cleaned it again. And again. And again. I had heard a nice variety of things about how strict the privatized housing office was on PCS cleaning. Better safe than sorry, I figured - and I manged to re-aggravate my carpal tunnel getting it all done. But I was determined not to give these people one. more. dime.
Did my husband try to help me? Yep! Did he get really frustrated with me? Oh heck yes! Let me quote him, "I feel like, no matter what I do, it's not up to your standards." To which I WISELY did NOT reply, "Want it up to my standards? Make it spotless." I also didn't point out that they weren't MY standards. They were the military/housing office standards.
Imagine my relief/surprise/pleasure when, at our final inspection, the lady walks through, double checks all the blinds and cabinets and announces us done and fee free. Now, also imagine Robert thinking (no idea if this is true) "Awesome. Now I can live with her again!"
Was it worth it? Meh. The jury is still out on that one. I am a perfectionist in certain areas. It's why my overpacked, always cluttered house drives me crazy on a constant basis. I'm fine with things not being perfect all the time. I mean, we live in these places with two young kids after all. But I do notice. Like the stack of papers on the bar that have been sitting there since we unpacked boxes two weeks ago. Or the Legos scattered across the playroom floor. Ideally, I'd love for those things to have been handled by someone else. But I know good and well that will never happen. Why is that? Because it only bothers me. And, despite my longing for a eternally clean house, that's not truly feasible without driving myself crazy. So I do the best I can and try to let the rest of it roll off my back. Some days that works way better than others.
Example #2
Any sort of strange personal interaction. Someone scowls in my direction? I automatically think - oh no! Did I offend them in some way?
How silly is that? Sometimes (and believe me I should totally understand this), a person is just in a bad mood. If I'm concentrating on something I make a mean face. I know because so many people have mentioned it. I'm rarely upset or trying to be mean, my face just has a mind of it's own. Plus, I'd look like a total idiot walking around grinning all the time. My friends would call the really nice folks in white jackets with the hypodermic needles to come and get me.
I also mentally obsess about conversations that I don't want to have that I'm going to have anyway. Like a confrontation. By nature, I will avoid confrontation at all costs - especially with unreasonable people. I feel people should be able to sit down and rationally and calmly discuss things - even if they are things said people disagree on. But as much as I prefer to avoid confrontation personally, I will jump right in there to defend some one I care about.
Of course then, after all is said and done, I will replay it all in my head and critique the situation. What could I have said or done differently? What should I have said or done?
Over thinking.
Example #3
Making a decision (especially that involves other people) about something I don't really have an opinion on or care about either way. I will try to figure out what the majority wants and suggest that. However, that always seems to backfire somehow. I need to just put on my big girl panties and make the decision already. I'll spend more time over thinking something I really could care less about than I do on something I care a lot about. What's wrong with THAT picture?
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
All we wanted were books and cupcakes
Yesterday started out great. I was up, showered, and ready to go a little early. The kids got off to school with no problems after having a healthy breakfast and my packing them healthy lunches and snacks. I went to the grocery store and between store sales and coupons, saved $42 on our grocery bill. I grabbed an iced tea from McDonalds, then came home and carted my grocery haul up the stairs and put it away before anything melted or spoiled.
The sun was out, the weather was beautiful. I had a Skype date planned for around noon, so I had time to straighten up and then read for a bit first. The Skype thing actually worked well for the most part (our internet here is beyond slow. So slow that we cannot use our Vonage phone at all. We're working on the solution).
It was a great day!
When I was taking the kids to school, we had decided that after school we'd go to the library, then try the cupcake place downtown. I picked the kids up, we went to the library where I discovered that I could get my own account versus the Base policy of one account per family. I hadn't asked Robert for his library card because I didn't think I'd need to. Whoops. So the kids and I had to run home and get proof of address and then go back to the library to set up my account get the books we'd picked out.
Not really a big deal.
After that, we find a place to park, finally, and we walk to the cupcake shop. On our way, we discovered that the crossing lights apparently do not work downtown. Safety first, I guess? Alrighty then. As walk up to the cupcake shop, a young girl is locking the door and the sign says, "closed". Whaaaa? Sara was devastated. But hey, what else can you do when you sell out of cupcakes by 3:30 pm? Stay open so you can tell folks, "sorry, we're sold out?"
I needed to go to another grocery store to pick up a few things that were on sale there that we needed. I had planned to do that the next morning, but I figured that since the cupcake place didn't work out, I could just buy the kids one at the bakery there and I'd have all the shopping done for week. Double productivity points, right?!?
We made it through the grocery store and the kids, after an extraordinary and amusing amount of bickering, decided on cupcakes. We had to get a pack of 6, since apparently the grocery store only sells enormous oversized cupcakes as singles. On the upside, we ended up with six for what we would have paid for three at the downtown bakery...so there's that.
As we are trying to leave the store parking lot and go home before the bag of ice I had to buy melted in the 80 degree weather we were having, we got behind an older gentleman in a huge boat of a car (Janet Evanovich/Stephanie Plum fans - it's like the car she borrows from her dad) who was going all of 5 mph through this huge parking lot and braking about every 6 feet. Siiiiiiiiiigh.
I should also mention it was HOT in my car and when I get hot for no good reason, I tend to get cranky. I was overdressed for the weather, but it's cooler in the house and also, I haven't shaved in...well..way too long.
ANYWAY, so I become unreasonably aggravated at this guy and have to sincerely fight the urge to get out of my car and run up and push his car faster. Because, good grief, he was driving in the middle of the row so there was no getting past him and he obviously had the rest of the week to make it to the stoplight. Sara, ever helpful and in a huge hurry to get home and eat a cupcake, shouts out, "Move your butt, slowpoke! We don't have all day!!!!" Which, okay, I know this is awful, but it made me laugh. Which made Tucker shout out, "Learn to drive, butt munch!"
Umm, butt munch? Where on earth did he learn THAT? Wait. I don't think I want to know.
::Momentary pause for my obviously lacking parenting skills because 1) my kids have road rage before they can drive and 2) I couldn't not laugh at their outbursts.:: Sorry America.
And, while today it all just seems amusing, I was tired, hot, thirsty, and frustrated. We get home, get the groceries upstairs and unpacked, the kids get a cupcake and all should be right with the world. And then we unpack back packs and start homework.
Sara was the most upset to leave her friend Rachel and her dance class behind. So she excitedly hands me a piece of paper that announces there will be dance lessons on Friday afternoon at her school. Well, that's awesome that she could take dance lessons at school! Only I'm looking at the form and the classes started LAST Friday. Umm......It's an 8 week session for $96. That's more expensive than her former ballet school. Plus we've already missed a class, plus they aren't meeting on May 17 because it's an early dismissal day. So I can pay the eight week price for six weeks? No thanks. Sara is dramatically grief stricken when I say no. Robert chooses this really awful moment to come home and show me a letter from one of our neighbors.
The letter is regarding her cat. The cat roams freely around the neighborhood because we've seen it a number of times. One of my other neighbors already warned me about this lady and her cat. It seems she doesn't want anyone else to touch it or feed or pay it any attention, and gets very vocal if you do. Which is understandable except for the fact that the cat is out and about in the neighborhood, sometimes approaching us. I've seen it right outside our patio door on more than one occasion, and one night last week it was on our window ledge at night, looking in and silently meowing (or at least meowing so softly that we couldn't hear it). The mailbox flier gives her phone number and instructions not to let it in our house or feed it, or try to pet or interact with it. Uh, ok?!? It seems like a sweet cat. But something about the way her letter was worded just hit me wrong. Don't want people messing with your cat? Keep your cat inside. It all just seems...well, stupid. But whatever. I try to explain to Robert why I find this whole situation completely ridiculous he takes it totally personally and then and he and I are sniping at each other. All over a cat we wouldn't have fed or let in anyway since we can't have pets here.
Tucker and Sara are still doing homework, and both of them want all of my and Robert's attention. So what was a slightly comical, slightly frustrating afternoon has now turned into a mini family war with lots of stomping, exasperated and exaggerated sighs, yelling, tears, and frustration.
Awesome.
Seriously.
All we wanted were some books and a cupcake.
The sun was out, the weather was beautiful. I had a Skype date planned for around noon, so I had time to straighten up and then read for a bit first. The Skype thing actually worked well for the most part (our internet here is beyond slow. So slow that we cannot use our Vonage phone at all. We're working on the solution).
It was a great day!
When I was taking the kids to school, we had decided that after school we'd go to the library, then try the cupcake place downtown. I picked the kids up, we went to the library where I discovered that I could get my own account versus the Base policy of one account per family. I hadn't asked Robert for his library card because I didn't think I'd need to. Whoops. So the kids and I had to run home and get proof of address and then go back to the library to set up my account get the books we'd picked out.
Not really a big deal.
After that, we find a place to park, finally, and we walk to the cupcake shop. On our way, we discovered that the crossing lights apparently do not work downtown. Safety first, I guess? Alrighty then. As walk up to the cupcake shop, a young girl is locking the door and the sign says, "closed". Whaaaa? Sara was devastated. But hey, what else can you do when you sell out of cupcakes by 3:30 pm? Stay open so you can tell folks, "sorry, we're sold out?"
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| photo from www.tumblr/com |
We made it through the grocery store and the kids, after an extraordinary and amusing amount of bickering, decided on cupcakes. We had to get a pack of 6, since apparently the grocery store only sells enormous oversized cupcakes as singles. On the upside, we ended up with six for what we would have paid for three at the downtown bakery...so there's that.
As we are trying to leave the store parking lot and go home before the bag of ice I had to buy melted in the 80 degree weather we were having, we got behind an older gentleman in a huge boat of a car (Janet Evanovich/Stephanie Plum fans - it's like the car she borrows from her dad) who was going all of 5 mph through this huge parking lot and braking about every 6 feet. Siiiiiiiiiigh.
I should also mention it was HOT in my car and when I get hot for no good reason, I tend to get cranky. I was overdressed for the weather, but it's cooler in the house and also, I haven't shaved in...well..way too long.
ANYWAY, so I become unreasonably aggravated at this guy and have to sincerely fight the urge to get out of my car and run up and push his car faster. Because, good grief, he was driving in the middle of the row so there was no getting past him and he obviously had the rest of the week to make it to the stoplight. Sara, ever helpful and in a huge hurry to get home and eat a cupcake, shouts out, "Move your butt, slowpoke! We don't have all day!!!!" Which, okay, I know this is awful, but it made me laugh. Which made Tucker shout out, "Learn to drive, butt munch!"
Umm, butt munch? Where on earth did he learn THAT? Wait. I don't think I want to know.
::Momentary pause for my obviously lacking parenting skills because 1) my kids have road rage before they can drive and 2) I couldn't not laugh at their outbursts.:: Sorry America.
And, while today it all just seems amusing, I was tired, hot, thirsty, and frustrated. We get home, get the groceries upstairs and unpacked, the kids get a cupcake and all should be right with the world. And then we unpack back packs and start homework.
Sara was the most upset to leave her friend Rachel and her dance class behind. So she excitedly hands me a piece of paper that announces there will be dance lessons on Friday afternoon at her school. Well, that's awesome that she could take dance lessons at school! Only I'm looking at the form and the classes started LAST Friday. Umm......It's an 8 week session for $96. That's more expensive than her former ballet school. Plus we've already missed a class, plus they aren't meeting on May 17 because it's an early dismissal day. So I can pay the eight week price for six weeks? No thanks. Sara is dramatically grief stricken when I say no. Robert chooses this really awful moment to come home and show me a letter from one of our neighbors.
The letter is regarding her cat. The cat roams freely around the neighborhood because we've seen it a number of times. One of my other neighbors already warned me about this lady and her cat. It seems she doesn't want anyone else to touch it or feed or pay it any attention, and gets very vocal if you do. Which is understandable except for the fact that the cat is out and about in the neighborhood, sometimes approaching us. I've seen it right outside our patio door on more than one occasion, and one night last week it was on our window ledge at night, looking in and silently meowing (or at least meowing so softly that we couldn't hear it). The mailbox flier gives her phone number and instructions not to let it in our house or feed it, or try to pet or interact with it. Uh, ok?!? It seems like a sweet cat. But something about the way her letter was worded just hit me wrong. Don't want people messing with your cat? Keep your cat inside. It all just seems...well, stupid. But whatever. I try to explain to Robert why I find this whole situation completely ridiculous he takes it totally personally and then and he and I are sniping at each other. All over a cat we wouldn't have fed or let in anyway since we can't have pets here.
Tucker and Sara are still doing homework, and both of them want all of my and Robert's attention. So what was a slightly comical, slightly frustrating afternoon has now turned into a mini family war with lots of stomping, exasperated and exaggerated sighs, yelling, tears, and frustration.
Awesome.
Seriously.
All we wanted were some books and a cupcake.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Belonging?
We are in our new house, 99% of all boxes are unpacked, and the moving company came on Friday and picked up all our 'moving debris'.
WHEW! Man, am I glad that's done.
The kids love the house, Robert and I love the house, and everyone that's come to see us so far has loved the house.
Here's the strange thing: three and a half years in our old house and I couldn't find my way around it in the dark. I never learned the house. It was weird. And probably a mental block since I really disliked that house from the get go.
Three weeks in our new place? I can find my way around in the dark no problem. Things that make you go hmmm.
As much as I miss my friends in Illinois (still haven't been able to make myself go to a Zumba class yet, either), I just feel like I belong in North Carolina. Trust me, no one was more surprised than I was. But I love our little town, and the feeling of community, and the fact that our neighbors have all made an effort to come and say hello (some of them with the sweetest gifts). I love the kids are in smaller classes and that the school is five minutes away. I feel like I should go around humming the theme from Green Acres, because that kind of feels like where we are living, complete (apparently) with black bears. It's always an adventure, isn't it?!!?
WHEW! Man, am I glad that's done.
The kids love the house, Robert and I love the house, and everyone that's come to see us so far has loved the house.
Here's the strange thing: three and a half years in our old house and I couldn't find my way around it in the dark. I never learned the house. It was weird. And probably a mental block since I really disliked that house from the get go.
Three weeks in our new place? I can find my way around in the dark no problem. Things that make you go hmmm.
As much as I miss my friends in Illinois (still haven't been able to make myself go to a Zumba class yet, either), I just feel like I belong in North Carolina. Trust me, no one was more surprised than I was. But I love our little town, and the feeling of community, and the fact that our neighbors have all made an effort to come and say hello (some of them with the sweetest gifts). I love the kids are in smaller classes and that the school is five minutes away. I feel like I should go around humming the theme from Green Acres, because that kind of feels like where we are living, complete (apparently) with black bears. It's always an adventure, isn't it?!!?
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