good now

Hard to believe the move is now in the past.  Good to be here now.  Sleeping much better.  Feeling more comfortable, almost renewed.  Excited again.

snowy tuesday

Much to Dylan's delight, this is the scene that greeted us this morning. Mitchell helps with insulation.

construction sucks

I live in a new development, so it makes sense that the presence of construction and its workers are still prevalent. They are, in fact, everywhere. Duh. I get that. But there's something about waking every morning to ranchero music, pounding hammers and loud construction-man chatter that makes me hostile. Perhaps if we could eliminate the blaring ethnic music and crude conversation that drifts over the fence at 5:16 am most mornings, I would be less hostile. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I would still be bitching about the hammers (I'm a realist, you know). But with just the hammers, they'd simply be doing their jobs, and how can I find fault with that? Well, I could but my complaints would then be just the hateful, selfish cursing of strangers. Considering that our house was recently in the same state, I am shocked our neighbors talk to us at all.

my life

I realize I've got time on my hands that a lot of people don't. I'm not driving into work anymore (Thanks, Caroline). The girls' school is about 3 minutes away from the house. Both my kids are in school from 7:30 to 2:15 (Thank You, Jesus).

I make a lot of smoothies, much to my brother's chagrin (for whatever reason he hates this, thus I make it a point to call or text him each time I fire up the blender). I clean the house (wood floors and a dirt filled back yard don't make for clean floors and have I mentioned the girls' penchant for getting poop on the toilet seat? Weird.). I read Naomi's, Lizzy's and Rachel's blogs. I do actual work (it's data season, you know). I watch a ton of bad television programming (I am so excited for Shut Up and DANCE! to start again). And I shop for house crap.

I just ordered this adorable, round rug for our downstairs bathroom from anthropologie.com.

Isn't she sweet? I can't wait til she gets here.

the waterhole

The hole has been plastered and finished. The girls couldn't wait to "swim" despite 70 degree temperatures and wind gusts of 30 mph. I don't even have to tell you that they've taken a dip each day after school.

Injuries thus far include:

• tummy plaster burn from sliding like a seal from shallow to deep ends
• three stubbed toes from running on deck
• mysterious bug bite obtained while sunbathing after swimming
• "sprained" ankle incurred from horsing around

Undoubtedly there will be many more to follow.

why I heart our new neighborhood

reasons not to unpack

• I need to catch up on all those Days of Our Lives episodes I have Tivo-ed.


• What is a guest room for, if not the storage of 35 unpacked boxes?


• 28 of those boxes contain crap that's not even mine, so why should I be the poor soul who has to dig through their dusty contents?


• GPS Assessment & Evaluation requires my super sharp statistical analysis skills.


• The downstairs needs swiffering.


• I just bought 3 new trashy novels and must begin reading immediately.


• Who will look after the children?


• America's Next Top Model is on tonight.


• My brows need a serious once over.


• I just can't be bothered.

come on in

It's come to my attention (Thanks, Rachel)that I have failed to give a substantial visual update of our current residence.

Here's the kitchen. Note fridge already covered in papers and magnets and crap.

Here's the "nook". Isn't my new-to-me hutch cute? Big shout out to GG for providing the super cool denim place mats.

Family room and new olive drab sectional a la Mitchell.

Living room which is freshly painted but still filled with random crap and no furniture. I expect it to remain in this state for the next 2 to 3 years.

Upstairs loft aka the girls' room. Note super chic pink princess window covering. Jealous?

This is D's room. Notice T's black and white pillow? They are having difficulty sleeping apart.

T's room. Notice she did not get the metal bed set she was pining for.
-ps. My grandma is freaking out at all the unmade beds. =)

Our back yard is still a hazard, although it has seen progress.

being neighborly

So it's 1:34 Tuesday afternoon when my cell rings as I'm talking to my brother. Glance at the display-see it's my neighbor & hit "Ignore". It rings twice more; I throw it under a cushion. I have no idea what possessed me, but I return her call. This is how I end up picking up her kid from school & watching him until she gets home "about 3". I don't have to tell you that everything about this kid drives me C-R-A-Z-Y. I know. I'm mean. I'm a bitch. Yeah. I get that. First, it takes him about 3 minutes to get into the car, not because he's worried about coming home with a virtual STRANGER...He's worried about whether or not I've got the dog in the car. After a lot of half-hearted cajoling, he finally gets in. Then it starts, WHY IS YOUR CAR SMALL? WHY DOES IT TAKE THE GIRLS SO LONG? WHY IS IT MESSY IN HERE? WHY AREN'T YOU AT WORK? YOU ALWAYS WEAR YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT. I sit in silence. I have no words. None that wouldn't come out brusque and cold. Mother always said, "If you don't have anything nice to say..." Did I mention that my neighbor promised to return by 3 pm? By 5 o'clock, I am losing it. Think sweating for no reason and that feeling that your head is going to rocket off your shoulders from the negative energy your thoughts are generating. Kids are running around, complaining about things they have no business complaining about and asking for dinner. By now, I'm convinced that this woman has run off and left her child with me to raise forever. I have visions of having to turn the space under the stairs into a spare bedroom for our new "son." There's no sign of the husband. It's beginning to turn dusk. WTF. I begin to think I should be looking up the number for CPS, so they can pick up this abandoned child. The thoughts that race through my head as I continue to furiously clean my kitchen are murderous to say the least. I envision exactly how I'm going to tell this woman off when and if she finally returns. You'd better believe I'm going to tell her all about herself and her audacity, leaving her kid with some crazy woman for hours on end. She has no idea who I am. I could be a lunatic. Her kid could be locked in a box right now for all she knows. On one of my many rant-filled calls to Mitchell, he gives me the old "That's-what-you-get-for-talking-to-people" speech. I vow to be cold and detached from this point on. I hang up on his laughter. It's almost 6 by the time my neighbor returns home to collect her child. I do not tell her off. I feign concern at her predicament and make the appropriate sympathetic noises as she retells her tale. Now I'm wishing we'd built someplace less populated.

mini-guests

Since moving to our new pad, there has been an advent of little, mini-visitors--I guess most would call them neighbor kids. Anywho. There have been a number of them. All wanting food, some throwing rocks and even a couple who have injured themselves in my semi-finished pool hole and then tracked mud and blood through the house on my new floors (did that sound unsympathetic?). It's not that I hate them. I really don't. I just don't want them in my house. At all. Ever. Is that wrong?

it takes time

It starts as a pretty shell. Built of things selected a lifetime ago.

Add furniture and ceiling fans, new plates and glasses.

Each morning begins in wonder. Becoming familiar with new surroundings.

Slowly it happens. Things find a place.

Clothes are hung in closets, shoes strewn across the floor.

Paint makes it personal.

Add pictures and art, some knick knacks and rugs.

Slowly it happens. The house envisioned,

The plans made begin to take shape.

Eventually it happens, a little more each day.

A house becomes a home.

why i hate the phone company

• 4 separate service calls to our house & phones still don't work properly
• Paying for call-waiting and caller id but it's not currently working
• Needlessly delayed installation of satellite tv by 8 days (Nevermind the tv guy screwed up and didn't actually have to delay installing service, the lack of phone service caused said tv doofus to delay installation)
• Random loose telephone wires dangling from a hole on the side of the house that should be attached but are not
• Changed voice mailbox code without giving us the default code so callers currently receive the following message: "The mailbox number you have dialed is currently full and not accepting messages...." (so what if I'm too lazy to call phone company to get code)

retraction

It has come to my attention that I misrepresented somewhat our new pool.

This is an actual image of our new swimming hole.

I apologize for any expectations that were raised under false pretenses.

blech

My arms began tingling about an hour ago, That tight, full, just shy of some sort of attack feeling like a lump in my chest. My head is now spinning, The chaos in which I currently live silently encroaching, Stealithy creeping up, cutting off my oxygen Until I vomit packing peanuts and masking tape. From where I sit like a lump of defeated flesh I realize this will never be over. I will never be done. I'm feeling very much like screaming until my head bursts, Jettisoned into space like some sort of fuzzy rocket, circling the earth. The tingling in my arms has become a full-fledged ache That makes me want to rip them from their sockets. I want it to be over. The packing and the moving a distant memory. I want my spouse to be normal again. The sluggish, pouty caveman gone from our lives forever. I want my girls to have their own rooms again, that I can send them to when they are overstimulated and ridiculous from the craziness that has consumed our lives.

another day in paradise

Again we are living amidst boxes.

Yes, I'm happy to be finally getting out of the cracker box, away from strange apartment neighbors who divulge too much, away from paper-thin walls and 934 square feet of living space. Away from landscapers whose gas-powered leaf blowers start each Wednesday at 6 am, too forward neighbor kids who knock on unknown doors asking if there's anyone inside who would like to play, and individuals parking in my covered parking space.

But I have to keep reminding myself that I'm happy. Especially at times like last night when my head's about to explode from the frustration of being the only person packing a family of four and the girls are driving me crazy so I force them to bed at 7:17 even though dinner was a peanut butter sandwhich and a cup of apple juice and they're crying because they're still hungry and then Mitchell calls to let me know he's going to be out late because he's going to have a beer with John and is that okay? And I'm totally pissed but I say, "Yeah. That's fine" anyway and hang up and curse him for the next 40 minutes for being completely clueless.