Day Three, I think

Comcast guys just left. Trouble sleeping - so quiet out here. Exhausted. Dog hair everywhere. My poor vacuum. Kids love it, especially the cable TV (never had that before! We'll see if it lasts), but St. Nick must be allergic to dogs. Sniff sniff Aaaaachooooo is all we've heard from him today.

More later. Too much to do.

Day Two - Can it be?

Can it be that we're almost moved? I'm sitting here on the couch, which is the only piece of furniture left in this room. Well, except for two disassembled beds. Lamps are on the floor, the dining room is entirely empty. Wow.

My arms - they look like I've been through a boxing match - all scrapes and bruises, but I guess I just really get into my moving. My muscles sure agree with that statement, and they're sooo glad there are movers coming tomorrow for the really nasty items.

One big surprise: although the new house is a totally different style than our current one, our furniture actually looks good in it. The colors of the wood, the lines. It works.

Fading fast, so I guess this'll be it for intelligent commentary. Oh, except, why do some people feel the need to say whatever moronic thing comes into their heads? We've had a few folk see the new place (friends who have helped us in, mostly), and one person just couldn't keep from mentioning things like, "You'll need to put bells on the kids so you know where they are!" and "Well, that's a lot more lawn to mow." And "Did you know your bathroom door sticks?"

I'm probably just being oversensitive - I am exhausted - but honestly, would I not have noticed the increase in yard or the sticking door? I won't divulge who this person is, but let's just say, I really shouldn't expect anything else. Yet I always do. Dumb me.

Day 1 Survived

We're splitting moving into three + days. Day one was my parents helping us load the rental truck, mostly with boxed items like books (see previous post). Day two involves friends of Dr. D loading small-ish furniture items and any remaining boxes (only a couple from the basement - mostly canning jars). And day three is Monday, and will be wonderful professional movers taking the real backbreaking items like the treadmill and sleeper sofa.

Day 1 was a huge success! Not only did we have the truck half loaded by the time my parents arrived, we fit all the major boxes and some furniture items on there! And we had an extra helper to unload at the new place. It could not have gone more smoothly. This house, though. It's so empty and echo-y. The dining room has just our small kitchen table in it, and a highchair. The living room is missing the rug and several items. I am glad to be moving, but it's a little bittersweet. I'll miss the crown molding and the stained glass windows, the huge mantle and the custom painting in the dining room that took me about two dozen hours to complete. I've taken lots of photos, and I'll take more before we leave, but I know memory will fade, even with pictures to help keep it fresh.

Combine the sorrow of leaving a place where two of our three children were born (literally) with giddy expectation for the new house and what do you get? A sleepless night! We spent some time in the new place, and as with every single visit, simply walking in the door feels like coming home. So many things are different in a wonderful way. A driveway! A garage! A family room off the kitchen/dining area! Acres of land to explore! A deck! Even a hot tub! I sent the kids outside last night and when I wandered to the end of the drive to tell them it was time to go, what did I find? All three with stained fingers, shirts, mouths - they'd found the wild blackberry bushes. Oh, yes. This is well worth my aching arms and legs, well worth three days of flux.

Now for Moving Day 2.

Oh, The Excitement!

So I see I've been neglecting this little space for quite some time. In the past month we've closed on our house, purchased a new one, and we move next week!! EEK! And we wrecked our one mode of transportation (minivan, of course). It's not totaled, but we'll be driving a rental for quite a while.

And Mud Pie turns three tomorrow! Where did the past three years go? And St. Nick is reading voraciously, and Little Fish, well, he's four and a half and spends most of his time mad that he's too little to do what his big brother can do, and tickled that his little sister is too little to do what he can do.

Back to boxes. So, so, so many boxes. Do all homeschooling families have this many books? I've made two runs to U-Haul already for boxes and I still have books on shelves. Maybe we just have a problem with books. Is that even possible?

Like a Carnival Ride

That would be my emotions. Inspections went fine. Found a few things (don't they always?), but nothing really major and nothing that would break the deal. And nothing that matched that first (fictitious?) inspection report. So, this is good.

Been round and round on the house we want to buy. First they don't want to lower the price quite enough, then we find an agreeable price but they say stubbornly, "We won't do ANY repairs based on inspections." To which we wondered, what are they hiding? So they struck that clause. But then they wanted twice the length of time that *we* have until we can have possession. Easy way of saying it: we'll be homeless for two weeks unless we can get our buyer to delay his move from Kentucky by two weeks. Still waiting to hear on that one.

But right now Dr. D is on his way to Indianapolis because his father isn't going to pull through this final round of chemo. The Big "C" is such a terrible thing - I didn't respect it enough until now. Now that it's taking the children's grandpa from them before they've hardly had a chance to know him.

Nothing more to say. Trying to keep it together here at home, which means TV dinners and DVDs from the library.

Mud Pie is hollering about her need to use the facilities, so my time is up! She's still too little to get herself on the potty without help, and heaven forbid she come back downstairs to use her little potty. Ah, the joys!

Waiting waiting waiting

Waiting to hear on the offer we put out on another house.

Waiting to hear how the inspections went on ours.

A mite nervous simply because of the experience last time - shoddy inspection job - even our Realtor said it was the most unprofessional report she'd ever seen. And it had factual errors, like that a certain type of wiring was from the 40s and 50s. Uh, nope. Daughter of an electrician knows a bit about these things. So anyway, not meaning to go there, but I don't want to get another offer dropped, especially for things that are entirely fictitious.

Here We Are Again

Another offer on the house! We just got off the phone with our (wonderful) Realtor a little while ago. This one is a lower offer, so we'll counter, but I think it could work. Oh, I hope hope hope it does!!!!

I think.

Because if it does then we have to look for another house. And we're pretty sure we know which one we might want, and it is still for sale, but then we'd have to do all that home-buying stuff. Inspections, packing, moving. MOVING! Yikes.

Ok, jumping ahead a bit too much now. It's only an offer; we'll counter; it could very easily not go beyond this next step.

Sigh ...

The buyer backed out.

Maybe the selling part is harder.

Maybe it's all hard.

Ugh.

Really, I'm slightly glad for a little more time - things on the house-search end weren't happening how I liked. Too much pressure; it just seemed to be happening too soon.

I do hope it's only a little more time, though.

Pre-Home-Inspection Excitement: Fire!

So, we have home inspection and appraisal today. And we wrote an offer on another place last night. And yesterday afternoon a fire broke out in the alley and our garage started on fire.

No, I'm not kidding. St. Nick was playing outside with Fish (digging for worms - I know, exciting), and I heard him opening the back door. I got up thinking I'd have to quick get them to take their muddy shoes off, but they got quiet, like they were going back to play. But then St. Nick started yelling Fire! Fire! Fire! And I hurried out intent on telling him not to cry fire when there's no emergency. Only I looked out the back door and saw FLAMES!!!! Quite a lot of them right at the back corner of the garage.

After calling 911 I saw that the wind was blowing the fire away from the garage, thank heavens, but that if it shifted, the whole thing could go up. The boys asked, "What can we do?!" and I said, "Pray the wind keeps blowing the flames away from the garage!" So they started praying, but after another minute without hearing sirens and watching the flames lick the side of the garage every time the wind slowed, I went in and grabbed our kitchen fire extinguisher and tried to spray it from the side of the garage first, but the smoke drove me back. Then I went in the garage (terrifying St. Nick - he thought I was running into a burning garage, which I suppose I was), and then out in the alley where a neighbor had gotten his garden hose and was trying to hit the flames with that while I emptied the fire extinguisher on the flames closest to the garage/on the corner of the wood. Then the fire dept. showed up and put out the rest. Excitement!

They think someone walking in the alley tossed a cigarette in the bushes beside the garage. The garage itself only sustained a tiny bit of damage. And great timing, right as our Realtor was showing up with the "Sale Pending" sign under her arm and the day before inspections.

I don't want to think what could have happened had St. Nick not been out there or had we been away from home. Yikes! Poor St. Nick was beside himself last night, terrified that a forest fire would break out (the house we made an offer on is the one in a wooded area) or that the house would start on fire or or or ...

The most reassuring truth of all for both St. Nick and myself: there is One in control of the winds - winds that truly did not shift and kept our garage from sustaining more than minor, mostly cosmetic damage.

Decisions, decisions, decisions ...

Since our house is sold, and we're set to close in less than a month (aaaggg!!!), and we have 15 days after close to clear out, we need to put the hustle on to find another place to live. Yikes!

We've been on a whirlwind of home tours since Friday afternoon - some interesting finds like a very cool retro 70s place with green shag carpeting and some of the most incredible vintage furniture I've ever seen. Straight out of the Godfather movies. And an at-the-end-of-the-trail place where we had to stop twice just to get to it - first to let the wild turkey pass, then to let the three deer pass. And a home in some pricey suburb that was so pristine I don't think I'd let my kids live there, not to mention the reek of Botox in the whole neighborhood.

Why did I think selling our house would be the hard part?

We have it down to two (with a strong third) options. One is Dr. D's front runner, the other is mine. They are about as different as you can get. One is south and east of town, large lot but in an older suburb. There's a shallow creek in the back and the yard is fenced (hooray! for neurotic moms such as myself). There's also play equipment, a nice deck, and plenty of space inside. All our "requirements" are met for bedrooms and living areas. But the house needs some TLC. Okay, the walkout basement needs a lot of it, but we like house projects, right? It's not like we don't know how to lay tile or paint a room or replace an oven or ... It's also in a neighborhood, which could be good, or not so good. Not a pretentious neighborhood, but there would be schooled kids and St. Nick is very peer-dependent when he's around other kids, plus I'm such a hovering mother (says my mother-in-law) that I'd never be comfortable with him playing at other kids' homes. And we'd be farther from my mother, but would probably have ample babysitters in the neighborhood. We'd have to change some shopping centers and such, and it would take Dr. D about 16 minutes to get to work (vs. about 10 from here).

This place has some perks, like the deck, a screened three season porch, play structure, fence, bathroom off the master bedroom, nice French doors to one room (that don't close quite right - TLC again), and a formal dining room. But it also has only three bedrooms on one level which means the boys would double up, or we'd be on a different floor (in the basement, but TLC needed yet again).

The other option is straight east of town. It's closer to our usual shopping center than where we live now, would be fairly easy for my mother to get to and is only 18 minutes from Dr. D's office. But this one is on five wooded acres, and it's across from a state game area, so we wouldn't be having a development popping up. We would have no neighbors to speak of (two houses are nearby, as in a hike through the woods on either side). It also satisfies our requirements for space. It's slightly smaller, the deck less showy, and could also use some TLC, but is more move-in ready (i.e. the oven closes all the way! Bonus!). It's also more expensive.

This one also has perks. The bedrooms are spaced pretty well (and there are more of them), the kitchen is in better shape, and there are the coolest built-in loft beds in one room - two of them with little desks built beneath and such. The boys would love it. But ... there's no fence. There are literally hundreds of acres of woodland right out the back door and very very few houses. I don't tend to talk to my neighbors unless I have to, but at least I know they're there, and I'm not sure I would trust the kids not to wander into the woods and get lost. But I love being out there - it's so truly private and serene. We could do so many amazing homeschool activities in those woods, and hiking and bike riding and so so much more (Dr. D could get some use out of his chainsaw! He loves his chainsaw). But it's a tri-level, so lots of stairs. And no dining room, so we'd have to store or sell our dining room furniture. Not something I'm necessarily bothered by, since it's odd to have a formal dining room full of furniture that's never used (though we use ours every day, which it was not built for) but I don't know if I want to sell it. Then I'd sell my formal dinnerware too, which I guess is fine since I haven't used it in at least five or six years. It pretty much just sits in the china cabinet looking pretty. Sigh.

Oh, bother. What to do?

Going, Going, GONE!

And I don't mean my mind! (Well, that's debatable.)

Our house! It's SOLD! (Pending if you want to split hairs, but with a solid offer!)

We just signed the paperwork! Our agent has asked us to clear our weekend to tour available homes and is hoping we can write an offer by Saturday!

I don't know when I've ever used this many exclamation points in one post!

Side benefit: this weekend's open house has been canceled! I was so not looking forward to the same old routine of clean and stage a room, have the kids go in there to play because, hey, their toys are all straightened and look so much more FUN than usual, only to have to go back and re-clean and stage that room while they wander off to a different room to repeat the process. But now I don't have to! Yippeeeeee!!!

Adventures in Home Searching

Picture it, long winding drive with lovely homes off to each side. Quaint bridge over a stream, woodlands spotted in snow.

We're on the look for the house belonging to the For-Sale sign out at the road. I'd seen it on the MLS and had written the address in my notebook, a notebook which was sitting helpfully on the mantle at home.

"I think it was in the 5500s, or 5600s? The first number was 5," I said. Only we didn't see any house that looked like the photo online. We came to what appeared to be the end of the road. There were wheel ruts going on, through what was left of the winter's snow, but it was such an untraveled path. We didn't dare risk it. We went home.

And we checked the address. "It WAS down that path!" So, ever-determined, we returned last night. The snow makes the drive treacherous, but there it is, the house from the picture. Only we can't take time to see it. We're focussed on making it up the gentle, but snow-covered incline of the driveway. Near the top, the wheels begin to spin.

We try pushing, rocking, packing dry leaves under the tires. No use. We are stuck.

But! The 45 minute wait for a tow truck gives us opportunity to peer in the windows, walk around the property. Since it is vacant, we don't feel too awfully like trespassers. It's lovely!

I was still thinking of the last time we drove up to an out-of-the-way house and nearly got stuck, so I dismissed this house as soon as it was clear we weren't making it up the drive, but Dr. D wasn't so quick to judge. And, standing there in the snow, stranded with three kids in the van, was about the most normal I've felt in weeks. Unfortunately, that hasn't lasted, but the house is still beautiful.

How'd it get to be Thursday?

I woke up this morning feeling miraculously free of mucus, and with only the slightest muzzy-headed Nyquil hangover. Ah, finally, now I can start my week. Only, the week is almost finished! I can't say I'm disappointed by this, because I'm not. But I am surprised. I don't really remember much of anything since a playdate at a friend's house. But that was last Tuesday!

Let's see, since then St. Nick was horribly ill, and by Thursday I was ill, and by Friday Little Fish and Dr. D were ill, and on Sunday Mud Pie came down with it. Tuesday of this week we all (yes all five of us) tromped into the doctor's office and yesterday it was so bitter cold and icy that Dr. D decided to work from home for yet another day. Well, yes, that would explain the week-long gap in my memory, I suppose.

But January is a blur as well. What on earth happened to the first month of the new year? Besides losing a week to illness, we listed our house for sale, scheduled a showing of one we'd hoped to see only to have the showing canceled because that place had sold (drat!), I read a long door-stop of a novel for a book review at my other blog, finished two weeks of Tapestry of Grace and some other schoolwork, fretted about dentists, got Mud Pie fitted for orthopedic shoe inserts (her feet pronate), and did the day-to-day things like eating, bathing, cleaning (sometimes). Not all that different than other months. So, where'd January go?

A mystery. Let's see if we can keep from losing the rest of the year into the vortex, shall we?

Why I Love My Husband

Or, rather, why I love him today, since there are lots of other reasons to love him.

Earlier in the week I started pestering him to get me a can of primer. I've detested our upstairs bathroom ever since I painted it it about six years ago. What on earth was I thinking to put royal blue, colorwashed with BLACK in a teeeeeny bathroom with one window?

I know what I was thinking - that the dark colors looked so great in the living and dining room, why not continue the theme? And wouldn't the new white utilities be oh-so striking against blue? They were, I suppose. But for six years I've longed to have a fresh, clean feeling bath rather than an oppressive, dark one.

Dr. D didn't particularly want to do any house projects over the holidays. But he gave in, we primed last night, and today we went and bought our paint.

And what did Dr. D say this morning on the way to the Benjamin Moore store?

"I really think we should paint the ceiling too. It just won't look right if we don't put a fresh coat on the ceiling."

I love how he does everything to absolute perfection! But right now he's waiting for me to go open the wall paint. Before and After pictures coming soon.

The Itch

So, it's December. We're past three birthdays (Dr. D, my brother, St. Nick), only Christmas and one birthday left (Fish). I'm moody and hormonal (no, not any reason beyond the usual), and this cycle I'm picking Moving House as my obsession-of-the-month. I'm so desperate for something to change. For eight years we've lived here, in this neighborhood I've always seen as "temporary." We listed the house last summer, but the market was terrible. Only ... it's worse now! And there are several houses (that I shouldn't have been looking at) that seem just oh-so perfect.

Huge melodramatic sigh.

Now I'm wishing we'd left the house on the market. Only had we sold last fall, the house I like best (of the ones I shouldn't even be looking at) wouldn't have been in our price range yet. But given Dr. D's desire to wait until spring to list again, and the lousy market, it seems unlikely that any of the houses I like will still be for sale. Or that ours would ever sell. Oh, bla. Just whining out loud. I'll stop now. Waaaah.

On Moving On

I've had trouble stringing two thoughts together lately, largely because we're planning to list our house soon. I've spent far too much time scouring MLS listings and wondering why the hell everyone can't just be like me. Who would ever call a 6'x8' closet a fourth bedroom? I have rugs larger than that. And what drove another owner to finish the entire lower level of his home with thin wood-imitation paneling? Of course, we're also remembering the jaw-hanging moments of our current home: Plumbing fixed with aluminum foil (which necessitated a new sub-floor in the upstairs bath and a mostly-new kitchen ceiling), electrical to the dining room severed in order to provide an outlet in the half bath (good thing my father is an electrician!), the gloppy river of caulk that was used to cover over the moldy old caulk (which we painstakingly removed and replaced on Saturday).

Truth is, I love my house. I don't want to sell it. I don't want to move. But I have no choice. There's no way we can keep our sanity and all three children, here. I suppose it's good that I'll be leaving with a clean conscience. Nothing hidden, nothing covered over with a thin layer of cheap paint (or aluminum foil). We simply don't do that sort of thing. Ever. Sure, there are things that will make a new owner wonder, "What the?? What were they thinking?" Different things for different people. But when fat Aunt Helga comes to visit, she won't sit on the potty and end up in the kitchen sink. Well, don't take my word for it. See for yourself.

It's my prayer that I will not "Be Overcome" in this search. Caulk and three kids do not go together, and I spent far too much of my weekend thinking, "I'm tired of being stepped on," and the like. The whole point of this change is to shift our lives to someplace less stressful, someplace where homeschooling can be a natural part of our lives, not something we take from one room to the next, precariously balanced on the lapdesk or spread over the dining room table or spilled on the kitchen floor, and always being put away half-finished because, imagine!, other people in the house need to eat or cook or walk across a room.

Perhaps the passage should read, "Bless those who nail drywall over plaster and lath, and call it "refinished"; bless and do not curse them; weep with those whose garage roofs have fallen in upon their heads because they left the loft windows open all winter. Live in harmony with one another even though five acres of impassable, poison-ivy-infested woods separate you from your nearest neighbor...."

Humor aside, I failed to accomplish those things (the real list of things) this weekend. May we all keep perspective, be our ceilings be vaulted oak or aluminum frame and Styrofoam tile.