The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

We don't have the internet set up yet . . . so Greg's being kind enough to take a text file into work, copy and paste it into blogger, and make it available to all you good people!

Anyway, so, we're into our house. For some reason, only made possibly by insane troll logic, I had somehow convinced myself we'd get all the boxes in, start unpacking, and everything would come together in time for Christmas. I mean, obviously my food storage wouldn't be sorted by expiration date quite yet (OK, so it never has been . . . Liz keeps threatening, but it hasn't happened yet . . . ), but I was thinking the main livable parts of the house would be, well, livable. Yeah right, crack smoker. I just found our first fork this afternoon. Greg spread peanut butter on Annie's toast yesterday with a toddler spoon. We've had Little Caesar's pizza THREE times in as many days (and we didn't get any on Sunday, when we went and mooched off of extended family, so that would be pizza for lunch AND dinner today.) But, slowly it's coming together. My parents even came by tonight, with my Mom helping me get the front room set up, and my Dad entertaining Annie so that anything else was possible.

The Good
Oh, my master suite. How I love thee. I keep referring to my walk-in closet as "the other room." "Greg, should we put our dresser in our room, or in the other room?" "Hey Greg, do you think we should keep these baskets in our room, or in the other room?" "Greg, when we have another baby, can we just put them in the other room, so we don't have to walk across the hall to pick up a screaming baby?" Seriously, it is THAT big. And Annie and I can't get enough of the big ol' tub . . . we won't need to go to a pool all summer, we'll just chill out in there. Annie was in there for a two hour bath this morning. I was uber-jeolous, as I was just sorting boxes in the bathroom the whole time, but that'll be me as soon as we are done with the unpacking!
For those of you who've bought a home before, or I'm sure the same could be said for those who've picked an apartment or whatever, but you know how when you walk through beforehand you're trying to keep both eyes wide open and notice EVERYTHING. Then you move in and you think, "Holy cow, how'd I not notice that?!" Good thing, very few of my "How'd I miss that?!" moments have been negative (more paint that needs touching up than I'd remember, but all in all, it's in such great shape), and my "Wow, that's awesome, did you see that before Greg?!" moments have been made me very happy. My kitchen cabinets, while not overly impressive from the outside (nicely done, but plain) are AWESOME inside . . . the shelves slide out like drawers, and there's a big ol' lazy susan in the corner. How did I not notice this when we looked at the house the first three times before we bought it?!
The best part. People must really like us, 'cause we had lots of family and friends help us out in one way or another with our move. From the packing up, moving it the first time, cleaning the new house, moving everything in, to organizing and unpacking, I feel pretty spoiled. Thanks to everyone who helped out. We also have VERY cool neighbors, as people stopped by in the morning when we were getting the first stuff in, and one neighbor was even scrapping the ice from the sidewalks and driveway. Anyone who scrapes ice for me can easily be called one of my best friends. I pretty much decided to marry Greg one winter morning when I came outside and found that he'd dug my car out of the snow and scraped my windows so that I wouldn't have to before work.

The Bad
We got my Christmas tree up tonight. Which would be awesome news, if it wasn't for the fact that my incredibly beautiful, intensely lit tree that I've cherished for several years now, chose this year to die. Plugged it in and about three random strands of lights work, out of about the 12 strands I have on it. I knew this day was coming, as we've enjoyed this tree since we got married, but did it have to be this year!? The year we plug it in just three days before Christmas!? Oh well, due to our incredibly crappy economy, my Mom was telling me that Kohls already has their Christmas trees on like 70% off (and we have an extra 20% off coupon . . . anyone around here have one of the 30%s?!) So, I may just go out and get a new one so that we have something to make it feel like Christmas around here!
My washer and dryer are on the top floor (and thanks to my very talented husband and my Dad, my gas dryer is even hooked up and running now!) I LOVED this when we first walked through. But do you know how much harder it is to fall asleep when a washing machine is bouncing around right outside your bedroom door? (Editorial comment from Greg: The washer just needs to be leveled. That will make the bouncing stop.). And do you know how often I start laundry at the end of the day as an afterthought? Crap, this is gonna take some reorganization of my time management.
Oh, and the bathrooms have no medicine cabinets . . . which for some reason bugs me beyond reason.
And Annie has decided that she is 'too little' for just about everything. She's 'too little' to play outside in the snow. She's 'too little' to go and get me a diaper for Ellie. And the big one, she's 'too little' for the new 'big girl bed' we set up in her bedroom. So, that first night, after lots of tears (mostly hers), Greg and I were up late setting up a small toddler bed right next to the horribly awful, terribly offensive, big bed. So now her small room houses two beds, and a large pile of unsorted toys. It's not a pretty sight, and there's not a lot of room left.

The Ugly
I still have other people's toilet seats on my toilets. The previous owners of our home were awesome, and clean; I think she must've scrubbed out every single drawer and shelf in the place before we moved in, and for that she will forever be endeared to me - and maybe make me feel a little inadequate as a home seller, since I merely vacuumed out drawers haphazourdly and thought, "Your problem now suckers!" (I'm kidding. Kinda.) One of the things that we first noticed about this house was its cleanliness (compared to all 10-15 other houses we looked at, when as soon as we walked in I'd turn to Greg and say, "We'd need new carpet and we'll need to paint." Not one, but TWO houses we looked at had animal droppings and urine in the basement.) But still. Toilet seats that belonged to someone else. Just wrong.
And Greg's back is so sore that I think he will be able to do nothing but sleep (and possibly take long baths in our cool new tub) during his entire time off for the holidays.
And my beautiful toddler is becoming increasingly difficult day by day. I know all this upheaval can't be easy (it stresses me out), but there are times during the day I just stare at her in wonder and think, "How does one find a Catholic Priest who can perform an exorcism in this small dominantly Mormon community?" I try to take a little time each day and just hold her and talk, or read books or something, but it's not enough, and I can't blame her for that, I just wish she understood that Mommy really has to get some of these boxes put away before she loses her mind, and possibly will to live. She does still do and say a million things a day that crack me up though. And she seems at least a little more understanding about Mom's split focus than Ellie does. She thinks I'm just mean. I think that if she REALLY loved me, she'd take longer naps than the three 20 minutes ones she's doing a day now. And she'd sleep for more than two and a half hours at a stretch at night. We're not seeing things eye to eye right now though.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an amazing Christmas. Working tree or not, I can't help but feel incredibly blessed this holiday season in our new home, surrounded by family and friends who never fail us, my wonderful husband and my two beautiful reminders of all that is right and beautiful about this world. And it makes me smile when my two year old, staring up with wonder at the Nativity Set I just got up, says, "Look Mom, it's baby Jesus. And Mary and Joseph. I hope He has a good birthday this year." Merry Christmas everyone!

Moving Day

So, tomorrow morning, bright and early we're taking every last thing we own, gathering it from all the different places we've stashed it this last month, and asking our friends and family to carry it all into our new house. I'm so not looking forward to this. My throat hurts, my body aches, I have an asthma attack just from carrying Ellie in from the car. I'm miserable and I don't want to do this tomorrow. Seriously, I was thinking today, "It would be worth just staying here in the basement for another few days just to avoid moving . . . " I would be sick during the move. This is even worse than sick at Christmas.
And it's nine thirty and my two year old has been screaming for a solid hour about not wanting to go to sleep, about her bed being uncomfortable, needing a drink, wanting a tissue, about how mean her Mom is, not wanting to sleep . . . and we get to drag her and the poor sick seven month old out bright and early to stand by as we lug boxes around. Sigh. I have no right to feel sorry for myself when we're moving into a beautiful new home, but man I'm not looking forward to this.
It'll be over soon though. And all worth it.

P.S. As soon as I'm done here, I'm turning off the computer, packing it up and getting it ready to move. My internet at the new house isn't up until Christmas Eve day ('cause I'm not all that bright, and despite knowing exactly when we were moving into the new house for a solid month now, it didn't dawn on me to set up water, internet, home phone or cable until, oh, yesterday.) So, Merry Christmas y'all!

On The Move

Annie's seen her fair share of moving lately. We've uprooted her and moved her to a new bedroom in my in-laws basement. We just moved my best friend Rachel from her apartment into my parent's basement. So today we came over to visit Rach at my parent's house and babysit her six month old while she goes to a job interview. Upon arriving, I went and put Ms. Fussypants (aka tired Ellie) down in the crib in the nursery. Annie looked up at me, slightly confused, and said, "We're putting Ellie down for a nap here?" "Yeah, she's tired," I answered. "Ohhhh," Annie said, "I get it! We're moving in here with Rachel and Jovanny!" It took some convincing that we weren't going to live here from now on, and it's set us back a bit, 'cause now when I ask her where we're going to live at Christmas time she keeps answering, "This Grandma's house, not the other Grandma's house."

More Co-pays (also known as "I'm Pretty Sure My Doctor Has a Boat Named After My Family.")

So, still nothing in my head that just needs to be spewed out onto (electronic) paper. I haven't felt this level of writers block since I was assigned the article about the new cheerleading squad in 11th grade journalism. Life upheaval and all that seems to have left me blogging inept. I think something about living in someone's basement, out of boxes, is enough to make my mind melt down to sheer uselessness.

We ended up at the doctor's office today, with Annie's hands swollen and puffy and red and blistery. The first thing the receptionist asked was if she'd burnt them. Great, it looks like I've dipped my daughters hands in some kind of boiling hot liquid. I'm pretty sure she was calling child services under the counter (my mind pictures it as a little red button like bank tellers have in movies, that is being pushed repeatedly as the doctor's office receptionist attempts to keep me calm and talking.) Turns out it's hives. The doctor feels it was something she'd come into contact with, not ingested. She'd just been playing with a latex balloon, and a latex allergy just about freaks me out. But the doctor feels that's not it, since she'd also complained earlier in the day (before the balloons) about her fingers bugging her (but I'd checked them in poor lighting, missing the red . . . and I just thought her fingers were freakishly short and stubby in their pudginess, like her Mom's, since she was just complaining about two fingers on one hand, and when I checked them against the other hand they were all the same size . . . it wasn't 'til later that day that I noticed the red and blistery-ness that may or may not have been present when I checked them in the bad lighting of the basement.) I was told just to put some special prescribed (i.e. expensive) cream on them, maybe dope her up on some Benadryl, and just watch for more serious symptoms like not breathing.

Is it bad parenting that I tested the latex allergy theory when we got home by rubbing the balloon against her leg rapidly for about 20 seconds, than stood there and watched the spot intently until I was convinced there was no dramatic (or heaven forbid, painful) reaction by my daughter? Super thrilled she doesn't appear to be allergic to latex. Of course, I now have NO idea what caused such a horrible dermatological reaction. Crap. I guess we just wait until she swells up like a freak again.

Bloggity Blog Blog Blog . . .

OK, I have nothing to say right now. I feel like I should blog something, but that my mind is sucked dry by the craziness of my life right now. We moved my best friend into my parents house last night. That's two too many moves in a matter of a week or so. I miss my stuff that I foolishly packed into storage, turns out I need it all, and end up making frequent trips to WalMart and RiteAid to fill in my packing gaps. We've transitioned quite well into my in-laws basement, if I do say so myself. Well, most of us. Ellie now wakes up every two hours, all night long, ever since the move. That I could actually handle with a tad more grace. It's the waking up every two hours and then staying awake for awhile. She'll nurse, decide she's not hungry anymore, than just whine or fuss or just coo and try and chat with her unresponsive, increasingly mentally distraught mother, until I force my poor husband to pick her up and walk her around the basement until she finally falls back asleep. That, and we've got the swing back out for night time. We thought that was a sleep-crutch of our past, but we busted it back out on about our fourth night here. She just ate nearly two-thirds a jar of squash, and I'm hoping that will keep her nice and sedated for awhile, and I won't hear for her until later, but I have little hope of that.

Annie does and says adorable things all the time. I can't remember any of it right now. Too tired. Ellie is sitting really well, and 'sings' all the time (her endless baby babble almost rivals Annie's stream of conscious never ending narration of her life), and refuses to spend anytime on her tummy so will obviously never crawl. Ever. I think she'll end up being bedridden, flat on her back, for the rest of her lazy, stomach-hating life. She likes to feed herself. I hand her the spoon (the big ol' IKEA kiddie spoon, not the Gerber spoons, those are for babies) with some squash on it, and she happily jams it in her mouth and sucks it clean.

Just to let y'all know . . . Ellie just woke up. See, I'm totally not exaggerating.

Here's Annie tonight at dinner . . . we never wet her hair down today. This is just her combed out curls.


Ellie with squash everywhere, making her very own squash unibrow. This is what happens when you let the six month old feed herself. The pictures alone (not to mention the squeals of joy) are worth the mess.

Annie & Ellie chillin' on the couch. Foolish Mom thought if she spent seven bucks on these shoes-and-socks-in-one for Ellie that we'd keep something on her feet for more than two seconds. It does take her twice as long to get these off than regular socks, which means we go about one and a half minutes before my kid has naked feet again and people start giving me the what-kind-of-mother-doesn't-keep-socks-on-her-baby-in-winter looks.

Annie & Ellie at breakfast.
Popeye ate squash, not spinach . . . don't believe what you've been told.

Yes, she is pretty pleased that she's holding the reins on this whole feeding thing.
She looks so freakishly teeny tiny in this big ol' highchair.
She seriously got more food in her mouth when I left the feeding up to her than when I tried putting the spoon in her mouth myself.
You can't really tell here, but she's pretty much blowing bubbles in the spoon while I was trying to feed her . . . complete refusal to open her mouth.
She is much more pleased with squash than she has been with rice cereal.


The rest of these pictures are from Thanksgiving afternoon, since the ones I posted before were just from the morning.

Here's Greg & Ellie in Aunt Judy's front room. Have I mentioned how much I love her smile?
This is Annie with my Uncle Karl. They both have a pretty tight hold on their own stuffed animal.
Aunt Star and Annie looking kinda sneeky or surprised or something . . . what emotion is that?!

Ellie on the couch with her friend Jovanny.

Ellie putting the moves on Jovanny. Not shy.

Apparently she was brutally rebuffed.

Slightly less 'forward' approach. Seems to be working better.

She's apparently softened him up now, 'cause he's actually going in for this hug (or face grab) too.

Kind of a letdown apparently. He seems cool with it though.

Ellie with Aunt Star.

Ellie actually smiling this time.

This was when I tried giving her some mooshed-up pea at Thanksgiving dinner. For a kid who chews on her own spit-up curdle, she sure made a big deal outta hating peas.

Apparently I didn't have too much to write, but I had a ton of pictures to share. (That and I do not have the strength or energy to pick and choose from a bunch of pictures, so I just used pretty much all of them with no thought given to your internet speed.)

Shhh . . . be very quiet. Ellie just fell back asleep in her swing . . .

Phase One Complete

So, we are out of our house.  I think we worked so hard, all day, to get everything done that I never had the chance to really take in the emptiness of our home.  Which is probably good.  I probably would've cried.  We hand over the keys tomorrow, and we are done.  We were only there two years, but it felt like we'd lived there forever, and it was hard to leave.

We are now hanging out in Greg's parents' basement for the next four weeks, then we move into our new place the weekend before Christmas.  It's weird living out of boxes, and not knowing where stuff is, and thinking, "Crap, I really wish I'd grabbed my breast pump before it got packed away in the storage pod."  But in a month or so, everything will have settled and we'll be in our new home.

Greg's parents have a room with a twin size bed for Annie.  This is Annie's first time sleeping outside of a crib, and the freedom and mobility was a little too apparent when she came into our room and bed several times last night.  "I didn't sleep very well," she told my Mom today, "so I went in with Mommy lots."  Ellie was in the bed quite a few times too, being sick and fussy and all.  Worst was when it overlapped and there were two kiddos in bed with us.  For the first time in my life I'm thinking, "Why don't we have a king sized bed!?"

Don't Turn Your Back for a Second

While in my room with Ellie, I suddenly noticed some 'clanging' sounds from the kitchen. I had to finish up the diaper change I was currently battling, but as soon as possible I hurried into the kitchen to find Annie 'packing' all of our utensils in a giant cardboard box. Standing on a chair she'd dragged over to the utensil drawer which is usually out of her reach and chucking butter knives into the waiting box below. She looked up at me with a huge grin of self satisfaction and said, "Look Mom, I packing too! I didn't touch the sharp knives though!" Good, then I have a lot less to explain to my husband when he comes home from work!

I guess I need to keep a better eye on her during the packing . . . I found miles of packing tape strewn from box to box to box in the frontroom, and later I came in to find her perched on top of a pile of four large boxes in her room.

Or maybe I should just turn all the packing over to her, and we'll see how it all turns out!

Up to My Eyeballs in Cardboard

We have piles of boxes in each and every room of our house. Packed boxes, empty boxes, collapsed boxes not yet taped together. Annie follows me around the house with a roll of packing tape, pulling off more and more into a big tape ball while singing, "I helping Mom tape boxes!"

Last night I protested anymore packing, cuddled up with my hubby after we got the kids to bed, grabbed a bowl of eggnog ice cream (it's OK, I prefer peppermint if we're going 'Holiday Edition' flavors, but Greg's not a peppermint ice cream kinda person), and watched "Chuck" and part of "Heroes" (which, frankly, I'm less and less likely to keep watching it with every episode . . . not quite sure why I'm still watching it actually, except that it's DVRed, and it beats watching "Guiding Light" or something while I fold laundry during the day.) Of course, now I'm nearing panic-attack mode thinking, "Crap! I didn't get anything done last night! Now must redouble my efforts and pack all day, while dealing with a whiny two year old (who is understandably whiny, since she has a sinus infection and an awful cold) and an only-Mommy-holding-me-while-walking-will-do six month old who has the same stupid cold her older sister has and has therefore given up napping). If only I could teach Annie to tape up boxes for me!"

Believe it or not, we're outta here on Saturday! That's unbelievably soon.

Interest-ing

We should be locking in on our mortgage rate today . . . 5.875%! I'm so psyched about this, since in the month or so we've been doing this whole thing, interest has gone as high as like 6.675%, and goes up and down, up and down. At least this crazy roller coaster market is on our side the day we're ready to lock in rates! This seems to be falling into place more and more everyday!

Under Contract

So, we're officially under contract on both selling and buying a home. That happened ridiculously fast. Our entire realtor's office is shocked that we sold as quick as we did in this market (the offer came in about three weeks after we put the house up). And surprisingly we found a house we really like that was just a regular ol' for sale house, not bank owned, not a short sale, just someone selling their house 'cause they want to move, not because they're losing it. (Which means far fewer kicked in walls or broken windows. Actually, the house is immaculate, it's the very first one that I saw that I didn't feel the immediate need to recarpet or repaint; this one we can actually just move right into without our skin crawling with other people's cooties.) And, because the market there is FLOODED with these short sale properties, and this family wanted to move before Christmas, the house was priced to sale, and we got pretty much the same exact deal we would've on one of the short sales without the 45-90 day hassle. So, we're pretty excited. It wasn't our first choice (our first choice cruelly disappeared off the market one day, as the sellers renegotiated their interest rate with their bank and they got to stay (good for them)), but it's a great house, a 2001 with four bedrooms and three baths, in a cute circle within walking distance of three parks (including one splash park), in a really great neighborhood with super friendly neighbors (including a three year old girl who lives right next door.) I LOVE the master bedroom, being that it's about twice the size of our current one, with a walk in closet that, in a pinch, could serve as another bedroom, and a huge master bath all to our very ownselves. I'm pretty psyched about the 'all of this is our very own space' stuff. Cute basement playroom, including an 'under-the-stairs-hide-out' area that Annie thinks is the coolest thing she's ever seen. And it's on .24 acres, which Greg loves, 'cause everytime he looks at that backyard all he can see is his garage being extended back into a large woodshop. Anyway, we're really excited . . . now we just kind of wait and see while all of this continues to fall into place and we find out where we'll be living over Christmas!