A First Time for Everything
Before I tore my ACL in October, I used to always think how great it was that I had never had any knee problems. The ACL tear changed all that. I went from nothing to probably one of the worst possible knee problems.
I’ve always felt the same way about poison ivy. I’ve heard horror stories about it from my husband and many of my friends. One friend had it all over her private parts. I won’t tell you how she got it, but use your imagination and you won’t be far off. Mr. BBM had it so badly that he had to get a shot of cortisone to stop it. Unfortunately, I can now join the poison ivy club.
Before our open house this past weekend, I picked exactly three "weeds." Three. I took them right to the trash and the next day things got a little itchy on my arm. Each day this week, I have woken up wanting to rip my right forearm off my body because it is driving me insane. Every morning I wake up scratching and it seems to be getting worse.
I’ve bathed profusely. I’ve been drenching myself in prescription hydro-cortisone cream, yet it remains as annoying and rashy as ever. I’m one of those people who gets itchy in one place and then feels like I have bugs crawling all over me, so I’ve been scratching up a storm almost constantly and am terrified that it’s going to spread to, well, everywhere.
When I tore my ACL, I had tons of friendly advice and I appreciated it greatly. So, how about a little help for a girl with some serious scratch-fever? Any home remedies? Advice on something that will knock me out until this passes? Volunteers to scratch me?
Temper Temper
Last night, Lil C had the temper tantrum to surpass all temper tantrums. She had been agreeable all day, minus when she tried to pull Big I across the floor by her hair, but even that was fairly minor compared to what a usual day might hold. It was when we told her it was bath time that all hell broke loose.
While Mr. BBM carried her upstairs, she started air running and screaming at the top of her lungs as if possessed, "I don’t vant a bath" over and over again. Bath and bedtime is Mr. BBM’s time to spend with the girls. I get work done, do my PT, or just watch TV so I figured I’d let him handle it.
But when it sounded as if she was going to come crashing right through the ceiling of the living room from all the kicking she was doing in the bathroom, I thought I’d try to help. I could tell Mr. BBM’s patience was starting to wane.
Upon entering the bathroom, I realized I should have put on a wetsuit or something. There she was thrashing in the tub, her bottom lip quivering, and her breath catching on loud sobs. Big I, seated beside her in the tub was borderline hysterical (laughing, that is). Mr. BBM was soaked, as was the floor, that he was mopping up with extra towels.
In a very calm voice, I asked her what was wrong. "I don’t" sob sob "vant" sob sob "a take a baff!" she spit out like daggers, and then she started Irish dancing in the tub again. It’s absolutely amazing how much water one two-year-old can displace in a tub. Every time Mr. BBM tried to rinse her hair, she screamed louder.
When she was finally done (and the calm talking did seem to help), I helped her get dressed and then she just collapsed on my lap as she tried to collect herself. In another minute, she was fine.
I couldn’t help but think that two-year-olds have a fabulous way of dealing with things. You never have to guess what they’re thinking. They don’t bottle up their emotions and hold them in, thus making themselves miserable. I thought about how good it would feel to just let it all out there.
For example, last week when we got that low-ball offer, it would have felt great after those people got me so excited, to just totally freak out. Complete with crying and screaming, I could have flopped around in front of them and their agent to let them know how I really felt about their offer, instead of having to remain civilized and adult-like to tell them where they could stick their offer.
And then there’s my neighbor. Taking her trash can of last week and just slamming it down over-top of her head would have felt great. It also would have felt nice to just toss it at her when she emerged from her house. That’s what Lil C does when she finally decides to give Big I back her toy. She just launches it at her. It’s a nice technique and usually Big I tends to wish her little sister hadn’t given it right back to her. Or maybe, the screaming and flailing would have worked nicely with that too. A major freak-out on her porch might have gotten her attention a little better than simply moving her trash can for her.
Then there are the annoying telemarketers who try to keep you on the line and make you donate to their causes. Wouldn’t it be cool to just totally freak out? "I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY! I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY! I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY!" Something tells me that could be a whole lot more effective than, "I’m sorry, I’m not interested. No thank you. I can’t donate this year."
As we get older, we’re so concerned about what people will think of us. Big I wanted to remove one of her key chain things from her backpack today. She wanted to remove it because a friend of hers on the bus plays with it all the time, and it’s getting on her nerves. She took it off while in the car waiting for the bus. "What should I tell her Mommy?" she asked. "Just tell her you left it in your house today." "But that’s lying Mommy," she said. "O.k. would you rather tell her ‘I took it off because I didn’t want you playing with it?’" She thought for a second and then said, "No." "Then just tell her you left it in the car. That’s not a lie." She was satisfied with that response, but maybe she would have been better off just putting it out there. Maybe we should be civilizing two-year-olds less, and trying to get more real ourselves.
There are certainly some people in my life who deserve a good talking to, and if the stress of selling my house gets to me any more, they may just find me going all two-year-old on them.
Who would you like to go all two-year-old on?
One is the Lonliest Number
Despite the fact that we had a ton of street traffic all morning long before the Open House, we had only one taker actually show up at the scheduled time. The good news is that she stayed here for quite some time, sat at our kitchen table and talked about how she loves our house. The funny thing about it, is that she currently lives in the neighborhood where we’ll be building. She and her husband are looking to downsize, and we’re looking to super-size.
Although my realtor tends to almost always play down the interest level of potential buyers, he seemed very positive about this potential one and said he was going to speak with her agent. He mentioned something to me about possibly arranging a switch, as in she gets my house and I get hers.
My realtor was telling us yesterday about some calls he has fielded on our home recently. One of the interested callers kept him on the phone for 45 minutes telling him about how he’s currently renting but the rent is killing him. He then said, "What’s a guy to do when he’s on disability and has no job? How’s a guy like me supposed to pay rent like that?" Well, news flash, it’s probably easier to pay rent than it would be to buy my house without any income or livelihood.
One thing is for sure-my house seems to bring out the crazies. People who won’t make an offer until their elderly mother dies. People who think we’re giving away our house as part of charity, and then refuse to play the house buying game the right way. Eerie men who show up expecting me to personally escort them through my house.
I’ve said it before but it warrants saying one more time. I’ll be so glad when this is all over.
Sabotage
Tomorrow is Open House number four. I swore I wouldn’t do another one, yet here we are, Open House Eve yet again.
This song pretty much sums up what’s been happening with my inconsiderate neighbor:
Yesterday, the local Britney Spears decided it was a fine time to clean out her large kitchen garbage can. Since cleaning is super hard, she thought she’d do it the natural way and just leave it sit out on the pavement our two homes share to collect rain water. Last time, she naturally cleaned her litter box, now her trash can.
Mr. BBM moved it closer to her door so it didn’t appear to be our trash can. Later, he moved it directly in front of her door so that she would have to move it in order to get in or out. He’s pretty good at this trash can business considering he once pulled that trash can full of water in an elevator prank when he was in college.
Despite his careful trash can placement, she moved the can out of her way three times without doing anything about it yesterday. It’s not like she doesn’t have a back yard complete with a patio and deck where she could do her natural trash can cleaning. No, it must be on the pavement in front of the house on an Open House weekend. I guess the trash can cleaning gods only work in front of the house and only when your neighbor is expecting guests.
Today, we left for Big I’s t-ball game and the trash can was still sitting at her door. I said, "If that trash can is still out there when we can back, I’m going to kill her."
Big I must have thought I was serious because when we pulled back in and the trash can was still there, she gasped with horror and said, "Mommy, are you really going to go kill her now? How are you going to do it?"
I was about to tell her how when Mr. BBM said, "I’ll take care of it."
He went outside to pull some weeds, and then he took the trash can and moved it to her back patio without me having to say another word.
Just a few moments ago, I saw her go out onto her deck. She was wearing flannel penguin pajamas and a surgical face mask. She was flapping her comforter in the breeze off the deck along with another blanket. When she was finished, she threw the comforter across a chair and did the same with the blanket.
I’m not sure what happened in her house that requires a face mask, but I’m wondering if she’s going to pretend like there’s a SARS epidemic in our neighborhood tomorrow or something. I’m also guessing that the comforter and blanket will stay there, strewn across the deck that is right smack against mine because they probably have squirrel poop on them or something from that time months ago when a squirrel got in her house after she had left the door open (probably all night long).
For your listening pleasure. The chorus is my new theme song. . .
I gotta find a way to get outta here. . .
***I know I have a lot of homeschooling readers. You might find this of interest.
How It Works (Or Rather, How it DOESN’T)
Step 1. Sellers price their home "right" and put the sign in the yard.
Step 2. First potential buyers come and they "love it.
Step 3. Potential buyers come back for a second time and are "thinking of writing it up."
Step 4. Potential buyers disappear for two months. Perhaps they are super hero’s? Maybe hiberating? Trapped in a cave somewhere? Drove off a bridge? Stuck in a time warp?
Step 5. Home sellers spend a bunch of money upgrading things around the house: kitchen floor, most of carpet in house, etc. etc.
Step 6. Buyers come for third showing, stay for an hour, eat cookies, take pictures.
Step 7. Buyers disappear for almost two weeks. Perhaps their super powers were required somewhere else? Maybe a ground hog told them to go back to sleep for a bit longer?
Step 8. Buyers make low-ball, sucktastic offer that isn’t even in the realm of possibility, based not on comps (because it would be silly to base an offer on reality), but rather on the fact that they "want a counter-offer."
Step 9. Sellers’ realtor initially tells buyers they are way off base, but then makes a suggestion that sellers follow. Sellers give reasonable counter-offer to show "good faith" and that they want to work something out despite the fact that the offer buyers put forth does not show they are serious (and in fact shows they are dumb and perhaps blind).
Step 10. Buyers think about it for two days and then decide that their response is this: they don’t want to come back with anything at this time BUT they still want to keep the lines of communication open (in other words, if sellers are interested in GIVING away their beautiful home, they’re game and will certainly take it).
Step 11. Seller (aka BBM) tells realtor to take buyers offer, check and envelope and give it back to their agent. How’s that for a little "communication"? Good riddance.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but when sellers make a counter offer, isn’t it usually standard practice that the buyers counter back? Wait, let me answer myself. No, because apparently buyers want to just stick to their initial craptastic offer to show their true naivete and that they are perhaps jerks. Yes jerks.
I’m still feeling positive. Our other showing this week went very well and the buyer showed great interest. It’s going to happen, just not with wishy-washy-craporama-offer people.
On a lighter note, I won a $50 Gymboree gift card today. Yippee! It’s a sign of things to come.
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
