Best Friend for a Reason
I was feeling emotional and grumpy yesterday. I’m overwhelmed with packing, grumpy about having to move out of my house before I wanted to (and into my parent’s house, who seem to be grouching to everyone in my family about us moving in), and the sadness about leaving this house after almost five years was setting in as well.
Going to see our new house progress last night barely cheered me up. They had put stone in the footprint and had the forms there to pour the basement walls (probably happening right now). It didn’t matter. The negative feelings were overwhelming.
I came home and was just settling in for a long night of grading thesis statements with no capitalization when my best friend called me. She started with an apology for calling so late and then quickly launched into her reason for calling.
My best friend, the most amazing kitchen packer I know, informed me that she is driving out tomorrow and staying until Friday to help me finish packing. I instantly burst into tears. She has always been there for me through the years, but this went beyond the status quo of being there for your friend.
It wouldn’t be a big deal if she was driving 30 minutes. The big deal is that she’s driving 4.5 hours to come and help me, with her 4-year old son in the back seat. Not only that, but she insisted on bringing her own bed linens, towels, toiletries and even dinner for all of us.
I have been overwhelmed with a completely different feeling since receiving her phone call and I can NOT thank her enough. I figured that all of you who have offered virtual support through this moving process could go and thank her for me too.
So go visit her site, tell her how amazing and wonderful she is, and think happy thoughts about an easy drive for her tomorrow.
Packing just got a whole lot more fun.
Completely Overwhelmed
We’re moving on Saturday and I feel like we’ll never be ready to go. I am completely overwhelmed with all of the crap we’ve accumulated over the last five years. I don’t even have time to go through it and get rid of things, because there just isn’t time to do anything but throw it in a box and send it away.
Besides a little help from Lil C, I have had no help with packing. I can’t even tell you how much I miss my best friend (the most amazing kitchen packer I know). She helped me when I left Pittsburgh many years ago and I’m about ready to overnight her a flight ticket so she can fly out and help me again.
Although I packed up much of the basement and loaded it into the van for yet another trip to my parent’s house tonight, there is still so much more that needs to go and I just don’t know where to even start. I’ve found myself wandering from room to room today, feeling on the verge of tears and like I’m drowning in packing peanuts.
Literally, because the girls thought it would be a good idea to dump all 4000 of them on the dining room floor today while they were playing "Marshmallow store." I was too overwhelmed to do anything but calmly tell them they better pick them all up and now before "Mommy has a complete and total melt-down." I’ve also found myself murmuring, "There’s just no way" and "I can’t possibly do this" all day long.
Something tells me that the rest of this week will only get worse. The only bright spot is that I’ve managed to recruit some wonderful young guys from my dojo to help us out on Saturday. For their help, I will be eternally grateful.
Hmm, I wonder if they’d come help me pack too.
Just kidding guys. . .
. . . or not.
I feel terrible even writing this post because my blogging friend Lisa is going through something much, much worse right now. Please go visit her and offer what support you can.
Proud Owners of a Footprint
On Monday we had stakes. On Tuesday we had the promising beginnings of a hole. On Thursday, we thought they were pretty much done digging.
We were pretty happy about it.
We were especially happy because there is a clause in our contract that says that if they have to bring out the big guns to get through major rock formations more than one day, then it happens at a cost to the buyers in the form of $1500 per day.
This lovely piece of rock is where our garage is located. I’m guessing there’s really no point in asking for a crawl space under the garage.
I thought that Mr. BBM was crazy when he said they were done, because "That hole is not deep enough! We ordered 9 ft. basement walls to accomodate my kobudo training!" Then I realized that Mr. BBM was probably right. Back against that wall of dirt and rock, we could have fit Mr. BBM twice, length-wise.
When we realized it was totally flattened out, we figured we’d be getting a footprint soon.
Then we discovered these rocks in what will be in our backyard. . .
. . . and we were even more happy that they were finished digging and that we didn’t have to pay anything extra to have a kobudo-worthy basement.
Today, we arrived to find this. . .
We officially have our footprint.
It feels good to have something in concrete.
Stay tuned, because next week, we’ll have some walls!
Thankful, Hectic, Proud
Filed under: Building the BBM House, Mental Strain for Mama, Moving
This morning, a friend took both of the girls to play with her four daughters so I could have a couple hours to pack in peace (i.e. pack up all the things the girls don’t want me to pack). Is she fantastic or what? In the middle of my morning, I got a call from the showing center. I used to crave calls from the showing center, but when they called this time, I was first confused and then completely thrown off my game plan.
It was 11 a.m. when the phone rang and the person on the other line, who had set up many of our showings during those grueling months on the market, told me that the appraiser wanted to come at noon TODAY! I sighed with disgust as I looked around at my house. Newspapers were everywhere so that I didn’t have to keep walking up and down the stairs to get more to wrap things in, empty boxes covered an entire wall, full boxes were littered throughout the house and you may remember that I have been on a cleaning strike since last week. I’ve shown fantastic follow-through with that pledge.
I figured it was better to just get it over with while the girls were out of the house, so I said yes. Then I turned into the Tazmanian devil and spun my way around the house, picking up dirty clothes, folding the pile that needed to be folded, making beds, wiping off counters and begging Mr. BBM to please, for the love of God, use part of your lunch break to run the vacuum.
Instead of arriving at noon, she came at 11:30. I think I would have told her off if she wasn’t so overly apologetic and sweet. I continued to pack while she went from room to room, taking measurements and pictures. When she was finished upstairs, she found me downstairs in the family room and asked me if I had a professional decorator work on the house. Dumbfounded, I told her no. "Well, are you an interior decorator by trade?" I think I may have snorted with laughter, as I told her "I wish." She then said, "Well then I hate you. I seriously hate people like you, because you didn’t have to hire anyone and this place is gorgeous. It looks like a model home. You’re amazing at picking colors."
Her comments had me on my heels and I almost fell into another box of "misc toys." I thanked her and then followed her around fishing for more compliments. I told her that her compliments meant the world to me because I am currently second-guessing everything I’m choosing for the new house.
Want the truth? I think she was buttering me up so she can come in with some out in left field low appraisal that’s going to wreck my life. I’m all for thinking positive, but that’s just too much good all in one day right there.
I got a ton of packing done, despite all the interruptions, and figured I’d take the girls to the pool this afternoon. Lil C wanted to hang out in the baby pool, so I sat there and watched her demurely make her rounds, surrounded by her little float. When she noticed another little boy who was probably newly two, she approached him and told him her name. He ignored her and walked away. She seemed irritated.
A few minutes later, the little boy walked over to Lil C and started splashing her. As the water droplets landed on her hair and face, she clenched up her little arms in disgust and turned her back to him to weather the rest of the storm. When he was finished, she turned around, clenched her fists and raised her arms and said, "I VANT YOU TO STOP SPLASHING ME RIGHT NOW!"
He looked at her with fear, turned on his heel and went quickly back to his side of the pool. He didn’t bother her the rest of the day. After listening to Big I ask me to take care of her problems for her since she’s been born, I can’t even tell you how my heart soared with pride when Lil C took care of business on her own! That munchkin is two years old and she completely stood up for herself, without whining, without crying, and most importantly, without asking me to get involved. It was simply awesome.
Later tonight, we went to check out the progress on the house. The hole is deeper and the girls were having a blast running around in it and asking which room they were in now. When I first put Lil C down in the hole, she looked up at me and asked, "Where’s the hole Mommy?" It was fairly obvious we were many feet below the normal ground level. Then, she looked down and saw a little area where the dirt was pushed away. It looked like a small rock had been removed, leaving a little gutted out area in its place. "There’s the hole!" she yelled.
After a couple more minutes wandering around the dirt, she murmured to her sister, "this is fun." As we were about to leave, one of our new neighbors rode his bike up with his sons to say hello. He was super nice and he let us know that everyone on the street hangs out, drinking beer and cocktails while the kids run around and play behind the houses in the park. I’ve never been happier about the lot we chose.
Next week, our realtor is taking us to a pig roast as his guests at the local pool. Our realtor will live just down the street from us, so he offered to take us and introduce us to all the neighbors. I just hope no one splashes Lil C. Things could get ugly.
The Bulldozer Man Can Work It
I realize that posting three times in one day is a bit obnoxious. I just can’t help myself though. I think that the bulldozer man saw me applauding him on the street and decided to really work it.
Work it, bulldozer man. At this rate, I’ll have a basement by next week! Do you think they’ll let me store some stuff in there once it’s concrete?
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