May 11, 2008
Frustrations and All
Last week, I left the girls alone in the living room for exactly two minutes so I could transfer clothes to the dryer. In that small period of time, they managed to spill my entire glass of iced tea all over my white carpet. I had to climb into the crawl space to retrieve the carpet cleaner, not an easy feat when you have one knee that can’t be crawled on.
While I was frantically putting together my little green carpet cleaning machine so that I could get the tea up before it left a permanent stain, I jammed the tip of my finger on the machine and thought I would lose my entire finger nail because of it. While I was cleaning the carpet, the girls fled to their rooms to escape the dreaded loud carpet cleaner and a very unhappy Mommy. When I went upstairs to talk to them about not running around the living room like it’s a track meet, I discovered that they had broken the mobile that was still hanging from Lil C’s bed, the mobile that I happen to have an unhealthy emotional attachment to. I quietly walked to my bathroom and locked myself in there. I needed a minute. I needed a minute badly.
A couple days ago, my Mom and I took Lil C shopping. While in the store, she ripped about 15 pairs of shoes off the racks in an attempt to distract us from the fact that she was pulling the tags off a pair of sunglasses and fleeing the store with them. She may be two, but the girl knows what she wants and is apparently prepared to shoplift in order to get it. As we held up various pieces of clothing she repeated over and over again, "I don’t YIKE that dress." It was a frustrating shopping trip. Enough said.
Today, the girls gave me my Mother’s Day presents, complete with a coupon book for chores around the house (the best gift ever as far as I’m concerned) and cards that they made themselves. Lil C drew a picture inside the card for me. When I asked her what it was a picture of, she said "That’s a bandaid for your knee Mommy."
I love these shoplifting, mess-making girls more than anything in the world.
Happy Mother’s Day.
May 8, 2008
Make It Happen
We have one week before we need to ask our builder for yet another contingency extension. Although I swore I would leave it up to St. Joseph, I can’t deny the stress I’m feeling right now. It’s time for this to happen. If they don’t break ground soon, then we won’t be in our new home by the time the new school year starts. With switching schools being traumatic enough, I really don’t want to make Big I start school at her new place late. There are other options here, like her staying with my Mom who lives in that school district, but the most desirable outcome is to be in our new house in August.
I had a thought today. I emailed my realtor and told him I’d like to make an offer on my own house. I’d like to offer $1. I’ll even put 50% of that down in the form of hand money. Does that count? Can he now go tell the realtor with the very-interested-but-still-dragging-their-feet-people that there is another offer to make them move? I’m tired of waiting; these people are killing me and if they think for one second that they’re going to get our place at a bargain (which it already is) just because they made us wait, they can forget it. I’m getting more annoyed with every day that passes and they continue to ask stupid questions that we’ve already answered previously instead of just putting it in writing. An annoyed BBM is not likely to be kind with a counter-offer. An annoyed BBM is not likely to be kind, period.
It baffles me that they won’t put it on paper (It also baffles me as to why David Archuleta’s ears always seem to be backlit during his performances on American Idol, but that’s for another post). When we saw this house, we fell in love. We went one day, saw it for a second time the next day and put an offer in that night. If they love it as much as they say they do, then put it in writing already!
We’re not desperate to move. In fact, Mr. BBM will tell you that he’s quite content to just stay here now that we have a new kitchen floor, new carpet, and a freshly stained deck. It feels and looks new, especially with the way I’ve been cleaning and organizing. I, however, don’t want to lose my new house, which is right now a grassy lot, a grassy lot where I’ve already chosen my colors, built my house, moved in, take jacuzzi baths, and have hosted Christmas festivities. I’m so attached to that lot and my imagined house that I think I will die of jealousy if someone else gets that lot and builds their house on it instead of me building mine.
May 7, 2008
Making Peace with the Morning
I don’t do mornings. I mean, if I have to, I will. Three days a week, it’s my responsibility to get Big I on the very early bus. The days when it’s not? I’m praying that Lil C sleeps in until at least 9.
So, when I was told last week that I had to schedule my physical therapy early in the morning since the office will be closing for the afternoon on one of my days, I begrudgingly made my appointment and told myself one day wouldn’t kill me. It’s true. One day wouldn’t kill me, but one day quickly turned into two days when I showed up early today (not the day I was supposed to show up early).
My PT looked at me kind of funny when I walked in. "What?" I asked him, "not used to seeing me in the morning or do I look that bad?"
He laughed and said, "No, it’s just that you’re not supposed to be here until after 3 today."
"But you have a half day today!" I said.
"That’s Friday," he said and laughed some more.
I hate exercising in the morning and now I’m going to have to do it twice in one week. Apparently I’m trying to kill myself.
I spent the entire weekend slacking on my exercises. I figured that my dancing to one Prince song and "In Da Club" was exercise enough. I was sore after that, even though I mainly danced on one leg (Nothing can hold me back when Prince comes on).
What I found out this morning is that morning exercise actually loosens the knee up a whole lot better than my normal daily routine of walking back and forth from the kitchen for more coffee. In fact, I doubt I even needed more coffee when I got home because I’m wide awake. There’s nothing quite like a brisk walk on the treadmill to get you going.
I’m not saying this is going to become a routine thing, and I definitely won’t say I’m happy about having to wake up and go work out on Friday morning too. I’m just saying that maybe mornings and I can agree to be friends.
***There are some new reviews up on The BBM Review for everything from Norton Security programs to Cranergy drinks. Go and check them out. If you know someone obsessed with the Jonas brothers, head over there, click on the sidebar and enter for your chance to win tickets to see them live.
May 6, 2008
Blogebrities
Going to Tequila Con this past weekend was kind of like hanging out in Hollywood. There were blogebrities everywhere you looked. Some of them, you instantly recognized as in "OMG, that’s Secondhand KARL!" or "There’s Blogography and he looks just like he does on his blog!". Then there were those times when you knew you should know someone but you just couldn’t place the face or the blog. It was kind of like when I went to England in high school and the little guy from Das Efx and RedMan were staying in our hotel for the entire week, yet I didn’t figure out who they were until the day we were leaving, and only after our chaperones had explicitly warned us to stay away from those scary people.
Tequila Con, like the Cheers bar, was the place where everyone knew your name (You were wearing it like a billboard on a lanyard all night so it was fairly obvious). There was no catty business like in usual social situations (at least none that I’m aware of) and everyone was super nice and complimentary.
Karl told me he loved my shoes and won my heart. Others asked me about things I had written about months ago, or checked in on the status of the knee. There were people there that I was just getting to know, but many of these people knew me. It was definitely a weird feeling.
I often talk to my college friends about how cool they are, and how no matter how much time passes or what’s going on in our lives, when we get together we always have wine, I mean fun. Leaving Tequila Con on Saturday night was like leaving yet another very cool group of new friends who felt like old friends.
For years, I scolded my sister about meeting people online (In my defense, she only met losers online). So, when I told my family I was going to meet a bunch of bloggers, I could see their hesitation and a flash of concern. But meeting everyone that I met at Tequila Con showed me that there are some really incredible people out there, and a whole host of bloggers to fix my sister up with if things don’t work out with her current guy.
May 5, 2008
Up to the Saints
Although I spent a ridiculous amount of time at Tequila Con trying to convince Dustin to buy my house instead of searching on the west coast where things are overpriced, somehow I don’t think he was buying. At one point I’m fairly certain I even offered to shoot him the MLS listing for my house. I may have even thrown out the words: "two gas fireplaces" and "hardwood floors" in between drinks and tater tots. I met lots of cool people at Tequila Con, but sadly, I could not sell my home while there.
So, I did what every desperate home seller does these days. We loaded the entire BBM family into the van and headed to the Christian bookstore across town to buy a statue of Saint Joseph to bury him in our front yard (Don’t believe it works? Click and learn). The entire drive home, Big I kept telling us it wasn’t going to work until I read her the instructions:
1. Ask St. Joseph for help.
2. Believe that he will help.
3. Now place him on your property and stop stressing the hell out already.
(O.k., Step 3 is slightly embellished but you get the idea.) As we drove up our street, she agreed to believe and we started chanting, "I do believe in St. Joseph, I do! I do!" Peter Pan style. We said our prayers out on the sidewalk and Big I even offered to help bury him out there. Once the house sells, you’re supposed to dig him up and place him inside the new home in a place of honor.
If this works I will build that little guy a shrine, and I don’t even know how to build.
Somehow I’m wondering if threatening to bury your realtor upside down on his head wouldn’t have the same effect on getting your house sold? I’m just wondering.
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