Truth time

This week we finally, FINALLY started our for realz search for a house. I have mixed feelings. Although I've had plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for this, years of driving around pretty much every neighborhood in the county lusting after various houses hasn't actually given me a true idea, in my head, of what is actually an option for us.

Here is what I have discovered:

I have big eyes.

Yup, this should not come as a surprise to me, yet for some reason I am still a little disappointed at the grandiose new house castles I let myself build in my head. Dammit, why do I have to have such nice taste?

Sigh.

The truth is, we are going to have plenty of house for what we need. But I would like a big house that's already nicely made up. Turns out I can check one of those boxes a) big, or b) upgraded & nice.

Today we toured a rather large house that would be just about perfect, p-e-r-f-e-c-t for our needs. Great neighborhood, great school district, room for the kids, my sewing, entertaining, etc. So, maybe we are total nincompoops, but we went ahead and put our bid in, because this place is going to move FAST.

It feels so WEIRD. Just weird.

The inside, to be honest, looks like total sh!t. I know that after a tiny bit of love it could and will look very nice, but I don't see that in my head. In my head I see yucky dirty carpet, marked up white walls, and chipped tile counter tops. Kinda hard to get excited about that, no?

Eh, I leave it up to God.

Shoe drool

I really, really want these shoes. I'm so tired of just wearing flip-flops when I want to be comfortable. I'm so tired of have uncomfortable feet when I want to look cute.

Enter Ugg sandals: Comfortable. Cute. One hundred bucks a pop.

Maybe this is one of those things where if you amertize the price over 2-3 years of wear it's actually a great deal??

My Glamour magazine says that gladiator sandals are, "here to stay." Who am I to argue with that? I am totally a gladiator girl.

WANT.

It's time to go...but we can't

It's finally the new year, and our tax paperwork is slowly rolling in, inching us closer to when we can apply for our house. And, well, find a house. It kind of feels like, "hey! We're almost there! we will be out of my parents' house before we know it!" But then I stop to think about it, and I realize that even in a best case scenario, we will probably here for several more months. Possibly even into the Summer. I mean, I pray, pray it will be earlier, but it's just really not in my hands. Buying a house takes a long time in this current market, especially when a lot of what is available is still tied up in the bank/seller's hands.

We are going on 18 months here at the 'rents, and as always, whenever I get discouraged, I remind myself that I have made it this far. I just have to put my head down and push on through the muck. But. I think all of this is finally taking its toll on our kids. Well, maybe not Wright so much, but definitely Violet. She just seems, well, sad. And we are having terrible behavior problems with her. She is down and whiny and non-sweet all day, every day. And scared of everything. I don't know if it's just her, or partly that my sadness rubs off on her. Okay, it's probably a combination of those things.

I had this recent conversation with her:

Violet: Mommy, Meemah and Peepah's house is small. I don't want to live with them anymore. I want a new house.

Me: Oh honey, me too. But why don't you want to live with Meemah and Peepah? You love them, especially Meemah. You LOVE your Meemah!

Violet: No! I don't! And I don't like it here!

Me: What? Why do you say you don't like them?

Violet: Because! I don't like their faces!

Me: Wha...? Oh honey, that's not a very nice thing to say. I'm sorry you don't like it here, but please don't say that about Meemah and Peepah. I don't understand though, you love spending time with Meemah!

Violet: No! I don't like her face!

Me: Where the heck did you learn this expression?? Did someone else say it to you? Was it on one of your shows?

Violet: No. I told it to myself.

She has since told us that she doesn't like Meemah's kitchen, she hates her room, she's scared, it's cold here, it's small here, etc., etc. I guess that she just genuinely wants to leave like we do. Nevertheless, we don't want to fuel it, so we've decided to keep any "it sucks" conversations about living here to ourselves. We are, after all, very lucky, and honestly most of the time it is completely fine. We go on and get through our days.

I think it has been more rough than usual for the kids because of all our terrible weather. We've been cooped up in the house a lot more. During cold/rainy weather Sam has to take the car into work and we are stuck here all day. My parents (ahem, my dad) have all these rules like: no running, no being loud, no roughhousing, and keep the door to the porch closed at all times because of the, "cold draft." Since the porch is their playroom and they are in and out of it all the time, the constant getting up to slam the door that the kids left open (ahem, my dad) and slamming into one's room because the kids are being loud (one guess) gets reaaaaaalllly old.

In the meantime Violet is just a sad, sad little girl. :(

Stuff I likey

Today is supposed to be a vacation day for Sam, but he had to go into work. My parents' house is freezing as usual (and my space heater is broken). Aaaaaaaaaand I'm officially stumped as to how I'm ever going to get a good night's sleep (Wright does not like his "new" mattress bed on the floor...unless you're in it. Ah, the joys of 1 entire family in 1 tiny bedroom). So, I'm going to burrow today and blog. Here's some crap I was working on before the entire 3-month holiday season sucked me in whole:

In preparation for the El Nino year we are supposed to have, I broke down a few months ago and purchased a few rain-gear type items for me and the kids. Now that the rain and storms are finally starting to hit, I am so grateful to myself (thank you, forward-thinking Leah) for thinking ahead.

What I'm appreciatin':

1. Boots for me. Okay, I researched, and I tried, but I just couldn't click "buy" on a pair of Uggs like everyone else. Not that I don't like them, I do. I love all the different styles and think they look so cute on everyone. Buuuut, I just can't do it. And so I ordered these black moccasin boots from Piperlime. They are somewhat moccasin-y in that they are suede and mold to your foot, but at the same time I don't look like I'm going to go skin a deer and attend a Rendezvous in them. (Side note: the name of the company that makes them is Minnetonka Moccasin and for some reason this makes me giggle and snort.) Love them or not, oh masses, I wear them every day and they make me happy. Most importantly, this is the first year that my feet are not getting wet in the rain. Yay for warm, dry feet!


2. Galoshes for the kiddos. For some reason, Violet is absolutely obsessed with jumping in puddles. I have tried unsuccessfully to curb this yucky and Oxi-Clean sucking urge, but to no avail. So I broke down and got each of my two nasties a pair of rainboots from Tar-jay. Turns out, they are excellent for any trip outside, rain or no, because they really help protect their pants from dirt, mud, etc. They are also super easy to wash off and save their "real" shoes a lot of wear and tear. LOVE them. These babies are officially going to be a Fall/Winter staple for us every year.


3. Fleece pjs. Have I mentioned how ass-freezing cold my parents' house is? Yes, well. It is. Really cold. The kids are mostly wearing fleece footie pjs, but I also found these ridiculously cute olde fashioned style ones at Gap online. My sister mentioned that they remind her of my grandpa (on my mom's side), who is totally my favorite grandpa. He used to hold me on his lap & give me purple pepper cookies when I was upset because all my siblings/cousin teased the sh!t out of me. He passed away in the early nineties, and sometimes we still miss him so much sometimes. Like, I am literally choking up right now, dammit! Ahem. Soooo, in memory of you, Grandpa:



(Yes, that is my dad in the background, and now you think I am a horrible person for complaining all the time about this poor old guy. Well, I am. But. I must vent or I will die of smell/annoyance/frustration, so there.)

The Way You Make Me Feel

Apologies if you find this post melancholy or offensive.

On second thought, nah, I don't want to apologize for anything I say on this blog. That's the whole point of it. I say, I spew, I'm not sorry. It pleases me when people enjoy reading this--that's great--but if that ever becomes no longer the case, you are certainly free to click-off! Hah, click-off, it's like the new eff-off. You know what, don't like what you read here? Click. Off.

Er. Dunno where that came from.

Speaking of clicking, I'm typing with these damn Kate Gosselin nails from Halloween and they click like heck all over the place. I can't reach my dang laptop keys, and I keep screwing up words. Worst of all, I type slow. Maybe because I have to delicately type with half nail, half fingertip. I am soooo done with them, but I can't quite bring myself to soak my fingers in nail polish remover or file them down like the package instructs for proper removal. Hello, I go almost ridiculously out of my way to avoid chemicals most of time, but I have to SOAK my fingers in a bunch of horrific paint remover if I ever want to type again?? I dread it. Yet, these 10 metaphors for feminine helplessness currently show zero signs of popping off on their own. Not to mention, I can't tell you how many compliments I've gotten on them! Heck, I even find myself admiring them from time to time. I never have nice nails. Too much sewing and poopy diapers and hand washing in my life for pretty nails. Goodness knows they are going to look crappier than ever once I get these suckers off. In the meantime, I am a blonde with pretty nails who can't type. GAG.

This post was supposed to be about motherhood. One day I will learn to stay on topic. Instead here on my blog I currently meander aboot (<--Canadian typo) as I see fit, subconsciously, pathetically moping about the writing career I never had and most likely never will have, especially if I can never stay on one subject long enough to call it an "essay" or "article" or "feature". Hah! Sometimes I muse over what career I would pick, when my children are a little older. Probably I will just continue to stay home with them and support them long after they need it, but sometimes I daydream. I have considered library science; I mean, I love books and what better career than to be surrounded by them? I would kill as a snooty librarian. On the other hand, it might turn out to be kind of boring, and I've heard that it takes, like, 20 years of working your way up to actually become one. Semi-scratch. Or maybe, just maybe, I could write a book. I dunno about what. (This is a daydream, okay? It doesn't have to be specific!) I just figure that someday down the road a topic will come to me, and I will handily publish it (see! daydream) and then when I tell people I stay at home with my kids I can also say, "oh, and I'm an author." Hopefully this will all happen before the publishing industry completely crashes. One can dream! Oh, and please don't email or comment to me creative career ideas or encouragement. I'm sure you'll mean well in your helpful goodness, but I am the laziest person in the world who can't even bring herself to actually do anything truly productive most of the time, so please don't suggest that I sew or whatever to make cash. I don't currently have to have a job, and I can barely take care of my kids AND house during the day. Not to mention those kids are a pair of needy leeches, God bless them. Lord knows how I would currently fit anything else in. Honestly, if Sam ever leaves me I will just viciously sue him for alimony, find a middling job, and then club it up for a new husband! Piece o' cake. ;)

(This is still a daydream, right? Not that I want that to happen or anything, I'm just thinking though worst case scenarios. Sam, I know you don't read this blog, but don't leave me! Unless you reaaaaaallly want to. But in that case, maybe still don't.)

Weirdest post, evah!

Back to mother-ness. Once upon a clueless adulthood, eons ago, I was one of those judgmental childless people. I saw other people desiring children, struggling with their crying children, and focusing their lives on their children. Seemingly normal, attractive adults would overnight turn into pastel stretch-pant wearing people who carried around diaper bags with bunnies on them instead of purses and seemed boring as hell. I thought, "Why, why would you ever want to do that to yourself?? Why would you even have kids, knowing that they will come out and scream and throw tantrums, and overall be a tremendous nuisance? Oh, and BTW, your kids are total brats--you sucky parents!!" See, being the youngest in my family, I had no personal experience with babies or kids, and when confronted with one, I pretty much had no idea what to do. Nevertheless I assumed I knew all. Ah, the arrogance of youth.

Then, instead of traveling the world as a urban-savvy career woman/fashionista, I fell in love and got married. To a very conventionally minded person who had never traveled, lived in the city, or planned on doing anything but living a completely typical life. A life filled with big-screen TVs instead of exotic trips, daily commutes instead of business travel. I got a job, not in my chosen field as a technical writer, but as a temp stuck doing travel accounting for a government contractor--hello, blech! So of course I hated my job, hated working with people constantly, I mean, oh God, the constant interfacing with people just absolutely drained me. I couldn't sleep at night I was so stressed out constantly from my pathetic, not-worth-my-degree job. Technical writing was zipped up tight in this city, and only a very determined person with considerable charisma could have cracked it, so, definitely not me! My choices were a) get a masters degree in something and do that career b) go down to part-time and be a stay-at-home wife the rest of the time, or c) have kids. For some reason I can't remember, something to do with me not wanting to have kids too late in life, I picked kids.

And then, I had them. And...okay, once again I have no idea where I was going with this because, of course, I have been interrupted about a zillion times. Umm, something about how I feel about motherhood now...

(Can I just say that, actually, right now, I am super pissed, because part of my Tarte di Alsace just freaking broke off in my oven and melted down into the bottom at 475 degrees and smoked like James Franco in an underwear ad. So now it is still verruh, verruh smoky even though I have the vent fan on. AND, it still smells like burnt cheese, AND my tarte is not crispy. Grr!)

Anyway, I find it so easy to judge those who are capricious about parenthood. Who do it because it is expected or whatever, and then--suprise--find out that it is a sh!tload of work. Or those who fall into it so "easily" and claim that it is all rainbows and sunshine. Yet I personally chose it with just as little forethought, fell ass-backwards into it. So really I have no pedestal to stand on.

And now it is, arguably, the most meaningful thing in my life. The most valuable thing I have ever pursued or will pursue. It is a job that I often resent, but my heart is irrevocably glued to. All based on these little mini-intrusions that suck out my very soul with their neediness. But I sacrifice myself...for them. Because from the first second I saw Violet, I was a mom and I was in love. I don't have all the answers on how to be a parent. Oh sure, I've read the books, I've researched, but mostly I just use my instincts, because God put them there, just like he did my mother-love. I eff it up daily, but the drive to succeed in this one endeavor makes me try, try again. It's one of the only things that can really count in life, this building a family and learning to put them first.

In addition to the "why", here's a second item. As a parent, I have no control over my kids. See, I kinda think that if you think you do, you are either deceiving yourself or screwing them up or both. Because the point is to teach them to have self-control. This is really, really hard and what I consider to be one of my biggest responsibilities as a parent. Self-control takes for-ev-er to learn, I mean years. Maybe at least 18 years. So guess what? Yeah, that's my child throwing a tantrum from the ball section in the back of Target all the way to the checkout. Bothering the single/childless people? Eh, screw 'em. If they judge me then they are ignorant. I am just a life-weary woman trying put a couple decent people into the next generation. Don't tell me how to do my job--it is hard enough and emotionally and personally conflicting enough as it is.

And it is a worthy occupation, all on its own.

After Midnight jonesin'

(Prologue-y side note: What is wrong with my internal clock that I am most awake at this time of day? Seriously effed up. Internal clock, how dare you screw with me that way. I need to function along with the rest of the world, and this messy Australia time you've put me on really sux. [extra side note: I recently pondered this particular spelling of "sucks" and decided that I think it's hilarious. I want to use it in texts, sentences, email, etc. Admittedly, it's funniest when used as a one-word sentence response. As in, "my dad's standing in the kitchen internally combusting an egg and I want to clean my nostrils out with bleach," followed by the succinct reply, "sux."])

Where was I?

Ah, yes. I am grateful. Some people are grateful for loved ones, food on the table, yadda yadda. Oh, believe me I value those things, too, but right now I'm really thankful for the beauteous bounty that is Amazon dot com. Exhibit A:


The harvest is in, and it includes lemony vampire and werewolf-filled fiction from Kresley Cole and J.R. Ward (Wharden me, baby!). Interestingly, it also includes three Kleen Kanteen sport top cap replacements, because Baby Wright

**This blog has been interrupted by Baby Wright**

I can hear him whimpering on the monitor...wait for it, wait for it...? Okay, I hear nothing. Child has been a complete wreck the past couple nights, whimpering & keening half the night from, I dunno, molars coming in or growing pains or something. He keeps chewing on his hand and drooling, so I'm wondering if his last set of molars are finally coming in. Oh joy. He's in such a good mood all the time already, molars just really put some sprinkles on the whole thing by eliminating sleep. Yesssss!

Okay, another scream...I better type fast.

**Interruption maybe slightly over for the time being, but imminently about to possibly be interrupted again by Dee Arr Bunsington**

...anyway, Baby Wright keeps throwing his Kleen Kanteen and saying, "ball!" which merely dents the Kleen Kanteen, but let's face it the plastic cap can't really hold up to that. Not to mention two of our other caps lost their pressure plug thingee and are total drip-fests. Upon drinkage, they completely soak Dr. Buns and cause Violet to whine uncontrollably. Enter Amazon, where hardcover fiction can be bought at a deep discount, and Kleen Kanteen sport caps are a mere $3 each! Hello, these cost $4.20 each on the KK website. I ordered three, but I should have gotten five, just to be on the safe side. (Crap, what was I thinking?!) Anyway, they have free shipping over $25, so all this stuff came unencumbered by outrageous shipping costs, gasoline, or stress from trying to take kids to the bookstore and/or crunchy place where you might be able to buy BPA-free water bottles. Not to mention, it was all in one package. Where else? God bless America, it freakin' kicks kicks capitalist a$$.

Blank slate

I am having total writer's block here. Words won't come out of my hands or mouth right. A few minutes ago I couldn't remember Scarlett Johansson's name, so I asked Sam, "what's her name, you know, Ryan Reynold's wife?" He was like, I don't think I've ever heard her referred to that way, what is wrong with you??

My problem is that I can't seem to get into reading anything these days, and my vocabulary and brain are seriously suffering. Is this what it's like to be a non-reader? I mean, sometimes I'll even find myself looking at certain magazine articles, and I'll think, nah, that's too long, I don't feel like getting into that. I can't think of words, I can't think of names. I'm regressing and becoming ignorant, my intellect frozen out by time without input.

What the H. I read Harry Potter followed by an amazing, amazing fanfiction, one that was much better than many books out there, and now everything just pales in comparison. I am trying to re-read Twilight and it is slow going. It doesn't help that I've been sewing like mad lately trying to get Violet's cold-weather wardrobe done. But seriously, I just need to take some time and soak up some words. I am majorly atrophying here!

Random anecdote: yesterday I went to Trader Joe's with Sam and Violet, and I spent, like, almost $200. Holy Crap!! That is by far the most I have ever laid out there. But, I hadn't gone in like 3 weeks and we were seriously out of most of our staples. Sometimes you have to take a hit like that. Sam's reaction was to tell me incredulously that I need therapy and then thoroughly examine every single item on the receipt while peppering me with questions. Have I mentioned that he's not coming with me to TJ's again? What I think is funny though, is that no matter how much my total is, the employees are always like, "wow, you did great!! That's really not that much!" Not that much?! How the heck much are *you* spending on your groceries, Trader Joe's employees?? Whatever. I still totally eat it up. I am such a sucker for contractually obligated cheerfulness & ego-stroking.

I can't remember what else I was thinking of blogging about. Maybe because my I.Q. is at "average" these days. I am not kidding. I lost my keys a few days ago and I still haven't found them. Baby Wright lost his Crocs somewhere in the house and not only can I not find them, but I can't even come up with places to look. Brain waves = duuuuuuuuuuuh.

I leave you with this SNL sketch, which I've already watched several times, and which keeps making me laugh everytime I think about it, especially the part about the flavor notes, heheh: