Wednesday, August 31, 2011

We are so here.

My aching body. My full, happy heart. I am so happy. So freaking happy. We are home. Our stuff is here. Piled to the ceiling. My heart is so happy. I am in love.

The first box I opened had a picture one of our closest gave us. Happier heart.

The next box had half toys half Christmas decorations.

The guys who unloaded our stuff worked their asses off. And they have to do it every single day.

It poured almost all day. Didn't care. It was like Christmas for my kids.

None of the China is broken.

I have no idea how we crammed all this shit in our old house. No idea.

The were two boxes labeled 'reef'. What was inside had nothing to do with coral or pot, rather Christmas. Reef.

The garage. There may not ever be cars in there. Ever. Do not ever take a basement for granted.

This morning I heard my husband showering in the kids bathroom.  Walked in.  Yep.  Just as I thought.  No curtain.  No hot water in the master shower.  Working on that.  I too showered today in there.  Without a curtain.  Then I found a curtain.  An hour later I found the curtain rings.  Cause why would you pack the rings with the curtain they came off of?  Clearly it makes more sense to pack the rings with my purses.

I busted my ass unpacking today and organizing and cleaning.  Yet it looks pretty much the same as it did before I started. 

Our new dryer is amazing.  It's not new.  It was here.  But either our old dryer sucked ass or this one has super powers.  Drying four pool towels and 6 hand towels in 45 minutes.  You rock.  Rock on.

It is so quiet.  Like SO quiet.  Maybe it's the fact that we came from an apartment sandwiched between an elephant and a tap dancer.  But the silence last night.  Amazing.

I took down the curtains today.  They were covered in cat hair.  Ew.  Not a cat person.  Was going to maybe consider having them dry cleaned and putting them back up.  But.  There were four curtains.  Each with 20 ties.  Tied onto rings that didn't come off the rod.  Oh and they're more than 8 feet off the ground.  So I untied eight loops.  Then I got out the scissors.  Oops.

Any idea where movers would pack finials?  If they weren't packed with the lamps they belong to? 

I thought I got rid of a bunch of stuff before we moved.  Should have gotten rid of more.  I mean.  Last years Christmas card surplus?  Ours.  Not other people's. 

But.  We are here.  Neighbors have left notes.  Sent emails.  It's already terrific. 

That's the Best part.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

TPM Fave From August

Post on the way on the move.  Swear.  In the meantime, I picked my favorite picture from August for the Paper Mama's photo challenge. 

The Paper Mama


My girl with her butt buried firmly in the sand.  Waves at her feet.  Thighs abound.  Be still my heart.




Sunday, August 28, 2011

It's ours!

Here is the outside of our new abode. Inside pictures to come in the form of before and afters. Cause there is work to be done.  It needs love.  No one has loved it in a while.  We do though. 



First up. The cat removal. Not live ones but the remnants of them. I am not a cat person. At all. Gross me out. So the deep cleaners came today and all things cat, dirt and grossness from old occupants is gone. Now we start fresh.  With our own dirt.

New appliances are already in. Makes a huge difference.

They served us margaritas at closing. Not kidding. Awesome.

We went to the pool on Saturday. In love. Feels like we're on vacation. And a luau on Saturday night. Again. In love.  Met some new neighbors.  Even went to an 'after party'.  There are a lot more fake boobs here in Tampa than in Kentucky.  When in Rome...

And in other news. Created a photography business Facebook page. You should probably like it.  Have a few things in the works and am starting a class in a couple weeks. 

Tomorrow.  Truck comes.  I have never missed the little stuff so much.  Can't wait.

That means tonight.  This very night.  Is the last night in the apartment.  Can I get a hell to the yeah?!?!?  The babysitter asked me when we got home last night if there were elephants living above us.  See.  Not just me.

Don't look for me for a while.  I'm knee deep in unpacking, organizing, and putting my family together.  Happy heart.

The Best part?  We are home. Finally.

Friday, August 26, 2011

There's no place like...

So. I have kept you waiting long enough. This afternoon, maybe at this very minute, we are signing the papers to close on our new house.

Twice I blogged about having a house, then I freaked out about an appraisal and a listing agent and called a house toxic. We are signing papers on that house this morning. So it has been untoxified.

I tend to get passionate. And hot headed and have tunnel vision. Sometimes it takes a day or two or a slap in the face to look at the big picture.

Let me explain. So the house appraised for less than the sale price. Not by much. Maybe 5%. But I was bent out of shape. I was angry that the sellers wouldn't budge to move the house. Angry at their ridiculous listing agent. And for the record, if I met her in a dark alley I would get at least one good shot in. Anyway. Who in the hell pays more for a house than it's worth? In this housing market? You'd have to be insane. Or suckers. Or both.

Or.

Or. You are a family. Who just moved 1000 miles away. And you found the perfect house. In the most perfectest neighborhood with an instant community and phenomenal schools and you just know it's right. And they have parities called 'flamingo mingles' and they have play groups and soccer and tennis and swimming for kids. And its safe. So safe. Play in the front yard safe.

It is home.

We met the sellers halfway. And in three short days a massive truck will pull up in front of our new house and we will begin putting our roots down.

You may shake your head and think our decision was ridiculous. And that's ok. You no longer have to hear me complain about the apartment. So just be thankful. And now, we can move on with real life. Get real life started. Use our own spoons. Sleep on our own sheets. Paint the walls. Move the furniture. Walk around naked. What?

So. Tonight we open a bottle of champagne we have been saving. For this very night. Or maybe for the first night we actually sleep there.

Anyway. There it is. The story you have been dying for. Happy weekend friends.

The Best part? Home. Sweet sweet home.


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Observations and Revelations randoms.

Cause usually my O/R aren't random at all.

Have you ever shopped at a Super Target? I was excited. Cause I love Target. And was totally excited with their 'pre-made' selections for dinner. Then disappointed with what I bought. And it's way pricier than other grocers. Fail.

There is no Trader Joe's in Tampa. There is however, a website dedicated to bringing one here. So I am not the only one devastated by the lack of their deliciousness. Yes. It's a word.

Dr. Brown's bottle lids are in my top ten things I am excited to unpack in a week. Wonder how long it will take me to find them. Little things.

And toys. I don't care about the furniture. The rest of our clothes. Televisions. I want my kids to have toys again. Anytime we go somewhere with toys they are salivating. If I had it to do over I would pack more toys. Lots more.

A few times since we have moved into the apartment I have almost run right into probably the tallest person I have ever seen in real life. He always flashes the kindest smile and says hi to the kids. He was in the pool the other afternoon when we were swimming. He can't swim. But I guess when the pool is only five feet deep and you are SEVEN feet tall, it doesn't matter. For the record he's from Nigeria and plays for the Toronto Raptors. An NBA team. Yeah, I had never heard of them either.

You need to check out this website. You will laugh out loud.

Also. I am chatting about daycare options over at Poop today. Check it. If you want. No one's forcing you. Geez.

The listing agent on our new house (Friday at 4, you will hear all about it. Promise) clearly thinks we are stupid. She felt the need to explain the option of a 'counter depth' fridge. I want to punch her.

I went to this tiny little liberal arts school (DePauw, with a W not an L). Like 2500 students. In Greencastle, Indiana. Never been there? You're missing out. Seriously. Anyway. I dropped Cannon at his new preschool yesterday and another mom was peeking through the window with me to check on our kiddos. Our convo went something like this: she tells me she's from Indiana, I tell her I went to DePauw, she tells me her husband went there, I tell her I was a pi phi (fine, AM a pi phi) and she tells me she was a pi phi at IU. Yep. That's a sign that all is right in the world.

Speaking of preschool. It was super! He loved it! And goes back tomorrow. It's in a nondenominational church. So he'll even learn a little God while he's there. Which is cool with me. Can't hurt. That's for sure. And to me, nondenominational is basically Unitarian which is fine by me.

The Best part? This video of the cutest, funniest, little girl you ever did see. Yes. She is mine.



Monday, August 22, 2011

Paper Mama Photo Challenge

I kinda liked doing this last week.  So I think I'll do it again. 

The Paper Mama


Furry Friends is the challenge this week.  Here's our furriest friend, Tucker being a really good boy while Cannon counts the pads on his feet.  I mean.  Sure, sometimes I want to leave him on the side of the road but it's moments like this where I remember why we love Tuck.


Love.


Sunday, August 21, 2011

Date happy hour and other randomness.

I would say that 75% of the meals we have eaten since we moved into the temporary housing have been eaten at a restaurant, carried out, or delivered. Really it's a miracle I haven't gained 15 pounds. Thank you stress.

Anyway. A dinner out is nothing new these days. To be honest, I am sick of it. I haven't been so excited to meal plan in a long long time.

But last night. We ate out again. Only this time I didn't have to stop conversation to blow on someone's chicken, tell someone to out their shoes on, or apologize and tip extra for the amount of food left on the floor.

Thats right. A date. Without my kids. And sure. We were home by bedtime. But we didn't eat somewhere they serve French fries (rather Hawaiian fusion which means sushi, hoo.ray.) and we talked. And laughed. And enjoyed each others company.

I so needed that two hours.

Now the randomness.

If I had a list of my favorite ways to spend a Sunday IKEA would be n the top five.

On Friday night we will be eating pizza and drinking beer on the floor of an empty house.

Preschool starts tomorrow. Not sure who is more excited. Cannon's class has seven boys. And one girl. This is completely opposite of the way things were at 'home'. He needs school. I need school. This is good.

We still call NKY home. Not sure why. Maybe it's cause we don't have a home here yet.

We went to the beach yesterday. Every time we get ready to go Cannon says 'I can't wait to put my toes in the sand!' This is clearly my child.

Although. He is little. 31st percentile for height. I am five eight. Dan is six two. Weird. Maybe if he ate things other than chicken fingers and yogurt he would grow.

Tonight I will go to bed before 10. If I keep saying it maybe it will come true.

Turned on the news this morning to see what was going on in the world. First thing they talked about was Kim Kardashian's wedding. I love reality TV as much as the next girl. But really? I really really don't care.

And now I am boring. So friends. Hope your weekends were swell.

The Best part? IKEA.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Mostly observations.

I am painfully boring this week. So if you are busy, don't waste time on this post.

My (almost) three year old held his sister yesterday. For the first time. She is almost 10 months old.

I am in naptime/bedtime hell. Do we take a nap, not take a nap, go to bed at a reasonable hour, act like a shit until 9? It's all very confusing. If you haven't already, check out 'go the fuck to sleep' on YouTube read by Samuel L. Jackson. Cause it's how I feel every night.

The baby's obsession with the potty needs to stop.

I cleaned the apartment for the last time today. Ok. Not entirely true but one of the last times. Yes. There is news. But I don't want to jinx it. Waiting until the ink is dry.

The level of my delight over our new grocery store is pathetic.

My (almost) 3 year old today told me girls don't drink beer. He is mostly right.

I am currently in a battle of wills over bows. She will not win.

If you do nothing else today, go over to to poop whisperer and read how eloquently Jess tackled something we should all be more aware of and sensitive to.

I quit Google+. Lame. It was lame. Maybe if they had thought of it before Facebook. Just saying. Anyway, jumped on the Pinterest train. Have no idea what I am doing or why but I am certain it will result in money being spent.

And finally, for my handful of new followers. Am not always this boring. Swear. Pinky swear. And welcome aboard!

The Best part? The ink will be dry. Soon. Not soon enough but soon.




Tuesday, August 16, 2011

I am here.

Really I am over here today.

Talking about boobs. You've been warned.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

O/R weekend wrap

There's sand in my car.  And my diaper bag.  And the jogger.  And in the cracks.  It was a good weekend.

Am I the only one who fights off laughter when my toddler throws one of those kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs fits?  It's hard not to laugh.  For me at least.  So much energy coming from such a little body.

Also.  He only wants Daddy to read to him at night, get him out of his carseat, wipe his ass these days.  You won't hear me complaining.

What is wrong with strawberries in Florida?  Anyone?  They suck.

I got to see a real friend on Friday.  For just a few hours.  Doesn't matter. I needed that hug, that chatting, that happiness.  From someone who knows me.  Happy heart.




And.  My little boy.  Got to play.  With a friend.  His joy is evident.



We went to the beach this weekend.  Twice.  What?







There is a house update coming.  A good one.  Standby.

Saturday night after a dirty diaper I let a pretty bad diaper rash air out.  Only she ate sand that day.  And so.  From the kitchen.  A trail.  Of poop.  That no one noticed until she crawled all the way into the bedroom.  The apartment is not that big.  So. How was your Saturday night?  Shitty? 

I pretty regularly look at my husband and think, 'damn, I did good'.  Thought you should know.

I've got nothing else.  But big house update this week.  Maybe even tomorrow.  And I'm pretty sure you'll find me over at Poop Whisperer talking at boobs or poop or both.  So you have that to look forward to.

The Best part?  The poop on the carpet cause it's a rental.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

TPM Photo Challenge

I have never done this.  I don't enter giveaways for homemade necklaces or onesies.  But I quite enjoy  The Paper Mama and totally dig her blog and her pictures and her style.  And what with my new photography adventure bound to start sometime, here goes nothing.  I thought I'd jump on her bandwagon cause I think it's a ride I will enjoy.  And learn from.  And some other bloggers I really like do this a lot.  So.

Eyes.  The challenge is eyes.  Please ignore the cracker in her hair.  The challenge isn't hair, it's eyes.




The Paper Mama


So. That was fun.  No?

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

True story.

Catch up on the post below before you read this one.

It just got better.

We sent our cancellation.

The listing agent on the house called our realtor and suggested that if were already bringing 20% to the table, why couldn't we just bring the difference between the appraised cost and sale price? Um. Clearly you don't understand. We are not paying more than the appraised price.

She was also upset because they felt like we were only giving them one option. Um. We are. Sell it to us for the appraised price or we walk. One option.

Then. She suggested if we didn't have the cash that we could just ask our parents for the money. I'm sorry. What? I swear I would punch this woman in her delusional face if she was in front of me.

This house has gone from good, to questionable, to bad, to toxic and we are done.

She's a bitch.

*disclaimer: if you are tired of reading about the house drama surrounding our move, move on. Nothing but ridiculous drama below. Venting and drama.*

I believe in karma. I believe things happen for a reason. As my friend Tracey put it, I want to punch people when they say that but it's true. Things happen for a reason.

Here's the deal. We bought a house. A good house in a neighborhood we love. Love. I am already in playgroups and have a school picked out and we are going to a luau at the end of the month. Or I was and we were.

The house appraised lower than the purchase price. Now. Before I go on let me remind you, we now live in Florida. And if you know one iota about the housing market, Florida is bad. Really bad. A 'buyers' market. We thought.

So. Appraisal comes in lower than purchase price. Ok. Well, that's not our fault, it is what it is. We asked the sellers to lower the purchase price to the appraised value and we can move on. They said no. They keep saying no. They want to spend two weeks we don't have fighting the appraisal. Let me give you the figures on that. Our lender says in the last two months, he has had 20 appraisals appealed. ZERO appraisals have been amended aft the two to three week appeal process.

So. Its two to three weeks we don't have first of all. Second of all, please remind me why in the hell I would ask to pay more for this house? Third of all, I am sorry that you paid so much for this house and are going to lose money. It's not my problem.

A little history on these mystery cheap-o's. They are both surgeons. Like as in DOCTORS. They are getting divorced and hate each other and this is likely the last asset they have together. Who in their right mind wouldn't suck it up, write a check and move on with their life? I do not understand. At all. And to be clear, the house didn't appraise for 100k less than we were going to pay. It's not that much less, especially for a surgeon. But you won't find us opening our checkbooks and paying more than a house is worth. Find some other suckers.

So. At noon today our cancellation contract goes into effect. And we move on. I am sad about the neighborhood and the house. And about having to go back to house hunting. We are looking at renting too. We only have a matter of weeks to get out of this apartment and move on with our real life.

So. There you go. We will walk away. They will put the house back on the market for another six months and easily spend in mortgage payments the difference between the appraised value and the sale price.

Seems like a no brainer to me.

So there you have it. The drama and ridiculousness of it all.

Maybe the third time will be the charm.

The Best part? Karma is a bitch. And they are going to learn that the hard way.


Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Observations and Revelations in brief

I have decided to work on my posture. So if you see me, remind me.

I am done nursing. Or close to done. 9 1/2 months of only breast milk for my Peanut. Impressive if I don't say so myself. There's a major post coming on the nursing stoppage. But I am pretty sure I should get a medal or a party or something for making it this long.

These two above are not related or weren't related at the onset but better posture may help undo damage done by gravity and my children. Or at least create an optical illusion. Sigh.

The apartment complex where our corporate housing is sent out a memo telling residents when they re-sign their leases they will be cheek swabbing dogs to take a DNA sample. Yep. To determine who doesn't pick up their dog shit. Pretty sure if I actually lived here I might think rent was a bit high if there's money to catch non-poop scoopers via DNA samples.

We upgraded our cellphones. Joined this decade. Got droids. That little gremlin looking thing creeps me out.

I sat down on the couch on Friday and exclaimed,'Mama is pooped!' to which Cannon responded, 'Mommy you need to go to the potty!'.

Summer tv is killing me.

Oh and the house could fall through. Again. If it does you will hear my breakdown from wherever you are. I am looking at you my reader in Russia.

All everyone talks about is how we moved to Florida at the worst time. About how it's so hot. Here's the thing. I don't think it's that hot. And it's hot everywhere right now. Anyone looked at the weather map of Texas lately???

The Best part? 9 1/2 months. I will be awaiting my medal.





Monday, August 8, 2011

Ho Ho Holy crap...

To say that we are all being tested would be accurate.  Our family dynamic is interupted by this state of flux we are living in.  And that's ok because challenges are good for us.  They keep us on our toes.  Keep our brains working.  Livers too.

He's almost 3.  His life is upside down too.  He has no toys.  No where to play.  No space to call his own.  No friends to speak of.  No school to go to.  No regularity to anything.  In our world that equals chaos.  It means tantrums, listening to Mommy and Daddy a lot less, and generally just more time outs and frustrations.  What doesn't kill us... Anyway.

This weekend we were leaving the mall.  All four of us.  I had the double jogger with the baby in it.  And carry out from California Pizza Kitchen (oh and we don't eat here on the weekends, or weekdays really for that matter).  Daddy had the almost 3 year old and a bag.  Cannon didn't want to leave the mall and in his declartory new voice he was letting us know it.  We got outside into a very busy parking lot and he took off.  In a parking lot.

I am screaming his name.  All three names (and not just cause his middle name is super cool).  We are chasing him.  It is not pretty.  Finally got a hold of him and spanked him (for putting himself in danger, first time I've done that... post over here on the spanking issue). 

This is where it got interesting.

Out of nowhere comes this guy.  He looks homeless.  Or maybe just drunk.  Dirty, long fingernails.  Yellow teeth.  An odd buttondown one piece outfit.  And a white beard down to his belly button.  Yep.

He says, 'does he know who I am?' scaring the shit out of me.   Um.  Yes. He knows who you are and I will kick your ass if you try anything scary old, homeless, Santa looking creepo.  But as creepy as he was, his lecture about watching him, making sure he's being nice and not naughty, and a reminder that Christmas is coming, was a welcome gesture.  And perhaps, Santa got the message across better than I did in my scared, angry state.

So thanks summertime mall Santa.  For helping calm us all down.  And for using your gross long beard for good.  The A-Team of Santas will thank you come holiday time.

The Best part?  Santa's summertime suit.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Ssssss.

Eat out. Go for a walk. Grocery shop. Shop for clothes. Shop for appliances. Get my oil changed. Have a conversation. Watch mindless television. Talk on the phone. Send an email. Go to the bathroom.

These are all things I would like to do without my children. But since we are living in 43 square feet (not to be dramatic about it) we all do everything together all the time. Especially the bathroom thing.

When I go to pee it's like a damn parade. First comes the dog who has taken to following me everywhere. I am not sure why, I am pretty sure he knows I don't really like him a lot right now (cause he's a pain in my ass) so why he needs to be at my feet every waking second of every day is beyond me. Oh and PS he's not a lapdog. He weighs 70 pounds. Then comes the toddler. He comes in and says, 'Mom, what you doing?'. I respond. He asks me where my penis is and I am usually saved from answering by the baby who comes ferociously crawling in the door and heads straight for the trashcan full of dirty diapers, q-tips, and whatever else. And bathroom break over.

Well. What's cool is that the same thing goes for Daddy when he is home. Only the toddler wants to pee with him. At the same time. Obviously not something we can do with Mommy, what with my lack of penis and all. So. Daddy comes home, walks to the bathroom and is followed by aforementioned parade of characters. Only this parade has a half naked toddler.

Even though it was Daddy's birthday last night, the scene was the same. Enter Daddy. "Happy birthday Daddy! Me go pee with you?" "Thanks buddy! Sure, come on! Let's go pee!"

Last night was a bit different though. While the boys were peeing. The toddler grabbed Daddy's unit/ penis/ business/ whatever you want to call it and said 'snake!'. Of course he did.

I am sure there is a lesson in here somewhere. About your private parts being private. Or keeping your hands and feet and other objects to yourself. I was too busy laughing. Plus, it wasn't my penis he grabbed. Just saying.

So. For your 33 birthday my love, you got an ego boost. And a penis grab. Here's to you. We love you. Don't say you never got anything nice.

The Best part? Daddy's face when he came out of the potty.

Surface of the sun

You can find me over here today cause now that I live on the surface of the sun, I am a sunscreen expert.

Check it.

Back later.

Monday, August 1, 2011

oh hey. we have a house. again.

Hope you don't think I'm not excited.  I am beaming with excitement. I promise.  But.  We've been through this before. Like two weeks ago.  Remember?  So. Forgive me if I'm not writing in all caps.  Once burned. 

But. We are in the inspection phase of our new house and so far so good.  I mean, no termites.  That's a plus, right?  So.  Here she is.


No pictures of the inside to share. I mean I have them but it's staged horribly and do I know you?  Anyway.  We are scheduled to close on the 30th at the latest.  Which is good because I think the people upstairs are actually trying to kill me.  I am pretty sure they have nightly 'dance dance revolution' tournaments and I know the rearrange furniture hourly.  Serious.  Hourly.  Doesn't bother the kids.  It's me they are trying to kill.

So. We wait on the plumber, and the roofer, and the floor guy, to make sure we aren't buying a money pit and in the meantime I emailed the mom out of the neighorhood magazine (yep, neighborhood magazine) about play groups.  Know what she told me?  That our section of the neighborhood does monthly 'flamingo mingles' (I can totally get into that) and that there's a luau at the end of August that she is bringing us to so we can meet everyone.  Oh and that there are kids at every house.  I mean.  I cried.  Just a little bit.  But I am dying for a sense of community.  For friends and wine on a back porch.  For my wine glasses.  And my furniture.  And some toys.  Blah blah.

I will make you a deal.  From now until we close I will only complain about the apartment once a week.  Promise. 

Happy Monday friends.  Off to walk the dog down three flights of stairs so he can pee.  Please don't poop... please don't poop...

The Best part?  It's more wonderful than the first house.