I'M GOING TO ITALY!!!
Yes, it's true.
Off and on over the years my mom has watched my kids as I've gone out of town for different things. She's made me promise that when my youngest kid was in school all day that I'd go on a trip with her. Well, he's in 1st grade and we are going on a trip to Italy for 8 days. (10 if you count travel time.) I've never been on an actual organized tour like this before. It is a relief to have someone else worry about all the logistics. A big relief, actually. Especially for a country where I don't speak the language AT ALL, except for a couple of words. (Last time I was there I kept accidentally saying "gracias" instead of "grazie". (I actually don't speak Spanish either.)
We leave in about 2 weeks. I am so excited!
My mom and I are quite opposite in a lot of ways so it should be "interesting". I'm sure I'll have lots to talk about (vent) when I get back. She most likely will too, but since she doesn't have a blog, or even a computer for that matter, I can write whatever I want for now.
Here's a little taste of what I'll be dealing with. We went to the meeting for our tour group last night. One of the tour guides is Keri Evans, the wife of Richard Paul Evans, and it was at her house (which is VERY beautiful, I loved it). The other guide is Alicia Richmond from Chic on a Shoestring and Good Things Utah. I've already warned Keri about my mom's freakish obsession. Every little town they talked about that we are going to, my mom kept asking "Is that one of the towns they filmed New Moon in?"
Yes, I can now say "embarrassing" in both English AND Italian.
(Keri isn't much of a Twilight fan either. I'm not sure about Alicia. I think you know by now how I feel about the whole thing.)
Oh, here's another funny, somewhat related story:
Years ago my brother was married to a fun, though somewhat "blond" girl who was a travel agent. I loved having her as a sister-in-law and was quite sad when they divorced, though they did not seem to be the best match for each other.
One day she was booking a trip to France for some women. The front of the brochure had "Oui, oui, oui!" printed all over it. My sister-in-law, who didn't know a bit of French, was reading the brochure to the women. She looked at the front and said, "Oooo-eeeee, oooo-eeee, oooo-eeee. I don't know why that's there, just ignore that part."
I don't think I'll ever let her live that down!
We actually traveled to London and Paris together (which we tried to keep a secret from my brother because they were divorced by then) and had a ball. (We also took her roommate, and I can tell you very definitely that it's easier to travel as two people than with three.)
I was the designated translator in Paris and did pretty well. My proudest moment was when I asked a policeman for directions and he actually understood what I was asking with no problems and I also actually understood what he told us to do and got us to the Metro station safely.
We did have a scary moment on one of the RER trains with a creepy guy about our age who was doing things he shouldn't have been doing to himself and trying to get us to look by hitting our legs with his knee. Ick. I thought he kept accidentally bumping into me so I didn't even look at him because I didn't want to embarrass him. Luckily right at the time we realized what was going on, I jumped up and said that we were on the wrong train so we got off as quickly as we could. One of the girls said "That was quick thinking." And I said. "We really were on the wrong train."
Another fun thing was meeting a Chinese guy at Versailles. Since we didn't know Chinese and he didn't know English, he and I conversed back and forth in French. It was kind of surreal. (I LOVED Versailles. I need to go back with Hal someday. He would just love the gardens.)
One of these days I need to dig out the old photos from that trip. That's when I saw Winged Victory, and for the first time understood how people can feel so emotional about beautiful art.
Okay, so what does any of that have to do with my trip to Italy? Not much, but here's the small similarity:
Yesterday, in the car on the way to the meeting for our trip, my mom was reading the welcome letter that they sent us with our itinerary, etc. As she was reading, she kept saying "See-o."
"See-o?" I started asking. "What are you talking about?"
Finally I realized that she meant "Ciao." She had never seen it in print before. After I corrected her she said she hadn't realized it was Italian.
"Um, yeah mom. It is."
The End
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
An Un-Quotable Quote
I took the kids to the fair last month. The weather was not as hot as it usually is in August, it was really mild. I kept telling the kids that in all the years I've gone to the fair - and there are a lot of them, I don't remember any other day that nice.
They each rode a ride and we shared "fair food", including the Texas Tornado drink that cost $6.00 and was mostly ice and fruit rinds, but still tasted really good.
Anyway, Hal is not much of a fan of the fair, or more accurately some of the people who go to the fair. (To be honest, I am more amused than disgusted. I like to watch people, but only if I'm pretty sure they don't know I'm observing them.)
Morgan, in the spirit of the fair, was wearing her new bright yellow Sponge Bob t-shirt that says "Nerd is the Word" (we got it on clearance for $4.00). I'm not a Sponge Bob fan - to be fair, I've never actually sat down and watched an episode of it, so maybe I shouldn't judge something I've never seen.
Anyway, Hal called my phone to see where we were. We were in the big grassy area where they were selling food. He was across the way and immediately spotted Morgan in her bright yellow t-shirt. She had answered the phone because I was busy buying a funnel cake for us to share. Morgan started to laugh, so when she hung up I asked her what was so funny. She said he had said, "Oh there you are, I can see you over there in your white trash t-shirt." We had to try and explain to Austin what this meant, because he got pretty upset.
Apparently we didn't do a good job explaining. That night when I tucked Austin in I asked him what the best part of his day was. I can't remember what he said, but he said the worst part of his day was "when dad called Morgan a white trash can".
They each rode a ride and we shared "fair food", including the Texas Tornado drink that cost $6.00 and was mostly ice and fruit rinds, but still tasted really good.
Anyway, Hal is not much of a fan of the fair, or more accurately some of the people who go to the fair. (To be honest, I am more amused than disgusted. I like to watch people, but only if I'm pretty sure they don't know I'm observing them.)
Morgan, in the spirit of the fair, was wearing her new bright yellow Sponge Bob t-shirt that says "Nerd is the Word" (we got it on clearance for $4.00). I'm not a Sponge Bob fan - to be fair, I've never actually sat down and watched an episode of it, so maybe I shouldn't judge something I've never seen.
Anyway, Hal called my phone to see where we were. We were in the big grassy area where they were selling food. He was across the way and immediately spotted Morgan in her bright yellow t-shirt. She had answered the phone because I was busy buying a funnel cake for us to share. Morgan started to laugh, so when she hung up I asked her what was so funny. She said he had said, "Oh there you are, I can see you over there in your white trash t-shirt." We had to try and explain to Austin what this meant, because he got pretty upset.
Apparently we didn't do a good job explaining. That night when I tucked Austin in I asked him what the best part of his day was. I can't remember what he said, but he said the worst part of his day was "when dad called Morgan a white trash can".
An Unfortunate Food Incident (or two)
One night, when Hal was going to school in Texas, I came home from a LONG day at work. It was about a half hour drive from my work and Hal's school (Baylor University) to our house. All I wanted was a little comfort food.
Of course we were too poor to eat out, so I spent a LONG night in the kitchen making a most delicious lasagna (my favorite). We ate a little of it and I went to bed exhausted.
All night I kept thinking of having lasagna for breakfast, and all the other days of really yummy leftovers.
The next morning I woke up and realized I had left the whole pan of lasagna out on the counter overnight. I can still remember how distraught I felt. I kept thinking of all the ways I could save it, but with meat in it I knew it just wasn't safe.
It just killed me to throw it away!
I have the tendency to get food poisoning even if something is "probably" safe.
(It's happened quite a bit at my mother-in-law's. Once when I was pregnant we had hamburgers there. I saw her grab the buns when she still had raw meat on her hands from forming the patties out of raw ground beef. I skipped the burgers and STILL ended up with food poisoning. Hal had to pull the car over on the way home so I could throw up. Not fun.)
Of course we were too poor to eat out, so I spent a LONG night in the kitchen making a most delicious lasagna (my favorite). We ate a little of it and I went to bed exhausted.
All night I kept thinking of having lasagna for breakfast, and all the other days of really yummy leftovers.
The next morning I woke up and realized I had left the whole pan of lasagna out on the counter overnight. I can still remember how distraught I felt. I kept thinking of all the ways I could save it, but with meat in it I knew it just wasn't safe.
It just killed me to throw it away!
I have the tendency to get food poisoning even if something is "probably" safe.
(It's happened quite a bit at my mother-in-law's. Once when I was pregnant we had hamburgers there. I saw her grab the buns when she still had raw meat on her hands from forming the patties out of raw ground beef. I skipped the burgers and STILL ended up with food poisoning. Hal had to pull the car over on the way home so I could throw up. Not fun.)
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Facebook Photos
I'm lucky to have the one decent profile pic that I do have. I think the reason I don't like most pictures of me is because of my hair. Morgan says I am obsessed with hair. (Just because she was telling me about her hurt toe and I absent mindedly cut in with a "Do you think I should change my bangs?", doesn't exactly mean I'm obsessed. Maybe just a little sidetracked. Once I get the hair under control I'll quit thinking about it. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened since 2005. And, unfortunately again, we don't have many photos to document my good hair days.)
Somewhere I saw an interview with the people who started facebook. One thing they said that they thought was interesting is that people always put on the most flattering shot ever taken of them for their profile picture, whether it was recent or a "few" years old. Um..... GUILTY. My photo is from when my son was two and he will start 1st grade this month. And, to be honest, I don't think I ever really did look like that in real life. I keep trying though..... I told Morgan they need save that photo to use for my obituary. (I did think it was pretty amusing hear that in the interview though. I'm happy to hear I'm not the only one who has a picture that is a few years old, and with good reason.)
Really though, wouldn't you rather have people meet you in real life and have them say, "You look so much better in person than you do in your photo."? I'm always afraid people are going away, after seeing me, thinking, "Boy, she looks a lot better in the photo. Not so good in person. She must have been PhotoShopped." So, maybe the strategy should be to post a bad (or at least not real good) photo of yourself so people are pleasantly surprised when they see you at the grocery store on a Saturday with no makeup on and you still look better than your profile picture.
Maybe it's time to stretch myself a little bit and move out of the comfort zone of my familiar facebook photo after all. As soon as I can find my darn camera or get my family to a portrait studio (or a neighbor with a camera phone) I may have to get brave and post an updated photo. I will. Really, I will.
Just as soon as I can grow out this poodle perm. (It's a long story. Some day I may be able to tell it without crying.)
P. S. Now might be a good time to reveal my secret identity. It's another photo from a few years ago, but it might explain a lot:
That's right, folks. Before my son was born, I used to be a Smurf.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Things I Say Far Too Often These Days
To the almost sixteen year old:
"Brake! Brake!"
"You are the only one who gets my humor around here."
"If you don't want to go to college it's okay with me. You can live with us forever." (She just got a 5 on the A.P. European History test. I'm not proud or anything....)
To the almost 13 - going on 18, year old:
"Get off the phone!"
"Get off the computer!"
"Did you make your bed yet?"
To the almost 6 year old:
"Did you make your bed yet?"
"Aim! Aim!"
"You really do need to take a bath today."
I would really like to retire most of these statements.
"Brake! Brake!"
"You are the only one who gets my humor around here."
"If you don't want to go to college it's okay with me. You can live with us forever." (She just got a 5 on the A.P. European History test. I'm not proud or anything....)
To the almost 13 - going on 18, year old:
"Get off the phone!"
"Get off the computer!"
"Did you make your bed yet?"
To the almost 6 year old:
"Did you make your bed yet?"
"Aim! Aim!"
"You really do need to take a bath today."
I would really like to retire most of these statements.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Things Are Not Always As They Seem, Part 2
This is not a continuation from the last installment but another episode that happened to me the other day.
Hal bought some ice cream the other night and Ally, as usual, has worked her way through it pretty handily. Morgan was especially bummed that Ally had eaten most of the chocolate chip ice cream before Morgan had even realize that we had chocolate chip ice cream.
Anyway, the other day I walked to our old house to check my e-mail and get phone messages. I was pretty ticked off because there was lots of chocolate chip ice cream all over the countertop by the computer. First of all, I was mad because that meant that Ally had dished it up at our new house and then walked over to the old house to eat it. Second, I was ticked off because she didn’t have the decency to clean it up off the counter and hide the evidence.
Of course, I hate to let some good chocolate go to waste, so I was about to lick it off the counter when something stopped me. I might have been thinking of the fact that I hadn’t cleaned that countertop myself in well over a week. Also, it did look kind of funny. Plus, I didn’t know how long it had been there. It kind of looked like bird poop, though it was smaller than any bird droppings I’d ever seen. Also, I hadn’t eaten anything else yet that day, even though it was probably well after ten o’clock. If I eat sweet things, especially chocolate, on an empty stomach it’s an instant migraine for me and my blood sugar goes nuts. And last, but not least, I did think that it would be stooping to an all new low to be licking someone else’s leftovers off of the countertop, even if it were clean to begin with. So, no matter what the reason, I didn’t lick it off.
I went upstairs to get the vacuum to take to the other house and when I came down there was a strange dark shadow on the dining room fan.
Upon further inspection I realize that it was a BIRD, right there inside my house. It was one of those really pretty yellow, red and black Western (something or other, I can’t remember the name) birds that are here in the valley right now, but are usually up in the mountains but it has been too cold this year. I have no idea how long it had been in there but I’m sure with all the moving and doors being left open for hours at a time it could have been there for a while, maybe even days.
All of a sudden it dawned on me that it wasn’t chocolate chip ice cream on the countertop. I am SO GLAD I didn’t lick off that countertop. (I was just thinking of the “ick” factor. My dad later reminded me that I could have gotten salmonella or some other disgusing side effect from the bird droppings.)
So anyway, I opened the back door and luckily I knew exactly where a butterfly net was. I went out and got it and tried to gently guide the bird out the door. He flew all around the room, leaving still more evidence to prove that it was indeed NOT chocolate chip ice cream that was on my countertop.
I was finally able to get him out and all was right with the world again for a little bit.
Later that day I was in the house and a bird with a red head was sitting on the outside of one of our big living room windows tapping with his beak, as if he wanted to get in. (Hal later said he saw the same thing happen.) I have no idea if it was the same bird or not, but maybe he told all his friends about how much fun he had making himself at home.
This next story is not really related, though kind of the same idea:
I finally made it to get groceries this afternoon. Grocery shopping is always a nightmare, especially if you need EVERYTHING, plus in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when everyone else seems to be there. Yeah, not my idea of fun.
When I got home Hal and a bunch of our neighbors, ward members, and assorted nieces, nephews and Hal’s brother had all shown up to help move the big pavilion from our old back yard to the new one. I ran out to help and then a couple of hours later I realized that I hadn’t put away one of the big containers of yogurt. I wanted to put it in the front of the other one so it would get eaten up first.
Somehow in the process of juggling both yogurts and various other containers I dropped one of the yogurts and it splatted on the floor and basically exploded.
It just made me sick to see that whole container of yogurt wasted so I grabbed a spoon and started eating the top layer, being careful not to scrape all the way to the floor. (Because at this point, my kitchen floor is NOT fit to eat off of.)
Hal walked in as I was crouched on the floor eating the yogurt off of it. I assured him that yes, I had sunk to a new low and that he was witnessing it. I also told him to just go about his business forget that he had seen anything. He complied and just walked right back out. I’m sure it’s not the craziest thing I’ve done in the last few weeks, not to mention the last 20 years of our lives together.
Oh yes, one more story.
The girls and I came home tonight from cleaning the old house and our new house smelled really strongly of gas. I ran to the stove and one of the burners was set on “light”. (I’ve never had a gas stove before, I’ve always been kind of afraid of them. This is one of the reasons why.)
I had the girls hurry and open all the windows and then we got the heck out of there. Someone must have been leaning against the stove and accidently turned the knob just enough to put it in that position. We had been over at the other house for at least two hours so it had been on for at least that long. Also, it could have been any one of the 25 people who came over today to move the pavilion in the back yard.
It would have kind of ruined my day if we would have blown up our new house, after all the hard work we have put into it.
Have you missed hearing about our exciting lives here?
I’ve missed writing about it.
The End.
Edited to add: A bird flew into our new house the other day too. Austin and his friend left the back door open and a bird flew into our dining room. We had to trap it in a laundry basket to get it out. The girls say it's because I have ceramic birds all over the house.
Hal bought some ice cream the other night and Ally, as usual, has worked her way through it pretty handily. Morgan was especially bummed that Ally had eaten most of the chocolate chip ice cream before Morgan had even realize that we had chocolate chip ice cream.
Anyway, the other day I walked to our old house to check my e-mail and get phone messages. I was pretty ticked off because there was lots of chocolate chip ice cream all over the countertop by the computer. First of all, I was mad because that meant that Ally had dished it up at our new house and then walked over to the old house to eat it. Second, I was ticked off because she didn’t have the decency to clean it up off the counter and hide the evidence.
Of course, I hate to let some good chocolate go to waste, so I was about to lick it off the counter when something stopped me. I might have been thinking of the fact that I hadn’t cleaned that countertop myself in well over a week. Also, it did look kind of funny. Plus, I didn’t know how long it had been there. It kind of looked like bird poop, though it was smaller than any bird droppings I’d ever seen. Also, I hadn’t eaten anything else yet that day, even though it was probably well after ten o’clock. If I eat sweet things, especially chocolate, on an empty stomach it’s an instant migraine for me and my blood sugar goes nuts. And last, but not least, I did think that it would be stooping to an all new low to be licking someone else’s leftovers off of the countertop, even if it were clean to begin with. So, no matter what the reason, I didn’t lick it off.
I went upstairs to get the vacuum to take to the other house and when I came down there was a strange dark shadow on the dining room fan.
Upon further inspection I realize that it was a BIRD, right there inside my house. It was one of those really pretty yellow, red and black Western (something or other, I can’t remember the name) birds that are here in the valley right now, but are usually up in the mountains but it has been too cold this year. I have no idea how long it had been in there but I’m sure with all the moving and doors being left open for hours at a time it could have been there for a while, maybe even days.
All of a sudden it dawned on me that it wasn’t chocolate chip ice cream on the countertop. I am SO GLAD I didn’t lick off that countertop. (I was just thinking of the “ick” factor. My dad later reminded me that I could have gotten salmonella or some other disgusing side effect from the bird droppings.)
So anyway, I opened the back door and luckily I knew exactly where a butterfly net was. I went out and got it and tried to gently guide the bird out the door. He flew all around the room, leaving still more evidence to prove that it was indeed NOT chocolate chip ice cream that was on my countertop.
I was finally able to get him out and all was right with the world again for a little bit.
Later that day I was in the house and a bird with a red head was sitting on the outside of one of our big living room windows tapping with his beak, as if he wanted to get in. (Hal later said he saw the same thing happen.) I have no idea if it was the same bird or not, but maybe he told all his friends about how much fun he had making himself at home.
This next story is not really related, though kind of the same idea:
I finally made it to get groceries this afternoon. Grocery shopping is always a nightmare, especially if you need EVERYTHING, plus in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when everyone else seems to be there. Yeah, not my idea of fun.
When I got home Hal and a bunch of our neighbors, ward members, and assorted nieces, nephews and Hal’s brother had all shown up to help move the big pavilion from our old back yard to the new one. I ran out to help and then a couple of hours later I realized that I hadn’t put away one of the big containers of yogurt. I wanted to put it in the front of the other one so it would get eaten up first.
Somehow in the process of juggling both yogurts and various other containers I dropped one of the yogurts and it splatted on the floor and basically exploded.
It just made me sick to see that whole container of yogurt wasted so I grabbed a spoon and started eating the top layer, being careful not to scrape all the way to the floor. (Because at this point, my kitchen floor is NOT fit to eat off of.)
Hal walked in as I was crouched on the floor eating the yogurt off of it. I assured him that yes, I had sunk to a new low and that he was witnessing it. I also told him to just go about his business forget that he had seen anything. He complied and just walked right back out. I’m sure it’s not the craziest thing I’ve done in the last few weeks, not to mention the last 20 years of our lives together.
Oh yes, one more story.
The girls and I came home tonight from cleaning the old house and our new house smelled really strongly of gas. I ran to the stove and one of the burners was set on “light”. (I’ve never had a gas stove before, I’ve always been kind of afraid of them. This is one of the reasons why.)
I had the girls hurry and open all the windows and then we got the heck out of there. Someone must have been leaning against the stove and accidently turned the knob just enough to put it in that position. We had been over at the other house for at least two hours so it had been on for at least that long. Also, it could have been any one of the 25 people who came over today to move the pavilion in the back yard.
It would have kind of ruined my day if we would have blown up our new house, after all the hard work we have put into it.
Have you missed hearing about our exciting lives here?
I’ve missed writing about it.
The End.
Edited to add: A bird flew into our new house the other day too. Austin and his friend left the back door open and a bird flew into our dining room. We had to trap it in a laundry basket to get it out. The girls say it's because I have ceramic birds all over the house.
Things That Are Stressful:
Here are a few things, off the top of my head, and in no particular order, that are stressful:
Buying a house: stressful.
Finding out some of the appliances in your new house don’t work: stressful.
Finding out the hinges on most of the cupboard doors are broken in your new house: stressful.
Selling a house: stressful.
Fixing up a house to sell: stressful.
Getting all the new carpet, air conditioning, tile, etc. (that you always wanted while you actually lived there) put in before you sell the house: stressful and some other adjective that I can’t think of right now.
Remodeling a whole house before you move in: stressful (and smart, I think).
Picking out new paint, moldings, fixtures, hardware, carpet, tile, etc. within a few days: sounds fun, but in reality is pretty stressful.
Putting together light fixtures that were made in China and don’t have the holes drilled in the right place: annoying and stressful.
Packing: stressful.
Moving: stressful.
Having two different doctor appointments for two different kids scheduled for moving day: stressful.
Having the doors open so much from moving that the kids now forget to close them on a regular basis: stressful.
Flies as a result of the doors not being closed on a regular basis: stressful.
Having birds fly into your house: stressful and messy.
Having other people help move your stuff: stressful.
Having everything arranged in your new house and going back to the old one and realizing that you still have over half your stuff there and nowhere to put it: stressful.
Carrying two mortgages: very stressful.
Carrying two mortgages while paying for remodeling and a new washer and dryer (and water softener, which is very necessary here): extremely stressful.
Running out of money, so needing to keep the dark teal kitchen countertop with a white racing stripe and pink laundry room countertop: stressful.
Arguing with the painter about what color to paint your kitchen because the color you have your heart set on clashes quite terribly with your dark teal kitchen countertop with the white racing stripe: stressful.
Driving to your old house to do laundry every day because your new washer and dryer won’t be in for two weeks: stressful.
Showing a house where your cat still lives to people who are allergic to cats: stressful.
Trying to move your cat to a house around the corner: stressful.
Taking care of two yards: stressful.
Picking a phone company: stressful.
Picking an internet provider: stressful.
Picking a t.v. service provider: stressful.
Deciding to bundle: not so stressful.
Deciding who to bundle with: stressful.
Having people come and go to and from both houses at all hours of the day and night: stressful.
Not knowing when to take a shower because you never know when someone will show up: stressful.
Waiting a long time for people to show up (or sometimes not show up): stressful.
Needing to get a pedicure (though I haven’t had a real one in over two years), and not having time: stressful.
Needing to get a haircut and not having time: stressful.
Needing to get a life and not having time: stressful.
Not having a regular routine for meals, etc.: stressful.
Having a husband who works long hours that vary from day to day: stressful.
Having a husband who is on the phone 24/7 so I can’t have an uninterrupted conversation with him: stressful.
Having a husband who is caring for our two yards AND his mom’s yard that is 30 miles away (each one over ½ acre): stressful.
Having a husband who is bishop, while doing all of the above: stressful.
Having a husband who is doing all of the above, when you are trying to remodel a house and need his input to help make some of the decisions: stressful.
Teaching a 15 year old daughter to drive: stressful.
Teaching a 15 year old daughter to drive in a car you really like, that is your first new car in over 15 years: very stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who doesn’t like to work: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who acts extremely unpleasant when you are trying to get her to work: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who thinks she’s 18 and should have all the freedom in the world: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who thinks you’re an idiot, and so do her friends: stressful.
Leaving your 12 year old daughter and her 11 year old cousin “in charge” while you take your 15 year old daughter out driving and coming home to find every breakable cup in your house in the back yard full of milk, peanut butter, granola bars and unidentified “potions”, also finding out they had made a volcano and “goop” while you were gone, using all your vinegar, baking soda and cornstarch: stressful.
Having a five year old son who has run wild and basically been an orphan for the last five weeks, so he now thinks it’s normal: stressful.
Having a five year old son who hasn’t taken a bath in over three of those last five weeks: stinky.
Being the designated driver for all your childrens' friends: stressful (where ARE their parents?).
Not eating well because you are too busy: stressful.
Going to the store to buy food, but forgetting to buy actual food and instead come home with more items to decorate your new home: stressful.
Not sleeping well because you are up all night, itching, because you are allergic to something in either your new house or yard: stressful.
Not being able to sleep in the next morning because workers need to show up early to finish up some work: stressful.
Waiting for carpet to be delivered for 3 extra weeks, when everything else is ready for you to move in: stressful.
Having your carpet finally delivered and installed in the pouring rain: stressful and soggy.
Having workers in your home while you are trying to put stuff away: stressful.
Waiting for workers show up when you need to go do other things and run errands (like buy food): stressful.
Still not being able to take a shower because you never know when a worker might drop by to finish something: stressful.
Having your child in summer Driver’s Ed. the week you are trying to move and having to drop everything twice a day to drop her off and pick her up: stressful.
Having your child in the Nibley City play the week you are trying to move: stressful.
Pulling your child out of the Nibley City play because you are too busy and the time conflicts with your other child’s summer Driver’s Ed. Then feeling guilty because they don’t have enough help so you say you will still help, so they give you 12 Indian costumes to unfray the fringe on, which take over 2 hours each: stressful.
Bribing your mom (by mowing her lawn) to help unfray the fringe on Indian costumes while she watches t.v.: brilliant (she had them done in two days, I was done in two hours.).
Also agreeing to help do the Nibley City play blog, even though my child is still not in the play: stressful.
Feeling guilty that I haven’t helped more and am letting people down: stressful.
Having people show up to “help you move” that bring lots of little kids: stressful.
Having people drop in to see your new house, when you still have a million boxes lying around to unpack: stressful.
Showing your neighbor the big drawer for dirty laundry and then realizing your underwear is right on top: embarrassing and stressful.
Having people try to help you unpack: stressful.
Moving a pool table from one basement to another, almost killing my husband in the process: stressful. (I was standing at the bottom of the stairs watching it head down and about crush him. I was literally weighing my options of whether I should jump in to help, with the possibility of having it kill both of us, making my children orphans in the process, or if I should stay away, thus ensuring them at least one parent. As you can tell, I’m still around, though I did talk encouragingly to him from a safe distance.)
Moving a 2000 pound structure from one back yard to another with about 25 people to help: stressful, but satisfying.
Freaking out in front of my neighbor when the girls told me that Hal had told a lady she could come see our old house in one hour, when we had just started moving out and it was a wreck: stressful.
Feeling like you now “owe” at least 100 people who have helped you in one way or another over the last few weeks; moving our things, feeding us, etc: stressful and grateful.
Feeling like I should apologize to at least half of those people for my behavior: stressful.
Helpful people moving our piano, not waiting for Hal to get there to supervise, and having it get lots of scrapes on it and the walls and chips broken out of it in the process: stressful and sad.
Still needing to move our entertainment center that I really like: stressful.
Really needing to go to bed, but feeling like I really want to catch up the blog: stressful.
Still trying to keep our other house presentable to show during all this chaos: stressful.
Deciding which realtor to go with once we list the house when we get our new carpet in: stressful.
Realizing we have ticked off ALL our realtor friends/relatives/neighbors who have come to give us a sales pitch, that we will not hire: stressful.
Dealing with any realtors at all: stressful (no offense intended to anyone who may be a realtor, it just has been really stressful).
Wanting to go to the home show this week and not having time: stressful.
Leaving my five year old with a neighbor, unsupervised (I thought there was an adult there), and finding out that they have gotten into the Otter Pops and gotten the entire kitchen and the new living room carpet sticky: stressful.
Hiding the box of Otter Pops and having my 5 year old and his little friend find the box in the garage and drinking the liquid out of the entire box of Otter Pops: stressful and disgusting.
Realizing that I have a good enough reason to never buy Otter Pops again: liberating.
Waking up on Father’s Day and realizing I’ve forgotten to do anything for either my husband or my father: stressful.
Sluffing Sunday School to just sit down by myself for a few minutes to do nothing: honestly, very relaxing.
Trying to scare up a nice Father’s Day meal and realizing that I still don’t have anything in the house to fix a decent meal with: stressful.
Trying to decide which is worse, making your child wash off the Harry Potter scar tattoo so he can go to church or letting him show up at church with the tattoo and making your husband (the bishop) unhappy: stressful.
Having my son's speech therapist finally call to make a summer appointment and having her insist on the one time my daughter is scheduled to have some suspicious moles removed (I've had melanoma): stressful.
Trying to reschedule, but the phone is here and the calendar is there: stressful.
Driving back and forth for to do laundry because we live in one house, but the washer and dryer are at the other house: stressful.
Catching your son guzzling water out of a 10 year old jug of distilled water that has been in your garage: stressful.
Still not finding my camera and missing lots of great photo ops in the last few weeks: stressful!
Having all of the above happen within a one month time period, give or take a few days: DEATH DEFYING.
Buying a house: stressful.
Finding out some of the appliances in your new house don’t work: stressful.
Finding out the hinges on most of the cupboard doors are broken in your new house: stressful.
Selling a house: stressful.
Fixing up a house to sell: stressful.
Getting all the new carpet, air conditioning, tile, etc. (that you always wanted while you actually lived there) put in before you sell the house: stressful and some other adjective that I can’t think of right now.
Remodeling a whole house before you move in: stressful (and smart, I think).
Picking out new paint, moldings, fixtures, hardware, carpet, tile, etc. within a few days: sounds fun, but in reality is pretty stressful.
Putting together light fixtures that were made in China and don’t have the holes drilled in the right place: annoying and stressful.
Packing: stressful.
Moving: stressful.
Having two different doctor appointments for two different kids scheduled for moving day: stressful.
Having the doors open so much from moving that the kids now forget to close them on a regular basis: stressful.
Flies as a result of the doors not being closed on a regular basis: stressful.
Having birds fly into your house: stressful and messy.
Having other people help move your stuff: stressful.
Having everything arranged in your new house and going back to the old one and realizing that you still have over half your stuff there and nowhere to put it: stressful.
Carrying two mortgages: very stressful.
Carrying two mortgages while paying for remodeling and a new washer and dryer (and water softener, which is very necessary here): extremely stressful.
Running out of money, so needing to keep the dark teal kitchen countertop with a white racing stripe and pink laundry room countertop: stressful.
Arguing with the painter about what color to paint your kitchen because the color you have your heart set on clashes quite terribly with your dark teal kitchen countertop with the white racing stripe: stressful.
Driving to your old house to do laundry every day because your new washer and dryer won’t be in for two weeks: stressful.
Showing a house where your cat still lives to people who are allergic to cats: stressful.
Trying to move your cat to a house around the corner: stressful.
Taking care of two yards: stressful.
Picking a phone company: stressful.
Picking an internet provider: stressful.
Picking a t.v. service provider: stressful.
Deciding to bundle: not so stressful.
Deciding who to bundle with: stressful.
Having people come and go to and from both houses at all hours of the day and night: stressful.
Not knowing when to take a shower because you never know when someone will show up: stressful.
Waiting a long time for people to show up (or sometimes not show up): stressful.
Needing to get a pedicure (though I haven’t had a real one in over two years), and not having time: stressful.
Needing to get a haircut and not having time: stressful.
Needing to get a life and not having time: stressful.
Not having a regular routine for meals, etc.: stressful.
Having a husband who works long hours that vary from day to day: stressful.
Having a husband who is on the phone 24/7 so I can’t have an uninterrupted conversation with him: stressful.
Having a husband who is caring for our two yards AND his mom’s yard that is 30 miles away (each one over ½ acre): stressful.
Having a husband who is bishop, while doing all of the above: stressful.
Having a husband who is doing all of the above, when you are trying to remodel a house and need his input to help make some of the decisions: stressful.
Teaching a 15 year old daughter to drive: stressful.
Teaching a 15 year old daughter to drive in a car you really like, that is your first new car in over 15 years: very stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who doesn’t like to work: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who acts extremely unpleasant when you are trying to get her to work: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who thinks she’s 18 and should have all the freedom in the world: stressful.
Having a 12 year old daughter who thinks you’re an idiot, and so do her friends: stressful.
Leaving your 12 year old daughter and her 11 year old cousin “in charge” while you take your 15 year old daughter out driving and coming home to find every breakable cup in your house in the back yard full of milk, peanut butter, granola bars and unidentified “potions”, also finding out they had made a volcano and “goop” while you were gone, using all your vinegar, baking soda and cornstarch: stressful.
Having a five year old son who has run wild and basically been an orphan for the last five weeks, so he now thinks it’s normal: stressful.
Having a five year old son who hasn’t taken a bath in over three of those last five weeks: stinky.
Being the designated driver for all your childrens' friends: stressful (where ARE their parents?).
Not eating well because you are too busy: stressful.
Going to the store to buy food, but forgetting to buy actual food and instead come home with more items to decorate your new home: stressful.
Not sleeping well because you are up all night, itching, because you are allergic to something in either your new house or yard: stressful.
Not being able to sleep in the next morning because workers need to show up early to finish up some work: stressful.
Waiting for carpet to be delivered for 3 extra weeks, when everything else is ready for you to move in: stressful.
Having your carpet finally delivered and installed in the pouring rain: stressful and soggy.
Having workers in your home while you are trying to put stuff away: stressful.
Waiting for workers show up when you need to go do other things and run errands (like buy food): stressful.
Still not being able to take a shower because you never know when a worker might drop by to finish something: stressful.
Having your child in summer Driver’s Ed. the week you are trying to move and having to drop everything twice a day to drop her off and pick her up: stressful.
Having your child in the Nibley City play the week you are trying to move: stressful.
Pulling your child out of the Nibley City play because you are too busy and the time conflicts with your other child’s summer Driver’s Ed. Then feeling guilty because they don’t have enough help so you say you will still help, so they give you 12 Indian costumes to unfray the fringe on, which take over 2 hours each: stressful.
Bribing your mom (by mowing her lawn) to help unfray the fringe on Indian costumes while she watches t.v.: brilliant (she had them done in two days, I was done in two hours.).
Also agreeing to help do the Nibley City play blog, even though my child is still not in the play: stressful.
Feeling guilty that I haven’t helped more and am letting people down: stressful.
Having people show up to “help you move” that bring lots of little kids: stressful.
Having people drop in to see your new house, when you still have a million boxes lying around to unpack: stressful.
Showing your neighbor the big drawer for dirty laundry and then realizing your underwear is right on top: embarrassing and stressful.
Having people try to help you unpack: stressful.
Moving a pool table from one basement to another, almost killing my husband in the process: stressful. (I was standing at the bottom of the stairs watching it head down and about crush him. I was literally weighing my options of whether I should jump in to help, with the possibility of having it kill both of us, making my children orphans in the process, or if I should stay away, thus ensuring them at least one parent. As you can tell, I’m still around, though I did talk encouragingly to him from a safe distance.)
Moving a 2000 pound structure from one back yard to another with about 25 people to help: stressful, but satisfying.
Freaking out in front of my neighbor when the girls told me that Hal had told a lady she could come see our old house in one hour, when we had just started moving out and it was a wreck: stressful.
Feeling like you now “owe” at least 100 people who have helped you in one way or another over the last few weeks; moving our things, feeding us, etc: stressful and grateful.
Feeling like I should apologize to at least half of those people for my behavior: stressful.
Helpful people moving our piano, not waiting for Hal to get there to supervise, and having it get lots of scrapes on it and the walls and chips broken out of it in the process: stressful and sad.
Still needing to move our entertainment center that I really like: stressful.
Really needing to go to bed, but feeling like I really want to catch up the blog: stressful.
Still trying to keep our other house presentable to show during all this chaos: stressful.
Deciding which realtor to go with once we list the house when we get our new carpet in: stressful.
Realizing we have ticked off ALL our realtor friends/relatives/neighbors who have come to give us a sales pitch, that we will not hire: stressful.
Dealing with any realtors at all: stressful (no offense intended to anyone who may be a realtor, it just has been really stressful).
Wanting to go to the home show this week and not having time: stressful.
Leaving my five year old with a neighbor, unsupervised (I thought there was an adult there), and finding out that they have gotten into the Otter Pops and gotten the entire kitchen and the new living room carpet sticky: stressful.
Hiding the box of Otter Pops and having my 5 year old and his little friend find the box in the garage and drinking the liquid out of the entire box of Otter Pops: stressful and disgusting.
Realizing that I have a good enough reason to never buy Otter Pops again: liberating.
Waking up on Father’s Day and realizing I’ve forgotten to do anything for either my husband or my father: stressful.
Sluffing Sunday School to just sit down by myself for a few minutes to do nothing: honestly, very relaxing.
Trying to scare up a nice Father’s Day meal and realizing that I still don’t have anything in the house to fix a decent meal with: stressful.
Trying to decide which is worse, making your child wash off the Harry Potter scar tattoo so he can go to church or letting him show up at church with the tattoo and making your husband (the bishop) unhappy: stressful.
Having my son's speech therapist finally call to make a summer appointment and having her insist on the one time my daughter is scheduled to have some suspicious moles removed (I've had melanoma): stressful.
Trying to reschedule, but the phone is here and the calendar is there: stressful.
Driving back and forth for to do laundry because we live in one house, but the washer and dryer are at the other house: stressful.
Catching your son guzzling water out of a 10 year old jug of distilled water that has been in your garage: stressful.
Still not finding my camera and missing lots of great photo ops in the last few weeks: stressful!
Having all of the above happen within a one month time period, give or take a few days: DEATH DEFYING.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Update
Carpet was (finally!) installed all day Friday and Saturday in the pouring rain. It was quite soggy. Not exactly a great beginning, but it is in, just the same.
We moved some stuff late last night and had our first meal there, including running back and forth for all the missing ingredients, pans, etc. It was kind of fun, especially since I can hand Morgan the keys and have her run for me. She is getting a lot of experience driving around the corner and back.
This morning it was not so amusing when Morgan wanted some toast and all the jam had been moved to the new house. It was even less amusing that the second she drove away I realized that there was no milk here for our breakfast and I had no way to contact her over there. I had hoped that she would figure it out and bring the milk anyway, but no such luck. As soon as she got back I jumped into the car, wet hair and all and brought back some milk and butter. (She said SHE didn't need milk for breakfast so she didn't really think about bringing any back.)
The carpet fumes are quite strong so I got a headache this afternoon when we were there because it was pretty cold so we left the windows shut. Hal and I opened them before we came home to air the place out. Seriously, this cold weather in the middle of June is starting to get old, though it's better than being too hot to be moving all our stuff. (But the rain has seriously put a damper on things, pardon the pun.)
It about killed me that today was Sunday, so we couldn't really officially move stuff in today. Tomorrow, in between an orthodontist appointment for one kid and a doctor appointment for another kid, we will be moving in our beds, at least. I can't wait!
I'll wait to post some "after" photos (until after we move in, obviously), but I was going to post some "before" shots and I can't find my camera.
Wish us luck for a productive day tomorrow! Good night.
We moved some stuff late last night and had our first meal there, including running back and forth for all the missing ingredients, pans, etc. It was kind of fun, especially since I can hand Morgan the keys and have her run for me. She is getting a lot of experience driving around the corner and back.
This morning it was not so amusing when Morgan wanted some toast and all the jam had been moved to the new house. It was even less amusing that the second she drove away I realized that there was no milk here for our breakfast and I had no way to contact her over there. I had hoped that she would figure it out and bring the milk anyway, but no such luck. As soon as she got back I jumped into the car, wet hair and all and brought back some milk and butter. (She said SHE didn't need milk for breakfast so she didn't really think about bringing any back.)
The carpet fumes are quite strong so I got a headache this afternoon when we were there because it was pretty cold so we left the windows shut. Hal and I opened them before we came home to air the place out. Seriously, this cold weather in the middle of June is starting to get old, though it's better than being too hot to be moving all our stuff. (But the rain has seriously put a damper on things, pardon the pun.)
It about killed me that today was Sunday, so we couldn't really officially move stuff in today. Tomorrow, in between an orthodontist appointment for one kid and a doctor appointment for another kid, we will be moving in our beds, at least. I can't wait!
I'll wait to post some "after" photos (until after we move in, obviously), but I was going to post some "before" shots and I can't find my camera.
Wish us luck for a productive day tomorrow! Good night.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
There Is A Light....
.
at the end
of the tunnel.
(I think.)
The carpet that was scheduled for May 24th,
and then June 4th,
and then the 8th
is on a truck
headed to Utah.
(So they say.)
So....
we are scheduled for carpet to be installed
on Friday
and Saturday.
And THEN
we can move in.
And THEN
life can move on.
(I hope.)
p.s. living in limbo is not fun.
at the end
of the tunnel.
(I think.)
The carpet that was scheduled for May 24th,
and then June 4th,
and then the 8th
is on a truck
headed to Utah.
(So they say.)
So....
we are scheduled for carpet to be installed
on Friday
and Saturday.
And THEN
we can move in.
And THEN
life can move on.
(I hope.)
p.s. living in limbo is not fun.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Expectations
I'm trying to let go of them.
It's hard.
BUT, I've finally figured something out. Our blue bathroom here helped me do it.
When I first painted our bathroom blue in this house I was upset with the result. It was not the blue I had pictured in my head. It was way brighter, way more "in your face" than I had wanted. I had envisioned a nice, calm, "beachy" blue. Instead I got a bright, happy, almost turquoise blue.
I really wanted to change it but I had painted during Austin's naptimes on the last week of school and school was ending, so I was running out of kid-free blocks of time.
Plus, the kids liked it.
So I kept it "just for now".
Well now, I've realized that I will really miss that bright blue bathroom. Someone told me it looks like a spa. Honestly, it's the closest that I think I'll ever get to a real spa, unless I win a contest, but I can kind of see what they mean. It's kind of soothing, in a bright, cheery sort of way.
Once I released the expectation of what I thought I wanted and accepted what I ended up with, I realized that I liked it.
Same with our new house. The paint colors that I used that I already had here, I am happy with, because they turned out just as I had expected. Some of the others are good and I'm happy with them, but there are a couple that I am not thrilled about. They are just so not what I had expected.
But really, thinking it through rationally, I think it's the same thing. If I can just let go of what I thought I wanted, or what I had pictured, they might turn out to be good colors. They are just darker or brighter than I had expected.
It's hard to let go of expectations, especially for a control freak like me.
I think it's the same with my kids and their personalities.
Once I can let go of the expectations I have for them, and how I think they should turn out (or even the fact that I expect them to turn out somewhat the same as each other), maybe then I can just let them turn into who they really are and accept it and figure out that maybe I really do like these unique little individuals and their different personalities, crazy quirks and all. They just may not be the sweet, docile little children I had pictured in my head before I had children.
Wow, from paint to children. Maybe all the paint fumes have finally gone to my head. That was deep, even for me, don't you think?
It's hard.
BUT, I've finally figured something out. Our blue bathroom here helped me do it.
When I first painted our bathroom blue in this house I was upset with the result. It was not the blue I had pictured in my head. It was way brighter, way more "in your face" than I had wanted. I had envisioned a nice, calm, "beachy" blue. Instead I got a bright, happy, almost turquoise blue.
I really wanted to change it but I had painted during Austin's naptimes on the last week of school and school was ending, so I was running out of kid-free blocks of time.
Plus, the kids liked it.
So I kept it "just for now".
Well now, I've realized that I will really miss that bright blue bathroom. Someone told me it looks like a spa. Honestly, it's the closest that I think I'll ever get to a real spa, unless I win a contest, but I can kind of see what they mean. It's kind of soothing, in a bright, cheery sort of way.
Once I released the expectation of what I thought I wanted and accepted what I ended up with, I realized that I liked it.
Same with our new house. The paint colors that I used that I already had here, I am happy with, because they turned out just as I had expected. Some of the others are good and I'm happy with them, but there are a couple that I am not thrilled about. They are just so not what I had expected.
But really, thinking it through rationally, I think it's the same thing. If I can just let go of what I thought I wanted, or what I had pictured, they might turn out to be good colors. They are just darker or brighter than I had expected.
It's hard to let go of expectations, especially for a control freak like me.
I think it's the same with my kids and their personalities.
Once I can let go of the expectations I have for them, and how I think they should turn out (or even the fact that I expect them to turn out somewhat the same as each other), maybe then I can just let them turn into who they really are and accept it and figure out that maybe I really do like these unique little individuals and their different personalities, crazy quirks and all. They just may not be the sweet, docile little children I had pictured in my head before I had children.
Wow, from paint to children. Maybe all the paint fumes have finally gone to my head. That was deep, even for me, don't you think?
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