Dissed

So not that I am offended at all or anything, but the Parents Association of C's preschool is apparently looking for a new member to replace an outgoing parent. I've had three different mommies tell me they have been approached to take the position but turned down the job. No one has approached me to ask if I wanted to join. After I volunteered to organize the best. spring. carnival. ever.

Perhaps it wasn't actually the best. spring. carnival. ever. and people were just being nice. Perhaps I am actually a lousy person to work for or was too bitchy about the whole thing. Perhaps no one actually wants me and my children in attendance at their meetings. But I bring coffee! And sometimes donuts! Goldfish for the kids!

And now that all these people have TOLD me that they have turned it down, if someone actually asked me to join, I would know that I was the bottom of the barrel pick. "Oh, I guess we'll have to ask that J-E girl. I mean, who else is there?" I'm being petty, aren't I? I mean, who cares if one gets invited to join the PTA, right? The whole point of stepping off the career track was to not get caught up in such things anymore. So why do I feel like I am back in high school gym standing against the wall praying that I'm not the last person picked?

Overheard at bedtime

C: "Mommy, I know all about shows."

Mommy: "You do? What kind of shows?"

C: "TV shows of course. I know some are live and some are corded. The live ones are nice because you get surprised by what is going to be on next, and because you have a hard time turning the TV off if I ask to watch another show with a please. But the corded ones are nice because I know what the answers are and I can stop them to go pee. But with Tivo, we can even pause the live ones to pee. Except at Nana's. I think we need to get Nana a Tivo. For Maine. So I can pee when watching TV."

Mommy: (trying very hard not to laugh): "We'll have to take that up with Nana. Not everyone thinks through their television viewing options quite so thoroughly."

C: "They should you know, watching TV is a very serious thing."

Sleep, sleep, you've gotta go to sleep right now*

It's been a while since I have subjected y'all to a sleep post. But things have not improved much over here, in fact things have gotten much, much worse, which I really didn't think possible. It now takes about an hour and a half to get A to sleep at night, she then gets up for two to three hours in the middle of the night, and wakes up around 5am for the day. Oh, and she hasn't napped in a week. So let's do the math, shall we? 9pm to 5am, eight hours. Minus two equals, FIVE HOURS. My not quite two year old is functioning on FIVE HOURS (or less) of sleep a night. It's just. not. pretty. For anyone.

So last night after we finally got her down, I dug out my sleep books. Between the two kids, I'm pretty sure I have owned every sleep book known to man. After some skimming, I cobbled together a personalized sleep plan taking into account the fact that A is not in a crib and can open every door and child gate in the house but is not yet old enough to really understand "sleep rules" and reward charts.

At her first wake up at 11:30pm, I implemented phase one: Return and Ignore. Every time A got out of bed I picked her up and plopped her back in without saying a word. No yelling, no singing, no wheedling, nothing. She got out of bed 169 times. I counted. My upper arms are killing me right now. BUT she finally went to sleep. And stayed asleep until 6 this morning.

Today I implement phase two: Pavlov's Timer. At naptime and bedtime, a timer will get set. A can have as many books or songs or rocks or snuggles as she wants before the timer goes off. Once it dings, she gets a hug and a kiss and we switch over to Return and Ignore.

We'll see how this goes. I feel better already with five hours of almost uninterrupted sleep under my belt. I'm not, however, holding out any grand hopes. Everything with A seems to work beautifully until she has enough time to think it through and figure out what is really happening. But if I could just get a week of decent sleep under my belt, I might have enough energy and patience to try, try again.

*In the spirit of Gina's Pointless Points Trivia game, ten thousand points for anyone (besides Nana and Auntie M) who can name that tune (without Googling).

Overheard in the middle of the night

A was up frequently last night, again. As she threw a temper tantrum in the hall at 3am because I wouldn't open the gate and let her downstairs to the playroom, C woke up and wandered out into the hallway. He totally ignored A's fit, and said to me in a very stern voice "Mommy, you HAVE to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a VERY busy day and you need your sleep. I don't want to have to listen to your whining if you are over tired." He then turned around and went back to bed.

It (almost) made up for the fact that I was not in fact getting any rest. I guess he does listen to me after all...

Old Houses

Jennifer asked what the best thing about living in a house built before 1800 was. The answer is pretty easy - the character. We have beamed ceilings in our kitchen and family room, original pumpkin pine floorboards in the dining room and C's room. When you walk in our front door, it is clearly unlike any other house in town. The house has been added onto and added onto, so it rambles a bit, and there is a secret staircase from the kitchen to C's room, which has been hidden so he doesn't discover that there is a way downstairs that doesn't involve trooping past our room.

I grew up in old homes. To me, they have character, history, a hidden story to be discovered. They are also drafty, expensive to maintain, and dark. And as much as I love the character and intrigue of our current house, the chill that constantly permeates it and the lack of sunlight in almost all rooms, wore me down. Plus, we are short a bedroom, really two bedrooms, as when C gets a bit taller he won't be able to stand upright in his room because of the gables.

We spent the better part of last year trying to find our house again, with more light, more rooms, and better insulation. It doesn't actually exist, however, so we settled on a 1939 colonial. And while it meets all of my criteria, sunlight, bedrooms everyone can stand up in, and decent insulation, it is, well, a bit dull. Being a standard colonial, it is a box. There is no ramble to it, no secrets to discover, no hint of times past. Basically it looks like every other house in town.

So we will be leaving our charming old house, assuming we can sell it, but it makes me sad. I have a feeling that if it comes back on the market once the kids are grown M and I would probably buy it again in a heartbeat. But for now, we will let someone else enjoy the mystery, intrigue, and personal relationship with the local plumber.

If I can figure out how to use M's new camera, I'll try to post some pics of the old house for you. Plus, I have to show off how nice it looks as the house has never looked this good since the day we moved in. Not that anyone is coming to see it. But they might! Someday!

Blah blah blah and yadda yadda yadda

Since y'all don't seem to be a source of blog fodder today (can't blame you, clearly I can't think of much to write about these days my life is so. damn. boring.), I'm going to subject you to a boring collection of random bullets.

1) No one seems to be interested in looking at a house built in 1771. I can't understand why...it IS well maintained. I'm getting a bit (OK, a lot) hysterical over the fact that there is no traffic through my home of anxious home buyers. I'm seriously considering standing out on the street with a sign reading "If you lived here, you would be home already."

2) There is a serious lack of sleep in our house right now. The cats aren't even sleeping well. Making everyone, including the cats, a real pleasure to be around. Both A and C have spent the bulk of the day crying.

3) I have a sore throat. I'm unclear whether it is the allergies I developed in college rearing their ugly head again, or whether I am getting A's cold. Either way, my throat hurts and it's not helping my mood any. On the upside, I haven't been able to yell much, and discovered that the low "Stop that right. now." voice works almost as well. For the moment anyway.

4) I discovered that the Y's childcare program has at least a year and a half wait list. Which got me thinking that really, I should get C and A on that wait list just in case I suddenly decide to go back to work. Or in case our house doesn't sell and we go bankrupt and I have to go back to work. I go through the motions of thinking about going back to work about once every six months or so, this time the whole house thing has me seriously considering what on earth I am qualified to do these days besides wiping noses and making grilled cheese. And apparently I'm no longer qualified to make grilled cheese as both my children turned their noses up at it today.

5) A just pooped for the fourth time today and I just can't face changing another poopy diaper. The child needs to learn to use the potty. Just as soon as we sell the house. I can't continue with the potty training process while trying to keep the house clean 24/7.

6) The house next door has been under construction for almost exactly a year. And it looks like they still have a very long way to go. I am making a mental note to never ever use this construction firm. They were supposed to be done in November, I kid you not. I feel almost as bad for the neighbors as I do for myself. But not quite because both their kids are potty trained and they have the childcare thing under control.

7) It's bath night. I hate bath night. If C hadn't gone swimming, and if both children didn't have sunblock on, I would skip it. But I guess that would mean I would just have to do it tomorrow. But hey, I'm the queen of procrastination.

8) Speaking of baths, Blues Clues is over and I'm starting the bedtime proceedings ridiculously early tonight. Wish me luck.

You would think that after a weekend away I would feel a little less run down and whiny, but I think it actually made me realize just how sleep deprived I really am and how much I miss the old me.

Readers Choice Part Deux

Because I'm crazed with the move and M's travel schedule, I can't think of anything non-move or stress related to blog about. So instead of boring you with my tales of woe, I'm throwing open the doors again and inviting all of you to make the big decision for me. I've gotten some new readers since the last round, so please feel free to jump in with your pressing questions.

Come on, you've got to have something you want to know....

Just for curiosity's sake

Would the person who arrived at my blog on a search for "Starbucks and Corriedales" enlighten me as to what the two might possibly have in common? I'm mighty curious now. I've spent the last several minutes thinking about it and just can't find the connection....I might have to go do the search myself and see what I am missing.

Rain Rain Go Away

No one wants to go looking at houses in the rain. And I don't want to keep shleping my children out of the house for the few people who do.

Plus, our yard, she gets a bit damp if there is too much rain. And while our basement is generally bone dry, there was the matter of the flood right after we moved in (26 inches of water. I kid you not.). And while the problem that caused the flood was fixed, I still have massive anxiety when it starts raining. Especially when a potential buyer could be inspecting my basement when the waters flood in...

So rain rain, go away, please stay away until another day.

Weekend Highlights

So the spa vacation on the beach, well, it poured. All weekend. So much for the visions of reading on the beach. But some quick highlights from the rest of the trip....

1) Me. Naked on massage table. Loud fire alarm. I knew there was a reason I should have put my underwear in my robe pocket. Nuff said.

2) Me. Naked on massage table. Knock knock. "Pssst. You have the wrong person. This one wanted the aromatherapy massage, not the vitamin mud treatment." I THOUGHT the lotion smelled, well, not very nice.

3) Ring ring. "You know how we stopped at the gas station to wait while you figured out why your check engine light was on? Yeah, well, now our car won't start."

At least I wasn't woken five times a night by hysterical children. And I will have great stories to tell for years to come.

Back in the Saddle

Chichimama has been banished to a spa on the shore with 3 other mommies. She needed it and I hope she sleeps! Unfortunately for her, the weather is supposed to suck, but perhaps she can slip in an extra hot-stone massage or something since she can't be at the beach.

Luckily for me, the kids went down without a problem (helps when they don't nap I 'spose). But this weekend should be interesting with people coming over to look at the house and an open house on Sunday. I think I'm going to grab the kids and high-tail it to the City to stay at my parent's apartment while they're in Florida!

Tag, I'm it

Nicole and Her Bad Mother tagged me the other day for this. Since y'all know some weird things about my kids, I figured I could play along and share some weird things about me. And I actually completed this post, then blogger crashed on me so now I have to recreate. I'm pretty sure it was much better the first time round. But anyhooo...

1) I don't like chocolate. I know, I know. I used to really despise it, but when I was pregnant with C I began to crave it so now I will eat chocolate if it is offered but still won't go out of my way to buy it. Which distresses M to no end as he loves chocolate and he generally can't find anything to indulge his craving in the pantry.

2) I get so upset by the mishaps of TV characters that I often have to leave the room because I can't stand to see them embarrass themselves.

3) I feel obligated to read every book I start. Not that I read it straight through, mind you. If the book sucks, it goes into a drawer in my nightstand to be finished later. When the drawer gets too full to close I pick the best of the worst and finish it. Really. But by that point I generally can't remember what the book was about and have to start over.

4) I'm basement phobic. I really, really hate basements. Everyone keeps commenting on how wonderful it is that our new house has a basement playroom so we can keep all the toys there, and I keep shaking my head saying "Oh, no. The toys, they will live in the family room off the kitchen." Because I would have to be committed if we played in the basement everyday. There are days that I can't bring myself to go down the basement to switch the laundry (like yesterday). One of the first major renovation I want to do to the new house is blow through the wall to the storage shed to make a first floor laundry.

5) I love reality TV. The stupider the better. The Bachelor? Addicted. American Idol? Of course! Average Joe? Watched every season. For Love or Money? Yep! I even watch America's Next Top Model on occasions, and watched MTV's Sorority and Fraternity Life. I'm now going to hang my head in shame and retreat from the blogsphere until y'all forget I ever mentioned this.

6) I eat cinnamon raisin bagels with scallion cream cheese. It tastes great, even though I know you are looking at me funny right now.

I'm not tagging anyone as I think I am the last person in the blogsphere to do this one. So if you haven't done it, join the party!

HeatherJ, I know I owe you a meme too. I will get to it, I promise!

Just call me banshee

Over the past few days there has been much yelling here at Chez J-E. And I keep forgetting that windows are open, so the whole neighborhood now knows that C doesn't listen and that A throws a temper tantrum like nobody's business and that I can't keep my cool when faced with two children who dump cup after cup of water on my newly cleaned kitchen floor.

The kids are overtired, I'm stressed out about selling the house, and M has just been grumpy. Today, I swear no one listened to a word I said all. day. long. At nap time today (although there were no naps involved) C asked "Are you sorry for yelling so much?" To which I honestly replied "No, not really. I'm sorry I had to yell but since you refused to pay attention to me in my normal voice, I had to yell. A lot. So no, I'm not really sorry." To which he replied "Well, I'm not sorry that I didn't listen." Point taken.

I really never thought I would be a mommy who yelled a lot, but that seems to be who I have become. I'm not sure whether the problem is my inflexibility and unrealistic expectations, or our failure to raise well-behaved children, or a combo of both. But lately I can't seem to get anyone to listen to me unless I'm screaming. And even then, it's touch and go.

Right now A is lying in the upstairs hall because we battled for an hour and a half over her going to bed. I finally gave up and walked downstairs. It was that or break many breakable items against a wall. And while the sound of china hitting a wall might have been satisfying, I would have been stuck cleaning it up before my real estate agents start arriving on my doorstep tomorrow morning.

I really feel like I am failing miserably as a mother right now. I have minimal control at best over my children. And I'm unsure how to get control back. Time outs no longer work, and taking away toys and privileges doesn't seem to be doing much either. I would like to think this is a phase, or the age, or something, but have a sinking feeling it is all about me and my lack of parenting skills. Don't mind the pity party here, between this and the skinny jeans I think I should just crawl into a cave and hibernate for the next 20 years or so.

Starting Over

There is something about moving that brings out the best of intentions in me. As we wandered around our new empty house for three hours during the structural inspection, I found myself making more resolutions than I did at New Years.

"When we move I'll be able to cook while interacting with the kids" I thought. But will I really? Or are the habits already established of the kids murdering each while I frantically stir fry to entrenched? I would like to think that someday they'll hang with me in the kitchen and chat, but for now I'll settle for being able to tell who is beating up on whom.

As I was cleaning out the cabinets in our current house to make them look spacious, I debated whether to keep or toss the waffle maker, which has been used only once since I purchased it a year ago. I thought "Well, in the new house there is so much accessible storage, I'll be able to find the waffle maker at the drop of a hat, so of course I will make waffles instead of buying the frozen ones at Trader Joe's." Umm, yeah. Even I know that one will quickly fall by the wayside. And if you believed it for a second you clearly don't know me all that well. But yet the waffle maker still made it into the "to keep" box. Just in case.

I have also found myself thinking "I will be able to play more with my kids because the house will be less cluttered." And "I will be happier because there is more sunlight in the playroom and kitchen." And "We will play in the backyard more because the deck is so nice." My favorite is "A will sleep through the night because I will be able to put her bed in a better location and the floors won't squeak as much."

While hopefully some of these dreams and wishes will come true (like the more sun=happy me), many of them are just plain unrealistic. Like moving will help A sleep. Yeah, right. But I keep coming up with more and more outrageous reasons to make the move seem like the best. thing. ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we are moving. But will a new house really fix the many things that get me down during the day? I don't really think so. That doesn't seem to keep me from building more and more unrealistic fantasies about how wonderful our life will be post move, however.

Fashion Alert

So apparently, skinny jeans are making a comeback. Even Target is carrying them.Yep, you heard me. Do you want to know WHY they are making a comeback? Because I just donated my last pair thinking "No reason to hold onto these, skinny jeans are never coming back into style."

I didn't look good in skinny jeans before I had two kids, now that I have had two kids and the thighs and rear have, shall we say, "spread a little," I will look terrible in them. I'm running out to stock up on boot cuts right now. Because before long they'll be gone.

Poor Allison

The other night I dreamt that I was pregnant with our third child. It was a girl, whose name was going to be Allison. Despite the fact that Allison is the one name we would never, ever name a child. Anywhoo, I dropped C and A off at camp, headed to the hospital, and had Allison a few minutes later. Didn't even bother to call M. Once Allison was born and cleaned up, I checked us both out of the hospital and headed back to camp to pick up C and A. I woke up from the dream and started looking for the bassinet, convinced that Allison needed to be fed.

And yes, my labors are fast enough that this actually could happen. But poor, poor Allison. What a life she would lead.

It

I know I am currently "it" for many a meme. Our Internet is rather spotty right now as, well, we're moving soon and our "computer room" (i.e. the place where the wireless router lives) is currently, ahem, under construction to make it look, well, presentable*. So I will eventually get to the memes, but probably not until next week. In the meantime, for my new bloggy friends looking to learn six things about me (although you'll have to decide if any of them are weird for yourselves...), here's a link to my 100 things about me post, which I have been too lazy to add to my main page. See! I'm always happy to provide. And once we have reliable Internet, I'll post 6 (or is it 18 now) more in their various requested forms.

*Read this as "I was working on the memes and just as I was saving the plug got pulled and they got lost. And I can't bring myself to recreate quite yet."

If I had a weekend to myself

This is part of the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas collective writing project. While I don't think I can top Susan's post, as she basically summed it up (the thought of having someone else worry about what to make for dinner and how to clean up after it is just too wondrous to contemplate), I have been thinking long and hard about what a weekend alone at home might be like. As while I have spent weekends away from my kids, I have never spent the night alone in my own house.

If I had a weekend alone in my house, I would sleep as long as I could (like 7 am!) and then get up to make some coffee with plans to get back into bed and read. Except when I got downstairs I would realize there was no skim milk, and I only drink my coffee with skim milk. As I stood at the fridge debating a run to 7-Eleven I would realize that the cats needed to be fed and the dishes in the dishwasher needed to be emptied. By the time I got that done I would be too awake to crawl back into bed so I would give up on the coffee in bed idea and probably whip out the laptop and check on some blogs instead (Hi bloggy friends!).

I would contemplate writing an entry of my own but then remember that there was a load of laundry in the washing machine that really needed to go into the dryer. Upon opening the dryer I would find a load of laundry sitting in there waiting to be folded. I would carry that load upstairs and put it on the bed and then decide to take a shower instead of folding (see, the weekend isn't a total loss yet! No laundry folding!). After the shower I would think about pulling out a book but decide to peruse my cookbooks instead.

After browsing through some favorites and drooling I would decide that really, since I had to the time, I should plan out a menu for the week to save myself the hassle of the last minute dinner scramble. I would drool over some more recipes then make up a grocery list. Since I already know I am out of milk and I might want a coffee tomorrow morning, I would decide to go to the grocery store. But wait, it gets more exciting! I swear!

On the way to the grocery store I would have to stop for gas. Because whichever car I am driving is always out of gas. While sitting at the gas station I would realize that I had no cash and then head to the bank. The ATM would be out of cash, forcing me to make the rounds of all the banks in town to find money. After finally procuring enough cash for the week, my tummy would start growling.

Here comes the really exciting part; I would go out to lunch. At my favorite restaurant. By myself. I MIGHT even order a brunch cocktail. If I got the cocktail, I would then have to head home for a nap, because a mimosa at noon would put me right to sleep. But upon arriving home I would find the laundry basket and begin folding. I would probably turn on the TV Food Network, my new addiction, and get sucked into a Rachel Ray marathon. By the time Emeril came on it would be dinnertime.

I would debate ordering out but then feel guilty about making the delivery guy come out for just one person. So I would probably dig a frozen pizza out of the freezer, a close second to takeout. Really! While eating my pizza I would check in on some more blogs (Hi again, bloggy friends!). I would again contemplate an entry of my own, and might even start one. But then I would remember the laundry in the dryer and decide to get a jump start on the week and fold that too.

While folding I would probably turn on the TV again, this time to a sappy chick flick on USA or TBS. I would get sucked into the heart wrenching storyline and crawl into bed with a box of tissues. I would fall asleep with the TV on, but about 2 am I would be woken up by the cat who had gotten left outside. I would troop downstairs to let him in and then head back to bed. But the act of trooping downstairs would wake me up enough that I would toss and turn until 5 am, and finally fall back asleep.

I would wake up at 7 am, head downstairs to make my coffee, and realize that I had never actually made it to the grocery store the day before. I would again debate the run to 7-Eleven, and then get sidetracked again by the cat feeding. At least there would be no dishwasher to empty. I would then race around trying to pick up the house before M and the kids arrived home, and might even make it to the grocery store. Everyone would arrive home, M would ask me what I did, and when I described the weekend to him, he would look at me funny and make a mental note that he was never ever taking the kids away again because really, what was the point.

And that folks, is probably exactly how a weekend alone at home would be. Oh, the excitement. Except, you know, it still sounds kind of lovely. Laundry folding and all.

And it all becomes so unclear

A: "I have no penut. C have penut."

C: "I don't have peanuts A. I'm not allowed. You're lergic."

A: "No, no, PENUT." A points to her diaper.

Mommy: "I think you mean penis A."

A: "Yeah, yeah. Penut."

C: "OHHH. That's why she's lergic to peanuts. Cause she doesn't have a penis!"

Homemaker

Our tax returns arrived today from the wondrous D, our accountant who revolutionized my life in March and April. While I was pleased to note that M finally got his withholding right and we neither owed a fortune nor were due a fortune, for the first time I was faced with my new reality. I am officially "homemaker." This is the first year since C was born that I didn't make any money of my own. The previous years I have been "consultant" or "fundraiser." Even if I only made a few thousand dollars. This year, I apparently made not a penny.

While intellectually I knew that I didn't make anything this year, for some reason I still expected to see "consultant" on my tax return. I mean, that's how I still see myself, as a writer, consultant, a someone who works from home but still has some professional identity. But the IRS has effectively squashed that fantasy this year. I am "homemaker." Not even "homemaker extraordinaire." Just "homemaker."

Don't mind me as I go pour myself a big old glass of wine and contemplate my vacuum which hasn't actually seen the outside of the broom closet for a while. Cause if I'm supposed to be a homemaker I feel like we should probably be better acquainted.

Easter Candy

Generally, I am not a candy person. Hand me a chocolate bar and a bag of chips, and I'll eat the chips every time. But for some reason, I adore Easter candy. Jelly beans, Cadbury Creme Eggs, Mini Eggs, even those horrific marshmallow Peeps. I love them all. I made the mistake of buying my kids Easter stash early this year, and I now have to replace much of it. Easter candy is just. that. good.

Hmm. Where did those jelly beans go?

Toys

Over the last few days I have packed up several boxes of toys. "Oh, the tears, the hysteria of the children upon waking up" you may think. Uh, no. So far no one has noticed that the workbench, sit and spin, and Little People bus have disappeared from view. Nor has anyone noticed the lack of matchbox cars, kitchen utensils, and half the puzzle collection.

Additionally, clean up at the end of the day is so much easier. Once we move, I'm going to be hard pressed to take everything back out again and find homes for them. I'm sure I eventually will, but it won't be at the top of the unpacking list. And for now I'm going to enjoy the minimalism while it lasts.

Baby Blues

C: "Mommy, when is the new baby coming?"

Mommy: (sputter sputter, snort) "Uh, what new baby C?"

C: "Our new baby of course. A is big now, and so am I, so it's time for a new baby."

Mommy: "Uh, there will be no new baby C. You and A are it."

C: "Oh, I thought we bought the new house because there was going to be a new baby and it would need a room."

Mommy: "No, we bought the house so Nana and Grandpa S and Grandma and Grandpa J and Grandma and Grandpa E would have a room to sleep in instead of the living room. And so you and A would have a nice playroom near the kitchen. And so Daddy could have an office to work in instead of going to the city every day."

C: "Huh. I guess I got it all wrong at preschool then."

No wonder the teachers were all excited for us when I picked C up. I thought it was all a little over the top for a new home.

Confusion

There is much confusion here at Chez J-E regarding houses and moves among the younger set. Some cute tidbits in lieu of a real post as I frantically box up toys and all evidence that two children live in this house....

At 8pm last night:

A: "I hungry Mommy."

Mommy: "You can have breakfast in the morning. It's bedtime and you had a huge dinner."

A: "In new house? I wake up in new house? I want mini pancakes"

Mommy: "Uh, no. In this house. It will be many sleeps until the new house."

A: "Oh. Mini pancakes in old house then?"

----------------------------------

Bright and early this morning:

A: "Mommy no leave A at old house?"

Mommy: "No, of course not. A will come to the new house with us."

A: "And Daddy?"

Mommy: "Yes, and Daddy."

A: "Good. And cats?"

Mommy: "Yes, and the cats."

A: "BOTH cats?"

Mommy: "Yes, both cats. And C."

A: "No, C stay old house."

-----------------------------------------------
At naptime today:

C: " Mommy, I'm excited for the new house. I can't wait to see how my closets will look in my new room."

Mommy: "Uh, you mean your clothes IN the closets?"

C: "No, my closets. I really really love my closets."

Mommy: "Well, the closets themselves actually stay with the house C. We'll move your stuff, but the closets and walls and, you know, things attached to the house physically, will stay here."

C: (Hysterically crying): "I can't LIVE without my closets! They are the only thing I care about. I love them more than Mama Hippo."

House

We bought a house. Around the corner. My furniture will look awful in it. But it has a deck! And a nice yard! And a family room where the children can play and I can supervise while cooking dinner! The kitchen is white. I am cursed with white kitchens. But it has enough storage for all of the snack foods for the apocalypse.

Oh God, I have to get this place ready to sell.

Off to run around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Early morning blogging

This is one of those mornings that pre-kids I might have been pleased to be up at 4:30 am. The sky was just starting to get light, a light rain was falling, and there was an early spring chill to the air that smelled just right. As I sit here typing, the cats are still sleeping, it is too early to start laundry or chores, and I have my steaming cup of decaf French vanilla coffee sitting by my laptop.

Five years ago I would have snuggled under a blanket and watched the sun come up, or headed out to the bagel store to pick up coffee and breakfast. Or just taken a quiet walk around the city, watching the world wake up (or go to bed). I might have crawled back into bed around seven or eight and taken a quick snooze, or snatched the New York Times as soon as it hit the rug outside our apartment door.

This morning however, there is no city to go explore on foot, only suburban sprawl. While I am snuggled under a blanket, there is also a small child watching Blues Clues squirming around on my lap making typing a challenge. My New York Times subscription has been cancelled because I was never able to even skim the front page. And there will certainly be no return to bed to catch up on sleep lost.

At least I will be able to go get bagels once C is up...but somehow that's not quite enough today.