Queen of All I Survey

Or why I found myself in Mommy time-out (yes, again)

 

I am standing on top of a five-foot pile of laundry (we consider it sculptural at this point) and asking the question, “Am I a good Mother?”

As a parent (not to mention so-called chronological adult), each day comes with its own set of challenges and triumphs.  At the end of each and every day, I take time to reflect on which battle would have been the better one to pick, how better to fight those battles, and celebrate in solitude the little triumphs that each day has brought. Every now and then I have a day like today.  My girls were both dressed and ready, including socks and shoes before breakfast.  And I did not even have to ask.  Both said "yes mam" when I gently reminded them to brush their respective teeth after breakfast.  And before I even began to ask them to turn out the lights before leaving for school, my elder child said, "Mom, here are your keys and your coffee. Oh, and by the way, I already turned off the lights in my room.  And yes Mom, I do have my backpack and my lunch!"  Was I dreaming?  After all, this was the first time in months that  youngest went to sleep without her two "one minutes" of cuddling AND stayed in her own bed until morning, a fact that is truly nothing short of miraculous. 

After such a glorious morning, I struggle to recall what exactly caused the chain of events which forced me into mommy time-out last evening.  Oh yes, me and the younger child were watching "Dancing with the Stars" while the elder was finishing her 5 hours worth of insane 3rd grade homework. During the course of these 5 hours or so, she came into watch the show, claiming to be done with said homework.  Well of course I asked to see her homework.  I always ask for her homework log so that while I am signing it it will not seem as though I doubt her word, then look over her work.  The kid was nowhere near done.  Not even close. I could always watch TV or listen to music (or both) whild doing homework, write innumerable papers in college, write senseless blogs, you get the idea.  Not my daughter.  She needs to be in her room without a single distraction.  And anything and everything seems to be a distraction.  Banished to her room once again, tired and weary she had simply had enough.  I got it, but then again….She argued that she could do her homework and still sit with us.  When I retorted that she could easily spend 10 minutes finishing her work then have TV time (forgetting for a moment that BIG LIE about being done with her work just for a moment) she became so enraged like something from the Exorcist, throwing things, spewing 8-year-old brand of ugliness…  And she is bright enought to know that a spanking will only hurt for a moment and that I cannot forcibly make her stay in her room, especially if she keeps running around the house.  Chasing her only brings about delight from my youngest so… what is a Mom to do?

As I have reflected many times recently, she is so very much like me in so many ways, study habits aside.  Always the very qualities I love the most can be the most exacerbating at times.  What would I have done when I was 8-years-old?  What would have worked with me?  All I ever wanted was to make my parents happy ultimately and to know that they loved me.  I never really wanted to hurt my mother intentionally.  Yet, in the present I was fuming.  I WANTED to spank the kid, trust me.  Spanking was not the right thing to do at the time even in the face of such utter disrespect and sheer willfullness.  What I needed was to be put in Mommy time-out to allow myself to calm down and make calm rational parental choices.  Or at the very least, just the calm down part.  The children, witnessing my steely silence looked for direction.  I quietly said, "Please, go to your rooms and get into bed.  I will talk with you both in a few minutes.  Mommy really needs a time-out." Huh? 

As a Mother you constantly question whether or not you are doing your job right.  Countless books exist on the subject and during my self-imposed time-out, for all of those ten-minutes I consulted a few favorites in my mental catalog.  Let's see, Sears would say I should just dole out some hugs and lollipos and have the kids sleep in my bed until graduating from high school at a minimum.  Dobbs would suggest I belt the eldest to maintain a total dictatorship, while those good ole' Love & Logic guys, Cline and Fay would say I  need to give my daughter an opportunity to take responsibility and understand her actions, to make discipline into a learning experience not about corporal punishment.  So I decided to borrow a lesson out of their book.  (And I won't even mention what my Ex would say about the whole debacle becuase HE is perfect, obviously). 

Climbing down from the heap of unfolded laundry, not ready to admit defeat, I knew I had already delivered part one of the elder's lesson.  The purpose of discipline should be to leach children the way to live and behave, not to simply punish over undesirable behavior.  And for me, I want my daughters' to go a step further; to learn to make good choices because it is the right thing to to, not simply to avoid punishment.  I want them to actually THINK about what happened, to THINK about alternative choices and outcomes, to THINK period.  Take discipline as a learning experience not as a punishment for us all.  I don't want to simply hear "Sorry" I want to see sorry in action.  In other words, prove sorry by your action and try not to do it again.  As I entered her room, she was quietly writing in her journal, duly contrite and waiting to see what fate had in store for her.

To her shock and awe my answer was this; "Sophia, I want you to know that I love you no matter what.  When you did X, Y and Z, it made me very sad.  I know that you know that your choices were not only disrespectful but also do not show your sister a very good example.  Being the big sister is hard sometimes, I understand that.  As for what to do now, I know that you are sorry, but the truth is I have not decided what to do about this yet.  I am going to sleep on it.  Don't worry about it, I'll get back to you tomorrow.  For now, just know that I love you much.  Now, may I have a kiss and hug please?" And a very stunned daughter wiped away a few tears, gave me a big hug and kiss and promptly went to sleep.

 

 

I may never win Mother of the Year, I do not make the best choices myself.  I may fail at many things; failing at Motherhood is not an option.  So was yesterday a triumph?  While I was Queen of the Heap, sitting in self-imposed mommy time-out it certainly did not seem that way.  Today I would say success has been achieved…..  Oh, and did I mention the girlies even helped me fold some laundry too?  And made coffee?  I believe I did mention that one, yes triumphant are we three.

-Charmed, I am Sure

 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Silly Strings

Tags

, , , ,

Or why school carnivals are so not charming

1:30 pm the elementary school carnival is in full swing and it is a feat to behold.Walking amongst the carnival booths and ginormous bounce houses and climbing wall, children dart around happily pulling seemingly equally happy looking parents behind them toward their next adventure. Truly a child’s wonderland and what I, Mom, always imagined as a fun family event to attend.  The look of excitement and pure joy of in the eyes of my children is what I live for.  And yet it is times like these that I feel every bit the single Mom that I am, and despite the smile on my face I felt tears spring in my eyes as I search for my girlies who were due to arrive with Dad.

While I realize that I won’t always get to experience everything with my children, that I have to share, only the evening before my children departed for Dad’s house; correction Daddy and New Step-Mommy’s house, the first time since Daddy’s house became Daddy and New Step-Mommy’s house.  Somehow this realization was more difficult to process then the weekend of the blessed nuptials itself.  Why?  I am not as mature as I proclaim to be.  When my girlies were apprehensive about said nuptials I tried to say the right things. “Daddy will always be your Daddy and Mommy will always be your Mommy and even though we are not married anymore WE love you both so very much.  Having a Step-Mom means that you have one more person that loves you and isn’t that a wonderful thing?”  I meant every word I said and yet I found myself, looking for my girlies at the Carnival, feeling immature and jealous that not only do I have to share my girlies every other weekend with Dad but with New Step-Mommy too.  I know that they love their Dad, but no matter how old we get it’s hard to share our toys.  Seeing the intact families that appear to be, what’s the word I am searching for…. Oh yes, HAPPY, is always a reminder of what divorce means to me. Divorce is not just the death of a marriage, but the death of a dream of what will never ever be, even if at the time it never ever was.

The Silliest String

So I made my way to the Silly String booth where I was slated to volunteer my time, and I found joy and delight watching the joy and delight of countless nameless children who were silly stringing poor hapless teachers, locked in a makeshift wooden jail.  Good clean fun!  Still no sign of my girlies…. When my tour of duty ended I made my way to the gym where I found a sad-faced four-year-old being transformed into a jack-o-lantern and an eight-year-old, adorned with glittery bats on her equally solemn face.  Seeing the sad faces despite being in a place sure to bring happiness to any kiddo was truly heartbreaking.  And then the look of sheer elation when they saw me was oh so apparent as they ran toward me simultaneously for hugs.  One would think we had not seen each other in months, not less than 12 hours.

Of course I do not wish them to have a bad time when not with me and yet that immature part of me secretly was feeling a bit smug that my children transformed from broody to blissful in the flash of a second just by the very act of receiving a Mommy hug.

As I walked hand in hand with my girlies out of the gym, I realized that I was just as pouty before I found them.  As an adult, however, I had to paint a smile on a face just as they were having their faces painted.  We may not be an intact nuclear family, but we are a real family.  I still do not like to share my toys but the silly strings that tie will remain….  I looked back to Dad for a moment, letting them know that we were heading to the bounce house, time to get silly. 

I am not sure what brought about the sad faces I found that day, but I do know one thing; kids need to be allowed to be well, kids.  Let them be SILLY!  Let them get MESSY!  Let them have FUN!  Let them just BE. We went our separate ways, but with our masks now gone, smiles intact.

-Charmed, I’m Sure

Anchor – part 2

….cont'd

 

Yes, men  and women can be friends and I don't care what Harry or Sally have to say on the matter… 

Does it matter what gender a friend comes to you as?  I truly believe that we all have different people in our lives at different points in our lives that serve different purposes in our lives.  To put the responsibility of the be all and end all of a "BFF" on one person is really too much too ask of anyone, and yet we (I hope) can name a chosen few that will stand by our side as, thick or thin.  Said person will tell you the truth whether you want to hear it or not, let you yell, kick and scream, or send nasty text messages as the case may be, and still call you friend later.

Is it a case of shared interests, shared personality traits, shared responses, shared background, loyalty, longevity, true kinship, kismet, strings, telepathy, tele-empathatic response that creates a friendship?  Recently I questioned where people I had once called friend seemed to have gone.  He or she may have been what I needed, or they needed during a specific time and place in our lives…  So time has passed and the tie that binds has been untied.   It would be easy to take the loss personally, without bearing in mind that depending on what forged that relationship in the first place might be a painful memory, in other words, it's not you, it's them. 

What makes one relationship withstand the ages while others are left suspended as if left in the past on the storyboard of our lives, while the other remains as one of the narrators?  A thought to ponder for a while…  For one such friend, I doubt very much that I shall look back on the storyboard of my life, wondering whatever happened to my friend so and so…  you know, that angsty one that like black and silver, MMA, cats, values ethics over morals and was so damn high and mighty…Thank you for being my anchor, my diametrically opposed diatribe, intellectual leprechaun, my family… 

 

 

Susie Suh – "Light On My Shoulder"

It's easier to fall and harder to stand
It's easier to cry and harder to laugh,
And I don't know how, I don't know why
But you're the light on my shoulder
When I'm tired
It's easier to run and harder to be still
It's easier to think and harder to feel,
And I don't know how, I don't know why
But you're the light on my shoulder
When I'm tired
It's easier to hide and harder to trust
It's easier to hate and harder to love
And I don't know how, I don't know anything
But you're the temper in my voice

 

 

02 - Life To Me [Explicit] 03 - American Boy (Feat. Kanye West Album Version) 03 - Anchor

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

What it’s all about… Or two “one more minutes”

Each night brings a new battle to get my four-year-old to bed…  We do have a routine of course:

  1. Play time
  2. Bath time
  3. Book time
  4. Get into bed time

And each night we discuss what a big girl she is now and how she can go to bed just like her sister, one kiss, one hug and say good night..  The routine doesn’t stop there though.  She always says she needs me to sleep by her for just “two one minutes.”  Inevitably this turns into one more minute, and another minute.  Sometimes I admit, this can be wearing as I know that what she really wants is for me to stay with her until she is fast asleep.  Mostly though, I secretly do not mind that my baby still wants her Mommy to stay and cuddle with her.

Each night while we snuggle for “two one minutes” she tells me about her day, or offers reasons why she cannot possible sleep by herself.  The most memorable has even turned into a story, Let me set the scene.  Picture a twin bed, lowered as much as possible to the ground with side rails.  In other words, an overblown toddler bed.

We discussed going to bed like a big girl as always and on this night she said “Mommy, I can’t go to sleep.”  I replied, “Why is that Zoe?”  She responded in her usual dead-pan, matter of fact way “Um, there is a monster under the bed.”  Oh, really?  To this I could only laugh and called in big sister for back-up.  We tried to look under the bed (remember, it’s practically on the floor).  Big sister Sophia responds “Zoe, there is no room for a monster under the bed, see?”  And to that, Zoe says “Oh, it’s a tiny monster, it is a dinosaur.”  Sure enough, we look under the bed and lo and behold, there was a tiny plastic dinosaur….  I retrieved the scary tiny dinosaur monster, and you know what happened?  Tiny dinosaur looked at Zoe and screamed “Ahhhhh, a giant blond girl!!!”  We all laughed, and the ongoing adventures of Zoe and the Tiny Dinosaur chronicles began. Who can argue about with that kind of logic?

Inevitably each morning I awake with a Zoe in my bed…  and it happens so frequently that most nights I do not even realize she has creeped in once again.  Last night, I was still awake when my little snuggle buddy came in.  And was reminded what it is really all about.  My baby that wants so much to be a big girl, still just wants her Mommy. She snuggled in, gave me a kiss on the cheek and said “Oh Mommy, I love you,” and promptly fell asleep.

Though as parents we all have different struggles trying to get the kids to go to bed, and stay in bed, I am glad that my girls still want to snuggle with Mommy no matter what the day has brought.  And lying there watching my daughter sleep so peacefully, I could still see her little baby face and remember how she has always wanted to be close to me.  We give each other comfort then I suppose.  As I stared at the sleeping form, I decided to give myself a break.  Eventually she will outgrow this so rather than fight her on this point, I am going to enjoy these times while they last…  these moments are what it is all about, and why I am twice charmed…

-Charmed, I am Sure

 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Anchors Away

Tags

, , , ,

 

 

Why do we push away those who mean the most to us?  Or is it just me?  Here's the funny part…  each day I feel like I learn more from my children then I could ever hope to teach them. Recently I found myself discussing this very topic with my 8-year-old daughter.  And yet another quandry….  how is it then I can explain such things to my daughter, and understand why she is testing me and yet not understand why it is I do the same thing?  To be a kid again…

My daughters are very resiliant, adaptive, strong and sweet.  Everything I had hoped they would be back when they were very small… those days when you wonder if you'll sleep again, wonder if prolonged sleep deprivation causes insanity, wonder why you had children.  Not really.  There is a very good reason why baby everythings' are so darn cute.  To only worry about feeding, changing diapers and how to get that baby to sleep through the night is the easy part.  As they grow, you realize that you are also responsible for all aspects of their well-being.  In other words, don't screw this up, you could very well put that kid in a therapists chair some day, ranting about the time Mom did this or that.  Such responsibility.

And for all that responsibility comes great rewards…  and other times…

Last weekend my ex-husband remarried, a whole separate entry I am sure.  Being a child of divorce, I thought I knew what to expect as far as my children are concerned.  And yet, I was ill prepared for the inevitable "I wish (insert new step-mommy's name) was my Mom" that was uttered from my darling daughter's lips when I asked her to simply brush her teeth.  Ouch.  So the push and pull has gone on for several days….  Mostly pushing.  When asked why she is doing this her tear-filled reply was simply "I don't know."  And so I told her in no uncertain terms that no matter what she says or does, I love her always.  She can try her best, I am not going anywhere.

Children, when faced with uncertainty, will push away the very people who they trust and love the most.  They need to know that the rules and boundaries still exist and will push and test as a way to feel safe and secure.  Yes, Daddy got married.  Mommy is here and loves you no matter what.  Some things will never change.

So I ask myself this question….  very few people in my life anchor me, provide the voice of reason, know me so well and love me anyway.  And yet lately I find myself doing the same thing and hearing my anchors asking me, why are you pushing away?  Telling me, do what you will, I am not going anywhere.  I am not sure if I deserve such friends…  and yet at times it is like beating your head against a wall when you feel so frustrated and nobody seems to understand. 

 

Like I would do with my children, the best solution for me is a self-imposed time-out.  Maybe a good thing for us, as so-called "adults" to do from time to time.  So I am in time-out, perhaps grounded for a month without phone or Tivo…  and I know when I snap out of it, I won't have pushed too far away as I am anchored to this time and place by those who love me and need me anyway.

 

-Not so Charming…  I am Sure.

 

 

03 - Anchor
Trespassers William

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Running around in Circles, or Insane?

Recently an acquaintance posed this very question.  After little pondering, my immediate thought was the very definition of insanity- doing the same thing over and over again, each time expecting a different result.  So if you are stuck in the proverbial hamster wheel, running around in circles, going absolutely nowhere, then it would seem to me that running around in circles and insanity are one and the same. 

 

How do we get off the hamster wheel?  Change the route, run around in squares?  Truthfully, I had high hopes that the very act of moving would accomplish many things, none of which had to do with finances. A clean slate, a fresh start.  And yet each day I find myself running in circles still only now I do not have the projects that kept me sane and occupied. 

Upon moving, I thought that it would be a difficult adjustment for my girls.  I was in such a state of perpetual motion leading up to said move, the sale of the house that I did not wish to sell and all that entails, the move itself.  Once left in this new space with nothing but boxes to keep me occupied I found it increasingly difficult to stay motivated.  On the logistical side, finding new homes for all the things we posess has proven to be a challenge having lost about 800 square feet and a garage.  Oh how I miss the garage!  And looking around, I know we do not need so many Barbie dolls… but still.  I felt deflated, and each day I lament upon how much I miss my home.  And I need to ask myself why that is so.

I convinced myself and my children that a house is just a bunch of walls, that it is only a home once we made it so.  And we are finally, slowly but surely making it home again.  To that end, I doubt anyone who knows me would find it at all suprising that I decided that the ginormous sectional really belonged in the den.  And as I have placed myself on the self-imposed island again, I actually moved the sectional into the den, and the other sofa into the living room.  To the wide-eyed suprise of my girls…. on of whom said "Mom, are you going to pick up the whole house next?"  Yes, I seemed to have found the same super woman strength that one might need to say, lift a car off of one's child, to move these large peices of furniture by myself.  And this act in and of itself prompted the opening of the box with the things that do make a home…  the photos, the little decorative items that we like to strew about.  It was time to make this house a home by doing what I know how to do, take control, not wait around for the help I have been asking for and just find a way and do it.

So while I still feel a bit like a hamster, for today I am going to attempt to extricate myself from the wheel.  Change things, perhaps running in squares for a few days instead of circles.  Better to keep moving then to run in place.  And perhaps take a cue from my children, it is only a house after all.  And at the end of the day, people are more important than houses and things.  Running, circles or squares…  sometimes it is okay to just sit and be still for a moment, and stop all that running around.

-Charmed, I am Sure

PS Again, for your listening pleasure….

PPS After reading this post, a friend looked at the question another way….  who says running around in circles isn't actually fun??  Any comments??  Well played my friend.

Elsiane - Hybrid - 02 - mend (to fix, to repair) The_Atomica_Project_-_Grayscale_-_04_-_Gravity

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Even Gilligan Thought it was a Three-Hour Island Tour

Tags

, , ,

No Woman (or Man) is an Island

* Note:  Due to worst logistical and otherwise move of my life, this was written on 7/31, and remarkably, this is the first my computer has worked at home.

Staring down the clock and it is 8:30 pm.  I have always been great under pressure and yet suddenly, sitting amongst my things strewn about in utter chaos and disarray, am fighting the urge to hide under the covers.  As if that will keep the inevitable from happening.  Today I received keys to my new dwelling.  After walking the house with my new landlord, noticing all the work I have in front of me, I sat on the floor for what seemed like days.  Eyes fixed to one particular spot on the hardwood floor.  Tears streaming down my face.  First thought:  I…  CANNOT… BREATHE….

 

Three distress call later, as if like a test.  Needed a friend to remind me of why I am doing this.  Am clearly the most reluctant seller on the planet, and while many people offer congratulations for selling my home, at this very moment I am finding little to celebrate.  Perhaps this was a test.  Who will answer the call?  Do you ever have those days that you feel like an Island?  Living and being on that island can be difficult whether that island is self-imposed or due to lack of faithful friends and family unable or unwilling to lend a hand, or at least offer some show of support when needed.

At that moment, sitting on the floor, eyes fixed to the floor, I became a one-woman island.  Doing all of this alone….  The most unsuspecting friend not only came through and helped me at a moment’s notice, but also managed to overlook the seemingly seven days worth of perspiration, icky moving clothes, and made me feel like things really would be fine.  And I found myself smiling, and happy as I later pondered on what matters most in this world. 

Lest I forget what is important, here is a reminder:  I have the best family and friends who I would do anything for and who would do the same for me.  I have two beautiful daughters who are my heart, made my life, love more than life and drive me half insane but love all the same.  I have a home to move into.  I am still young-ish, not completely unattractive, healthy, and when I stop and think about it, I am happy.  Just a few things….  oh and my car is paid off.

Lesson learned today is this:  No Woman Is an Island.  We all need our tribe nearby at times.  If help, a friendly show of support, a call or whatever is offered, do not let pride stand in your way of just saying two simple words:  THANK YOU.  In my efforts to be independent, I tend to forget that to accept or ask for help is not a failing, nor does it mean I have lost my Super Woman status.  To quote my eldest, "Mommy can do anything…."  Well, almost.

-Charmed, I'm Sure

 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Bittersweet at Home Depot

Tags

,

 

Of the many things I have learned as being a homeowner, to date my top 5 triumphs are as follows and in no particular order:

1.  Repaired a toilet and replaced the valve connector going from said toilet to the plumbing line.  And by repair, I mean, I took the entire contraption apart and saved myself at least $79.99 + tax and installation for a new throne.

2.  Replaced each and every air and return vent, requiring a screwdrivers, drills, a plethora of screws as my house was built in the 70's and even anchor screws just don't do the trick sometimes.  Also, if you know me, you are aware that I am a bit fanatical about the air quality in the house due to allergies (also learned that Damp Rid gets rid of that musty old person smell under cabinets and in closets).

 

3.  Disposal.  Do you know how condescending it is when the disposal grinds to a halt and the advice you get from well-intentioned people is, "you know there is a red restart button you can push."  Yes, I know of the elusive red button.  After many times of fixing the fly wheels in the disposal, one day the disposal died a horrible death.  I tried every trick I knew, broom handle, hex keys, unplugged the whole thing and even manually turned the fly wheels with my hand…  to no avail.  I bought a new disposal.  The day I was going to install the new one, after hearing again about the red button from people at Lowe's who don't know me as well as the nice people at Home Depot, I began to dissasemble the old disposal.  It was then I realized I was out of plumber's putty.  That I even thought I had some in the first place made me feel proud.  A few days go by and I am back to disassembly, a turn here, a twist there.  What do you know, the disposal was resurrected.  To date, this might have been one of my prouder moments.

4.  Drywall.  Having a typical 70's ranch style house equipped complete with the requisite old intercom system, I was determined those were going to have to go.  Yes, I pulled each and every one out of each and every room, fitted a square of drywall, taped and plastered it up.  And yes, I even applied the old 70's style swirly texture back on the wall so as to match the rest of the swirly pattern. 

5.  Wallpaper Removal.  No, I am not a fan of wallpaper.  The fruit and flowers on the kitchen wall was enough to make me lose what little of an appetite I possess.  Obviously that had to go with the intercoms.  Armed with every wallpaper removal application, a steamer and a paper tiger in my arsenal, it was time to start pulling.  Very therapeutic and highly recommened.  This brings about another problem however.  What to do with those walls once done….  I learned how to "float" the bare walls with mud.  Mud, let dry, sand down, mud, sand.  White dust was everywhere for months and months yet overall a beautiful effect.

In the end is this really about my abilities as a handy-woman?  Not so much.  I had a desire to make my new house a home, to create something out of nothing and to find healing out of the very circumstances in which I bought this house in the first place.  Amazing how much emotion and attachment are poured into where we live and why.  In this time of solace and ripping of wallpaper I found peace.  I found independence.  I found that I could overcome challenges.  And I found that through this process I could become whole again.  Finding my feet firmly planted at home.

And so I found myself a short while ago making my last trip to Home Depot as a homeowner.  If I have

learned nothing else, it is this:  When you go into Home Depot, go in with a purpose, walk with confidence to the contractor section as if you actually do know what you are doing and people will assume you do.  Nowhere worse to appear as though you do not know what you are doing then perhaps a car dealership, for example, as a female.  At least to this female.  I digress. 

For my final project I will be learning the fine art of electrical wiring.  Having been beating my head against the wall trying to solve the puzzle of why the sprinkler system is not working, I have come to the realization that it is the entire timer unit itself and so now I have purchased a new one, new connectors, waterpoof ones for the water valve irrigation boxes outside and lots of electrical tape.  I can do this.  I will do this.  No, I HAVE to do this.  The easy part was replacing the broken sprinkler heads. 

So while I know I do not want to be like a girl in Home Depot I hope they can forgive me just this once when I found tears in my eyes in the electrical aisle… realizing that I knew the right questions to ask, realizing how far I have come in such a short time, wondering where I will be next….  wondering… Is Home Depot hiring?  Orange is, after all, my favorite color.  And in case I really need to mention this, do not try these things at home….

-Charmed, I'm sure.

PS For your listening pleasure as you read my incessant ramblings….  please see below, way below.

 

Home Improvement 1-2-3: Expert Advice from The Home Depot (Home Depot ... 1-2-3) Wiring 1-2-3 (Home Depot ... 1-2-3) The Jew of Home Depot and Other Stories (Johns Hopkins: Poetry and Fiction)

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Selling a House is So Not Charming

Tags

, ,

We all know that moving is not fun,  And each and every time I undertake this arduous process I think, never again.  I have never endured the process of selling a house before, and having spoken with others who have, I can say without a doubt that my experience is so not charming. 

Listing_24Listing_23

Two days before closing…  frantically trying to pack and complete repairs and once again Buyers are sending the so-called "carpet people" in to take a third set of measurements.  These are no carpet people  Oh no, these are contractors, itching to get into my house (yes, I know in two days this will no longer be my house but that is beside the point here) to plan the destruction of my beloved and newly redone kitchen.  Why the kitchen with the new flooring, backsplash, countertops, refaced cabinetry, and Jenn-Aire appliances are not feung shei enough for the new owners is beyond me…  and yes, as everyone keeps reminding me to the point of redundancy, I know this is not my house anymore.  But guess what, it IS still mine for two more days.  And yes, it does bother me to know that all the blood, sweat and tears poured into my once loved home will be demolished the moment the moving truck pulls out of the driveway.  And for what?  I come to the table on Thursday, closing day, bearing a check in the amount of $353.95 to the title company. Sure, it could always be worse….  in the meantime…am considering painting a wall red before I leave.

Charmed, I Am Sure.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend