Ask And You Shall Recieve

Well- I think one of you asked. And here they are- some pictures of our new house. Keep in mind that it's not finished yet, but it should be any day now. They just have some minor touch-ups to do.

110 pounds of grass seed. 40 bundles of straw. And working until dark 3 days out of the last 4. We can honestly say we tried our best with our yard. That grass better grow- that's all I'm saying.

This is our kitchen minus the fridge. We have it picked out, we just have to wait until we close to buy it so nothing goes on our credit.

The great room looking into the back yard. They still have to put the bar in the opening going to the kitchen.

The master bedroom. I wasn't sure how the colors would turn out, but I've come to really like it. We were going to go with curtains made by my mom, but the material alone was $45/yard and we needed 20+ yards. Not gonna happen.

Ahhhh. I can't wait. I definitely get first dibs on the tub. No question.

There are other rooms, I just didn't take pictures of them yet. Maddie's room and the guest room are just your basic rooms, painted pale purple. The bonus room will be finished after we move in and I don't really know what color that's going to be. The formal dining room turned office because we're just not the formal dining room type looks onto the front porch and is painted the same tan color as the rest of the house.

And now, I'm off to finish filling the half full boxes scattered throughout my apartment.

Nine Days

Guess what today is. Go on. Do it.

Nope, not my anniversary. Not anyone's birthday- that I know of, but I'm terrible with remembering them, so who knows. . .

It's 9 days before we must be out of our apartment. And by "out" I mean everything gone. Everything cleaned. Everything at our new house.

Oh wait- did I forget to mention that our house isn't exactly finished yet? Well, it's not.

But, we're hoping for a final inspection on Friday.

After that, we must wait ten days before we close because of some stupid rule that I don't even understand.

So, on the 31st, we are headed to my friend's house and staying there until it is okay for us to move in.

In the meantime, my blogging is going to come to a slight standstill. Maddie is staying at my mom's this week, and I've got a ton of work to get done.

I'll be back when I can. Please don't forget about me. I'll miss you!

Am I Ready For This?

After 6 years of living in the same apartment, we have met very few of our neighbors. Right now we actually know and speak to two of them. Our next door neighbor and the family that lives above him.

We know of the rest of our neighbors. We know who lives where. We know who smokes pot all day. We know who is dating who. We know who works where and what they drive.

But we never speak, unless it's a quick "hi" and then a hurry to our apt or car.

It's not that I like it like that. It's just how it is. People mind their own business, and do their own thing.

Yesterday, Justin and I were out at the new house, seeding and strawing the yard. It was hot. We were sweaty and well, nasty.

We had been working for about an hour when a van drove past. When it got to where we were working, it slowed to almost a stop and a balding man rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and yelled,

"YOU MISSED A SPOT!!!" Then he had the nerve to laugh and drive off.

Yes. He. Did.

Is this something we will have to deal with, living in the suburbs? Now, I'm all for getting to know my neighbors. In all actuality, that's one of the reasons we wanted out of the apartment- the community of a neighborhood.

We've gotten in the habit of making up nicknames for our neighbors that we don't know. Olive Garden guy, Smiles, Blue Truck man, Grizz, etc.

That man is now known as the Not Funny Man That Thinks He Really Is.

There's one in every neighborhood, isn't it?

The Words That Hurt

Maddie has always been an incredibly sweet and loving little girl. She started saying "I wuv ooh" at 14 months. She gives hugs 8 billion times a day- unless you initiate them, then it gets ugly. We've had lots of contests on who loves who the most.

A few nights ago, I was putting her to bed. I read her books, she said her prayers, and as I tucked her in, I told her that I love her.

She called me back in her room, hugged my neck, and said, "I love you, but Mommy? I love Daddy more."

I didn't know what to say. So I just told her that I still love her as much as I always have and walked away, secretly wiping a tear from my eyes.

Now, she tells me all the time that she loves something else more than she loves me. She even told me that she loves my mom's dog more than me.

I know that much of this is for attention. I say the same thing every time about me loving her no matter what and all that junk, but it doesn't seem to make her stop.

Today, we were crossing the road with some friends. Somehow, the conversation turned to me possibly getting hit by a car/truck. While I don't remember exactly how the words were put, I know exactly what she meant.

She, my very own daughter, said that she wouldn't care.

Now, I know I've been stressed lately. I know that she has had to spend more time away from me while I've been working. I know that I've been much more impatient with her whining and constant "mommymommymommymommy".

But, dang. . . I had no idea she felt that strongly.

She is going to stay with my mom for a week soon. I wonder if she'll miss me then.

Somehow, I doubt it.

I Fought The Dog. . .

And the dog won.

It isn't even my dog. It's my mom and dad's shih tzu.

When my mom told me that she was thinking of giving my dad a trip to Alaska for Christmas but didn't know what she would do with her dog, I immediately volunteered. How hard could taking care of one little 4 pound dog be?

During the day, she's an angel. Well- except for the peeing and pooping, the eating every Barbie shoe in sight, dragging random socks and underwear throughout the house and terrorizing Grendal, that is.

It's at night that the devil comes out. I assumed that since my mom sent her kennel, that the dog would actually, oh I don't know- use it. Put her in it, she whines. Take her out and put her in the gated bathroom, she barks. Take her out, shut our bedroom door and give her free reign over the entire apartment, she whines, barks, and scratches at our door.

You know what shuts her up?

Nothing.

Except me sleeping on the couch with her curled up beside me. Which I've decided to do until she goes back home. For mine and Justin's sanity.

I think the shih-tzu is the most appropriately named dog out there. At least this one is.

Mom, if you have internet access, I don't really mean this. Your angel is perfect. No problem at all. You are still taking Maddie next week, right? Love ya!

The Freak Out

I think most of my friends and family would describe me as an easy going, take each day as it comes, laid back kind of woman. Not much upsets me. I don't get nervous or anxious because I know it will all work out in the end.

That being said. . .


I'M FREAKIN' OUT OVER HERE!!!!


On July 1, I turned in our vacancy notice stating that we would be moving out by July 31. Today is July 14. It hit me today that that is 2 1/2 weeks away.

There is very little packed. And by very little, I mean our winter clothes are in boxes. That's it.

And, that's not even the big freak- out factor.

Our house isn't completely finished. We don't have a definite closing date. Heck, we don't even know for sure how much the mortgage is going to be.

Yep, I'm freakin' out.

Deep breath.

Okay- I'm a little better now. But, I sure could use some prayers.

Pray that my friend Christie meant it when she offered to let us stay with her until we can move in.

And if she didn't mean it, pray that we can find some big enough boxes for us to live in until it is done.

Style By Tractor

Friday, I was sitting in my office doing payroll and Tractorhead walked in. He was looking for our boss and decided to wait for him there.

In my- barely enough room for me, much less two people- office.

He sat in the spare chair and waited.

I'm uncomfortable with silence, so I racked my brain for a conversation starter. So. . . got any tattoos lately? Why did you go with Bart Simpson on your head? Do you ever wear a shirt?

"Um, have you been out to work at my house lately?"

"Yeah- I stopped by to show my girlfriend the work we had done."

"What did you think?"

"Why did you paint it so many colors? You should have done it one color throughout. An off-white color."

Oh no, did we go with too many colors?

I went through the house in my mind. Maddie's room and the guest room are a very pale purple, the other rooms are a tan, and the master bedroom is chocolate brown and blue.

Granted, the colors didn't turn out exactly like the sample thing, but I guess they never really do. Who knows what the entire package will look like after we get the cabinets in. I should have gone with simpler colors. No one will ever think I have style or taste. What do I know?

Hold on. A man with 5 tattoos of tractors on his head just tried to give me decorating advice.

I like it. Justin likes it, I think. Maddie likes it.

I don't really care if Tractorhead likes it. And if you come to my house and don't like it, that's fine.

I'll give you Tractorhead's phone number and you can talk about it.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

I approached the table of 3. 2 men, 1 woman. Old- very old people. Hhhmmmm- this should be interesting. Or not. At this job, you just never know.

I began my spiel- fresh fish, special, etc.

I was rudely interrupted by the woman's voice that told me she has smoked heavily for the last 50+ years.

"I wanna Bloody Mary. With Ketel 1."

Her husband looked at me and asked if it costs extra. I explained that it was about a dollar more.

He forbade her to get it and started pitching a fit that could top any toddlers'. Dude, it's a freakin' dollar. Chillax.

She looked me straight in the eyes and ordered me to get her drink. Just the way she ordered it. Okay- why don't you just go out, smoke a cig and come back when you can use your manners? You know- "please", "thank you" It works.

Her husband huffed and puffed. "Well- just bring me a Bloody Mary, but make mine with the cheap stuff." Wow- what a guy. The sacrifices this man must have made. . .

I brought them their drinks and sat them in front of the correct person. Her's with the good stuff, his with the cheap junk.

She never looked up. Her eyes were glued to the menu.

Her husband switched their drinks. Then had the nerve to wink at me.

She never knew.

And since I didn't know who was controlling the tip, I didn't feel the need to tell.

His Days Are Numbered

Dear Grendal,

Please know that we love you. This habit of yours that started 6 years ago must stop. I know, I know, it's as much our fault as it is yours, but it's time.

Time for you to stop sleeping in our bed. I think moving to the new house will be the perfect time to break you of this.

When you were a puppy, I thought you wouldn't weigh more than 8 or 9 pounds. That is the normal size, you know. And who could resist a cutie like you, especially when you whined like crazy every time we tried to put you in the kennel?



24 pounds and 6 years later, and you are pretty much taking over our bed. And driving us crazy- every. single. night.




I know that we outweigh you by a lot and we could move you over, but then we would have to listen to you grunt and huff and puff like an old man. It's not really worth it. Besides, you would go right back to stretching out as soon as we went back to sleep.

When we move, we've decided that you can have the guest bedroom. You will have your own pillow. It's where your toys will be kept. And you can come visit us any time, except when it's time to sleep.

We hope you like it.

Love,

Justin and Chelsea

P.S. This is all Daddy's decision. I still love you more than he does, you know that, right? Love, Mommy

Anatomy Of A Play Date

One hour prior to play date: Tell 4 yr old that we will be meeting up with her best friend from school to swim. Sheer excitement ensues and she can't wait to see her friend. She begins to make grandiose plans of what will happen on play date.


First 30 minutes of play date: Kids hug. Smiles abound. They run into the water and begin to frolick and splash. Life is good.


Next 30 minutes: Kids decide that whatever swim toy the other has, she MUST have. Negotiations and common sense will not work- so don't even try.


30 minutes later: Children are friends again. For now. They play water princesses and harrass whichever adult is brave enough to be in the water with them.


Last 30 minutes of play date: Lots of "I don't want to be your friend." "You can't come to my house. Ever." "You aren't being nice." "If you don't wanna be my friend, I don't wanna be your friend." From both of the girls who 30 minutes before had been water princess sisters. No hugs. No smiles. Parents pack up and say goodbyes, hoping the kids will be quiet, so maybe the chance of another play date isn't out of the question.


On the way home: "Mommy, when can we see her again? I love her."

Fireworks For Christmas

What do steak-burgers, home-made banana ice cream, marathon Apples to Apples board game playing, multiple trips to the new house, camping, Lowe's, cleaning/packing, church, fireworks, swimming, curtain material shopping, and showing buyers five different houses have in common?

It was all accomplished this weekend.

Yes, I'm tired. But in a good way.

The highlight of Maddie's Fourth of July was the firework show that my friend's neighbors put on. She and Ethan whooped and yelled after every explosion.

At one point, she turned to me and said, "This is better than Christmas!"

Somehow, I don't think she will appreciate it if Santa brings her a sparkler.

Or- it might be her favorite gift. She's weird like that.

The Fourth

I remember the moment it happened. Vaguely, but the memory is still there.

It was the summer between third and fourth grade. I was outside, riding my pink bike round and round in circles. Not going anywhere. Just riding. And thinking the thoughts of an almost fourth grader.

It hit me.

I'm so lucky. God placed me in the perfect place. He could have put me anywhere, but he chose this house, with 3 other girls, in a small town outside of Memphis, Tennessee.

I kept riding in circles. And thinking more and more.

In America.

I think of that day every July 4th. It is the day I equate with realizing how blessed I am to be an American.

I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe Fourth of July. And between the parades, cook-outs, and fireworks, try to remember how blessed we really are.

Wild Hair Day- Every Day

On the way to church on Sunday:

Me: I think I'm gonna get a haircut soon. It's getting pretty wild and out of control.

Maddie: Actually, Mommy- your hair has always been wild.

I couldn't argue with her. There is no controlling my hair.

Or my daughter's smart comments.

Oh, Happy Day

I went to the doctor for a follow up visit for my recent kidney infection. Every thing looked great and the doctor asked if I had any questions for him.

"Just one. Did coffee play any part in making me sick?"

"No. The only contributing factor it may have played was dehydrating you."

"Soooooo, I can drink coffee again?" Please say yes, please say yes.

"Go ahead. Just don't drink more coffee than you drink water." Thank God

I did a happy dance on the way out of the office.

And made a pot of coffee as soon as I got home.

I was a vegetarian for 6 months. I was coffee free for 4 days.

Guess which one was harder.