S is for Selfish...

Yes,alive, well and kicking. So a hearty THANK YOU for not giving up on me.

I've given myself some time and space this past month to just see what life has in store for me. Here's what I've discovered....

1. I'm really good at laundry
2. I'm a kick ass cookie baker
3. I'm really glad that if I was going to have a week-long debilitating head cold, I wasn't two weeks in to a new job.
4. If I don't sweep EVERY DAY it looks like there is a molting grizzly bear playing hide and seek in our house.
5. 14 is the magic number

After 14 job applications to any job that remotely interested me, I finally had a call last week for a job interview. The posting is very similar to the last job I had in Not For Profit, so it was a relatively easy chat.

Following a five minute conversation which felt like a lovefest of ME ME ME, I waited to see if I qualified for a face to face interview. I did, and yesterday I made the hour-long drive, 70 km return trip, for the hour and a half meeting. Each mile down the road, I'm thinking about how long this drive seems. How much driving time is going to eat out of my day. How the plan to keep my truck indefinitely will have to be revised since I will be driving the crap out of it.

The office is in an impressive building. I felt like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. This was the vision I'd have for myself for a long time. Beautiful lobby, elevator, office. Just what a career-oriented person would shoot for - and I'm not going to lie - it felt right.

I feel I did well. Probably because I went in with about as much expectation in getting the job as I did about winning the last seat on the final shuttle mission. So I let it all hang out. No nerves, no stress and no hope in Hell. Could I do the job? Absolutely. Do I want it?

Tap, tap...hellooo? This thing on?
Perhaps it's my previous experience with charitable organizations, but for me the question is the pay. Show me the money. I'm at an age where I won't undervalue myself. I know what my skill set is - I know what I'm capable of. I know what the next step in my career should be.

But I've also had six weeks of home life where I've had a bit of a revelation.

I'm a disappointment. A traitor to the Women's Movement. I like being at home. I find myself keeping very busy around the house. Not just with traditional house work, but with the activities I have long yearned to do and simply not had the time to do. Unpacking and settling the house. Reading. WRITING! I feel more creative than I have in years. Probably because other than being off for the maternity leaves for my two boys, I've never been off work in more than 20 years. By MYSELF.

I have days that I can plan for myself. I have been freelancing like crazy for the local paper and truly enjoy it. I'm spending less on groceries because I'm planning, not reacting to meal time. I actually have "down" time where I can watch a movie without guilt, because I have all my work done. My stress level is barely registering.

It was a long drive home from the interview. Pondering and consider the impact of various options. Calculating my mileage, the in-freaking-sane gas prices and the time away from home. What I will give up if I'm offered the job and accept it. What I will give up if I don't.

I don't know that it will be worth it. And I'm trying not to dwell on it and let the pieces fall where they may. I think part of my warped psyche said if I didn't go to the interview, I would jinx myself from ever getting another one.

Fortunately, The Big Guy is totally supportive. I explained that I want to find a job that excites me. Something that can challenge me and give me the financial reward that will justify my skills and dedication. He gets it. Likely because he finally has that kind of job and understands the satisfaction it brings. And I've seen the postings - the jobs that as I read the description gives me shivers. Yup, I get tingly over job postings. You would too if you'd been on poggie for three weeks.

For now, I suppose I'm putting the price on my head - which means I'm worth more at home right now than I am an hour away.

Gloria Steinem is pulling my Woman Card...

When I Grow Up I Want to Be......

The search for the perfect job has been far from idylic.

But then, being laid off during one of the biggest "economic downturns" in recent memory...and during the winter at that, probably isn't helping the situation. Neither is the fact that I'm so used to being busy that having any kind of down time is rather unnerving. Oh, and add to that the daily updats that I'm asked for. People are genuinely interested and concerned, but one does tend to go against the odds when they are looking for employment in a rural area with a Communications background.

There is always another school of thought...

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" asks First Born Son.

The laughter that comes from me takes him back - and in that split moment the hurt and confusion that crosses his stabs at my heart. At what point to we stop believing in what we could be? When does the reality of mortgages, bills and responsibility cloud over the sunny possibilities?

I don't believe in regret. There is nothing in my life I would do over differently - even this time I'm in now. I'm heading toward something, I just have to wait until the timing clicks and I set sail again in a new direction.

So I'm not wallowing in self pity, or despair that I should have done something different with my life. But FBS's question has brought to life a new consideration - I want to love what I do.

If you look at the School Days archive my parents maintained for me, you would have seen a young girl who dreamed of being a cowgirl, a vet and eventually a stewardess. This echoed my interests at the time, animals and travel.

While I have been fortunate enough to travel without having to incorporate handing out snack-sized peanuts, my extent of being around animals has been limited to have a dog - and I look forward to someday having the time and resources to have a horse once again.

What I have now is a young family and I love the time I have right now to do all the cliche house-mommy tasks I've struggled to cram in while balancing a job - baking, cleaning, getting jobs done while the kids are at school so I can enjoy my time with them when they are home. Was it what I planned when I was seven? No, but at the time I didn't realize what all of my options were.

So as far as what I wanted to be when I grew up...perhaps I still have some growing to do!

Be Careful What You Wish For

So, how's your 2011 treating you?

Just days shy of the first month ending and a month since Christmas (longer since since I've checked in here - more on that in a minute - patience!)

At Casa Bowery, life has been nothing if not unpredictable. Starting back at the week before Christmas - The Big Guy was head hunted and accepted a job that not only offered greater compensation, but also recognized individual achievement. He has a company truck which means we only have one vehicle on the road. After 23 years with his previous employer - this was as close to a Christmas Miracle as we were going to get!

The Christmas Holidays were frantic, visiting with family and sharing the good news. Hosted Christmas Morning Brunch, add a hockey tournament, no, actually two, and enjoyed a small get together with our friends for New Year's Eve. Put this all together you can imagine why at the end of the week, I was practically in the fetal position. All I could think of was, I need a vacation from the vacation!

I had my next entry all ready - the week that The Big Guy started his new job, I was ready to share the big issue facing my little family - how to share a morning with a father who's had 23 years of peace and tranquility - aka - Welcome To The Real World Big Guy! It still may come, but isn't really relevent right now...

But Life - well, every now and then Life likes to pick you up by the back of the collar, hoof you in the hiney with a frozen work boot and then wash your face with snow, just for laughs.

This cruel form of karma came back the first day of TBG's first day on the new job. We all made a fuss when he left - as proud of him for keeping his cool with two kids and wife "underfoot" as we were of him heading off to the next stage of his career.

When he came home, the kids were all over him. They wanted to know every detail of his day - which he gave in spite of the fact that he was mentally exhausted and looked like he'd run a brain marathon.

So I let him share his stories, show us is lap top, the truck, the new cell phone and all the other details that make little boys glow with envy and pride. After the kids were weary of his accounts, I took the moment to give him some news about my day.

I was laid off. Indefinitely.

Happy First Day at Work Honey!

Being in the manufacturing industry, I had some idea that things were slow, but to say I was caught off guard by this news would not only be misleading, it would be hilarious.

He was very supportive and understanding and I felt like a heel for raining on his parade. We agreed to save telling the kids until the end of the week - which was to have been my last day.

Except, it wasn't. Higher ups in the company decided it would be best for me to leave immediately, as is the nature of Sales. So on Tuesday, I was packing up my desk and back to the house by 11 a.m. As long as I was being paid, I might as well start looking for the next job, right?

Finally, the Heir and the Spare come home from school.

"What are you doing home mom," asks First Born Son.

"Where is your brother?" I reply - yes, diversion is an acceptable tactic.

"He's coming - I threw his toque in the ditch and he's gone back to get it. Why are you home?" he repeated.

"Oh, I've been home all afternoon," I respond - do you see what I'm doing here???

"MOM Why are you home?!" At this point, I realize the poor little bastard is JUST. LIKE. ME. I would totally have done the same thing. Your Spidey Sense is tingling, isn't it FBS?

"JEEZ FBS, take it easy, you just got in the door, I'm wondering where you brother is - do you need to go help him?!" The tone tells him to take a break, and he does, but only for a moment.

Second Born Son finally arrives, asks almost the same question but is satisfied with the "I've been home all afternoon" line. He's so his father's son.....

I had hoped to wait until TBG got home, and don't ask me why. Because it would sound better with him in the room? Dunno. FBS waited all of ten minutes and came at me again.

So I get both of them in the same room and share my good news.

"WHAT? Why would you take a job where you could get laid off???" FBS demands. I'm astonished to see he is REALLY mad. It takes a moment to realize that he thinks I could have prevented this from happening which is why he has a small measure of anger directed at me, but the larger portion is aimed at the business for letting me go. He also admits that he thought we'd won the lottery since over the holidays apparently I had indicated that I would quit my job if we ever hit the jackpot. (Uh, it's pretty much the opposite of that...)

After I explain that any job can be subjected to a lay off, and that in this economy, millions of people have been in this position for much longer. I reassure them that I will be looking for a new job and that we don't anticipate any changes in our household for a while. His tone changes and it becomes evident that he's worried about me, but his surprise got the best of him.

At that point I realize, SBS has been rubbing my back and giving a reassuring pat ever since I told them. He hasn't uttered a word and when I look at him to thank him for his comforting gesture, he stops me mid sentence and gives me a huge hug. I love this kid!

The shock of the news was soften considerably by the fact that I had dinner in the oven and was giving a most delicious aroma. Immediately they seemed to register that there were some advantages to having Mama Bear around.

In the week since this has happened, I've painting the exposed flooring in the upstairs hallway, tidied up countless boxes that were half unpacked, set up the hutch in the dining room and emptied at least 10 boxes of china, decor items and silverware. The living room actually looks like a living room instead of a drop zone for everything from action figures to saws,and the laundry is totally caught up! I'm ready to tackle SBS's closet which requires some shelves to be built. Power tools anyone?

Fortunately, my contact at the local newspaper is thrilled to have more of my time and I will be writing more than I have in years. Stepping back into journalism is like putting on your favorite pair of jeans - the ones that went out of style for a while, but now are so retro they are cool again.

I love the fact that I have a skill I can use in a freelance capacity, and plan on using this as an example for my boys when it comes time to choose a career path.

Finally TBG comes home, and since from the boys perspective, this is "news", SBS greets him at the door.

"Hey Dad, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is, dinner is ready! The bad news is, Mom lost her job!"

Factual, to the point and direct. I wonder if this boy has a future in reporting?

'Twas the Week Before Christmas....

Christmas is here.

Don't fool yourself - that it's only the 25th, because honey, we spend an entire MONTH preparing for this, so in my opinion, it's all part of Christmas.

So with boxes slowly melting away and Christmas decorations being pulled from their storage, we have a house that is an interesting blend of "Art Reno" and "Martha Stewart's Christmas Nightmare". Every candle I have been given that says "Christmas" is in the large front window, and in the 10 seconds I dash through that room, they call to me, begging for organization, thought, design.

Sure, later.

I have six squares done which is approximately, one...two...three....SIX more than I planned to make. So thumbs up for me! I don't, however, have all the wrapping done. At this point, the dining room has paid for itself as a storage facility for wrapping paper, bows, tape and every present I've bought this year. You have no idea the amount of satisfaction I get in pulling the door closed and walking away from that disaster.

As mentioned previously, I side stepped Christmas cards by issuing Thanksgiving/Halloween/Christmas greetings before we moved. My logic was to provide those near and dear with our new address and be able to relax in the weeks leading up to the "Blessed Day."

While those I have received do have the new address on them, I have vowed that whoever does NOT send me a card this year will NOT receive them from me in the future. Harsh? Yes. Un-Christian? Most likely. Rewarding as all Hell? Definitely. After 17 years of buying, scribing and paying postage for cards, I can say I've done my due diligence for those who have enjoyed and not reciprocated. YOU ARE CUT OFF!

The Big Guy and I have decided to take a year off gifting each other. Basically, the house is a gift enough, aside from the fact that the new TV is my gift to the family. We don't need more and we're trying to share this concept with the boys.

Fortunately, I've heard comments such as "When can I wrap Second Born Son's present Mom?" and "Mom! I have a couple of ideas for Christmas for First Born Son!" They get the idea of giving and we've already told them that in the grand scheme of things, they will not see a lot of presents under the tree this year. Ironically, it hasn't fazed them in the slightest - they are more excited about going to church Christmas Eve!

Which tells me we are heading in the right direction with this parenting thing. Cue the Angel Choir!

SH!# They Don't Tell You About Moving

The move may be over, the fallout is still everso evident.

With the priority being to set up the boys rooms, I can honestly say, I haven't been in their rooms, other than to drop off laundry, for two weeks.

Has it really been two weeks????

Sadly yes, and I actually have figured out where the squeak is in the hallway and how to avoid stepping on it early in the morning when head to the bathroom.

No more boxes have been emptied the boys bedrooms because they need their shelves screwed to the walls to display the neverending assortment of trophies, medals and other "essential" display items.

Every trip to the garage is a return route with another box. How did we get so many freakin' BOOKS?

With each box marked KITCHEN I feel like a kid at Christmas. Will THIS be the box that has the dish drying rack???? NO, APPARENTLY NOT.

I also cannot find the HD Box for the fibre hook up. So I have a kick-ass TV which has poorer quality than a computer monitor. Niiiiice. I have actually taken the time to sit on the new sofa, if for no other reason than to make sure it's as comfy as I remember it being in the show room. The Big Guy has fallen asleep on it already - so it's officially been christened.

If terrorists burst into my home and took an appliance hostage - it had better be the microwave, because when my new dishwasher comes in the door, it will become the most prized posession (ahead of some of the individuals for that matter) because hand washing dishes is just about killing me. Aside from the time it takes, my hands have suffered enough with the brutal weather chapping them. My dreams of being a hand model have been dashed. That being said, it would be CONSIDERABLY easier if SOMEONE WOULD FIND THE FREAKN' DISH DRYING RACK!!! HAVE YOU EVEN LOOKED????

I love the concept of finding a place for something, then someone else (you can guess who) comes along and doesn't think it's a logical place for that item, and then relocates it - without sharing with the original individual where it has been relocated to. There are also the random calls at work or on the cell to ask where such-in-such is now being stored. Good Times.

Sparky the Wonder Dog is actually starting to relax - THANKS BE TO GOD. For days he would go out the front door, do his "business" 10 feet from the door and high-tail it back to the stoop and whimper to be let back in. Pretty lame for a big strapping mutt, not to mention the front lawn was giving an unusual aroma to the front entrance when the wind hit certain angles.

We even tried to get him out to the back lawn to explore the 2.5 acres we bought for this very purpose. Within seconds of hitting the deck, he was instantly around to the front entrance again, fearful that we might have forgotten he was out there.

This weekend marks the first official event at Casa on the Hill. Second Born Son's birthday is coming up and we'll celebrate with family this weekend. Here's hoping we don't have to use boxes to seat everyone around the table!

A Letter To Our House

While normally I would have a thoughtful tribute for Remembrance Day, I can say with confidence that I don't have the brain matter to do that right now.

With the remaining brain cells I have left, I can only focus on one thing. We move tomorrow. There is only one thing I could write about today....

A Letter To Our House
Dear Little House,
I must admit, when I first met you, it was not love at first sight. But I'm sure you thought the same of me. I didn't bring much to the table and you must have cringed when you heard some of the ideas I was developing.

With your little green roof and your orange brick, you looked like a big peach sitting without benefit of shade on the quiet little street. The back patio was made coarsely from masonry material and therefore chipping away. The single little tree on the south side of the back yard could have snapped off in a strong wind.

But your were OUR first home. You are the home where I learned how to be a wife and eventually a mother. We became a family here with you. You tolerated our dogs and friends with kids as crazy as ours and with every transformation we put you through, you seemed to get better with age.

We planted trees to give you some privacy and shade; designed gardens to enhance your features and eventually, threw on an addition that allowed us to stay with your 8 years longer than we would have otherwise. We made you a little cottage home.

The Big Guy and I have looked at houses almost from the time we moved in to you. You never gave us a moment's grief and yet we spent 17 years looking for something else. If the sale never happened, we would have been fine to stay with you. We would have continued to make improvements, and reinvent you. But this is where we part.

Thank you for being our shelter. Thank you for being the frame for some of my fondest memories - and some of the more difficult ones. I will never forget the feeling I had when we brought Second Born Son home from the hospital in a brutal snow storm. "We are HOME!" I will never forget the indigation both boys had when a neighbor's party left evidence on your front lawn. I was so proud of how they felt - frustration, anger, indignation. They know we took care of you, and they learned how to value their things by taking care of you too.

After tomorrow, I won't come by even regularly - I don't believe in looking back like that, but when I drive by, I will wonder if the mural is still in First Born Son's room, if your new owners love the bench in the back hall as much as I did, if they can appreciate the back yard for what it was and is now?

I hope and pray they live as happy a life there as we have had, and that they come to love you as much as we do.

May your eaves always drain downhill,

Sarah

"The boxes are stressing me out!"

I like Sunday evening dinner. It's a nice end to the weekend, gives us a chance to connect as a family and gives me much needed leftovers to kick off the week.

Second Born Son was going to miss Sunday evening dinner. He was happily kidnapped after his hockey game by a fellow player's family. A mis-read of the clock meant the "hour to two" visit was only going to be 20 minutes, unless, that is, he could accompany his friend to his sister's hockey game.

I did pause. I do like Sunday evening dinner. But then I realized, sometimes, you just have to mix it up. I agreed that he could go.

"Thank you," said the friend's mom. "He said he would like to stay. He said "The boxes are stressing me out!"

She laughed. So did I, except I knew he really felt that way. All week he's been like a little clock, but instead of winding down, he's tightening up. He's picking fights, being moody and more than a little cheeky. For the first time in many months, he's been sent to his room for a time-out. Did I mention he's three weeks away from being 10? Thanks an entirely seperate entry.

First Born Son is coping in his own way. He's become very clingy. Lots of hugs - all the time. This wouldn't be such a stretch, except for the fact that he's come off a year where he would pull away from you if you even suggested a hug.

With the last four days ahead of us, moving has been real, and at the same time, surreal. I can't imagine living anywhere else, yet I can't stop imagining what it will be like in a new home.

Where home used to be a place we could relax and find refuge, it has now become a place where we can't catch our breath or find our space. our personal items are being removed. We are losing our hold on this home.

So yes, SBS missed Sunday dinner. But it's ok, it's what he needed to do. Sometimes, you just do what gets you through.

Mixing Business with Pleasure

As she speaks I'm scolding myself for allowing my eyes to drift around the room.

What will that wall look like in Spanish Moss? Would the TV work where she has hers, or should I get some wiring put in at the other end?

It's surreal that I'm here at all - a moment of bravery/stupidity and suddenly I'm in the door of the "new" house with the "old" owner. What started out as a simple business discussion quickly became a social call, and I wasn't minding in the least.

While it was easy for me to envision what the floor would look like without the shag carpet, it was much more difficult for me to imagine her husband supervising the construction of the house. Mostly because I've never met him. She tells me the stories that made this house her home; how her husband made a statement with a load of poor quality lumber; how he chose a rounded arch to make their entrance unique. He sounds like a man after my own heart. She stops herself to show me a feature of the windows, top of the line in their day - and are still in great condition.

The longer I'm there, the less I feel like positioning my furniture in my mind and more like I'm being given a great opportunity that I should appreciate.

We chat about the auction sale the weekend before and although she's interested to know that some things did go to "good" owners, you can tell it pains her to talk too much about the life she had being sold off. We laugh over the fact that I bought a desk that belonged to her husband.

"Had I known, we could have just left it here for you!" she smiles.

Personal posessions not needed or wanted went to the highest bidder. The accordions her husband treasured hadn't been around as long as I thought. He bought two of them second hand and only one was new. He taught himself how to play at the age of 60. I'm admiring the two of them more and more. He would sit on the front porch and serenade the neighbor, because he actually could play well.

She speaks of her daughters and how helpful they have been. The packing and cleaning and organizing they have done to help her in her transition from their family home to a modest two bedroom apartment. She would move closer to them, if it weren't for the fact that he's still in town and in a nursing home. He counts on her visits and looks forward to seeing her. Their 56-year marriage is tested by Alzheimers but she's willing to be near him as long as she can.

I'm stunned when she tells me her age - turning 82 in December. She doesn't look it, until we stand to seek out another feature of the house. Her hip and knee have tightened up, making walking difficult. In spite of my protests to return to the couch, she insists on showing me all of the thermostats, as well as the quality cleaning job she has done on the Rec room. Was there ever any doubt?

From time to time we talk about what The Big Guy and I plan to do with the house - mostly redecorating. She apologizes for the dated appearance but we agree it would be pointless to go to the expense of painting only to sell and have someone change it to suit their tastes. I gauge her reaction to things and carefully redirect the conversation to her when I see there's a saddness to her. It can only be expected, but after her generosity, I don't want to be thoughtless of her feelings.

She then tells me how the kitchen is one of the warmest rooms of the house, thanks to the oven and the southern exposure with a large window and sliding glass doors. While she is warm blooded, she would often seek refuge in the cooler living room to the north. I find myself daydreaming about baking on a Sunday afternoon, sunlight flooding the kitchen and it's warmth keeping me toasty as well. In my current kitchen, I get sun only late in the day through one window that faces West.

At some point we discussed the business - the purpose of my visit, and while she never offers me a refreshment, it was obvious she was not keen for our time to end, following me down the stairs and out the door. She shared more stories about the house and the flower beds. By now it's dark out and for the first time I see the view of the town with the lights on. My house on the hill has a beautiful view during the day, but it never occurred to me how lovely it would be at night.

Before I leave I extend an invitiation.

"Things are going to be crazy the next couple of weeks, so I'll say this now. If you would ever like to come back to the house, and see what we've done, you are welcome to do so. I know you might not want to, and I would totally understand that."

Her face lights up and while there is still a sadness to it, I can see she is considering it. If she never comes, I wouldn't blame her. You can't ever really go back. I don't know that I would have any great desire to see in our old home again.

The next day, I'm packing with my Mother and she's commenting on the various attributes of the little house we are leaving. How much we've improved the property and put ourselves in to it.

"You'll miss your oak cupboards," she says, removing pots from a lower cupboard.

"No, I don't think I will," I reply, instead thinking of the sunlight kitchen, the house with a history and a home with a view.

Treading water, but just barely....

This one is for Susan - who said "What's going on with the blog?" and to which I responded - "I HAVEN'T HAD TIME!" and for that I'm truly sorry....

The only way to do this right is to catch everyone up on the past two months which honestly seems like the blink of an eye, when I look back on it. Forgive me if break this up, because at some point, you'll want to sleep or eat or at least use the plumbing.

Mid August, the fam goes on holidays. We need to get away from the stress of the house selling and we decide to do something equally stressful - buy hockey equipment. On the way home to another ball game, one of the boys decides we should go camping. Sure, great idea, we can pitch the tent in the back yard...

"NO MOM - we mean REAL camping!" It was like Surround Sound. So, with a game ahead of me, the camping gear packed away and The Big Guy ready to book a site at a nearby campground, I realize, we should maybe let our realtor know we will be away from civilization for 48 hours. Make a mental note to call in the morning - as I will be up to midnight shopping (thank GOD for 24 hour grocery stores)and packing clothes.

Naturally, I forget to call said realtor in the morning, but instead he calls US! There's another offer on the second house we bid on and now we have to fish or cut bait. We know we want this house BAD, so we put the offer in and hope for the best. The Realtor says we should have an answer by the end of the day.

So by 10 a.m. we are off for our camping adventure - all the while laughing about what we might do with the house if we get it.

"You really shouldn't do that you know," pipes up Second Born Son.

"Do what?" I ask

"Get your hopes up, you'll only be disappointed if it doesn't work out." he replies.

I'm gobsmacked. We just got schooled by the 9 year old.

We set up our site, discuss our plan for the day and eat lunch. After some splash time in the river, we head out for a walk about the park. It's a 45 minute hike and we are on the way back to our site when we look across the valley and see a car remarkably familiar heading down the remote lane to our little campsite. It's the realtor's car.

The Big Guy and I look at each other - not a good sign - it's only been two hours and why would he come all the way here unless it was bad news? We are disappointed and the walk seems much longer as we find our way back to the little tent by the river. WRONG - it's GREAT news - we got the house, he brought the paperwork for us to finalize the deal and initial some minor changes. The camping adventure goes from fun to depressing to FREAKIN' AWESOME. The down side is - we won't move until Nov. 12 - and oh ya, we have to sell our house.

Now my sister had a philosophy. She said the offer on the first house didn't go through with our conditional sale because she feels we were buying the wrong house. So within 10 days of putting an offer on the second house, we have not one, but THREE offers on our little house. It's a whirlwind as we sit with offers around us and The Big Guy is in his glory because, yes people, THIS is what a Bidding War is all about.

In the end the deal is done, we are moving and just when we think there is SOOOO much time, it's back to school, hockey tryouts and just dealing with every day life.

...and it's two months later!

We can wrap this up...any time now.....

So two months into the adventure that is selling a house and the ride is still like a roller coaster.

We've had a showing a week, save for two weeks, and we have conditionally sold the house. We are waiting for the buyer to sell his home - and although he's had viewings, the offers aren't there yet.

So we keep showing the house. The Big Guy is awesome about it - even taking the idea of Staging a home so it's in it's best "light". The boys are terrific - making sure that they keep things cleaned up between the time we finish the actual cleaning and the arrival of the prospective buyers. Not an idyllic way to spend a summer!

Take today for example. We were called yesterday for an 11:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. showing today. Totally jazzed, we get the place shining. The boys have a list of things to check on before they head out for the viewing. At 8:45 a.m., First Born Son calls me at work to say the real estate agent left a message cancelling the viewing.

I call the office and reception tells me that the buyer's mother had a heart attack, therefore, they won't be coming to see the house. Well - that's life. No one could blame them for not coming. The house looks awesome, but it's all for naught.

Speed up to 11:30 a.m. There's an urgent message from reception at the real estate office saying "CALL ME!!!" Another couple would like to see the house - can they get in ASAP. I call the boys who are just sitting down to eat. Fortunately, they finished their list of jobs before the cancellation call came in. Now they have to inhale their lunch and head to public swimming early to be clear of the viewing.

Not a easy way to go about things.

The other night Second Born Son said to me "I can't wait until the sign says SOLD, Mom." "Me too!" I told him. The summer is flying by and the weather is gorgeous, but it seems like we are in our Sunday finest every day. Just last weekend we had friends in for dinner - the first time all summer!

Here's hoping our patience pays off - we'd love to reclaim some summer relaxation!

The only part of my life that can relate to The Bachelor

I admit, I'm not the best at being in "limbo".

Actually, I really suck at it. I'm a "take charge" kind of personality. Not that I have to be the one at the head of the pack - although I have been. I'm totally ok with adding my pull to someone else's lead.

So waiting for an offer on the house is a bit of a bummer. I remain rather objective about the entire thing - again - what will be, will be. But harping after the kids on summer holidays about keeping the house at roughly 80% cleanliness is tough on the family dynamic. Not to mention, the a/c conked out in the midst of a FREAKIN' heat wave. Not good for showings - or our dispositions.

We have had two viewings in two weeks - both out of town agents, and neither of whom bothered to "report back". Apparently this is very bad form in Real Estate etiquette. We had a near-miss on a bidding war with another buyer who moved in on the house we were looking at. And suddenly, I had a revelation.... This is what it's like to be on The Bachelor.

All these women are vying for the attention of one man. You can tell by the numbers that the odds aren't great - BUT, they are in it for the chance it COULD be them. At some point during the process, it stops being about falling "in luv" and more about being the winner. That's where these experiences are the same.

The sense of entitlement one gets when faced with the prospect of losing out on an opportunity to someone else is rather powerful. The Big Guy and I discussed what our ceiling was, what the value of the property was, what the potential for the property and the neighborhood was. We put in our offer. So did the other couple.

Both offers were returned - apparently they were virtually the same and the vendor is looking to see how far he can take this. We discuss adding to the pot, the fact that we can't remove our condition. We agree to resubmit our last offer and if it ain't good enough, then that's all she wrote.

I chastise myself for getting ahead of the game. You shouldn't covet what isn't yours - and in this case - AND THE BACHELOR - it can result in frustration and even heartache. Don't imagine what Christmas would look like in the living room. Don't fantasize about him proposing - you are still in the "group" phase.

Yesterday our agent called - we got the house. The 30 second happy dance was quickly replaced with - holy shit - we've got to sell THIS house! Ironically, the office called this morning, another showing is booked for this week - that's three shows in three weeks, in case you are keeping track. It's probably asking too much to hope there would be a decent offer....

But after all - there is one girl who gets the ring at the end!

DISCLAIMER - I don't watch The Bachelor, or The Bachelorette - I just pick up enough of what I need to know from the commercials and non-stop crap that is out there on the Internet. I can't afford to lose the few brain cells I have left by actually watching it!!!!

Closed Door on Open House Policy

So Day 10 rolls around as our little house practically sparkles, it so clean. Many cars have rolled past, barely creeping along the street, then take off again. Conversation with friends and family begins with "So have you had anybody go through the house yet?"

And the answer is "No". The Big Guy and I aren't sure if we should take it personally or not, but at the risk of being a micro manager, I include this vein of conversation with our agent. After clearing the air about some other matters, I ask....

"So, what should we expect with regard to bookings? Like is there a ration per week or per month?"

"No, it varies," he assures me.

"Ok, well what do you think about having an Open House?" I continue. This was put to me by my sister-in-law who has done the buy/sell thing a couple of times.

"In 25 years of selling Real Estate, I have yet to sell a house at or because of an Open House. In urban areas, it's pretty much the ONLY way to buy a house. People actually go out to shop for houses by going to Open Houses. In my opinion, it's just a chance for your neighbors to come in and nose around your stuff. But if you really want to do the Open..."

"Uh - NO." I state firmly. "You got me at "nosy neighbors".

He tells me we will be in the next edition of the paper, which apparently always generates interest (Who knew? Certain not me!) and tells me he expects I'll have a viewing at some point in the next couple of days.

Sure enough - yesterday the message was left that people want to see our house. OUR HOUSE!! We all do a little happy dance and then reality sets in. We have to orchestra an INCREDIBLY efficient evening if we are going to pull this off. Meetings, swimming lessons, ball games - we have to weave these all in between strangers coming to look at our stuff!!!! The Big Guy and I orchestra a massive touch up to get the house in tip top shape, and we fall in to bed around midnight, wondering what the odds are of the first people going through the house making a decent offer.

Cuz I don't know how long we can keep the house this clean!

So....NOW what do you want to do?

If I close my eyes, I am back on the front steps of the house. You can't stand on that little porch any more because we put a much larger deck across the front.

I remember walking into the house and the furniture was all over the place, randomly positioned. There was a strange glow to everything - like the lighting was wrong and there was a haze in the air. I was convinced this was April, but apparently, it was November!

Each room had it's own unique look - pink shag with hot pink walls in one room, matching green shag and walls in another, so naturally, the third room was blue. There was no character to the house. It was just over 1,000 sq ft. and from the outside, looked like a big peach box with a bright "Farmer Green" roof. The main living area was an odd shade of Harvest Yellow that matched the rather dated linoleum floor in the kitchen and the dark brown shag carpet adjacent to it. Once we moved in, we would soon realize the walls were actually off-white. The nicotine stains from the farmer's heavy smoking had stained all the walls with a very antique layer of crap that had to be scrubbed off before we started to paint.

I was keen to buy, not because it was a fabulous piece of real estate (mind you the lot was HUGE by town comparisons - but nary a tree for privacy.) but because The Big Guy wouldn't set a date for the wedding until we had a house. He was afraid people would think we weren't going to start life off right if we didn't have a home. The plan was to rent it out for a year or so, then freshen it up for our new life together. (Don't get me going on the perils of waiting 2 years and 2 months to get married!)

We came back the next day - because this particular house was going to be sold by AUCTION. The family of the late owner, a farmer...surprise, surprise....had his entire estate ready to spread out on the lawn.

The Auctioneer stopped the bidding twice because the minimum asking price was not reached. We recognized two of the opposing bidders and fumed - more retired farmers with more coin than we hoped to have in a lifetime - bidding up this plain little house. The Big Guy had veins popping all over the place - could have been because he'd never bid on anything in his entire life, never mind a HOUSE! I removed myself from the stress by walking the lot and spending a lot of time in the area where our children now have a sandbox.

Finally, we got the winning bid. We were home owners. It was a combination of wanting to jump up and down and scream, and projectile vomit.

We became a couple at this house. We became a family here too. We raised plants, dogs and then kids. When we outgrew the house, we adding roughly 200 sq ft. and made the plain little house a smart little bungalow, complete with a custom kitchen and massive master bedroom with en suite bathroom.

We entertained friends here. Had our babies first birthdays here. Their heights are marked on the stud in the basement. The Big Guy has fixed all the quirky things about the house and he knows where all the pipes are buried.

But today, it's going on the real estate market.

And - maybe nothing will happen. It's truly a fishing expedition. We have found another house, that needs some love and attention, but there is more space for TBG's modest landscape business. It's in a beautiful area of town with views in three directions. I've always liked the idea of being up on a hill - to see far away from where I am. I also want to live on the water. Not sure how to make this work - but given the river is not far from either of these houses - I'm going to take it!

First Born Son and Second Born Son are equally jazzed at the idea and have tackled their rooms with a zeal rarely seen. I will spend the weekend packing up personal photos and items that should not be left lying around when strangers come through your home.

As I signed the paperwork to list the house, I had an instant flashback to the day I signed the paperwork to buy the house - two feet away from where I was sitting. Life is an interesting journey and if this is meant to be, it will be.

If not, I will gladly hunker down in my little house for many more years.