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.

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!

Just say "NO!"

It was pretty obvious from the start how this was going to end up.

There were a couple of give aways - the frazzled looking mother, the hyper son, the vibe in the air that was charged with energy - his, not hers.

"Mommy, can I have a some gum?" the little one asked. He's no more than 6 or 7 years old and he cannot reach the brightly colored gum packages high above the conveyor belt at the grocery store. I'm standing in front of them and we are all waiting for the teller who is dealing with the first customer at the check out.

"I don't think so," she replies. Her tone is tired, frustrated, weak.

"But I want some," he argues, now trying to reach past me to the gum. I step away and in my best "Elaine from Seinfeld" moment pray to myself that she will handle this the way she should.

Instead, she stalls.

"Here, can you put this on the belt?" she asks, hoping distraction will work. Sorry about your luck sister.

"NO!!! I want GUM! Please MOMMY!" he hollers and launches into a rapid fire rant of repetition "I want some gum! I want some. Give me some gum Mommy!" From time to time mom manages to squeak out "No." or some other objection, but it's ineffective in that HE DOESN'T HEAR HER.

The lady in front of me at the till turns to look. The cashier glances over and looks away - she's seen this played out dozens of times in a day. She's grateful she's got the the belt and the till to separate her from the hell about to be unleashed.

This exchange goes on for easily two or three minutes. A long bloody time to endure a child whining, begging, bartering and finally, ordering. I can hear him debating with her still as I complete my transaction and leave the store.

Parents are hardwired to WANT to do what their children need them to do. There is no question that it can be really difficult not to succumb to sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks and DIMPLES (I however have had to develop immunity to Dimples - Second Born Son has them and if I hadn't conditioned myself otherwise, we would have been in DEEP trouble years ago! Gramma - my mother - isn't quite as strong and it's sad really...)
But there are times you just have to come from the gut with a deep and forceful "NO." The entire tirade I witnessed would have been avoided with a firm response the child understood. The fact is, he likely hasn't heard "NO" said with any meaning in the past, so he knows that if he keeps howling, keeps pushing, keeps working her over, he'll get what he wants; whether it's the 5th or 10th time because that's what he's done before.

She needs to make eye contact with him, tell him today is not the day for gum because _____ (we are going home for lunch, you didn't eat your lunch, we don't have money for that today, you keep swallowing your gum, you put it in your sister's hair - fill in the blank). He will still protest, so then she will need to follow up with "I understand you are frustrated - if you cannot calm down, we will have to leave the store because this is embarrassing for you." And then, if he doesn't settle down (which he won't for a while because you have to unteach the bad habits over time) then you set down your items at the Customer Service counter, grab your child around the waist and march out. Yes, folks - I've done it - once to each child.

What I haven't shared is that SBS was with me this day. His eyes grew wider with each escalation. He looked at me with an expression that clearly stated "Can you FREAKIN' believe this?"

The Rule of Mouth is that you keep your thoughts to yourself until you get in the car. You just never know when someone is right behind you, or related to the person you are about to discuss - it is a small town after all.

"Did you SEE that kid?" He exclaimed as he locked himself in. "That was CRAZY!"

"Yup," I agreed. "It doesn't look good, does it?"

SBS was prone to temper tantrums, and still has them from time to time - but not nearly as often or a bad as when he was between 4-7 years old. He comes by it honestly. There is footage of me stomping off from a soccer game that didn't go my way as a child - preferring to hide in a cedar hedge to sob in privacy than deal with the frustration I was subjected to. Classy!

But time gives you perspective. My parents didn't coddle me into returning to the lawn and join the rest of the kids. I don't/didn't entertain SBS' meltdowns.

If Grocery Store Mom wants to preserve her sanity, she'll learn how to say NO, and quick!

NOT a Team Player

Setting: In the truck, while running errands.
Characters: Me and Second Born Son - but no laugh track this time...

Me: So did you hear why Player X didn't make it to hockey practice last night?
SBS: Yup, he said he's giving up on hockey. He doesn't care about hockey any more. (Note disgusted tone which verges on mockery as though he's quoting the other player.)
Me (stifling a giggle):Oh, well that's too bad. I guess it's not for everyone...
SBS: Ya, he told Y and Z that he doesn't care if ever plays hockey again. He makes it sound like it's not cool any more. It was cool when he started playing, but now...hmfurh (well- that's what it sounded like - imagine a noise that conveys disgust - could have been a shoulder shrug in there too - I couldn't tell.)
Me: Oh, I see!
SBS: (He doesn't acknowledge my amusement at his indignation) You know, I wanted to quit and you wouldn't let me! You said, "You need to give it a chance SBS and when you try you will like it' and that's what I did Mom! AND I LOVE HOCKEY - IT'S THE BEST. He's not even trying and he's QUITTING!! (Insert disgusted sigh and eye roll).
We are now out of the truck and he's stomping across the parking lot.

Me: So, you and Player X - you're not friends any more?

SBS: No, it's all good - we just can't talk about hockey any more.

Obviously!

Comedy 'round the Dinner Table

(envision a family of four happily munching away on dinner, the sound of plates being scraped clean and groans of fulfillment.)

"That was really good," said First Born Son.

"Yup - really good, hon," concurs The Big Guy.

"Mom is ALWAYS a good cook," said Second Born Son.

(noting the patronizing tone I reply to him)

"Well, I just want to make you happy."

"Oh you are sooooo good at that," said Second Born Son. "You are always making us happy, except for me, when you won't let me play on the Wii, but we're not going to go there now, are we....."

I need to start selling tickets......