Questionable Choices in Parenting

Laughing at life as a parent so they don't commit me

Home Sweet Home!

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I am up to my eyeballs in moving boxes, and I am telling you, friends, I couldn’t be happier! Selling your house makes you feel like your are seconds away from dropping your basket  (remember this and this silliness), but the excitement over actually selling (yikes we are homeless) is pretty amazeballs. We found ourselves packing, packing, oh so much packing,  then living with my in-laws for two weeks (insert every in-law joke imaginable), but we are FINALLY in our new house! Confetti and balloons fall from the sky!

Home sweet home

Every few minutes, I look around expecting someone to shout “the jig is up!” and toss us out of our swanky new pad because they realize it’s just too nice for us. I’ve gone a little hoarse from sitting in my kitchen and squealing “EEEKKKK, It’s all mine!”

While it is going to take us days weeks months a lifetime to sort through the boxes, I have already learned a thing or two while in my humble abode.

  1. I stressed over how the kids would deal with this move. I scowered Amazon for every children’s book on moving,  read every piece of advice online on how to prepare them, and agonized over their happiness just to learn they couldn’t care less about the move. I told the boy we moving to a house with a pool across the street and he was sold. As long as Mimi had her baby doll and paci, she was cool. Creeps
  2. All of this worrying about the kids, but it’s the dog that has taken it the hardest! My poor old lady constantly has a panicked look on her face like we are going to send her furry butt back to the pound at any minute. She hasn’t quite realized this is her new place, and is so out of sorts, she just paces at night. Maybe I should have read her the Berinstain Bears book on moving
  3. Unpacking your entire kitchen in your new house and finding that 40% of your cupboards are still empty is what I imagine nirvana feels like. My kitchen looks like Old Mother Hubbard’s Cupboard and it is glorious. Look at all of this space. Just look at it! I could fit my kids in these cupboards! Now get out of my way and give me my credit card, I need to do some shopping to fill up this space.
  4. A few packages went to our old address and the new owners were nice enough to show us the changes they made. They painted over everything I had done to make that home ours, and I just thought “Well, isn’t that nice.”  But just like that:not mean, not sarcastic (surprised, right?). I really meant it. It was nice to see they made it their own. Before moved, I wept over the kids’ rooms and was shattered to think they would paint over the beautiful murals in each room. MuralsCouldn’t they just hurry up and have one boy and one girl to fill those amazing nurseries? Now my babies nurseries have become  a white home office and random grey room with a treadmill, and I really don’t care. Right now we are working on their fabulous new rooms in their fabulous new house.  Progress, I call that progress, folks.
  5. At the end of it all: stressful decisions, packing, moving, living out of suitcases, and finally turning the key to your new home, if you want to high-five your husband and not high-five him in the face, well now, I call that #WINNING

Flo Reminder

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Once upon a time a happy young couple wanted to buy their first home, right in the middle of the real estate boom. These young lovebirds didn’t have kids, weren’t married, and were planning on, as her grandfather so lovingly referred to their union, living in sin.

They looked high and low but eventually found a small house that was “perfect” and “the one.”  Fast forward to rings, kids, a dog, and more toys and baby stuff that any one person can count, and the family is feeling claustrophobic and bursting at the seams. It is time to move out!

As Paula Abdul and Scat Cat so eloquently put it, opposites do attract and my husband and I are a perfect example.  I am a quick results girl, pull the trigger, leap then look. Hubby is the opposite. He likes to do lots of research, weigh all of the options and let things play out themselves.  To be honest, the balance we bring to each other has served us well. But enough is enough! I need OUT of this house. The toys have spilled into every room and I can’t cook, serve a meal, or lay my head on a pillow without being bombarded with a flashing truck or a baby doll. We need a bigger house and it needs to happen ASAP.  When we started the discussion (several years ago) about moving out, I was very uneasy about leaving our first home; however, I have hit my limit and I fear for the safety of the walls if we don’t pack it up and get the hell out of this house. In a fit, stepping on another freaking toy, I may go all Hulk on the house and start busting up the walls.

Moving has been a source of contention and stress for us for quite some time.  I have even started to get bitter and resent the sweet house that I used to love. Every day I find myself saying “I hate this stupid kitchen! Who are these cupboards designed for, the seven dwarfs?” and “Imagine how nice natural light would be in a bathroom.  My eyebrows would be amazing if I could actually see what I am doing when plucking rather than just grabbing at the hairs in the dark.”

This weekend I was at war with sorting through all of the new stuff from Christmas and finding what I could throw out. My Hulk anger towards the house reared its ugly heard again, but before I could turn green, I heard Hubby yell at Monkey. Looking for a way to calm my anger, I thought I would see what had his panties in a bunch. Turns out Monkey was shoving his sister’s magic wand down the air vent, and Hubby was laid out on the floor with his arm down the vent when he yelled, “Sweet Jesus, it’s Flo!”

Let me give you some background on Flo.  Monkey has been OBSESSED with all things related to Disney Cars since he first watched the movie in 2011. In a very short time, the kid accumulated everything with Mater or Lightning McQueen’s face on it.  For some reason this silly boy took a real shining to a small version of Flo.

For months we would find Flo hanging out in the back of his dump trucks, see her sliding down the slide on the playground, and a few times, she could be found snuggled in his bed at night. One day he asked me “Mommy, where is Flo?” I tore the house apart looking for Flo. Under beds, ripping through the garbage, even the bottom of the toy box.  No Flo. Every day for months and months he would just stop what he was doing or sit up in bed and ask me “Mommy, where is Flo?”  It broke my heart that I couldn’t tell him where that dam car was. Even worse, she is sort of an obscure character and she came in a set that was discontinued. I couldn’t even replace her.

Reunited and it feels so good

Fast forward to a year later, my husband pulling Flo out of the air vent and me bursting into tears. Not just because we found Flo, but because we are on the verge of putting a For Sale sign in our front yard, and I just thought of someone else pulling Flo out of captivity and just throwing her away. They would have no idea how loved she was. It got me thinking how much this house has really meant to me. Hubby proposed to me in this house, we brought both kids home from the hospital to this home, we started out as two young kids living in sin and ended up a crazy family.

So to my house, I apologize for being so pissy with you; you have served us well. I promise to be kind to you in the last few months we have together and I hope to give you new owners that are starting on the same path we were seven years ago, or best offer.

And even though he was nervous in the beginning, my grandfather would agree that even if you are getting the milk for free, you will eventually by the cow. Wait, did I just refer to myself as a cow–gross