Food Fight! (Seriously...) & The Realtor (Rant?)

James has red speckles all over his eye - the eyelid, brow bone, under the eye. They are the kind of spots you get from smacking into something, like a tree or a lichen-covered rock. There's a shadowy tint below the eye, too. It's not quite a black eye, but something obviously happened. I inquired and he filled me in, "Oh, that? Yeah, that's just from when John hit me with a chicken leg."

I couldn't keep the Mommy Composure. Just couldn't.

The most mature, articulate response I could muster was, "That is the WEIRDEST thing I think I've ever heard!" He laughed. It seems that while I was preparing cheese crisps for lunch, there was some kind of disagreement that culminated in a duel. It was all over when the chicken leg came into play. The boys worked it out and they both laughed about it while they told me the story.

Part of me is glad they worked it out between the two of them, eventually, and enjoyed one another for the rest of the day. Part of me is somewhat mortified that my children ever thought this was an option. A chicken leg to the head? Yet another part of me is quietly whispering to the other two, "These are the threads of your children unravelling! The seams will pop soon and it'll be worse than ripping open a beanbag!" That part also includes a very frightening laugh that echoes to the marrow. I'd like to think our familial stitching is strong enough to get them through the topsy-turvy phase, but my prayer tonight is, "Please let this week pass smoothly."

Tranny Guy was sufficiently mortified that we were back (and still under warranty, which is what bothered him the most, I think) and promised to have the Suburban back to us tomorrow at five. Hmmm. That would help. I was as nice as the situation warrants (perhaps moreso), although I did pointedly make the problem of getting all four of us home without the Suburban "their problem". I figure if they don't want to haul us around, then perhaps they ought to do a better job, eh? If it happens again, I'm going to make them swing us by the market, too, because I'm nearly out of creamer again.

Tomorrow, I need to email our realtor. It's nothing big, but I believe there may be a small *do the quote thing with your fingers* communication issue *okay, you can stop now* that needs to be rectified before it explodes into another series of Realtor Rants. It seems that since we mentioned we'd be willing to buy a trailer on acreage and build our own home, she inferred that we must want a new home. So, being the intuitive creature realtors are known to be, she raised the price ceiling we gave her and sent us the listing for "the house you're going to buy, I just know it!" It would leave us with no money for a chicken (one), let alone cattle or fencing for the cattle, it has far less acreage than we want, and it has a monstrousity of a brand spanking new house w/ oak cabinetry (which we so don't really care about). The thing is, if we can't find a great old house that has stories and ghosts and mojo, we want to build our own home and start right then and there with our own stories and ghosts and mojo. We want to infuse them all the way to the foundation. We don't want somebody else's generally contracted cookie cutter house with glamor bath. There is no mojo in a glamor bath! But how to convey this to the realtor species, I don't know.

Anyhow, tomorrow is a huge packing day. We are pleasantly surprised to find that the drawers and the kitchen are all that's left to pack. Bonus!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, my. I did not expect that!

I'm so sorry to have just disappeared. It seems that Huntsville, while absolutely beautiful and offering anything a body could need, lacks one important feature for cyber-contact: public internet spaces. Heads up to any entrepreneurial souls out there - Huntsville could use an Internet Cafe!!! We thought we saw a Kinko's, but couldn't find it again (not listed in the phone book we had). We didn't get a local addy in time to sign up at the library, and our hotel didn't have a business center. So, I apologize for slipping into the Vortex. We're back!

Here's the week in review:
It was Good.

For more detail, read on.

Day 1
We pulled out Sunday, later than we expected, but y'all knew that, I'm sure. With the trailer and the wind, the eleven hour drive took seventeen hours. Huntsville is lovely at sunrise. We checked into our suite, poured cereal for the boys, handed James the remote, and passed out on the couches.

Days 2,3,4
We searched for a short-term rental. We met the neighbors and enjoyed evenings on the front walk, visiting and getting our bearings. The neighbors - a group of welders in town on a three-month assignment - doted on the boys, shared their beer, and welcomed us in true Southern fashion. We had watermelon on the grass and listened to music from somebody's pickup.

On Day 3... We resorted to bribery for the boys. Miniature air-heads candies make wonderful stalling devices for prolonged drive time. Give the "mystery white" ones to the baby, and there's virtually no mess, either!

Day 5
We found a great short-term rental. We found a realtor. We had supper with Zorak's new boss and his family. They homeschool! They are darling. The children meshed beautifully and had a giggly, squealy, grand ol' time playing after supper.

We found Smidge sleeping face-down in the dining room around midnight. Looks like he was heading somewhere and didn't quite make it. I think this move is, for him, much like the stereotypical Freshman Year In College from a good 80's flick. It's a whirlwind of activity, everything is new, nothing makes sense, he parties like a hound, and wakes up in a strange home surrounded by nothing familiar. So far, he's handled it well, but that's got to be confusing.

James mastered riding his bike without training wheels!! No more Benny Hill escapades around corners. He is so proud, and so excited.

John said he was "friendsick", much like being "homesick". He loves his people, and we'll have to find some new people pretty quickly there in AL.

There is Mexican food (and green chile!!) in Huntsville. We ate little else for the duration of the week.

Day 6
We traveled to Arab to look at a few properties. I caught a fit of the giggles. It is not pronounced "Arab", as in the geographical or cultural reference. It is pronounced /AY-rab/, yes, as in Ray Stevens' "Ahab the Arab". I sat in the back seat, singing to myself and laughing like a lunatic for most of the drive. Don't know if I'll ever be able to say it "properly". Zorak nailed the point quite well: "Saying /AY-rab/ is a lot like saying /MESS-kin/. It's just not right." But you know, if dialect is the biggest stumbling block we encounter, we're good with that.

Day 7
We loaded the Suburban, locked up the new pad, and headed north on I-65 to look at properties on our way out. It'll take another post to tell you about the things we found.

And, you will not believe this! Our transmission gave out on us again, just at we hit Virginia, again. And so, once more, our trip home took an exceptionally long time, since we worked without second gear and an intermittent third gear. One more rebuild on this tranny and we'll have the average cost of it down to a reasonable price for a tranny rebuild. This will be the fourth transmission in this thing, three of which have been in the last 14 months. So guess what we get to do this week, in addition to packing and cleaning? Yee-HAW! Four days without transportation at all while they rebuild the tranny again.

But don't let that bit fool ya- it was a wonderful trip. We are happy to be getting settled in and look forward to reaping the fruits of seven years of hard work. And it is good to be back here (online) again, too. I'll make the rounds and get caught up with y'all, but if you don't hear from me right away, please know I'm just a little buried under.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hey now! Y'all be nice! ;-)

I mean, really. Ok, our townhouse includes a washer and dryer, so we haven't thought of ours since we left New Mexico. It was a busy summer. We moved, and the boys were sick with exotic random illnesses (one after another) the whole two months we stayed with family. And I was 18 months pregnant, in the middle of summer, uphill both ways. Then we moved into campus housing (anybody remember the spider hatching episode?) and had the baby a week later. We up 'n moved here two months after that. At some point between the baby and the cross-country trek, we splurged and spent $25 on a washing machine so Zorak didn't have to trek to the laundry once a week. You have to turn the knob with pliers because the knob part is missing. It sat in the kitchen, occupying a full 1/4 of the available floor space, and spent most of its time disguised as a dish rack and countertop.

...it's easy to forget these things when life is happening at full throttle. Really. Could happen to anyone. *grin*

So. *whew* We leave in the morning, at some unholy hour. We're so excited about the voyage. We haven't found our Forever Home yet (trust me, I'd have inundated the blog with images of the place by now!) We do plan to find it, if not immediately, then shortly thereafter. (What comes right after "immediately"?) We know it's there. It's waiting for us. And since we're pretty sure it isn't mobile, we must go to it. *play theme music in the background... no, not Sweet Home Alabama, play the theme from The Right Stuff... yeah, now you're with me.*

I'm not going to shampoo the entire carpet this trip, but that one stain (the one I mentioned earlier in the week) is terribly obvious now that all items are cleared away from the area. To make it worse, the boys found their baptismal crosses today and for whatever reason, left them laying around the stain. Zorak looked at it and said, "What's that, a faith cleaning?" Um. Guess I better get on that before bed.

We bought the boys t-shirts while in DC last time. They say "Future President". I'm thinking, yeah. It's possible. All three of them. These kids are made of some amazing mix of titanium and rubber. The really stretchy, flexible kind of rubber. They're exhausted and uprooted and in a total mire right now, but they're handling it so well! I'm in awe. (I'm also just a tad bit afraid of the nuclear chain reaction we may face at some point when the dust settles, but that's what chocolate an snuggle time is for.)

Melissa said this morning, "Wow, you're so calm." She meant it as a compliment, but I like her too much to let it slide. I had to 'fess up. I'm not calm. I'm borderline catatonic. What I lack in fortitude, I make up for in partial paralysis of my mental function. Zorak probably doesn't appreciate it, but it gets me through. And now we're here. We're at that part! I can't believe it!

I hope to blog from the road, so I'll let you know if we stumble upon our Forever Home anytime soon. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Great Things Are Happening

OK, confession time. I've been working, quietly, amidst all the other stuff, with another project. When the opportunity to be involved in something good comes along, it's an opportunity worth taking. This is a good project, which is why I felt the need to be involved. Thus far, my contribution is small, but it's one I'm excited about. The result of the work of many, from all over, follows. Check it out.

And as always, kiss those babies!
~Dy
*********************************************************

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Spero News´ collaborators from various countries are united in an electronic format that will enable the creation of long-lasting relationships with a large audience of discriminating users. Spero News is already receiving contributions from writers in Australia, Canada, Cyprus, England, Italy, Korea, Malaysia, Spain, the United States and Wales, with more expected to soon join.

In turn, readers will appreciate and value Spero News´ closer, "grassroots," touch, while at the same time appreciating the maintaining of high-quality standards, coupled with an online experience for a uniquely knowledgeable community of users through a networked environment that provides answers, analysis, points-of-view and like-minded associates.

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Moving Weirdness

The phone woke me this morning. It was the moving company, calling to let me know the truck will be here "any minute". Gee... thanks?

It arrived. The first question the driver asked was, "Where do you want us to put the washing machine?" Huh? What washing machine? We don't have a washing machine.

Zorak came downstairs, looked at the crate, cocked his head to the side and said, "I don't think that's our stuff. We didn't have a washing machine."

Silence.

The seeds of panic beging to set it (oh no! they've brought the wrong crate!), when I recognize the swing set... and the hand dolly... and... oh. Yeah. Um, we do have a washing machine. Well that's what I get for trying to interact with the public before I've had my morning coffee!

In our defense, we haven't seen it in a year and a half. We didn't have it long before we packed it up. And we really weren't all that attached to it. Does that help our case any? *sigh* I hope so.

On the upside, the washing machine and the playground-sized swing set made up a good portion of the 700 pounds of "stuff" we had left in storage. Yay! That translates to "not very much else left", which is a good thing. Also, there are five boxes lost to the depths of storage blackness. Don't know where they are. Can't tell what was in them from the descriptions on the packing sheets. (Who knew doctors filled out those sheets? Or, they might as well, for the legibility factor.)

So we're on track. Things are looking good. Thanks for your prayers and positive thoughts. Keep the humor coming, though. That helps more than you know!

Oh, Fitsy, I was going to say that we'll drink any coffee we can get. We drink too much to afford to be persnickety about it. But I was wrong. We have finally found a coffee we cannot handle: Richfood brand coffee. (It's the Shoppers grocery store brand.) It is b-a-d. Beyond bad. Coming from a woman who has been known to add water to a half pot of coffee and run it back through old grounds because she's out of coffee and the market is closed... this is bad.

Tomorrow we load! *maniacal laugh*
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Moving Day -whatever's left

See? I told ya NASA wouldn't hire me. :-)

We've hit that point where, unless we can put the boys in the storage closet out back, or box them up and stack them, we really need to get some stuff out of the house before I can make much more headway. Small children emit stuff in their trails. They can even leave a trail of things you thought you'd packed. Honest. It's amazing.

We have more stuff coming in first, though. The Storage Folks are bringing our stuff tomorrow. Yes, this is stuff I have not seen or touched for a year and a half. No, I probably don't need it. I know. How decadent of us. The swingset will be nice, however, and I'm glad we'll have it for the boys to play on in the backyard we will have in AL. That alone is worth the rest of the stuff.

I do think we'll have a full haul, though, and aside from the miscellany of actually living in the place while we pack, it's lookin' good! Woo. Hoo.

I think we have a place to stay for the week. Will have a place to stay for a month by the end of that week. Then, if the Good Lord's willing and the creek don't rise, we'll soon buy the place on which Zorak and I will die happily and peacefully one fall afternoon in the far-far(-far!) future, hot on the trail of a deer. That, my friends, is a wonderful feeling.

****

On other fronts:
* Smidge took a header on the sidewalk this afternoon and is once again wearing "The Mark of the Toddler" smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

* The boys spent the afternoon doting on the neighbor's little ones. It was so cute. It also allowed me to do a little uninterrupted packing. Very nice.

* Oh! Before I forget! I bought The Red Fairy Book (another wonderful unabridged Dover Thrift edition!) the other day at Bay Books and have been reading the stories with the boys in lieu of "school". Now, I grew up on Disney and the incredibly distanced version of stories it perpetuates. I knew nothing. The most unsettling points of contention usually involved the unseen, unexperienced death of a mother (seemingly a fave for the Disney folks- Freud would have a field day with them!) But I digress...

James responded so enthusiastically to the original Pinocchio, though, that I've been sucked in hook, line and sinker. Still, it's a little unsettling to be reading along when suddenly the rescue of the baby involves cutting off one of its little fingers! EGADS! Erk. Ack. Stutter. Stumble. I think the boys paid more attention to my seizure-like attack than they did to the cause of it, though, because they've asked for me to read the "Red Fairies Book" again and again. Once you get past the slightly jarring points (which, really, aren't bad- they lend themselves to good discussions of whether it's a worthwhile trade; a finger for a life - and whether there were any other options at the time... a lot of this is in how you handle it. Like life.) anyway, the stories are wonderful. The boys are entranced. I am tickled. There ya have it - a book review amidst the boxes!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Baby Steps and Backups: Getting Out 'n About

Did I mention we're moving? Yeah, that's nice. Our plans for today changed, for the better, so today was productive! (Er, mostly.)

Hair cuts for the boys. John can grow a lot of hair. No wonder that child is always hot. It was like watching a sheep shearing! I do like the haircut process, though. There's a certain amount of autonomy for the children: I can't be still for them, I can't take the cut for them, and at some point I won't be able to tell them how to get it cut. With each trip to that big chair, a child takes on just a little more responsibility. Rites of passage in bite-sized bits. That's the kind a mama can handle.

All three boys behaved most excellently while we were there. They are generally top-notch on excursions like this, but that does not diminish the quiet joy I get from seeing it happen again. Yes, I do appreciate it. It does offer up a certain amount of vindication for the looks of concern (doubt?) I receive when I enter a room with three small children in tow. Generally, the conversation goes something like this:

*We enter room. Every childless adult in the room turns to stare at us.*
Someone, anyone: He he. You've got your hands full, there, don't ya?
Me: *toussling one of the kids on the head* Oh, I wouldn't know what to do without them!
*this is where I get the stare. It's the stare that says, "You should have been committed two pregnancies ago, Sweetheart." But nobody says anything. Usually it's just the disbelieving eyebrow lift and a pitiful smile.*

So, yes, when we've waited nearly an hour and leave half an hour after that, and the boys receive cheerful, engaging responses from the folks while we're there, it feels kind of nice. When the folks who leave before us take the time to stop and say, "You've got some great kids, there." It's uplifting.

And it's also nice for the boys to see the direct and immediate result of their behavior on the reactions of others. They get to see, consistently, the difference between adults who expect poor behavior and are pleasantly surprised vs. adults who see the poor behavior they're expecting. In a world that seldom offers much to backup the things we teach the boys at home, it's encouraging and refreshing.

Anyhow, Zorak suggested perhaps we could just get Smidge on the grid in AL rather than here. So I checked, and we can. Yippee! (Yes, I just said "yippee" to the suggestion that I will spend time in the gub'ment office in AL... the point being, they have an office IN Huntsville and not a one-hour drive from wherever I'm going to be.)

The rest of the day was just general fare: had the tranny checked out, bought more coffee at the market (can you believe we ran out?), sorted through more stuff, enjoyed supper, and now am ready to do a little more packing.

I packed... nothing today. No, wait, I packed two boxes today. Must make up for it tomorrow, though, but it was worth it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I feel like the grape...

that got stepped on by an elephant.

Gonna let out a little *wine*

OK, things are coming along well. I think. I don't know. Somebody spilled something on the carpet, um, I don't know how long ago. It's dried. It looks permanent. Whoever brought the spot into being didn't think to mention it. I didn't see it until I dismantled the dining room table today, but considering the spot of the spot, I know who did it and can pretty much piece the process together.

*waves of flashback*

Unnamed child is enjoying a snack with unnamed accomplices. He is flailing his arms wildly while discussing something of truly exciting proportions.
*ker-plunk* Down goes a mostly-full cup of dark-colored beverage.
"Oops!" Unnamed child hops down, grabs the dishtowel from the stove and lays it gently over the spill. You know, to soak it up.
Still unnamed child hops gaily back into seat and resumes exciting adventure story, arms still flailing. This time, however, the story reaches its end, because the empty cup is in the sink.

Yeah, why mention that one to Mom? She always says, "It's ok if you make a mess, just be sure to clean it up." and "Accidents happen. Let's just clean it up."

*sigh* Sometimes they listen a little too well, don't they?

So, tomorrow we go make Smidge legal. You know, put him on the grid. It's going to be a one hour ride each way for who-knows-how-long a wait in the lobby to get one little card. I'm thinkin' this isn't the most effective use of my time, but then, this would also be a prime example of my mantra,

"If you'd done it when you were supposed to do it, it wouldn't be a problem now, would it?"

I'm going to eat the crow I've earned and try to show the boys that Mommy can face the natural consequences of her behavior with grace. (That's why I'm whining now, here, rather than tomorrow, 3/4 of the way to the Social Security office! See how wonderfully this all comes together?)

OK, break time is over. Thanks for letting me whine a bit. I do appreciate it. Zorak does, too, since I won't have to do it when he gets home. he he.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

School Is Out. Cuz, you know, we're moving!

It's official. As of today, we're on some sort of morbid spring break. I don't worry so much about whether the boys will be learning: I couldn't stop that process if I tried. What I'm worried about is whether I'll ever find the boxes with the books I need once we get there. They all look alike to me. I know, they're marked, but still, cardboard just looks like, well, cardboard, after a while. It starts to blend together, and it'll be mighty difficult to convince the boys that Zorak's old college books are "just what I was looking for!"

Oh. Just had a thought. Can you imagine Zorak opening a box of reference material in his new office and pulling out Prima Latina and The Writing Road to Reading? hee hee. OK, that was the laugh I needed. Gonna tuck that visual away for future use.

The boys did not behave so strangely today. I did not behave like quite the high-strung speed freak today. In all, much was accomplished, including time spent together, on the couch, reading cute stories and telling tall tales. I need a talking cricket to throw hammers at, erm, listen to, from time to time. That's the good stuff. I didn't get many boxes packed because I had "helpers" taping and cutting and marking for me, but that's okay. I can buy new socks. I can't go back in time and say, more often, "Sure! I'd love some help!"

Someday I will wish I could. Someday I will look back at the times I was too busy to let them help, and will feel the pain of having not understood at all. But not from today! Today's memory will be of smiling boys, being helpful and feeling like a part of it all. Today's memory will be of John singing "The Moving Song" while we worked together. Today's memory will be of Smidge sitting in an open box and the boys laughing hysterically at the mere suggestion of poking air holes in the box before we pack him up! Today's memory will be of James and his enthusiastic monologue on the sheer possibilities (flailing his kabob around while he talked) still untapped in brain surgery!

And today is our anniversary. Zorak got me more boxes. *goofy grin* I love that man! And I, for my gift, am following him to the ends of the earth (and part way back). Because I love him, and because I'd rather be traipsing around anywhere with him than to be anywhere else without him. This is the good stuff, and what makes it all worth doing.

I'll leave you with John's moving song:

"Oh, moving is fun!
It's fun, so fun!
Moving is ever so fun, fun, fun!
Yeah. Yeah. YEAH!"

Kiss those babies!
~Dy