our personal housing crisis

i swore to myself that i would not post again on our House Buying and Selling Saga. but i've learned to never say never. this ordeal has dominated our lives for 282 days. we had finally reached the end ... but it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings, and apparently she was just warming up for her encore. my brain is too fried to go into detail about all the happenings just within the last few days, so i'll give you the cliff's notes version. we were supposed to have closed on the house here in raleigh on tuesday morning. at 9:45 the night before (giving us less than twelve hours' notice), the seller's agent called our agent in a tizzy, saying that he was sorry, but he FORGOT to tell his sellers what day closing was. this is, of course, after multiple e-mail confirmations and phone calls. what?! so, we have our entire lives packed up on several trucks with the moving company, driving the four hours from asheville to raleigh ... and there's nowhere for it all to go. fortunately, we have an excellent agent here who went to bat for us. the threat of "small claims court" might have wafted into a voicemail or two. suffice it to say ... after being presented with all the facts, the selling agency was quite eager to do whatever they could to for us to "make it right", and we did reach an agreement much to our liking. but we just have to shake our heads and wonder why in the world all the quirky, weird, unusual things happen to us. we could seriously write a book on all that we've experienced. when i've said i'm never moving again, i mean it.

knack for numbers

i realized yesterday that i'm entirely too dependent on my 3-year old son. and i got lost because of it. liam has this insane knack for numbers. it borders a little on the OCD side, to be honest, but we indulgent parents try to pass it off as just a quirky personality trait. if he goes somewhere once, he will remember any number associated with that trip. we first noticed it as he accompanied us to the airport back in february to pick up my aunt mary from atlanta. he had been to the airport one time previously (ain't no way i'm putting two preschoolers on an airplane anytime soon, so it was just another trip out there to pick up someone who is actually allowed to fly). all of a sudden, as we're cruising down the interstate, we hear his little voice pop up from the backseat. "285! 285!" i had no idea what he was jabbering about, but he wouldn't let it go. and then i started to see road signs for the raleigh-durham international airport. at the top was "EXIT 285". it continues from there. we visited a friend's house for dinner last week for the first time since a birthday party in march. "we need 809, mommy. 809." sure enough, we pulled into the driveway to see the digits 809 on their mailbox. interested in knowing where we depart from I-40 when we travel down to topsail? "408 to the beach," he says, without batting an eyelash. so on sunday, i was driving to our asheville house (i can now say "former" house, as we closed monday morning!) with the radio blaring. it wasn't blaring the wiggles or vacation bible school soundtracks or even little einsteins. it was blaring cheesy 80s pop and i was loving it! perhaps a bit too much, because i missed the dadgum exit to our neighborhood. subconsciously, i was expecting that little voice to pop up from the backseat, "mommy! turn right! we need exit 44!" alas, liam was at home in raleigh with chris, leaving me to navigate this extremely familiar drive on my own. it was five miles to the next exit to turn around and another five miles back. gas: expensive. liam's knack for numbers: priceless.

closing closure

note: chris thinks this post should carry with it a cheesiness warning. if you don't feel like indulging me as i wax poetic, which is entirely understandable, then just come back in a few days when i'll assuredly be back to normal. i'm driving to asheville today to meet the movers and to attend the closing of our house tomorrow morning. after so many months of frustration in selling it (see post ... and follow-up post ... and follow-up-to-the-follow-up post ... hmm, have i been a little obsessed?), our journey has finally ended. i'm reminded of the cycle of life, ebbing and flowing, whenever i look at my children. it's easy to see how they grow and change on an almost-daily basis. susanna's dress that was so precious on her two months ago is now a little too snug for comfort. the tricycle that liam used to ride with abandon is now better suited for his sister. with each new book we check out from the library, liam's reading ability grows and grows; last night he read a 30-page story cover-to-cover that would have been difficult for him last month. whether external or internal, their development is moving at warp speed and we're constantly amazed at what each new day brings. but adults are harder to gauge. i think we sometimes focus so much on our children that we forget that we're just as involved in the cycle of life as they are. as i packed a few things in my overnight bag for my trip, it hit me how different i am from when i made that same exact drive five years ago. i drove to asheville back in 2003 knowing no one on that side of the state but my husband. we spent the first night in our house in sleeping bags on the floor, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the few furniture pieces we owned and wondering how we would ever possibly fill the rest of the rooms. it was just the two of us, navigating our way through a new town with new jobs and a new home and with no family nearby. so we became our own little family there in that house. it's where i excitedly painted the nursery walls, vomited for almost eighteen months with unrelenting morning sickness, and brought my newborn son and daughter home from the hospital. it's where we rocked our babies to sleep, cleaned up catapulted pureed peas from the carpet, and installed every babyproofing device known to man only to watch our children defy them all. it's where we questioned ourselves with every confusing and new experience that parenthood brings. i became a mother in that house. chris became a father in that house. our children, well, they became people in that house. five years of our family memories will forever be tied to that two-story structure. i guess that's why they call the final step in the sale of a house a "closing": we're closing a chapter of our lives when we say goodbye. and what a great chapter it was. we've got a 10:00 appointment on tuesday morning to purchase our new house in raleigh. and i think i might just start referring to it as our "opening".

who's the boss?

susanna rules the roost in our household. liam ceded that role to her when she was born, and she hasn't relinqushed it since. it's quite amusing to see her manipulate her older brother into doing what she wants him to do. even chris will admit she's got him under her thumb. i laughed at her earlier today as she was, yet again, being unbelievably demanding. she was sitting on the beach with her second-cousin reilly (23 days her senior) and directing him as to how she preferred the sand toys to be arranged. i said, "susanna, you are such a bossy girl!" she stopped what she was doing and replied, "mommy, i NOT a bossy gu-wull." she paused, gave me one of her smiles, and said in her most polite voice, "now, go get that bucket for me."

sesame street perfection

chris and i have widely divergent musical tastes. chris's collection of cd's and digital musical files, by his estimation, numbers in the tens of thousands -- mostly by artists that mainstream radio has never even heard of. meanwhile, my mp3 player has "mmmm bop" by hanson permanently on repeat. (chris claims to get physically ill if i mention that fact to him. but that song is just soooo good.) anyway, chris was a fan of feist way before her song "1 2 3 4" starred in the ipod commercials and started dominating the airwaves. and -- rare thing here -- i actually like her too. so, here's a fun little equation: feist [artist we both like] + sesame street [our favorite children's show] + a song about numbers = PERFECTION. enjoy! i dare you to watch it without a smile on your face.

fair hair

when boy-with-fine-straight-thin-blond-hair meets girl-with-fine-straight-thin-blond-hair, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine what kind of hair their children will have. no, there's no one in our family who's been blessed with luxurious locks of any sort. even our dog doesn't have much. i honestly think that hair of the fine-straight-thin variety is the hardest to cut. there is nothing to give it that boost or body or wave. and while adults have numerous styling products and tools at our disposal, there's not much a child can do to make it look like anything other than what it is: fine, straight, and thin. (have i said that already?) my poor children got the worst haircuts of their lives yesterday -- at the same time,while seated in adjacent chairs with different stylists. (which is such a misnomer in our case. styling? what styling?) i was focused on liam, since he was looking up, down, side to side, tilted, backwards ... and with our type of hair, any tiny error with the scissors is immediately apparent. after i got him in some semblance of sitting still, i turned to susanna, only to find that the half-inch trim i had requested had somehow turned into two inches on the floor underneath her. as soon as i swallowed the lump in my throat, i turned back to liam to see way too much forehead staring back at me. i now have a daughter who looks like a boy, and a son who could be the poster child of the movie "dumb and dumber". all this two days before heading down to the beach for our annual family reunion, where undoubtedly hundreds of pictures will be taken to fully capture my children in all their bare-headed glory. so, in my quest to save time and money, i learned two valuable lessons. i learned that having their hair cut simultaneously is a recipe for disaster. and i learned that the $6.99 "special" at great clips ain't so special.

number crunchin'

i am a math teacher by trade, so i've always been fond of numbers. can't say i'm a big fan of THESE numbers, however. 9 months: the length of time our asheville house was on the market 4 days: the length of time our new house in raleigh was on the market $131: the price per square foot of the house we sold in asheville $271: the price per square foot of the house we're buying in raleigh 874: the number of square feet we're losing in this move 87: percentage of original asking price that we ultimately accepted in asheville 99.7: percentage of asking price we agreed to pay in raleigh 0: the number of times in my life that i will ever move again

impulsive shopper

liam bought an XM radio on ebay. we were quite surprised to learn of this purchase, but the details in the seller's invoice made sense. (if any part of "liam bought an XM radio on ebay" can actually make sense.) we later pieced together the chain of events: chris researches prices of XM receivers online one evening. chris leaves webpage open. liam goes to same computer next morning. liam reads word "radio". liam sees icon "buy it now". click. liam completes transaction. of course, at the time, i had no idea; i was simply getting susanna dressed and lost him for a minute or two. i found him at the desk quite pleased with himself, his little palm maneuvering the mouse while his blue eyes darted all over the monitor. i quickly turned it off and whisked him away, distracting him with the promise of blueberry yogurt for breakfast. it never crossed my mind that my 3-year old might have been shopping on the internet at 7:45 a.m. why he thought he needed an XM radio, we'll never know. (i guess he's getting tired of "the wheels on the bus" CD that plays each time we're in the car?) fortunately, the seller was very understanding after we reimbursed him his listing fee. he had only one piece of advice for us: "you better keep that kid away from ebay motors, or you might find yourselves in real trouble."

there IS such a thing as a free lunch

we don't eat fast food often, but when we do, chick-fil-a is our restaurant of choice. did you know that you can trade in the kid's meal toy for a free ice cream? that alone is enough to earn my business. well, that and the fact that every chick-fil-a i've ever visited has remarkably good customer service. where else will a teenager working for minimum wage actually stop by your table with pitchers to refill your drinks, and extra napkins for your messy eaters? however, even a devoted patron can only go so far. their customer appreciation week culminated today with free combo meals for anyone who came dressed as a cow -- which seemed to be asking a bit much. i pondered the idea for a moment, but realized that simply putting on my cute cowprint clogs would probably not suffice. sadly, i gave up my hopes for free food ... until i remembered three things: 1) susanna was a cow for last halloween; 2) i actually have said costume in my possession; and 3) i can force my child to do anything if a free meal is involved. (long live commercialism.) we chowed down at lunch for next to nothing. who could ask for anything mooooooore?

ages

i lied to my son. it started innocently enough; back when he was learning to converse with others, i thought it would be fun to teach him his family members' ages. when anyone asked how old he was, he'd proudly answer, "twoooo!" and then follow up with, "and susanna is 5 months, and spider is 6, and daddy is 31" -- and here's the kicker -- "and mommy is 25!" anyone who knew me well would laugh, since, of course, i'm not 25. (okay ... everyone would laugh, even if they didn't know me well. is it that much of a stretch that i could've been born in the 1980s?) this past sunday was my father's birthday. there happened to be a somewhat large crowd to celebrate: the four of us, both my parents, my grandfather, and my sister, who was visiting from california. as we were enjoying cake, we asked liam if he knew how old everyone at the table was. sure enough, he had all the right answers, all the way up to his pop-pops, who's 85. he then also correctly informed us of how old we will all be on our next birthday, adding one to each of the numbers he had previously recited. when he got to me, i realized that it was finally time for me to come clean. "no, honey ... that's not quite right. on my next birthday," i said, "i will still be 25."

pain at the pump

all good things must come to an end. as always, the beach was wonderful -- great weather, great sunsets, great food, great kids. we had such a fun weekend and were feeling so blessed. and then we drove home. everything was fine for the first half of the trip. there was definitely more traffic than we're used to, but we had expected it since it was sunday of a summer holiday weekend. but then we started seeing brake lights, and before we knew it, we were at a standstill on I-40. and as soon as we started inching along again, the monsoon hit. and then our "low fuel" light came on. and then the kids started getting hungry. we were three hours into a trip that normally takes us a little over two, with no end in sight. so, instead of arriving home in time for dinner with gas to spare, we found ourselves at a joint gas station/wendy's in need of both. chris started filling the tank, and while it was pumping, dashed through the downpour to go grab the kids some chicken nuggets. feeling ever so helpful, i crawled over to the driver's seat so that he could relax the rest of the way home. i'm such a good wife. my poor husband finally returned, armed with snacks and dripping from head to toe all over the passenger seat. after i had driven about ten feet, the largest BOOM i've ever heard forced me to slam on the brakes. as i pondered how close the storm must be to cause such loud thunder, chris whipped his head towards the back of the car, whipped it back to me, and said, "did you forget to take the gas hose out of the car?!" oops.

busybees & waterbugs

ever notice how so many human descriptions have to do with animals? strong as an ox. proud as a peacock. quiet as a mouse. at the beach, susanna is a busybee. she always has to be doing something, and most of the time, she couldn't be more inefficient. instead of dumping a bucket of water into a hole that we've dug, she dips a plastic shovel into the bucket, totters three feet to the hole, and pours a few ounces. back and forth, back and forth. she can easily take an hour to do what most people could do in five seconds. but far be it for us to suggest an alternative method; she can be as stubborn as a mule. liam, on the other hand, is a waterbug. all he wants to do is swim -- over the waves, under the waves, splashing in the foam that the waves leave behind. he's not as interested in activities that involve sitting in the sand. (i guess they leave him feeling like a fish out of water.) the time will come when he wants to construct monstrous sand castles with tunnels and moats, but for now, he's enchanted solely by the ocean. working. swimming. two different children, two different interests. but each one, doing their own thing at the beach, is as happy as a clam.

typecasting

i've always had this theory that there are two types of people in this world: beach people and mountain people. sure, there are people who might define themselves as both, but if you press them, they'll pledge their allegiance to one side or the other. we lived in asheville for five years, and what a fabulous place it is! no wonder it's always on the covers of those in-flight magazines, with articles waxing poetic about all of its charm and eccentricities and downtown culture and outdoor activities. the only problem i had with asheville was that there just didn't seem to be any ocean nearby. (i'm somewhat geographically challenged, so i did look.) even more difficult, it was a 7-hour drive to my parents' beach house on topsail island. if you haven't guessed by now, i am a beach person. i love to look at the mountains and think they're beautiful, especially in the fall when the leaves change ... but i am not a mountain person. i don't like to hike. or camp. or bike. or white water raft. or ski. or do anything in the cold for more than two minutes. so really, a lot of the allure of asheville was lost on me. now, the beach ... well, give me the sound of the waves crashing, the cool wet sand beneath my feet, and the sun setting over the water, and i would die a happy woman. if i can't live on the beach, i figure the next best thing is to live within a short drive's distance, with a free place to stay. our move back to raleigh has given that to us. we're headed back down to the beautiful shores of topsail this afternoon! happy 4th of july!

crocs rock

for the record, i think crocs are about the ugliest looking things adults can have on their feet. (my bunions run a close second. i really want to have the surgery to remove them, but seriously, how does a stay-at-home mom of preschoolers survive on crutches? but i digress.) i keep waiting for the crocs trend to die out ... alas, there are a whole bunch of people who obviously value comfort over taste. crocs are here to stay. after years of resistance, i caved in and bought a pair for both liam and susanna. i will swallow my pride and admit that kids' crocs have truly improved the quality of our family life. they actually fit liam (he's requires an extra-extra-wide shoe!), they don't show wear, and they're perfect for summer when my kids' sweaty and sandy feet need some ventilation. so today, i sing the praises of kids' crocs, to the tune of "the itsy bitsy spider". the itsy bitsy croc shoes on kids are oh so great! they can put them on themselves so we don't run quite so late. they don't require socks, and wash out down the drain and you can buy those cute jibbitz, so they don't look so plain.

boot camp

susanna is a proud graduate of the Mann Potty Training Boot Camp. you live and learn as a parent, and try not to screw up as much with your second child as you did your first. liam wasn't out of diapers until the ripe old age of 3 years and 3 months. looking back on it, it really was all my fault. i just didn't give it the focus it deserved. i'd introduce him to the concept, he'd balk, and i'd back off. i'd excitedly buy a new video for him to watch (cue the "everybody's going potty, potty" song ... or "elmo goes potty!" DVD ... or one of a myriad of others sitting on our shelf) and he'd indulge me, and then forget everything two minutes later as a puddle emerged on the carpet from his naked bottom. i'd sigh, put a new diaper on him, and resolve to give it another try in a month. (to be fair, i did have an infant at the time who was depleting me of any stamina. and i figured, what's another box of diapers in the cart at babies r us?) fast forward a half-year, and i decided that it was susanna's turn. i was determined that i was not going to be changing her diaper at 3 years and 3 months. not even at 2 years and 3 months. so, against the judgment of my mom and chris, both of whom swore that she wasn't quite ready, Boot Camp began. one afternoon after returning from the pool, i sat her chubby hiney down on the potty and told her she wasn't getting up until she, you know, did her thing. 3 hours and 15 minutes later, she did. (i have witnesses who can attest that that is no exaggeration.) who knew the child was that stubborn?! in a weird way, i was actually pleasantly surprised she stuck to her guns as long as she did -- tenacity is an admirable quality that will serve her well. but in this case, i'm happy to report that there was a battle of wills, and mommy emerged victorious. once she had figured out what you do on that contraption, she made it pretty easy from that point on. there were lots of M&Ms involved (the tried-and-true method -- no book or movie or song can top it) and a few accidents, much to the chagrin of my parents, whose house we've already trashed in many ways in the five months we've been living here. but for the most part, her new elmo and dora panties (see above picture) have remained dry. i have officially spent my last $29.46 on a box of pampers (and that's while they're on sale and with a $1.50 manufacturer's coupon.) just think how much more money we can now pour into a house here in raleigh! now if i could only stop buying the M&Ms ...