LOST A SOCK

Adopt-a-Neurosis

We're moving right along, friends!

I remember back in the first days of January, filling out our application in my very neatest handwriting, attempting to describe myself and explain what might make me a good adoptive parent.  Pretty printing, perhaps?  I thought I had the process figured out pretty well from what I had read by that point, and from the general knowledge I had of adoption.  (As with Motherhood, specifically, as well as...everything else, it is always best to take a walk in a pair of shoes before assuming you know what they feel like.)  It is difficult to believe we have only been in the technical process for under two months, because of how sure we have become over this time period, and how well we have gotten to know the way things work, and what we may expect in bringing our baby home. 

It is quite the learning and growing process, beginning last summer as I sat up late nights bawling over adoption blogs and YouTube videos, emailing our closest friends and family in a bit of a desperate manner, asking them to pray.  (Note to self: That would be God shaking you by the shoulders, declaring it Time.)  After that came The News to share with family and friends, that yes it was happening, and for sure we would like you to celebrate with us.  There was the hard part, where we were rejected a couple times, which was followed by sadness and anger, for both our situation and for our baby, who already having so much up against him in his little life, really deserved no more.  There has been the learning part, about (our) new country and about the physical and emotional needs of a child who has lost his mother and father, has likely been malnourished and improperly cared for.

There have been times of celebration with our three children, over and over as we listen to them talk of their brother and/or sister as if they are already ours, just waiting to come home.  Locating our specific country together on the world map, reading adoption books from the library, and oh the excitement for trying out a new language.

We've been asked approximately twelve million times, which seems to be the common question from what I understand, why not the United States. WHY NOT WHY NOT?  Never have we been asked this by another adoptive couple, of course, because adoptive parents seem to understand that complaining about where a family adopts from, whether it domestic or overseas, is like griping that your auto mechanic is not your dentist.  Both necessary, no?  All human babies needing families, yes?  I am often moved to reply with a request to see photos of theirrrrr domestic foster children, then, but alas, it is sassy and not ultimately helpful to my cause.  For the record, we regularly support the Northwest Indiana Food Pantry Backpack Program, St Jude Children's Hospital, the Indiana Firefighter's Hoosier Burn Camp and for eight years, now even with the involvement of our own children, have purchased backpacks and school supplies for underprivileged kids in a nearby school system.  We do like kids, all over the place. 

EDITED TO ADD: As I slept on this thought, I realized it possible that I came off, here, sounding like answering a question about our adoption was obnoxious, and that wasn't my intention.  What brought us to Africa? is somehow quite different, curious and interested, in my mind, from Why NOT the United States?  That question brings me back to each time there is a natural disaster somewhere beyond our borders, eg. Haiti, and there is always someone who wags his finger at fellow Americans who offer their support, because there are hungry/homeless/needy people in our country.  While it is true, that our country also has needy, I can never appreciate an attitude of superiority, as if non-Americans count for three fifths of a person or something, at least until all of OURRR problems are solved, most especially when that attitude is carried by people who aren't helping anyone, here or there.

Kevin and I drove down to Indianapolis last week for our first Home Study meeting.  We tried not to sound like the overly positive peaches & cream, roses, champagne, goals goals goals and sparkling sunshine couple that talked too damn long, but, eh, we failed.  Our interviewer practically had to shove us through the front door after a couple hours, much like the end of each MTV Cribs episode.  "Give us a baby!" we beseeched the woman as we tumbled backwards down the front stairs.  And then she cracked the door one last time to remind us that she only has to write a report on the story of our lives.  She doesn't have the babies. 

We soothed our exhausted nerves with greasy burgers followed closely by big fat cups of cookie dough ice cream for the long drive home.  We had talked even ourselves to death, and once home we alternated napping and staring blankly at the ceiling, and at our other children for the rest of the day. 

So someone else is coming to our house next week, for our home inspection.  You'll understand for a girl like me that this means without question, tearing apart closets and reorganizing games and homeschool supplies by type.  Clearly, this is the time to Panic!

Of course we can raise a baby!  We are a house with googly eyes!

Oh, nevermind.

Eleven days out, I am finally decorating walls I'd not gotten around to previously.

We have children!  We like them!

In a snap decision on Sunday afternoon, I decided to finally banish our embarrassingly beat-up buffett from the kitchen, and happily replaced it with new shelves and baskets. I hear there is a movement coming about, where adoptive parents are denied children based on dining room furniture with chunks taken out of them by their other crazy children.  Crisis averted.

Crisis not averted.  (Antenna-headed child will climb anything.)  

I have just shy of two weeks left to shampoo carpets and finish organizing closets, kitchen cabinets and bedrooms, and to display the best of what my Right Brain has come up with for homeschool.  Did I mention that we have twelve chicken eggs and a giant incubator showing up here just days before that visit?  Heh.

As any mother knows, I shall leave the toy cleaning for last.  Remind me to remove the girl from the toy basket before re-stocking it.  It will probably not look good if I cannot find one of my children at the time of the visit.

During which I prove to you that Excitement is my middle name

When I thought about posting an entry today, I thought to myself, Hmm, loss for words.  (Still.) (You know, because you totally couldn't figure that out from my last entry on a toddler tearing flower petals to smithereens, oh the dramz.)  So I quickly popped through my most recent picture uploads, and, eh, homeschool, homeschool, homeschool, painted bathroom, growing toddler, toddler drinking water, toddler spilling water, toddler standing unsupervised on kitchen chair.  And proof that I should keep the markers out of reach.  Fourth child is doomed. 

Out of curiosity I jumped back to late last winter to see what the excitement was all about, and whaddya know, I was at a loss for words then, too.  And trying to figure out how to feed the baby (who never stops eating nowadays) and what to do about our school situation (hooooomeschool!)  Also, I had just painted something else, because that is apparently what I do with my Januaries. 

The year before, in the early part of 2008, I was eating my way through winter and spring and summer because I was newly pregnant, and also I was falling apart.  Side note: would someone please grant me permission to Explore All Caloric Possibilities this year as well?  Addition to the family and all?  Yes?  I didn't paint anything in the winter of 2008, just having spent all of the fall previous doing so.  Whew.  (Holy crap, some of those rooms have already been painted twice since then.)

In the winter of 2007, I painted...the old house!  Also, I had a toddler back then and was trying to lose weight.  Surprise, surprise, sur-freaking-prise.

In 2006 I was a different girl altogether, just getting my blogging flippers wet.  I didn't paint anything.  I wasn't losing weight (yet.)  I did have a teeny tiny baby.

February 2010:

OMG, I are so predictable.  I painted mah bathroomz.

 

Finally has pretty tilez.

And in the interest of a nice rhythm to life, I am not pregnant and do not have a brand new baby this winter, though we are waiting for one.  I am forever dieting and oh so tired of writing about it, and we solved the Great Public School Debacle in the most fun way possible:

Figure out what makes you come alive, and do that. 

In this case, painting solar system murals as often as possible.

 
I've recently torn closets apart because it is very much the quiet February thing to do, and I have a new little buddy to pack those little boy hand-me-downs away for. (Pink containers yet to be purchased.  We are equal opportunity adopters and hand-me-downers.)

 
Hi, I am growing up at break-neck speed.

And one year ago we were talking, lots, about surgery.  And next week, another MAG-3 on another kidney, hoping that the procedural outcome can be different this time.

 
Another day, another story.  Another room to paint, twelve more calories to count.  Waiting for babies.  Waiting for warm, sunny walk-the-trails weather.

 
Doing what we must to get through the long, grey winter.  

(Don't judge a sister.)

The one that didn't get away

I think I've written twelve, or possibly fifty posts about Marin in my head recently, attempting to stay atop her babyhood since, let's face it, there'll be no baby book as it flies by.  Unfortunately, for much the same reason there's yet to be a baby book (which is: Because I Can Barely Keep Up With The Baby) it has been difficult to grab a moment or three to blog about this girl.

Except for now, because It Must Happen. 

So let us speak about Babies and Kitchens, for a moment, shall we?

Wait.

Let us speak honestly about babies and kitchens...

Aah, now that's better. 

No, no, please, don't bother picking anything up.  She will just pull it all right back out and then you'll weep.  Might as well just step over it.  Or, kick it!  Like the boys do! 

...And ask me to wash it before you eat off of it. 

...And unpile the trash and recycle can pile if you really need to throw something away. 

...Or whine, if you're the dog and cannot reach your food and water dishes wayyy up there on the counter from three hours ago.

And please for the love of all things holy, keep the dishwasher closed and the handle at the halfway point between open and closed or she'll either turn it on or open the door and climb right in, heading first for the very sharpest object available. 

Who, me?

I love this baby.

Initially I fought the power, trying cabinet locks that didn't hold, and using the old fashioned "No!" as she yanked the blender, chopper and serving dishes galore from down under.  

Then I grew a brain and filled the end cabinet with all things plastic, and made her happy.

What the hell is this metal baking sheet doing in here?  Clearly my mother cannot sort.

Be gone from my sight!

Hey look!  A brother!

A Duplo-yielding brother, at that!

Behold my angelic baby innocence, and keep it in the forefront of thou mind.

You know what these Duplos are good for? 

Only one thing...

 
Breaking! 

Then throw 'em down on the floor, right at his feet.

Once you're a safe distance away, tease him like crazy.  

Tell him you're going to throw a giant plastic useless cake thing at him, and that for sure will distract him enough. 

He will start to chase you, and that will give you the perfect chance to dart over and...

...take down the next tower. 

Heh heh heh.

Smash!

This four minutes of household destruction brought to you by...my stripey chip and dip plate.  May it make it through the storms, someday to see more than just toddler feet again.  

Mmmmmm

I have a confession to make... 

There is something I've been doing a whole lot of lately.

Like it's my job.

I've invited it to live in my house,

and I've been bathing my children in it.

Sunday drives, Saturday walks, Tuesday afternoon playground beneath the trees.  No matter.

Ohhh the colors.  The Oaks, Maples, Sassafras, Tree of Heaven, you name it. 

The sunlight and the shadows are just different in the fall.  The sky is another shade of blue that is more lovely than usual, and the breeze has this sound and it carries those smells.

Even the water is prettier at this time of year, if that be possible.

These are not the leaves of last year, or the year before.  Each one lived its whole life this past summer and we will not see these particular ones ever again after the yellow, orange and red, and after they fall.  They did not worry if it was too short or long or hot or cool of a summer, or if for sure they would know the way to their new hues when the time arrived.  Or how they would let go of the branches.  And they've turned out absolutely gorgeous, and perfect.  

There are lessons in fall.

Last year we attempted a fall outing or two, being it my favorite time of year, and it was rough.  We had a brand new baby who was neither fond of the car nor bunting nor the cool air.

And just one year later she's joining the rest of the crew, climbing playground equipment as much as I'll allow. 

How did that happen so fast?

I've photographed all of this so many times over the last several years, but I still can't get enough.  If the sun is shining, we are back out, somewhere.

...Sometimes in southern Michigan, evading local law enforcement for photographing a house that neither belongs to myself and my husband, nor, say, anyone else on the planet we know.

(It isn't my fault they've created the perfect autumn porch, right?)

(No, ma'am, I wasn't trying to photograph you.  Just your mums...)

Okay fine, and this secluded beauty too.  But only because I could imagine myself someday living in it.  After buying it, in the most legal ways possible.

(No one was home.  Geez, look at the empty driveway!)

I love you, pumpkin.

Intoxicating, isn't it?

If you need me, you know where to find me.

Only as far from your property line as my zoom lens will reach, if you've got nice foliage.

Or, in the slammer. 

If I'm unlucky.

Blog, Interrupted

What better way to start the year with ... a few? ... projects that pulled me away from the internet for a while. 

Now, I won't lie.  It has been a bit hectic keeping up with my three little chickens and taking on a large magnitude of projects, but this has been so much fun to do.

And with fun, you know it must have something to do with paint in my house.

We took down our Christmas decorations a few weeks ago, which somehow spurred a serious cleaning and organizing jag.  Something with feeling my post-pardum-post-pregnancy-post-let's-get-this-show-on-the-road energy return completely to normal in the most wicked-compelling way, but this month has been dedicated to the running start. I cleaned closets and cabinets far and wide, and then decided it was high time that the bunkbedding begin, and Marin have her own bedroom (nevermind the fact she's still sleeping beside me.)  Then I added in a few decorative projects I'd been meaning to take on over the long pregnant year past, and painted my lower level family room.  And in addition to all that?  Marin learned to roll from belly to back, and I conquered the impossible by potty training Jack.  Hallelujah, there will be no jumbo packs of Luvs mailed with his Notre Dame University care packages.

No in-process pictures this time, save you from reading this for exactly as long as I was missing in action.  Just finished projects:

 

The Roommates!  They have been stacked!

With each discussion we had about the boys sharing a bedroom, they requested I use their favorite colors - Crimson Red and Hunter Green.  I had to figure out a way to satisfy all members of the house (read: myself) by steering clear of The Deep Dark Christmas Bedroom, and so I incorporated their favorites with a shade of tan.

And all the world (and the solar system, as well) was satisfied.

 

Likely, this picture documents the last time this room shall be categorized as Clean.  It now houses, in addition to two thrilled little boys, forty-two Geotrax trains, tracks, station and brother airport, seventeen Bionicle men, twelve thousand Legos, four hundred blankets and stuffed animals, two loaded dressers, one bursting bookcase and approximately twelve square feet of play-available floor space.

 

And combining that?  Made room for this! 

And not just a corner of her brother's room, anymore!

 

A full-fledged Neopolitan Ice Cream-Inspired baby girl nursery.

 

With board books to be read and new toys still in boxes, not to be played with or otherwise dismantled until she is ready for them.  

 

...Leaving us the luxury of an un-baby stuff stuffed bedroom of our own, if you can imagine.

 

...Inspiring me to paint and utilize an old basement storm window from our friends' turn of the century home as a picture frame above our bed.

 

And this one in our upstairs hallway, as well, using a doctored form of the Fingerprints poem.   

 

I also gave some badly needed attention to our living room couch pillows by making some new covers for them.  Less than seven dollars of fabric from the discount table and call it a day.

 

All of these projects brought to you by two weeks of on-again off-again snow and thirteen degrees below zero temperatures in the Midwest.

I never did manage to photograph the family room, but take my word for the fact that it was well past midnight, I was still in my paint clothes and highly delirious from fumes when I decided to cover over the lower-half blue walls I never really cared for.  That which was meant to mimic slate actually screamed 1982 COUNTRY GOOSE COOKIE JAR GETS A BLUE RIBBON ROUND HER NECK.  Now it says, "Relax. Dark Green was a better alternative, and free.  See bedroom above."

We finally ended all of the home decor madness with a different kind of madness, by hosting our Wisconsin Twins X Two pals for the weekend (do the quick math: we spent Friday through Sunday as a clan of four adults and seven children.  Seven children ages four months to six years.  Three of whom are barely finishing adventures with potty training, one who does not sleep through the night.)  Remind me to share with you sometime what it was like to take those seven children to the local TGI Fridays during dinner rush.  In my mind these outings are always so much simpler than when actually executed.  Go figure.

Three cheers for a productive January. 

Random by Number

I really have no excuse for not posting.  It's the same no excuse that I have for wet clothes sitting in my washer for three days, for allowing every floor and every room of my house to look like the aftermath of a Toys R Us twister, and again the same excuse I have for putting my toddler down for his afternoon nap still in his pajamas.  Other than?  I'm so tired, incubating baby hath zapped last of mah energies.  You remember I was once a completely anal-retentive house cleaning painting obsessing perfectionist mostly, yes?  Ugh.   

Have you random thoughts, in no particular order, numbered for semi-organizational happiness:

1. Renters: still there!  Haven't called!  Futon frame still on the front porch!  Who cares!?

2. Drove a solid hour into another state yesterday afternoon for organic whole milk fresh mozzarella cheese and tomatoes and $95 worth of other crap and would consider doing it again today, if it weren't for my pesky doctor appointment.

3. When worlds collide: Pineapple addiction coupled with baby inhabiting esophagus is causing massive heartburn and newfound Tums addiction.  Cannot stop eating pineapple, oww pain burn.

4. I snickered quietly as Jack described our new backyard pool to a woman in Target.  As he explained splashing cold water, pool toys, and even the slide that he uses to go down into it, I am fairly sure she had illusions of our back yard grandeur.  But really, he was telling her all about this:

Aside: Not a word about the length of our grass, which seems to be naturally reseeding itself (because we TOTALLY need more grass to cut.)  We cut the front religiously, but the back?  It's our little secret what things look like inside the six foot privacy fence, mkay?  When I begin losing children in there, I'll add it to the list of seven thousand other things I need Kevin to do.

5. Most of the day (read: the twelve minutes we do not spend in our back yard) young child still in dinosaur pajamas stands at the back door asking to play in the back yard:

And if the answer in return is any form of No, including the one where I say Yes, In Five Minutes, this crying screaming attaching himself to my pajamas clothes is the result:

Damn that 2000 gallon 12 gallon in-ground blue plastic pool with slide.

6. Am having a Tastefully Simple party at my house on Sunday (because I'm crazy) (because I'm hungry) (okay, both).  If you, too, are pregnant, or not at all but feel the urge to eat an entire loaf of beer bread and bowl of spinach dip with me in spirit from across the miles?  You can join my party by emailing me.  It ships to your house.  (I've told you before that I sold this stuff for the two years after KJ was born, right?  The first year I did one party after the next.  And then the second year?  I did just enough parties to maintain my discount, mmmmmmmm need more bread.)

7. I do hope the nurse decides in a fit of miracles and rainbows rained down from heaven to not weigh me this afternoon.  Wouldn't that be swell?  (Ha! Swell! Like my feet and ankles! Ahem.)

8. On very rare occasions where a spot or two of energy hits me, I take on small projects around the house.  Most recently we replaced our green shutters with black (the green coupled with the terra cotta brick was not doing it for me):

painted the formerly green front door with gold fixtures and locks, black with silver fixtures and locks:

and replaced the awful brass light fixtures

with new ones:

New fixtures that I really liked the style and price of, but hated the (rust) color of, so I painted them.  Squee! 

9. All that for under $100, happy happy joy joy, thank you Lowe's coupon. 

10. With Tuesday being KJ's last day of preschool and his (rained out) field day, I volunteered as one of the game moms.  Oddly enough, the other mothers (who clearly had given birth to children before, I assume?) were quite worried for me "in my condition" chasing after runaway beanbags and hoola hoops, and put me on the mystery box game, which involved three hours of overseeing sweaty children digging in a cardboard box for a rubber band and a butterfly magnet.  And while the break they gave me, so as not to go into labor at school, I was told, gave me the opportunity to snap pictures of my son shooting baskets and winning a third place ribbon, it was still a bit odd that everyone was suddenly so panicked about a late second/early third trimester pregnancy?  In a school full of recently born children?

And with that, I'm off.  For it might be nice if I show up to my 24 week doctor appointment showered, and not in pajamas, an hour from now.  Eek!

(Non) Hired Help

Several months ago, upon finishing up an afternoon of paying bills, I brought my giant pile of financial information-bearing papers to the kitchen for shredding.  And as I got to work KJ asked what I was doing, and if he could give it a whirl.  I checked to be sure fingers could not reach the blades, and away he went. 

He's now used the shredder quite a few times, and has the method down pat.  Though, usually, this is something that is reserved for Jackson's napping hours. 

Except for today. 

I paid bills this morning, and without thinking brought up the pile of papers and called KJ to the kitchen.  This being one of his more exciting chores, he raced in and got started.  Of course, Jack quickly followed to figure out what fun was to be had. 

I explained with a little snicker that KJ was playing Enron, and immediately Jack was all about "pwaying Enwon" as well.

At first he excitedly grabbed a handful and tried stuffing them in all at once.

But KJ was quick to show him how to properly unfold each sheet and insert them one in at a time (to make the job last as long as possible, of course,) and though Jack never really got the hang of it, he was quite happy to function as The Unfolder.

And then when the job was finished, the real fun began.  Because what KJ never thought to do was ask if those great shreds?  Could be dumped out, and played with.

They started out with less than half of what had been shredded.  It functioned as grass, and snow, and rain.  They made a mountain, and a pathway, and then the Earth.  And while I declined requests for a big bottle of glue, pleeeease, I was happy to let them play away as long as the mess was contained to the kitchen.

The pile grew larger and larger and larger,

until finally the Fisher Price school bus was called in to haul some of it away.

And folks, you'd be amazed at how much a school bus can really hold.  A whole tower, says he.

Of course, what help would the school bus be without the accompaniment of a bulldozer, dump truck (and lime green squirt gun?) to contribute to the fun.  It was all out paper mayhem, with vehicles,

and bodies, included.

After a good long while, the disaster was wide spread and the paper fun began to grow old, as most things do when you're five and two (and twenty-nine.)  And I looked around my kitchen, which now appeared to be the hosting room from last night's frat party, and wondered what exactly I had started by calling for help in the first place.

Just yesterday Kevin's eighty-two year old Granny shared with me that those days spent with her young children were the best days of her life, and in spite of the somtimes crazy and frequent messes, I can definitely see how.

Zero to Sixty

Up until week twelve of this pregnancy, I had just enough energy to feed myself and my children, and run the dishwasher on a daily basis.  On the days KJ did not have school, we found ourselves in pajamas until 4pm.  On days he did?  I returned to pajamas as soon as we arrived home from Preschool pick-up.  Occasionally I would find the energy for activities that did not involve dozing off on the couch while my children enjoyed tv marathons, but those days were not very common.  I was so terribly exhausted all the time.

Cue Monday.

As I started laundry on Monday morning, I decided to run upstairs and take a peek at what we had in Spring clothing stored in Jack's closet - either clothes I had saved from KJ, or stuff I'd picked up over the winter for him.  Once I finished sorting through the containers in Jack's closet, I couldn't resist going through KJ's as well.  I really do love cleaning out closets and dressers.  It's a sickness.

By this time I'd already doubled the piles of laundry waiting for attention in the laundry room, so I figured it couldn't hurt to sort through some of the Rubbermaid containers bursting with clothing out in the garage.  Which turned out to be fourteen of them.

I ended up going through all of my seasonal decorations, four sizes of kid clothes and two sizes of adult clothes, and I even located the container of bake ware I had been searching for since we moved. 

I washed something like sixteen loads of clothes, and found homes for all of it - be those homes dresser drawers or the multitude of bags packed for donating.  I figured I would just keep working until I got tired again, because it was amazing to have energy again.

But then yesterday?  The tired did not come, and I decided to work on a few more projects. 

First I ran out for paint, and painted the inside of my front door blue.  I knew from the moment I painted that room, that I wanted the door blue, and there was no better time than the present. 

I sorted through my newly discovered bake ware and decided what I really needed to keep, and what I didn't.  (I've told you how much I love my dishwasher, yes?)

It's amazing, after not seeing it for six months, what I found I really didn't need cluttering up the cabinets after all.

The boys were doing such a good job of entertaining themselves with vials of glitter, markers,

and paper body parts, that I moved on to yet another project.

For months now, I've been hating the way I originally set up the furniture and toy shelves in the family room, with an area for sitting and an area for toys.  It made sense at the time, but how it ended up was being an area we never sat in, and a constant toy disaster that was much less preferred to what was supposed to be the upstairs toy-free living room.  Both the upstairs and the downstairs were a constant mess, and what I had was not working. 

I moved the couch and chair to allow all of the toy shelves, baskets and miscellaneous stuff to fit together, creating a giant, usable area.  This way the kids can play or watch tv as they choose, and visitors who drop by are not met with Toys R Us the minute they walk through the door.  I removed every last toy from the upstairs living room, again, and made it all fit downstairs.

On the other side of the room, there remains a train table and ten thousand Thomas engines in my workspace, but I'm taking what I can get, and this new set-up really seems to be working.

Today I think I really will kick back and enjoy what I've accomplished, and it possibly wouldn't hurt being as how I've got a doctor appointment this afternoon.  Taking it easy this pregnancy?  Absolutely!

Friday Photos: Second Blogiversary

Two years ago today, with a three week old baby in my arms and a three year old boy yanking at my sleeve, I began blogging.  I wanted to find an outlet for myself where I could plug some adult brain power into, having been a stay at home mom for three years.  Of course, I can't guarantee that you've seen that happen with every entry (ha!) but just the same I've learned so much and come so far in the last two years.  I did not know back then that what I'd really be doing is documenting the young lives of my children as well as the personal transformation I've gone through over the last couple years.  Also, who knew we'd have so much damn fun along the way?

Enjoy a sampling of pictures I've posted over the last two years. 

This was the first picture I ever posted, from my very first entry.

Aah, the infamous Baptism Picture Before The Diet.  Love. It.

Thankfully, there are During the Diet pictures,

And Somewhere Near the End of the Diet pictures.  I imagine you'll be waiting a good year for the end of this thing to roll around, ha!  (Chicken and sour cream, Chicken and sour cream!)

There have been fun pics

of the kids,

as well as fun entries with the kids.

There's been paint (oh my God has there been paint)

and may we never forget the time we built our cat into the wall.

Our poor old house has been Sold and Not Sold more than any other house in the neighborhood,

and thankfully we finally came to our senses and got the heck out of there with my last bits of sanity straggling behind.  (Still not sold thankyouverymuch.)

Which brings us to more paint,

and more home decor.

And finally, a little rest and relaxation with our toys in our jammies,

just as we gear up for our next adventure.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog entry...

Possibly you have wondered what happened to me, and why you have been left refreshing the same blog entry for five days now. 

Well.  I've been waiting to hear something, anything, on the closing for our old house that was originally scheduled for this week, but as it is our buyer and her agent have been MIA since early last week.  I'd be lying to you if I told you that I am remaining completely calm and just letting things happen.  What I am doing is trying to remain calm, and the results of my efforts shall not be discussed.

Also, I tried to write this entry earlier this afternoon, but was interrupted by my five year old's grand announcement that not only was Jack awake two hours early from his nap, but also he is wearing no diaper and jumping in his crib.  And poop is everywhere.

So now that you've been briefed on all that, let's talk about what's been going on while not obsessing over real estate or scrubbing toddler poop out of stuffed animals, eh?

This weekend we hit the open highway and traveled down to Indianapolis for Kara's Christening.  Since the service was scheduled for early Sunday morning, we decided to go ahead and make a weekend of it and stayed in a hotel, swimming to our hearts' content (which for me might have been only three minutes because indoor pool or not, damn that water was cold) and meeting up with our wonderful college friends.

Of course, I couldn't be in the city for more than twelve seconds before I called Bree for an impromptu baby love fest. 

(Jack loved Baby Kara, too - offering her his blanket, then stealing it back, offering his blanket, then stealing it back, and then finally locating almost every toy and blanket the poor baby owns and piling them on top of her.  Also, you may notice that on the occasion of this photo, Jack decided to test Kara's lung capabilities by leaning all of his toddler weight onto her little chest while his mother smiled euphorically at the camera.  Thank you Breain, for not dying on the spot.)

(Kara: Holy crap! Get him off!)

Jack and I would know nothing about the actual Baptism on Sunday morning as we spent the entire time out in the vestibule doing this,

and this.

I've also spent every! minute! of my spare time pouring over my latest read, Eat, Pray, Love.  I received this book as a Christmas gift from my mom (and also gave it as a Christmas gift to my mom...and six of my girlfriends because I was so! excited! about it.)  I've barely been able to put it down, and am not sure if I want to give it up to the handful of people who've asked to borrow it, or if I'd like to hide in the corner of my bedroom for the next week and read it over again, in better attempts at memorization.

Besides all of the Eating and Praying (which, to tell the truth, there's been not much eating going on around here since we're in the thick of Serious Dieting Season, but more on that later this week) I've gotten back into listing ebay, (secretly, that neatly folded pile of shirts does way more for my obsessive organizational happiness than I should ever admit to)

and sewing.

Sewing!

While in process of making our bed for Jack's birthday party last week (which shall be known as The Milestone First Making of Bed In New House) I realized when the blankets are smoothed and the pillows set neatly, our bed looks exactly like every other bed...owned by a fourteen year old boy.  Meaning to say, we are the proud owners of two blankets and four flattened pillows and not much else, and the thought occurred to me that I should pretend we are adults, and have decorative pillows.  (Which I still don't believe Kevin is very much on board with, even after I confessed dropping nearly one hundred dollars at the fabric store this morning to help resolve the newly discovered void in our life.)

Yes, there will be pillows for our bed, pillows for the new family room furniture, and a few new additions to the living room.  We will be the fluffiest, coziest, most comfortable damn house in the subdivision.

I'm even planning some pillows for the children's rooms.  And God help me, no one better poop on them.