LOST A SOCK

Quiet Space

I had sort of known for a few weeks that I would eventually write my most recent entry about ending our adoption, and when I finally clicked Publish a few days ago I couldn't help but wonder if you all would think we were crazy.  We went into adoption wholeheartedly and with the best of intentions, and we left our adoption in the very same way of course, but still I recognize the potential for people to be left scratching their heads.  Wasn't there a way for us to have known before we became so committed?  Or a way we could have still made things work?  And while it would have spared us a lot of time, effort and money, ultimately I believe it had to happen this way.   

I can only liken this experience to that of motherhood itself, where before we become parents we have all sorts of ideas for what the experience will entail and how we will handle it.  But it is never until we walk the path for a while, fully in with all sorts of things at stake that we can understand the true pressures and the sacrifice for integrity that is called for when we realized that our dream for our family couldn't possibly happen in this way or at this time.  I remember when we were first getting our feet wet with International Adoption a year and a half ago, being shocked at some of what I read and heard.  I often couldn't help but think, Man this world sucks sometimes.  And I feel it again now.

So the very next day when this article came across, explaining how Ethiopia is now cutting back its International Adoptions by ninety percent due to corruption, I knew at least that the final outcome I had dreamed of with this process was simply never for us, whether by our own hand or being edged out of the process.  And I am at peace with that.

The funny thing is, since I hadn't seen anything like this coming until suddenly I did, that once the dust began to settle in the first few hours and days after we spoke with our agency about ending our process, Kevin and I sort of looked at each other and asked....Now What?  Since the time we got married, practically, we were talking about our first child.  After KJ was born we became focused on moving (attempt number one of 4,376 that did not work out) and then having our second child.  Then we were moving again, and did, and we had two houses and a surprise third child.  Then we had renters and an adoption process, and then a house to sell.  And now suddenly, unexpectedly, we are just us.  Not moving.  No one on our immediate horizon.  And how nice is that?

I spent all of my Saturday purging closets today.  It somehow seemed appropriate for this new chapter.

Reprise

I think I could have rambled forever.

I was on pins and needles throughout all of last week (who are we kidding- through all of the last six weeks with each step of the house deal) knowing and hoping that we should finally close by Friday.  Our original date was November 30th, which came and went.  Then our buyers delayed another week when they were late with some necessary document or another.  I wanted to text our agent every day, twice a day and three times even to see if she knew anything more.  As if she wasn't going to tell me when she knew something.  I couldn't blog because I didn't want to jinx the close by putting it out there-- THE STRESS OF THIS HOUSE SELLING BUSINESS MAY ONE DAY KILL ME.  I hardly talked to anyone about it.  I tried to not even let myself think about it.

We had been in a similar situation before, back in the Fall of 2007 when our closing date came and went.  Back then I kept thinking positive- it will happen, just a little late, and everyone will be happy in their new homes.  But the deal crashed to the ground with the fury of ten thousand fiery airplanes, and it was no picnic.  The last thing I wanted to do this time was think positive, think negative, think at all, feel sad, feel happy, SHOW UP AT THE LENDER'S OFFICE WITH A REASON FOR THEM TO HURRY THE HELL UP.  That reason being my humble offering of an assortment of holiday cookies, of course.  

So within all of this, I did the only thing I could think of and crammed my little family's calendar with as many activities as I could so that I would have to focus on something else throughout last week.  Namely, breathing exercises as Marin and I took yet another karate class minute by minute until we all survived with our pants on.  (Booya!)  I planned a fancy dinner date for my girlfriend Mary and I on Thursday night, so that I would either be crying into my crab cakes or drinking champagne, assuming I would have knowledge of what was to come on Friday.  

I'll be damned if we didn't have to wait until four o'clock Thursday to know that we were closing on Friday morning.  That entire day, I was sick to my stomach. I had a serious meltdown over the phone with Kevin, emphatically communicating the notion that I just couldn't do this anymore.  This, I believe, is what some refer to as a Breaking Point.  In recent months I had made the mistake of hanging our adoption on the sale of this house, fearing with good reason that we could not afford to carry two mortgages and save for our remaining agency fees and two trips to Africa in the coming year.  Over and over, I ran numbers in my head as to how we could make it all work.  And every time I came up with the same answer that this may not end well-- which would piss me off even more about the freaking house and bring me to tears over our baby in waiting.  I gave up my worries at some point on Thursday-- take ME down in flames but we are bringing our baby home no matter what happens with the house.

We began preparing our house for the market in January of 2007, when Jack was just a year old, and we listed it for sale that April.  We dragged ourselves through six long months on the market, cleaning and running out the door with two little guys on a moment's notice for showings.  We moved into our current home in October of 2007, sure that our sale was right around the corner.  We made even more improvements that were demanded after inspections from more interested buyers, signed deals and releases, and carried the two mortgages for nine more months after our move, until Marin's birth was coming close in the summer of 2008.  I needed some sort of reprieve while I had my baby.  The whole situation, in case I've never allowed myself to phrase it so honestly-- sucked.  It really, really sucked.  We took our chances on renters, which also mostly sucked.  While their rent payments helped, they did not completely cover our carrying costs.  Every time it rained we worried about the basement.  We called to check if the roof was okay.  We fixed miscellaneous problems as they crept up, and we held our breath on the first of each month until we had a rent check in hand.  We lost our homestead exemption on the old house because of the renters and we ended up shelling out an extra four thousand dollars last week in property taxes.  Atop the closing costs we agreed to pay for both sides of the deal, atop the roof we put on for them last month, atop the new appliances, repairs after renters, years of carrying the two places and everything we spent on siding and landscaping, new kitchen and bathroom, furnace and carpeting while we lived there because the whole damn economy sat atop a very large bubble that promised we'd see back all of our money tenfold.  This bubble, of course, burst right as we hit the market.  And all that we had paid, improved and fixed to buyers' likings, we still showed up at closing with a cashier's check.  

I have said a thousand times over that I am thankful that we managed to handle it all with our credit scores in-tact.  We're okay now, three days after closing.  I continue to pinch myself every time I remember that we aren't tied to all of that anymore, and I am enjoying the immense relief.  It's almost unbelievable after such a long, drawn out and difficult process.  

But I remember a conversation with Kevin the summer before we got married ten years ago, where he wanted to look at apartments and I didn't want to waste our money on rent.  I wanted to be smart and make an investment.  We failed here.  We damn near lost our asses.  And while it is fine to say that we made it and we can now rebuild, I also want to acknowledge the disappointment I feel from this whole scenario.  I am both grateful that this-- only something like this is one of the most difficult things I've had to live through, and also I am overwhelmed and exhausted now to say this mountain climb of a real estate deal is our story.  The love and good memories I felt as we walked away from the house for the last time was short lived, at this point, to the sigh of relief that this massive burden was no longer ours.  This went on for so long, and my God it was so hard.

We know how everything ended.  I got a call Thursday afternoon that we would close Friday morning.  I blasted out ridiculously excited, near-nonsensical messages here and on Facebook and ran out the door with Mary for a happy dinner.  

And we closed!  After the closing Kevin and I drove a victory lap around the block and we looked at each other a thousand times over the weekend and said, "Oh My God, we don't own that house anymore."  Disbelief.  

There have been a million lessons learned throughout these years and we feel older, wiser and weathered.  I am grateful for that.  And now I get to know how everyone else feels, again--- finally, just moving forward with our little life at a skip and a hop's pace, free from that large burden. 

Whew.

Goodbye, little house.

August 2000

Our first puppy, Daniel, September 2000

Annual Fourth of July parade, 2004

Of paint fumes, November 2006

Kevin's attic craftsmenship (cat inside new wall) 2007

Babies in their favorite hiding place, summer 2007

More babies hiding, August 2010

Two thirds of these babies will argue that they are no longer babies.

At it again, August 2010

We're gonna fight, we're gonna win.  

For sale again, September 2010

December 10, 2010

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.  I hope you had the time of your life.

Quick Monday

I have you gwasses, Mommy!

(Working on the appropriate look.)

And then...

Ehhh-cuse me, can you give me Diet Coke?

Of course that's what she says.

+++

In other Monday news, my mom did great with her surgery on Friday.  She is home now and resting and actually allowing people to do things for her.  Which is nice.  Thank you for your good thoughts.

Also, we had a new roof put on the old house last week, and today Frigidaire came out and fixed the fridge there.  (The brand new fridge we purchased never got cold!  Go figure!  Something or other had to be welded, and it's good as...brand spankin' new.)  We have complied with the requirements of the inspection, and are one step closer to closing on this deal.  We are actually going to close!  I can hardly believe it.

Our agent sent me a text the other day to ask if it was okay to show the house again-- that our buyers' grandmother was visiting from out of town and they were so excited to show her the place.  Have At It!  we said.  It is really going to rock our socks to be down to one mortgage payment, one home repair list, one place to worry about in storms and floods and taxes and water bills after all these years.  Rock our socks I tell you.

Last but not least, I don't know how I never mentioned this, but way back in July I created a Facebook page for mah blog.  If you click Like over at Lost A Sock, my bloggy updates will pop up in your fb feed.

Things we have unofficially Sold this week

Our old house, for one.  

This is great news in that in a few short weeks we will no longer own the place.

We were skeptical, honestly.  We've been SOLD! before, and we had watched it fall apart more than once in the past.  I even felt moderately ambivalent towards the news that the sign on the lawn would be changed. And then we had a few documents to take to our real estate office today, and we walked up our old block to the new sign and I was so pleased.  A little red sold sign beneath our pretty yellowing maple tree.

(Does this get us out of leaf clean-up for this place?)  

We passed inspection last week, agreeing to put a new roof on the front and back porches of the house and have the (brand new) fridge fixed because for whatever reason it is not cooling.  Thankfully the fridge is well under warranty. Unfortunately the roof is not.  That, and we agreed to give away my favorite brown wicker couch from the front porch, our dining room table cloth and living room rug.  And three fifths of our life savings.  I don't know either, you guys. We are selling in a crazy market.  But we are selling!

(Have you ever asked for home decor in your post-inspection contract?  Pets? Pine cones?  Refrigerator contents?  A made-from-scratch apple pie and fresh pot of coffee as you enter after closing, perhaps?)

So in other areas unrelated to house selling, we woke up to three inches of snow on Saturday morning.  Of course my children had to suit up and run out the back door just as quickly as possible (Jack couldn't wait to shovel it right into his mouth, as you can almost see pictured.  Ha!)  

Marin Pie will swing no matter what the conditions.  I can almost see her little eyes peeping through her purple get-up.

And then just as quickly as the snow came, it went.  We were back out at the park, comfortably in t-shirts and jeans today.  A little like selling a house is the confusing weather of November in the Midwest.  Take it as it comes, right?  

So as I mentioned earlier, when we had papers to bring to our real estate agent this afternoon I convinced the kids that we should walk.  I promised them the park and a picnic lunch in exchange for a four mile round trip hike through the crunchy leaves, on one of the last warm days of fall.

It was a long walk for sure, but I was so glad to have it because it finally brought some normalcy to a day.  All spring and summer we had been walking, biking, riding scooters, whatever, just to be out on the trail and around the neighborhood.  And then Kevin's granny's death and a trip to Florida, Sant & Leslie's car debacle, the renters and the house, I broke my foot and KJ broke his glasses, my sister's wedding, our vacation across the East Coast, the suicide of an old friend, the kids being sick and doctor visits, selling the old house- and a roof! and a touch of seasonal depression as well.  Some of it has been so good and some very difficult (my mom's upcoming surgery later this week included) but all of it has thrown us for such a loop these last three months that I have almost forgotten which direction was up.  

We stopped at the old house on our walk today and had lunch there.  I really feel that the sale is going through this time, and as the kids and I shared our little meal we talked about all of the memories from our house.  I told them about the day we bought it and Kev's and my first dinner we had there, I remembered getting ready for our wedding, and long naps on the living room couch after days spent teaching elementary school.  We talked about bringing KJ and then Jackson home from the hospital when they were born, and where each of the boys took their first steps.

I never wanted to leave the place with a bad taste in my mouth, and thankfully it hasn't turned out that way (peanut butter on nine grain bread and a Diet Pepsi, actually.)  Just a few more weeks until closing.  Our buyers are so promising this time.

Reasons to smile

We received an offer on our little old house this week.  It was from the young couple that walked through in the first few days we hit the market last month. We countered the offer, and it was accepted.  It was accepted!!  Assuming that all goes smoothly, we should close by the end of next month.

My dear friend Bree and her husband Luke?  Are joining our family in the Parents Outnumbered By Children Club.  I cannot express how much our excited, blissful conversations about this beautiful new baby have brightened my week.

I am so blessed with people in my life who are beyond supportive-- whatever the term is for people with whom you can be so unapologetically honest, who feel so safe and are without hesitation willing to scrape you up from the proverbial puddle you've melted into on the floor before their feet, suddenly and without warning. These are the friends we all need in our lives, and I am so grateful for mine.  And for you guys.

Today Kevin and I officially reached ten years of marriage.  Before our trip, before bad news and laundry and before Halloween festivities with the kids, I thought I would do some sort of video something for our ten years.  Or write something thoughtful.  Or shower before five p.m. or have a sitter lined up for us to go out to dinner together.  But as things stand, year ten finds us in a place that is perfect.  The kids and I shared a quiet day and eventually managed showers and non-pajamas before the five of us converged on a (thankfully) noisy Mexican joint for what turned out to be a celebration of the beginning of our family, as per my eight year old.

I was finally able to go through our vacation pictures today.  All thirty-eight hundred of them, which sort of works out since we drove thirty-three hundred miles this time (a whopping four hundred less than our last big road trip). That's about a shot a mile.  

Making our way through the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia

I was thinking on this trip that we are finally safe to consider ourselves travelers.  We have now been through thirty-seven states together, and even a couple months ago when travel could have been the easy martyr for the unexpected financial hit we took with the old house, I stuck my neck out and pledged to save money in any way except for sacrificing this understood priority of ours.  We live for the chance to be out on the open roads, and have already discussed which countries we move onto after we finish with the nifty fifty. (Beyond Ethiopia next year, that is.)  This is an education and life experience that can happen in no other way, and we love it.

Connecticut, Oh My God

While my family took road trips to many parts of the country as I was growing up, we never made it out to the East Coast.  This was my very first time heading in that direction, and Kevin had only been to certain parts as a kid. We were determined to see as much as humanly possible, and this journey did not disappoint.  

As a family of crazed history lovers, getting into Washington DC that first night held nothing short of an excitement comparable to our first Tour de Disney.  I couldn't believe that everything I had ever read in books or only seen in pictures was right there in front of me.

The Thomas Jefferson Memorial:  I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.  

Visiting the enormous Lincoln Memorial was every bit as awe-inspiring as I thought it would be, but just in the few minutes before we climbed the stairs to go inside, I turned and realized that we were standing in the exact spot Martin Luther King stood in when he gave his I Have a Dream speech in 1963, and right in the middle of all those tourists and my energetic children, I burst into tears. (I know, you guys, I am not even a crier.  Apparently this time in my life is a bit overwhelming on multiple unexpected levels.)

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.  I have a dream today.

Wow, right?

There was really no question, that our nation's entire capitol city was built with greatness in mind.  It was surreal.  We walked our kids' little feet off in the days we stayed there, and we could have easily spent the entire trip there, just exploring.  We will most certainly be back.

Also surreal, though in a completely different way from DC, was Philadelphia. Our initial reaction as we rolled into downtown Philly at lunchtime on a weekday, was one of Holy Shit-- it's History, Cheese and Onions!

Chicago has got to catch onto this cart thing.

In Philly we explored central historic places such as this, 

as well as places like this, which in some ways didn't even feel like 2010 America.  This was the 9th Street Italian Market, with tightly laid out streets lined with awnings, tables and storefronts selling fresh fruits and vegetables and meats of all sorts.  It was block after block of this, and just really, really neat.

Also indescribable was the diversity in Philadelphia. Kevin and I would point out to each other, Oh look at the Jewish market!  Next to the Mexican restaurant! Across from a crowd of white collar black, white, Asian and Indian folks with a few noisy construction workers thrown in, all waiting to cross the street for the nearest Cheese Steak Cart, obviously. And then down the very next block a crazy man with a knife who might kill you if the light doesn't change fast enough.  It was really cool, and also a bit chaotic.  Half of me wanted to live there while the other half wanted to floor it to the expressway before we even got a glimpse of the crack in the Liberty Bell.  I've never had quite that experience before.

Um, not that it stopped us from partaking in the famous local cuisine, you understand.

Geno's and Pat's are kiddie corner to each other, and fierce competitors.  And we were equal opportunity taste testers.  We had to be fair.  

For the record, we preferred Geno's for the straight-up sandwich, but liked Pat's for the variety of choices.  You can put practically anything on a steak sandwich.  Who knew?

Life List #76: Brooklyn Bridge

The really neat thing about driving across the eastern states is that so many of them are incredibly small, and if you doze off for even a few minutes (heh, not while manning the steering wheel, preferably) you might miss one.  My kids are used to driving across places like Georgia or Wyoming where you can navigate on the same unrelenting highway in one gigantic state for something like fifteen hours and you swear you've seen that same town or tumbleweed at least nine times.  Not on the East Coast, though.  Three pages of Mad Libs and you've gotten yourself from Washington DC all the way through Wilmington, DE, Baltimore, MD, Philadelphia, PA and straight into the heart of New York City. Now look who's not even stopped to pee!

Growing up a Chicago girl I have always wondered about New York.  Could it really be that different from Chicago, with the skyscrapers and the traffic and the crowds?  We drove across Staten Island on our way in, onto Long Island and then right into Manhattan at exactly five o'clock.  It happened this way completely by accident, of course, but the traffic was both completely expected and actually not that unusual for a big city.  Driving to all of the different major NYC sites I was surprised by two things: one, Manhattan went on forever. Forever!  I've always known Chicago to be the third largest city in the US, but Ohhhhh Riiiiiight...Our two point nine million people compared to New York's EIGHT million.  Well. That changes things.

The second thing that got me was the realization that my city?  Is not feeding me half as well as some of these East Coast cities.  New York has everything from Halal Carts on every corner offering every cuisine imaginable, to Mom and Pop diners to coffee shops and upscale deli's.  That, and boutiques.  Boutiques for art, boutiques for clothing, for furniture, for jewelery, for baby gear.  If you name it, someone is selling it in their own little original shop.  Hear this, Oh Walmarts.

There were a few biggies we planned visits for in New York City itself, as we walked and walked and walked.  The most important to our kids, of course, and the one reason they were so willing to tread miles on foot, was for their long awaited visit with what we knew to be The Big Toy Store.  From even before our trip we had promised that they could pick out a toy there, and we did crazy things like show them the giant piano from the movie Big.  We worked with all the cheesy pre-NYC knowledge we had.

When we were in Lexington, Kentucky, our children asked when we would be at the big toy store.  When we were at the White House, they needed to know how many days until the big toy store.  When we parked the car in New York wanted neither meals nor Central Park nor a thousand downpours of white granulated sugar rained down from the heavens.  They wanted the big toy store.

We arrived, finally, at the long anticipated toy store at seven twenty p.m..

The big toy store had closed at seven o'clock p.m..  

!!!

!!!...

!!1111!!!$*!#@!*&!!!!

Let this photographed moment be from now on understood as F-A-OH-SHIT.

On a Tuesday night!?  In New York City!?  

(Needle scratches across record.)

We didn't even know what to say to them.  It was a massive disappointment, and the only thing we could offer was a trip back the very next morning.  There was no way around the toys.  And yet the night still needed some salvaging.

Ice cream before dinner right in the heart of Times Square helped a little,

until we came upon the best kept secret in Times Square, apparently.  The Worlds Largest Toys R US lives there.  

Note my children:  KJ as the oldest, fully comprehends what a three story ferris wheel in the middle of a toy store means.  Jack, a four year old partly dazed by all the blinking lights-- my God the lights-- mostly gets it but remains mildly skeptical.  At first outdoor glance this appears to be the runner-up toy store of the evening and quite possibly his parents' way of squirming out of yet another day's parking fees in Manhattan. Two year old Marin's little mind is hardly on this planet, let alone in the middle of loud, flashy Times Square for toys.

Just.  Mind blowing.

I crossed off Life List #1 and my children each scored a souvenir and one hell of a ride with their dad on the ferris wheel.

More to come, lest I author here some sick sequel to War and Peace.  And as a side note, as I technically post this at 3:30am on October the 29th, it is no longer our tenth wedding anniversary but now my parents thirty-third wedding anniversary, so happy day for them. 

The grass is greener on the September side

As I wind down on the couch tonight, computer on my lap and Notre Dame tied at seven fourteen twenty-one twenty-eight with Michigan State on our television, September is in full swing.  Today is my thirty-second birthday, in fact.  We celebrated with a family day at the aquarium and the playground, and cake.

Who else would I ever want to celebrate my birthday with? 

She smiles, friends.  She suddenly smiles like this for every picture.  I could eat her up.

My sister's wedding attire is finally finished and in her possession, today, which has been the debacle of the century.  Nothing like keeping us on the edge of our proverbial seats until just days before the wedding.   

Also, after just four days on the market, our pretty little old house received a repeat showing this evening.  The young couple brought their families with for the showing and they all loved it.  How's that for some birthday news??

I have also seen the first of the changing leaves this week.  Have you seen them?

Last night Kevin took KJ and Jack to our town's high school football game.  It was Jack's first official game, which I thought he would enjoy endlessly with all the cheering and excitement, and nachos. 

"This is so boring," he announced in the first quarter. "They are all just sitting there."

"You're watching the sideline," KJ snapped.  "You have to watch the players on the field!"

"Ohhhh!"

It still wasn't his thing.  (He is only four.)

In the third quarter he pleaded with Kevin to go home, and told three sixty year old men in the row above that he would rather be home playing with his sister's doll house, and he was serious.  They somehow didn't find it as comical as Kevin and I did.

Better luck next year.

That smile again!

We spent a day at our local apple orchard this week, which was something we did last year for homeschool.  It was so enjoyable that this year it made the very top of our list for September homeschool trips.  Among other things to learn about, there is plant life and cooking, bee life and honey making, and learning how apples make it from trees to store shelves.

To be honest, last year when I planned our day here I was not sure the kids would even like apple picking.  If nothing else I could surely win them over with the petting zoo, caramel apples and tractor rides, right? 

But we get to eat the apples as we pick, right off the trees.  And if you have never pulled an apple off of a tree and bitten into it, you are seriously missing out, my friends.  You can even eat two at a time, if you are one of my children.  How about a tart Gala in one hand and a sweet Red Delicious in the other?  Yum.

The orchard built a brand new barn this year, which is just amazing, and full of fall decor and free samples for tasting.  Jackson took full advantage of homemade apple butter, pumpkin butter and cider.  In addition, they added in windows for kids to watch the caramel apples, chocolate covered pretzels and donuts being made.  Dare I admit that we had warm apple cinnamon donuts for lunch this day?  We did.  The children cheered.

This is positively the most wonderful time of year.  For sure.  I couldn't be happier.

Month Four

Ohhh no.  I most certainly did not forget.  I could never forget what the fifth day of each month means to us! 

I know, I have no excuse to be late with this update. Not like it was some little girl's birthday or we had a spare house under construction or anything.  Heh.

So, what, you ask, does all of this Sell the House business mean for our adoption?  (I am so glad you ask the easy questions.)  Well, originally, we planned out our adoption and our timeline in a way that the necessary money would be saved in time to accept our referral, and then travel to Africa.  Obviously there comes a bit of a kink in the line with what is happening, and almost from the moment our renters let us in on their plans to move, I mentally scrambled to figure out our adoption.  Kevin and I talked it through, at first, and decided that the best way to go would be to place ourselves on hold with our agency until the house sold and we could regain our footing.  It was a heartbreaking decision to make because I would love nothing more than to hold this baby in my arms tomorrow, but I placed a call to AAI anyway, to discuss our conundrum. 

It turns out that it is not possible to place our adoption on hold.  Our documents will become too old and outdated, and basically our dossier, homestudy and an entire stack of paperwork for two countries will have to be redone if we try to stretch it out past the already lengthy wait time that exists.  We either continue our path, or we shut ourselves down. 

Also not an option is to rent the other house out again, because I just don't have the nerves or the patience for it.

So if we cannot place our adoption on hold, and we must sell the house right now, then that means very simply that we must do both at the same time.  The end.

Three years ago when we were moving and carrying the two houses, and then I became pregnant with Marin, I remember saying something to the effect that this difficult situation would show me what I was made of.   

But things are different now.  I know what I am made of.  I am tough, and mightily determined. For the first time, I cannot possibly make a plan or lay out an Excel spreadsheet for this part of our future.  Let the cards fall where they may, but it is going to take an act of God to keep us from our baby.  We can do this.

Happy month four, indeed!

Done

I would like to put very little effort into documenting the shape that our house was left in, though there must be something said for it here, again, right before I post the finished pictures, because it has taken us two solid God-foresaken weeks of hours upon hours upon hours of nonstop work to get the place back into shape to put it on the market.  And also, for as friendly as our renters always were I am so surprised to discover what a pickle they left us in.  Maybe I am taking this far too personally, yes?  They moved two and a half hours away and maybe they felt some sort of privilege to cut ties as quickly as they needed to, and take little responsibility on the way out.  Regardless, nothing says Good Luck With Your Surprise Sale like a dead fridge the size of a garbage truck left in the basement, permanent rust stains in your white porcelain kitchen sink from left beer bottle caps and a dripping faucet, and an entire summer's worth of unpaid water and sewer bills that the city has now deemed us, the property owners, responsible for.  Blech.

We are finished, though.  Oh my word, we are finished.  As in, twenty minutes ago we dragged our exhausted children back home, again, after a long, frustrating night of work at the house. 

The landscaping is clean and weed-free, and we put down new mulch in all of the beds, fixed the stairs, painted the railings and window trim and front door, and scrubbed down the siding.  Somebody buy me.  I'm all yours.

The broken blinds on every window of the house were replaced, new faucet, new floor beneath the kitchen sink, fist size hole in the kitchen wall repaired, broken ceiling light replaced, walls painted, cabinets painted...

I kept reminding Kevin through this entire process that we were not upgrading the house for our buyers.  We were returning the house to a state of decency in which it could sell.  It would have been so easy to think we should list it for a higher price, knowing its condition when we purchased it in 2000 or what it looked like when we reclaimed it two weeks ago.  But all of that is gone now.  We were just making it pretty again, and the money that we spent now, and all of those years, is gone.  It's just bad timing.

This baby, on the other hand, and his brother the stainless stove, function as the proverbial dangling carrot before the house.  (The house!  Bwahaha!)  You rarely see appliances in houses at this price level, let alone stainless and brand new.  These, I hope, will distract buyers from other quirky oddities that come with buying an older home. 

 

I have always loved the character and charm of this house, though, and I hope our buyers will, too.  

Please God one day again give me white baseboards, gigantic windows and pretty hardwood floors.  I am happy to trade this little place in for his big brother.  Or even his big papa.

(A girl can dream, yes?)

And while we're dreaming, I would enjoy one day living beaneath one of the world's largest oak trees again, please.

I debated much more than usual about what color to use through the main part of the house, and ended up with a greyish shade.  I was looking for crisp and clean, and to balance the hardwood floors while showing off the gigantic windows.  I think it turned out pretty well.

The bedrooms in this house are small.  We cannot fix that. 

The closets are small, as well, since the house was constructed in 1904 and back then Ma only needed enough room for her Sunday dress and her everyday dress.  Today Hannah Montana needs room for her twenty-two pairs of designer jeans and four hundred layering tops, and no doubt she will complain about closet size.  Move in, though, Hannah.  It's totally liveable.

This is our upstairs, a picture from four years ago when we first finished it off.  It is void of furniture now, but that is about all that has changed.  Would you believe I remembered the name of the paint color from that long ago, so that I could just paint a few walls? 

Olive Sprig burned in my brain saved me hours of work.  Fantastic.

A similar story with our back room, as well.  The khaki-yellow I chose for the kitchen?  Almost a perfect match.  Touch ups, thankyouthankyouthankyou. 

When we bought this house, the above room was dark brown paneling and floored with fancy outdoor carpeting and a crap-tastic drop ceiling.  We were able to paint and put down new flooring, but a new ceiling job stretched beyond our renovating abilities.  May the buyers forgive.  And forget.  Quickly.

And so is the case with much of this little house.  Fresh out of the college dorms we bought our first house together, and we overpaid for something that needed more work than we could possibly realize at that time.  We put in a furnace and a water heater, central air conditioning, siding, gutters, counters, flooring, a completely new bathroom and mostly new kitchen, finished upstairs bedrooms, re-landscaped, fenced in the back yard and re-finished the driveway.  We poured about thirty thousand dollars into this house- more than three thousand of that just in the last couple weeks, and our listing price in this housing market will not have us see a dollar of it returned.  

It's okay.  It really is okay now.  I am completely at peace with the entire situation, and what a blessing that is.  We are ten years older, and now we know better and now we will do better.  We once had the money, little by little, to fix up a house.  It was there, the house was fixed, the money was gone and we are actually better for the wear.   Had we been able to see it from this end, would we have lived that long with green sparkly countertops and a giant rust and silver kleenex box in the wall?  No. 

We wouldn't have moved, though.  If there is one thing I have seen more clearly from this angle it was our lack of patience three years ago, when the offers were coming in (and falling apart) and we were sure the sticking offer was just around the corner.  Looking back now, we would have waited it out in the house for as long as we had to.  We were different people back then, as was the economy different, and we thought we needed so much more than we really did.  Even last week we entertained the What If scenario for selling the larger place we currently live in, and moving back to the little house.  If not for the tiny back yard and all of the adoption paperwork that sits in Ethiopia and with the US government, unable to be changed.  Then surely both houses would sell immediately, simultaneously!, and the five (six) of us would live in side-by-side cardboard boxes selling pencils and being in love.  That's from some movie, but I can't for the life of me remember which one.

It's time to sell, baby, sell.  Dare I say I am a little excited about this?  (Paint fumes, people.  Two weeks of paint fumes.)  We should get on the market in the next day or two, provided I can track down our agent quickly and Kevin can score a night away from his office.  Wish us luck!

+++

Also, I just noticed that this is my six hundredth post on lostasock.com.  I have no idea how many I wrote for my old blogspot address, but six hundred here alone is a pretty fine milestone, eh friends?

Almost there

Breakfast.

I was present for breakfast this morning, a late lunch this afternoon and dinner this evening.  That doesn't mean I didn't spend the whole morning working at the house while Kevin's mom stayed with the kids, and then return there with the kids after dinner for much of the night.  We were together for all three meals today, though.

This has been a really tough two weeks for our family.  Two weeks ago we were preparing for our Florida trip, thinking we'd come home to slap a coat of paint in a few rooms and have the place listed for sale in a few days' time.  Instead I have spent just about every waking moment of the last two weeks depending heavily on babysitters and moving down the never ending to-do list. I've stained all of the gashes and scratches in our hardwood floors, filled in all of the holes in the walls and painted every room, and watched helplessly as my dad spent his entire day off of work tearing up our bathroom floor, realizing that our renters weren't very good about using the shower curtain and turning the bathroom sub-floor into rotten, mushy garbage.  I put down a new bathroom floor this week, as well.  

Meanwhile my sister and Leslie feed our children dinner and bathe them and read them bedtime stories, and by day my mom does our laundry and my mother-in-law pulls the weeds that have gotten out of control at the house in which we actually live.  My wonderful girlfriends call to check on us.  We are so lucky for all of these people who are so willing to support us in any way they can, on a moment's notice.  I have been overwhelmed by the kindness we have received in the last two weeks.

Sadly, while Kevin and I can trudge through with another caffeinated beverage and the hope that the house will be done soon, our kids are not having an easy time of this upheaval of normalcy.  Marin becomes so nervous any time she thinks I may be leaving again, and cries to go with me everywhere.  Two nights ago I found her sobbing in her crib, still asleep, "I go with you, Mom. I go with you, I go with you."  Having just gone to bed thirty minutes prior, myself, I dragged her into bed with us where we chatted and sang and snuggled half the night away (and eventually sent daddy down to the couch so he could get a solid five minutes sleep before work!) and then I had to get up the next morning and leave her all over again. 

I can see evidence of the stress with KJ, and especially Jack, in different ways than with Marin.  Thankfully I was determined to begin homeschool on Monday and that has become our stronghold for time spent together, mid-day, almost every day this week. 

We are going to get through this.  We are almost finished, I keep promising the kids today.  I am going to cook meals again and read bedtime stories, and once and for all we will be finished with the house when it sells. 

There have been good moments, too- lots of them in these weeks.  Kevin and I have joined forces to knock out one task after the next, and speed through home improvement stores just before they close (with me in a wheelchair, even!) and then celebrate another day finished with ice cream late at night.  Lots and lots of ice cream.  (Bridesmaid dress wha??)  I have listened to all twelve hours of the Eat, Pray, Love audiobook in an otherwise silent house.  The kids have enjoyed the playground that is a mildly unfamiliar empty house where their voices echo and the hiding places are fresh.  We purchased stainless steel appliances for the house last week, and one of the two delivery men was-- from Africa!  We chatted for a bit.  Then I placed our old (still working) appliances on Freecycle and the couple that came to get them had five children.  We were almost giddy to talk with them about raising a lucky five, and woven quietly into the conversation was the thread that they were very poor.  They had recently lost their fridge as they could no longer afford the monthly rent-to-own payment, and they'd been doing all of their baking in a roaster.  All of their cakes, all of their frozen pizzas for a year- the father figured out how to bake in a roaster.  Never was I so thankful to be able to give something to someone.  In that moment I felt for sure this entire house debacle was worth it if only just to cross paths with this good family. 

We really are almost finished.  The stained basement walls have to be painted, the yard cleaned up a bit and the floors still need a good scrubbing.  Then a few staging pieces and we should be ready to list. 

After that?  I'm going to take the kids apple picking, and to the library.  And then we aren't leaving here again for a month.   

We are al. most. there.

Albatross

Over the last couple weeks I kept hearing that word: albatross.  It had come up in conversation, in a book I was reading, and on the radio one afternoon.  What the hell is the significance of an albatross, I wondered to myself, because I don't believe in coincidence.  I knew it was a bird, but why was everyone talking about it?  And why the negative connotation?

Finally on Tuesday morning I did what I always do when I am out somewhere and need to remind myself of something- I shot a quick a text to my email.  An aggravated text that simply read, ALBATROSS.  So that I would finally remember to look it up already.

We got the call from our renters, then, on Tuesday afternoon.  I called Kevin and broke the news to him, to which he responded, completely unaware of the mysterious bird I'd been pondering for better than a week, "That house is our freaking albatross." 

Yowza.

There was no way we could have seen this coming, save the metaphorical comments regarding birds and burdens, but the fact remains that it is now scramble time.  Our renters will move out next week and we will get to work immediately to prepare the place for the market.  We had to face the music sooner or later.  Looks like there's no time like the present, eh?

So in the last several days I have vacillated between worries and frustration about the house situation all the way to, dare I admit a small bit of excitement?  I haven't been inside since we rented it more than two years ago.  I still love so many things about that place, such as the heating registers and the gigantic windows and hundred year old hardwood floors.  If I could mesh our two houses together- the yard and the square footage of this place and the charm of that one, sure perfection!

Choosing to control anything I still can in this scenario, there was only one thing to do first thing Wednesday morning:

March into Home Depot and clean them out of paint swatches.

It is how I cope, friends.

What are you lookin' at, kid?  Haven't you ever seen a gal in crisis reaching for a life preserver?

Focus on the colors, focus on the colors.

Save me, colors.

This is what Kevin and I will look like when we paint the old house together.

Except Kevin doesn't paint, and I don't paint things reddish-orange.

And neither of us tend to hang upside down and giggle for the camera.

Though we'd be willing to try, for Guaranteed Results.

Writing the next chapter

Once there was a little old house.

(Yep, the next chapter of this story.)

Once there was a little old house that was purchased by a young couple with no very specific dreams at all, more than hopes for happiness and a dog and a little black cat and babies someday.

The house was charming with its shiny hardwood floors and chunky white baseboards, and it suited the young couple just fine.

 

Before long the young couple brought their newborn baby home to the house, and he began to grow there. The mama walked the shiny hardwood floors with him day and night, and he learned to crawl and walk and run.

Family and friends gathered again and again for celebrations, and toys and puzzles and baby items of all kinds filled the little old house. A whole set of lives grew there, just as had been happening for more than one hundred years in that very place.

When they planned for their second baby, the couple worried about the space that was offered by the little old house. They placed the little old house for sale and let it ride for many months, but to no avail. Then they adapted their plans and decided to keep the little old house for a while longer, and they gave it a facelift.

Soon a second baby, a fourth family member, joined the house. This time there was work to be done. There was reorganizing and simplifying in order to make space for the again growing family to fit this house.

The family began changing in so many ways- their beliefs, their goals and their entire lives were becoming more purpose-filled. There were even more toys and puzzles and family and friends. They were ready for the next step, now, and decided again that it was time to move on.

(Like, for real this time.  We were moving, for real.)

The house was listed for sale and the family hoped and prayed that new owners were just around the corner.

A deal came, and a deal fell through. Another deal came, and another deal fell through.  A new real estate agent, another round of interested buyers changing their minds. The family did the best they could with the circumstances and after months and months of touring big, beautiful houses with brand new chunky white baseboards and brand new shiny hardwood floors, they decided to move forward at any cost.

 

The family again adapted their plan to fit the situation. They downgraded their new house budget by half, and they carried the two houses, the new and the old, for almost another year. They prayed for patience and guidance and wisdom, because something had to happen. They adapted their plan again, and they brought in a new family.

Renters.

The renters came as a family of three and soon grew into a family of four, just as the one before them had. They took good care of the house and stayed for more than two years until suddenly…

…well, yes. Until suddenly I received the call last night that our renters have taken a job offer on the other side of the state, and it is time for them to move out of our little old house, next week.

I have imagined a thousand times what this moment would feel like- the moment when the house became all ours again. For anyone who was reading me back in 2007 and 2008 when our house was on the market and deal after deal fell through, you know the way we struggled with it. We weren’t doing anything crazy, really. We were a growing family who was simply ready to spread out into a bigger place. We had outgrown our starter home, though unfortunately at the same time that our country spiraled into a real estate disaster and stock market crash.

I prayed for patience so much at that time. It sounds simple to look back and say we carried the two houses for nine months, but the truth of it was that carrying two houses for Kevin and I meant heavy weights on our shoulders every single day, and worries of what outcome we might face. We paid double mortgages and double heating bills each month, and we shoveled snow and cut grass at two houses. I didn’t want to do it, and honestly I sometimes felt it would break me. I tried, as hard as it was, to trust God that all of it was for a reason.

I also had no idea that I would become pregnant with Marin just three months after we moved out of our little old house. In the middle of shoveling snow and begrudgingly signing that mortgage check month after month I was carrying a baby with a then mysterious kidney condition that would require multiple hospital stays, and surgery. We had no plans for a third child back then, but suddenly we were having one.

I also had no idea that we would decide to adopt our fourth child from Africa before Marin was even a year old.

Most importantly, we could not have known back in 2007 when I was crying tears of sheer frustration and hopelessness night after night, that if we had sold our little old house and bought the big, new house with the chunky baseboards and hardwood floors for double the price, that we could not have afforded to adopt our baby.

The house we live in now- the one we settled on because we just needed to go already, is what is currently making our then unrealized dreams for our family come true.

I had imagined that once it came time to relist our little old house on the market that I would feel panic again, like I once had during those long, emotional selling months. No time is a good time to go through something like this, financially and otherwise.

I am not panicked, though. Isn’t that crazy? I don’t know if this will be easy or difficult, and I have no idea how this story will end.  Something has to happen, and it will.

But first I have to paint walls and polish wood floors again.  Ready?

+++

And, for the sake of fond memories I give you this gem.  I laughed my fool head off when I read this, remembering my Aunt Kathy leaping from her chair to help move the troops, Joyce with the bottle of windex and Mary and Sant hurling bags of freshly opened birthday presents into KJ's room.  And Jakie with the binoculars in the Dairy Queen parking lot.  Good gravy those were some ridiculously funny times, weren't they?)

And Florida

This was apparently our year for travel.  (Love that.)  We had no plans on traveling to Florida this year, and in fact had recently been talking about how great it would be to spend some time with the kids at Disney next holiday season, just before they get their new brother or sister. 

Our plans changed pretty quickly when, two weeks ago, Kevin's granny called to tell us that she's been diagnosed with stage four cancer.  It had already spread throughout her intestines, liver and colon and such, and doctors are allowing her to decide what treatment, if any, should happen.  As if that isn't a difficult enough conversation to have across eleven hundred miles, she reminded us, at the end of the phone call, to tell our babies how much she loves them. 

We did what anyone with a heart and half a savings account would do, and we booked airline tickets to go spend time with her.

 
Terror in the skies. 

(Who, me?)

 
We were able to spend several hours each day with Granny, until we completely exhausted her she needed to rest, and then we'd head out to explore places both new and familiar to us, until our return the next day. 

 
Having spent the majority of our Floridian time in the Orlando and Cocoa Beach areas, and driving up and down A1A on the East Coast, we decided on a whim one afternoon (most importantly, with a sleeping back seat) to explore St. Petersburg and the Gulf of Mexico.  It was just wonderful, and an afternoon with my young family that I hope to always remember.   

 
We hit the beach just as the sun was setting on that chilly evening, and simultaneously began running as fast as our legs would carry us, to the salty waves.  We hopped around on the shore, cuffing our pantlegs and breathing in the ocean air as deeply as possible, loving every minute of it.

 
Genuine happiness.

 
Here, too. 

 
That's how it is when you pay a visit to the happiest place on Earth. 

...And your parents treat you to a lollipop the size of your entire head.

 
Our parents are Idiots!

 
Cinderella, showing off to the neighborhood with her Mad Strandz.  Merry, beautiful Christmas in Disneyworld. 

 
We've now been down to Florida quite a bit since our honeymoon back in 2000, and every time, especially this one, we wonder why it is we're always leaving-- returning home to twenty-eight degrees and snow.  Maybe one day we will just stay.  Wouldn't that be incredible?

(Come on, friends, dream a little dream with me...)

 
Or at least, we should visit again, very soon.

Telling them, herself, how much she loves them.

Choose Your Own Adventure

 

You'll remember this little gem, yes?

Okay, so it's been a relatively quiet eleven months and if you've not been reading for much longer you maaaaay not know that when we moved?  Back in 2007?  We never sold this little puppy. 

Yep, that was the point in time that our country was calling this Nightmare Economy a "Buyer's Market" and people still had jobs and retirement accounts and one could score an interest only mortgage for as little as twelve cents down happily paid with a MasterCard and three salted french fries.  No shortage of buyers that visited our little place, for sure, and unfortunately, no shortage of deals gone bad when it came to the not-sale of our little house.

At this time last year the house was just to the point of tossing dirt upon our heads as we lay in our deep financial grave, and we were left with no choice other than to foreclose find renters.  Fast. 

I like to call myself a doggone economy-downturn pioneer.  Bitches.

(I don't know.  The title, it didn't seem complete yet.)

So our renters signed a one year contract with us, and they kindly paid on the first of each and every month for a whole year and as far as we are capable of knowing, they've taken care of the house.  And they're nice, too.

I took the year and worked my ass off to dig us back out of credit card debt for the second time (where credit card debt is to nine months of two house payments as vomiting from your toes is to the stomach flu) and I went to great lengths to begin rebuilding our obliterated savings account.  Oh yeah, and I had a baby, too.

You love happy stories, don't you?

So recently, just as we began talking sophomore contract with our totally fabulous renters, we were alerted to the fact that we unknowingly (wherein accidental landlords probably would not know but eventually came to know) did not remove the mortgage and homestead exemptions on our old house when it became --- now say it with me, and annunciate, in a slow whisper -- when it became an "Investment Property."  (In the "Buyers Market.")  (Haaaaaa hahahahahaha.)  

So apparently our county really likes you to live in a house if you're getting a tax exemption for living there, and therefore they estimated the back-tax bill to be rather extremely large, and in the mail. 

I'd like to say something clever here, but only the phrase Beginning of the End comes to mind.

Because then bad-ass Escrow had to get in on the action, causing the payment on this little non-homestead of ours to increase by a couple hundred bucks a month, nevermind the fact that our rent checks already aren't covering what actually gets paid to the bank every month.  (But hot damn!  We have great credit!  We're honest suckers payers and we didn't foreclose with the rest of the free world.)

Now let us pause for a moment and think about Spring tulips and baby chicks.  It is what I tried to do when I heard this news, and also I placed my fingers in my ears and sang loudly until I realized that I just looked like a damn idiot and needed to start making out the check.

 

Who can forget the Knucklehead Smiths next door, eh? 

So after our uber-fabulous renters accidentally disclosed the fact that they were not only fully committed to signing another year contract with us but also are currently house hunting for something later this fall or early winter (thus leaving us high and dry in the snow, oopsie) we sort of wondered with the couple hundred dollar payment shortage, the tax thing, the new renter search, if we shouldn't just try selling again.  Look, I know the market is still shit, but maybe we'll get lucky, right?

Hrrrrmmm...  Did I mention the Knucklehead Smiths next door did foreclose in the past year? 

Ohhh they did, and now the Banklehead Smith property is on the market for approximately HALF of what the Knuckleheads bought it for, capping our available asking price somewhere around the twenty eight dollar marker.  Why buy ours if you can get the house next door with a garage and an extra bathroom for thousands less, eh?

We tried to strike a deal with our renters to purchase our place, though they respectfully declined (though still looking for a new lease for whatever reason?)  We've talked about hanging on to it for another year and bleeding the couple hundred dollars per month, though lets face it, my husband works in the financial sector and jobs are anything but guaranteed and stable anymore.  Last, we've talked about bare asses to the breeze, listing the empty house again and shelling out an ungodly amount of cash from our recently partial rebuild of an emergency fund to cover the difference between the final sales price and what is actually still owed on the mortgage.  If we can sell it this time.

We've got mere weeks left in the safety of paid-up renters, so we're going to have to figure this one out pretty quick, eh?

Ohhhhh Eight

With having Jack's birthday right there as we ring in each new year, I noticed that I've not ever written a Year In Review post or a Herrrrrre's What's To Come entry on this website -- even though I am actually a mite bit obsessed with a huge fan of reflecting on the past and planning for the future.  So if you'll allow me to drag the new year celebration on for just a bit longer (sure you can drink champagne while you read) we can take a quick look at my year past, and later the one to come.

When I think about 2008, now that we are all of six days into 09, I need a good cry.  Every time.  First I want to weep big crocodile tears of sobby sadness for the hard road that was last year, then some tears of joy and gratitude, and then back for a good long cry of relief.  We made it through 2008.  And frigging hell it was TOUGH.

I think 2007 was one of those years that makes the surrounding ones pale in comparison.  I felt most myself in 2007.  I had a ton of energy and on paper we really accomplished a lot.  We went lots of places and moved to a new house, Kevin took on a new job and I painted and redecorated and just felt healthy in so many ways.  I assumed that 2008 would be a continuation of the year previous and I could spend the rest of my life gleefully hopping around with two kids Enjoying Every Damn Thing (once we sold that pesky house, of course). 

Why hello Morning Sickness, where did you come from?

As can be imagined, I learned a lot this year.  I learned a lot about patience, and grace, and flexibility.  We chucked our plans for selling our old house and rented it out.  We chucked our plans for being a two-child family and opened our hearts to our new baby.  I chucked my plans for finishing my weight loss and for happily vacationing, and we put off every major purchase possible.  Some things really fell to shit, and some of them were rebuilt.  Some things I will never be able to discuss here, but, well, they played a large factor in The Crazy that this year was also.  I'm glad to see the year come to an end.  I'm grateful for all of the opportunities for learning that I was presented with, and I hope I came away understanding everything I needed to.  And my word, I am thankful for my happy sweet-smelling baby that came from this year. 

So here we go - 2008 In Review - In Numbers.

In 2008...

• I mowed zero lawns, dragged garbage cans to the curb only once, and shoveled snow only twice.  Ahh pregnancy, alas I find your perks. 
• We had 2 baby showers, 15 ultrasounds, 1 surgery, 1 tumor removed and 1 reproductive organ lost.  This year my body happily grew 1 beautiful six pound baby and I continued my long-standing career sabbatical to stay home, care for and educate 2 equally wonderful and energetic little boys (and then 1 adorable baby girl).
• In 2008 I consumed 467 pounds of cookie dough followed by a close second, 462.5 pounds of every variety of fresh fruit, canned fruit, fruit flavoring and fruity smelling non-fruit fruit.  I drank only 1/3 as much coffee as I would have, hosted 6 parties in our home, consumed 2 alcoholic beverages and gained 50 pounds (the calories in the alcohol, I tell you!)
• I changed approximately 4000 diapers in 2008, washed at least 1500 loads of laundry, had 2 houses flood, 1 roof leak, and 2 vacuums died.  I painted only 1 room in 2008, hid from 1 tornado, stepped on 984 legos, pinched 1 nerve in my upper back and fell down the stairs once in the middle of the night (and tore the thermostat out of the wall in the process, way to go on doing nothing half-assed.)  I blew my nose 14,982,227 times through the course of 17 colds. 
• In 2008 I ran the dishwasher at least 365 times and washed approximately 4 dishes by hand.
• Major purchases were limited to 1 larger vehicle, 1 winter coat, 1 television and innumerable pink baby sleepers.  This year we purchased 3 DVD's, no CD's, our first video game system as a married couple, and 1 video game.  I purchased 1 pair of shoes this year and no purse.  This year we went to no concerts, no movies, 1 musical, and paid 18 mortgage payments out of our savings veins pocket. 
• Holding strong, we managed to fully fund 1 IRA, rebuild our savings and close out the year without 1 dollar of credit card debt. 
• I read 2 books that influenced me in a major way, meditated at least 100 times and attended church only twice in the middle of an incredible spiritual journey.  I learned 2 very important lessons in 2008, watched my favorite documentary at least 20 times and claimed my personal stake as 1 huge History Channel Dork.
• I learned to love, appreciate and accept this 1 body that serves me whether it is baby-filled, overweight, well cared for or otherwise.  I quietly celebrated my 11th anniversary with Kevin, proud of its fruits, proud of what it took to arrive there.
• In 2008 we took no vacations but made our way into 4 neighboring states, attended no weddings, 1 wake, no funerals, 1 baptism, countless birthday parties.  I helped coordinate 2 classroom parties and rode a school bus 3 times.
• We scheduled 1 vasectomy and cancelled 1 vasectomy, no longer convinced that two 3 is our magic stopping number.  (Possibly I don't mind changing 4000 diapers a year as much as I think?)  I underwent 1 tumor regrowth check to find myself still tumor free and cancer free, hopefully forevermore, at least until February. 
• I kept up with 67 blog feeds, wrote 144 blog entries of my own and took more than 8200 pictures.  I read more than 1000 children's books, (mostly) potty trained 1 little boy, and taught my 2 boys about charity, hands-on, in 3 ways this year.  I made two sets of curtains, six pillows and my first quilt on my gramma's sewing machine.
• I mailed out 72 Christmas cards this year, and excitedly received 46. I was awful about responding to emails.
• In 2008 I sang hundreds of songs, cried more tears than I care to count, smiled thousands of genuine smiles and thanked God hundreds of times for all that we are blessed with.  Even when those blessings are wrapped up in an easy-to-exit year like 2008.