We Got It!

I am emotionally drained.

We got great news today - our program was refunded!

I cannot express to you the enormous relief and thankfulness I feel. It's beyond words. I'm just so grateful.

God is so, so good!

It's been an exhausting day so I will have to fill you on on the details tomorrow. But let me share this before I close - today as I was driving, Jeremiah 29:11 popped in my head (more on that later too) and as I head to bed, I am thanking God and trusting in His plan.

Cracked Up

**Contains mature content. Not responsible for any repulsion caused by reading the post below.**

There comes a point in every relationships when you get to the "secure" spot. This is the point where you have the level of security and confidence in the feelings of the other person that you begin to feel comfortable, even in the most uncomfortable situations.

That's one of the nice things about being married - you're way past that awkwardness hump. So you wouldn't expect any of those embarrassing sex things to happen, right?

Yeah. I didn't either.

Our realtor is coming Wednesday to take pictures of our house so I decided I wanted to deep clean. And by deep clean, I mean do all things that should be done on a regular basis but that I spend a large quantity of time avoiding. 

We have a ginormous (and really cool) pocket door between our living room and study - it's one of my favorite things about this house.  It's about 8 feet tall and about 4 feet wide and I'm pretty certain it's authentic to the house. Our former neighbor told us that the couple that owned the house before us had knocked out the wall to put in a french door when they found it hidden behind the sheetrock. 

We usually keep the door open and since it sits in the wall it gets really dusty. Well, that and the fact that I don't ever dust it. So I'm in the office, dusting and looking particularly unattractive  when my hubby comes in. Apparently, I must have been holding that can of Pledge just right because the boy got frisky.  Or maybe it was just the shock of seeing me do something domestic.  Either way, one thing led to another *and this is the part where it gets adult, so escape now! and I go from the ladder to the desk. When suddenly there is a loud and unmistakable popping sound. I freeze and even though I know, I ask anyway. "Did the glass just break?" 

Yes, the like super thick, tempered glass that covers our desk had cracked. 

Nothing better than having the fact that you're fat highlighted during a moment of intimacy. Nope, that's not awkward at all.

Normally, I don't think it would have even been that big of a deal but I know it only cracked because I am super heavy right now. No, I really do know that. I've...um... kinda been on that desk before. 

And not that he doesn't know I've gained weight - but breaking a piece of furniture is a first for me.

So diet begins tomorrow!  Seriously have to do something, like now. 

And when I want to cheat or eat something I know I shouldn't, I'm going to close my eyes and remember the night my ass cracked the glass.

The Day I Wasn't

Some days I’m a great Mom...some days I am not.

We rushed home – we are always rushing somewhere, I honestly don’t think I can remember what it's like to go somewhere without rushing – in a hurry to get to practice.  If we moved really fast, we would get there right on time. As we approached the house I told M “We’ve got to run in, get changed and GO!” 

When we pull up to the house there’s the neighborhood girl waiting in our driveway. Great, I thought.  M excitedly asked to talk to her. “Two seconds!” I barked. And then as I shut the car door I said again “Two seconds and then you get inside and get dressed!” I said the last two words very sharply, so she would know I meant business.

I ran in, ran to the bathroom and then ran upstairs to change clothes. I ran back downstairs calling ‘LET'S GO!” No response. I call for M. Nothing.  My house is empty.  I flew to the door, ready to let her have it because I knew she was still outside talking. I didn’t even wait to get the door all the way open before I began “M J (this is full name seriousness), I - ”

I stopped mid-sentence when I saw M standing by our neighbor. Not the kid neighbor, but the grown-up neighbor who lives right next door. He had his cell phone in his hand. As soon as I opened the door she ran to me with this excited, amused look on her face (the neighbor didn’t look so amused) shouting “Mom, you locked me out!”

I look over at the neighbor - the childless neighbor who I am sure will tell his wife over dinner what a horrible mother I am -  and smile apologetically. M continues “I kept banging on the door, but you wouldn’t answer…” I rushed her into the house before he could hear her say something else embarrassing. 

I had locked the door instinctively, not even realizing I had done it. We haven’t had a doorbell in years.  We bought a new, fancy doorbell when we moved in – it’s wireless and works on sensors. When M2 was an infant, someone else in our neighborhood got the same type of doorbell and our sensor picked it up. So every time they had a visitor, our doorbell would go off. The cute little “Please DO NOT Ring Doorbell, Baby Sleeping” sign I would put on our front door was useless. I yanked the batteries and we haven't used the doorbell since.

Then she says “I made a sign so someone could help me. I was holding it up to the cars as they drove by but no one stopped.  The neighbor saw it when he pulled up. He was getting ready to call you.  Good thing I know your phone number, huh?” 

I stifled my feeling of pride at her resourcefulness to concentrate on my feeling of mortification at my ineptitude.

The Tale Of Two Inches

Yes, everything is okay.

No, there isn’t a good reason why I’ve been neglecting this thing.

Unless you count life getting in the way as a good reason and then yes, I have a reason.

Will you forgive me for being a bad blogger  if I tell you a story? Good, because I was going to tell you anyway.

The Tale Of Two Inches

Once upon a time a bright young couple bought a dumpy old house.  It needed a lot of work but that didn't deter them.They had big plans to fix that dumpy old house.  Because, you know, they were young. And bright.

To the surprise of the bright young couple, life got in the way and the 'fixing' never got done. Years passed and that dumpy old house remained old and dumpy.

On a bright and shining Saturday, when they should have been floating around in the pool with a cool beverage in their hands, the slightly older jaded couple decided to tackle the bathroom of that dumpy old house. They spent all morning ripping out the old bathtub only to discover this:

The bathroom floor of that dumpy old house had rotted away. While they were grateful the tub hadn't fallen through the floor, the slightly older jaded couple was not surprised by this discovery. Because, you know, the house was old. And dumpy.

The slightly older jaded couple spent some time putting in a new floor and then they were ready to buy a shiny new tub. As they were leaving to buy the shiny new tub, the hilarious smokin hot wife asked the smart experienced husband if he had measured the area. 

The smart experienced husband informed the hilarious smokin hot wife that all tubs were a standard size so off they went to the big name home improvement store. The hilarious and smokin hot wife had not reason to doubt him.  Because, you know, he was smart. And experienced. 

After unloading and carrying in the heavy awkward tub, the slightly older and jaded couple realized the smart and experienced husband had been wrong. Very wrong. Shiny new tubs do, in fact, come in different sizes. And it just so happens that this particular heavy awkward tub was too big. Two inches too big.

But the resourceful determined husband assured the worried uncertain wife they could make it fit. Then the impulsive fearless husband cut out a big chunk of wall. When that did not work, the stunned horrified wife watched the crazed stubborn husband also cut the framing and plumbing pipe.

After half the bathroom had been butchered away, the tired frustrated couple moved the heavy awkward tub in place. As they were putting it in, the cheap flimsy tub brushed up against the wall and this happened:

The edge of that cheap flimsy tub chipped. In multiple places. Which obviously concerned the tired frustrated couple but especially since this was an all-in-one and they were not real sure how if the enclosure would fit if the cheap flimsy tub was chipped.  After the desperate distressed wife picked up all the tools the irate fuming husband had thrown out of frustration, she calmed him down and convinced him the the cheap flimsy tub would still work.

After more pushing and shoving, the tired determined couple finally got the cheap flimsy tub in place. Victory -  the job had been done! 

Until they noticed this:

The overpriced crap tub had cracked. And no matter how good you are, you can’t fix a cracked tub. So the angry bitter couple headed back to the stupid cursed home improvement store to buy another shiny new tub. Because, you know, the first one was crap. And overpriced. 

The shiny new tub went in without any problem, partly because half the bathroom had been cut away but mostly because the shiny new tub was actually the correct size.

While the happy and relieved couple were excited to have the shiny new tub, there wasn’t too much celebration. 

Because, you know, it was still a dumpy old house.

Deep Cut

Well, it was just a matter of time.

After a life of mostly fortunate experiences, my luck ran out and it happened.

I got a bad haircut.

Goodbye long hair!

Now, don't get me wrong. I've had some ridiculous looking hair before. Usually because I picked a style based on trend and not because it would actually look good on me. Or the stylist would give me something completely different than what I wanted.  So did it look good? No.  But it also didn't look like my hair got caught in a weed wacker.

It all started when I decided it was time to cut my hair. I haven't had a haircut in almost 4 years because I grow my hair and donate it.* I was completely happy with the stylist that cut it the last time. In fact, several months later I went back to her to get it cut even shorter. Both times she did a fantastic job.

So the reasonable thing to do would be to go back to the person I was happy with, right?

But no.

I was about to call (seriously had the number written on a post-it note) when I happened upon a salon I've heard about before and I decide to try that place. Because why go to a place that you know you'll like when you can take a gamble?

I called, made the appointment and then realized I didn't ask how much they charge. I called back and I promise you, the woman sounded almost embarrassed to tell me. And she should have been - it was outrageously expensive.

So I called my top fashionista friend, the guru of all things beauty, just to make sure I wasn't out of touch or just being cheap. She confirmed it was a little high and suggested I go to her girl.

For a fleeting minute I thought about keeping the appointment, just to see what a haircut that expensive would be like...but I couldn't do it.

So I call her girl.

One cut. That's all it took for me to know something was wrong.

She chopped my ponytail off and I remember thinking it felt really short - like too close to my head.  It immediately made me nervous. But I thought maybe I was just being paranoid and it was probably just the immediate shock of going from hair down my back to WHAM, now it's gone.

The more she cut, the less it looked like what I wanted. And I was worried. But I pushed my concerns right out of my head. After all, I had done everything I was suppose to - I brought a picture.  I told her exactly why I liked the cut in the picture.  I told her exactly what I wanted. And my friend's hair always looks so cute - this lady knows exactly what she's doing. She's the expert.

She's chopping and chopping. And that's exactly what it was - chopping, not cutting. She held my hair upside down between her fingers and just kind of jabbed at it with the shears - like a sword fight. All the while telling me about her time working on New York's Fashion Week. See, she is an expert.

When she was done I didn't like it. At all. I was trying hard to stay positive and give it a minute. I thought I just needed to go home and restyle it - a trick that has worked for me countless other times. In fact, I was in such a rush to get out and mess with it that I forgot to give them my coupon when I checked out. So not only did I pay and tip for something I didn't like - I cheated myself out of saving $25!

I got home, stuck my head under the faucet and tried to do something with it. And it wasn't happening. There was nothing I could do. No matter what it literally looked like my hair had gotten caught in a blender. At high speed. Choppy, chunky and just...weird.

Then I looked at the back. HOLY COW! My hair is stacked! In case you don't know - stacked in a style where the hair is essentially layered up and it requires short, short, short hair.  In fact, my neck hair (gorilla girl!) was showing. I'm convinced she didn't shave my neck because she didn't want me to know how short it was in the back.

So I called the girl I should have called originally and got it fixed the next day.  She tried to save as much length as she could but she had to cut even more to get it to look decent. Still not great but she could only do so much...

This is what I ended up with. You would appreciate it so much more
if you could see the before picture!

She was super sweet though because she cut me a deal on her price, since I had "already been through so much". And I don't want this to sound ungrateful, because it's absolutely awesome that she discounted it but I've been through some stuff, some real stuff and haircuts, no matter how bad, will never be included on that list.

Anyone besides me find it ironic (and kind of sickening) that I ended up paying more than the really expensive haircut that I cancelled?

Oh well, guess I can't expect to be lucky all the time...

M decided to donate with me. So proud of her heart!

*I don't donate to Locks of Love. I have nothing against that organization, they have an admirable mission statement but there is a huge misconception that they provide wigs to cancer patients. I'm not saying they don't, because they do. But that isn't their primary focus so it's more difficult for a cancer patient to get a wig from them than it is from other organization that focus specifically on cancer patients. That happens to be a cause that is near and dear to my heart so I donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.  Click here to find out more about the program.

Confidence Whisperer

A good and bad thing happened to me the other day.

I was shopping and as I was checking out, I looked over and made eye contact with a guy walking past. He smiled and said hello, I smiled and said hello. Nothing extraordinary. Just two people being friendly.  

I walk out to my car, throw my bags in and begin to make my way out of the parking lot. I see a truck approach from the other side and then slow down. I assumed they were turning into a parking spot until I notice the driver is motioning for me to roll down my window. That's when I realize it's the guy from the store. I immediately thought he was going to tell me I had a headlight out or something.

So I roll down my window and he says "Hey! Can I give you a compliment?" 

Um. Just for point of reference, YES, you can always give a girl a compliment.  Like, who doesn't like those?

But it was so off point from what I thought he was going to say that I was startled and the best that I could come up with was a confused sounding "Sure."

"You're really pretty, you dress great and you seem successful. Are you married?" 

By the time I could process what he said, I realized he was waiting on me for an answer. When I confirmed I was, he shook his head and said "Man." Then he paused for a second and finished with "Tell your husband he should treat you better." Then he was off. 

SCORE!

Who in a billion years would have imagined something like that happening to me? It felt great! I was on cloud nine. It totally made my day. 

Then I called my husband to gloat – because what’s the point of being hit on if you can’t brag about it, right? As I’m telling him it becomes painfully obvious that I’m much too excited, much too flattered. Much too desperate.

Do normal nearly-40 year old woman feel their egos soar when some random stranger gives them some vague and superficial compliment?

And it changed.

I’ve recognized that I’ve been feeling undesirable lately but didn’t realize to what extent. I’ve gotten out of my gym flow, have gained some (more) weight, and generally feel unattractive. And hubby’s been working a lot lately and has been really preoccupied and not into me. At all. So I feel a little ignored.

That’s a lie. I feel a lot ignored.

I know he’s busy and he’s tired and I appreciate that he works so hard for his family. I really do. But it’s hard when all I’ve been asking for is a date. Nothing extravagant, just a little bit of his time and attention. And when he tells me that he’ll be working for our anniversary…it’s hard not to take that personally. I’m here and I’m yours – does that not excite you at all?

Logically, I know that isn’t it. Logically, I know that he’s under a lot of stress and pressure and he’s doing whatever he can to make deadlines and keep us moving forward. It’s all for us, I understand that. But that doesn’t make feeling disregarded any easier.

I didn’t realize what that combination had done to my self-esteem. It’s kinda a shocking thing to realize you don’t feel good about yourself.

So what started out as a good thing quickly turned into something bad when it became apparent I’m in a slump.

But kudos to that guy for having the guts to do something like that. If I was single, I totally would have given him my number for his confidence alone.  There’s nothing more attractive than a man that goes after what he wants.

Of course, after thinking about it I’m not convinced it wasn’t just some guy doing charity work. For all I know, he could seek out frumpy old hags and give them that line just to make them feel better. And who could blame him?

After all, it totally worked on me.

Chaos Squared

So things have been...chaotic.

Largely because we're insane.

So I'm not sure what we were thinking or if we were thinking at all...but M2 will begin Kindergarten in August and we are nowhere near getting our house built. In fact, we haven't even begun with step 1!  And I am freaking out. We are running out of time and have to get this stuff started!

Hubby had a colleague that was supposed to draw our house plans. He had some life things come up and kept putting us off and we got tired of waiting. Then one of hubby's friends offered to draw them for way cheap. You know he wasn't going to pass that up so we went that route.

More waiting and then a few weeks ago he brings in kinda-sorta-but-not-really set of plans and explains he has no idea how to do a roof line.  Really? Because that's kinda an important part. Did you not know you couldn't do roof lines when you took the job? And of course, we paid him for the work he had done but it's essentially useless. Which just adds to my frustration.

And it's May. MAY!

So I start calling around. To professionals. None of this "I know a guy" stuff anymore. We need this done and we need it done right. By someone who can draw roof lines.

The first guy I called quoted me $6,400. Yes, you read that right - six thousand, four hundred. So does that include you pouring the concrete too or we talking just for the drawing? I mean, I knew a custom home would be more but...seriously?

It was good that I called him first though because he was the most expensive. It helped the other quotes not seem quite so shocking.

We went last week, interviewed two and picked our guy. Ironically, he happens to be the father of a girl my husband dated for a short bit almost 20 years ago. It doesn't bother me a bit but he was kinda freaking out about it. As we were driving to meet the guy he was all "Don't say anything about me and (insert ex's name here)." Yeah, because that was my plan. "Hi. Nice to meet you. This is my husband, who used to do your daughter."

So now we've got the plans going. Which is good but we are still so far away. We've known for a long time that we weren't going to have anything built before August but I really wanted M2 to begin school in that district so we've decided to go ahead and sale our current home and move. Originally hubby suggested renting a place but I think long-term it would be better just to buy something small that we can rent out or flip later. I mean, we're looking at least a year in order to build, it's not a quick process.

So that's where we're at.

The plan is to pack up all the clutter and crap (and there is WAY too much of it) and put it in storage so we can put our house on the market while we live in it. Of course, we aren't ready to put it on the market yet and don't want to get a storage building until we're ready...so it's all just getting stacked in our office.

I used to have a pretty entryway table here,
now you open the door to a pile of boxes.

So we're in the process of moving...but not moving. Just not able to get to anything because it's packed and having to work around too many boxes.

Down to essentials...

Honestly, I think I prefer the old method - grab a box and throw it in a few nights before you have to move. It may not be the most organized way to do it but I'm learning it's definitely the least stressful...

And happy late Mother's Day for all you Moms out there! I enjoyed my day with this fabulous lady...