Yesterday my daughter exclaimed to me with great enthusiasm. "I don't ever want to be a cheerleader! It's too girly!"
Oh, my heart is filled with such pride. (Just ignore for the moment that I was once a head cheerleader myself.)
And then, after her rather inauspicious start at soccer camp, yesterday she won the day's Coach's Award for her perseverance, attitude and for scoring her first goal. She was so proud of herself. And her brother made a spectacle of himself cheering for her.
It was very cute.
Since Tuesday afternoon, a bunch of school parents have been very friendly to me at camp pick-up. And the head coach made a point to talk to me too. What a difference a day makes.
Don't let any of this make you assume that I'm in a better mood. I am cranky and reveling in it right now.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Frumpy Square Peg, Bitchy Round A-Holes
The people who love and care about me have one job for the next year.
They have to remind me over and over again that I didn't like the people at our old school at first either.
Man, there are some snooty parents at the new school. Some have been outright rude! (Misty is thinking well, yeah! right about now.)
I think there is always a danger when you choose a private school that the level of snot will outweigh all the other benefits. The majority of parents I've met in the last couple of days have made me start composing applications for the other schools for the 2009-2010 school year.
But I keep reminding myself, the kids loved it there. This school was one of our top choices because the students there just seemed so happy. The staff and teachers weren't snooty. They were great!
Just because I don't fit in with the private school moms doesn't mean my kids won't be happy there.
And hell! I didn't fit in at the old school either. It took me three or four years to make some really good friends there. And some of the moms I had pegged as the most snooty early on turned out to be not just good friends, but some of the best people I have ever met.
My husband says, "Just be yourself and smile and do the things you always do and you'll eventually find the worthwhile people here too." I know he's right. It takes people a while to see past my exterior. And it takes me a while to overcome my shyness. I know that there are rich people who are good people. I just have to find them.
But it's going to be damn lonely for a while.
They have to remind me over and over again that I didn't like the people at our old school at first either.
Man, there are some snooty parents at the new school. Some have been outright rude! (Misty is thinking well, yeah! right about now.)
I think there is always a danger when you choose a private school that the level of snot will outweigh all the other benefits. The majority of parents I've met in the last couple of days have made me start composing applications for the other schools for the 2009-2010 school year.
But I keep reminding myself, the kids loved it there. This school was one of our top choices because the students there just seemed so happy. The staff and teachers weren't snooty. They were great!
Just because I don't fit in with the private school moms doesn't mean my kids won't be happy there.
And hell! I didn't fit in at the old school either. It took me three or four years to make some really good friends there. And some of the moms I had pegged as the most snooty early on turned out to be not just good friends, but some of the best people I have ever met.
My husband says, "Just be yourself and smile and do the things you always do and you'll eventually find the worthwhile people here too." I know he's right. It takes people a while to see past my exterior. And it takes me a while to overcome my shyness. I know that there are rich people who are good people. I just have to find them.
But it's going to be damn lonely for a while.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Mother of Inventiveness
I have Baileys, JD, Stoli O, and Kahlua.
I also have Diet Coke with Splenda, Light Lemonade, water, peach flavored Propel, Sprite 0, skim milk and pickle juice.
Mix me a drink.
I sorely need it.
I also have Diet Coke with Splenda, Light Lemonade, water, peach flavored Propel, Sprite 0, skim milk and pickle juice.
Mix me a drink.
I sorely need it.
The Waterworks
My daughter bugs me.
Have I mentioned this before? Oh, what. Just about a thousand times? That sounds about right.
I mean, I love the kid. I really do. She has some wonderful qualities, not one of which is the ability to stop bugging the hell out of her mother.
Lately, I have been making a very concerted effort to be extremely positive with her. I thought coaching her softball team might ruin our relationship forever, but it actually seemed to help quite a bit.
She just gets into situations that...well...no other mothers seem to have to deal with this crap. These situations always end in tears.
I probably seem like a heartless bitch to every other mother out there, but I know my kid. Coddling her through her tears is the last thing she needs. The slightest showing of sympathy only degenerates the situation further.
The kid needs some stones.
Yesterday was the first day of soccer camp. Even though I think she belongs with the nine-year-olds (she'll be nine in a couple of weeks and has been playing soccer for five years, plus I wanted her to make friends who will be in her level at the start of soccer season) they put her in the "beginner" group with the 7-8 year-olds. Which is cool.
I had to pick my son up from camp at noon so I spied on her while I was waiting. She was doing pretty well.
I came back a little early for pick-up so I could watch her play. As I parked the car I just happened to catch her tie-dye socks out of the corner of my eye. It's a good thing I did because she was playing on the far other side of the complex as I had expected. It looked like she was playing with 9-10 year-olds.
You know I had a moment of ooooh, maybe they moved her up because she did so well pride.
It was to be short lived.
Of course she didn't leave the field and head toward the parents like every other kid when they were dismissed. I had to walk up and retrieve her. Which is when she told me that she had gotten lost after lunch.
She spent the majority of the afternoon wandering around because she couldn't remember her coach's name. Or apparently, what side of the fields she had been playing on all morning or what any of her new friends and teammates looked like or how freaking old she was.
Apparently, she finally asked a coach who just told her to go join in with some team.
And that's how she wasted her afternoon at soccer camp.
You know, that's fine. Whatever. She made a mistake. A totally ditsy mistake that took the joy out of the whole experience, but whatever. But I knew that they made a big deal out of checking each kid out at the end of the day with the right coach.
Her original group was gathered on the bleachers and I told her to run and join them. That's when the tears started.
I was so put out. By her. By the camp. What coach loses a kid halfway through the day and doesn't bother to tell anyone or look for her?
She could have left campus for all they knew.
I was so disappointed. I had been so excited to pick her up and hear about her day. She loves soccer. She desperately needs new friends. And it all degenerated into another tear fest.
I swear. Nothing is ever easy with her. Nothing.
It's funny, because my husband feels the same way about my son.
Have I mentioned this before? Oh, what. Just about a thousand times? That sounds about right.
I mean, I love the kid. I really do. She has some wonderful qualities, not one of which is the ability to stop bugging the hell out of her mother.
Lately, I have been making a very concerted effort to be extremely positive with her. I thought coaching her softball team might ruin our relationship forever, but it actually seemed to help quite a bit.
She just gets into situations that...well...no other mothers seem to have to deal with this crap. These situations always end in tears.
I probably seem like a heartless bitch to every other mother out there, but I know my kid. Coddling her through her tears is the last thing she needs. The slightest showing of sympathy only degenerates the situation further.
The kid needs some stones.
Yesterday was the first day of soccer camp. Even though I think she belongs with the nine-year-olds (she'll be nine in a couple of weeks and has been playing soccer for five years, plus I wanted her to make friends who will be in her level at the start of soccer season) they put her in the "beginner" group with the 7-8 year-olds. Which is cool.
I had to pick my son up from camp at noon so I spied on her while I was waiting. She was doing pretty well.
I came back a little early for pick-up so I could watch her play. As I parked the car I just happened to catch her tie-dye socks out of the corner of my eye. It's a good thing I did because she was playing on the far other side of the complex as I had expected. It looked like she was playing with 9-10 year-olds.
You know I had a moment of ooooh, maybe they moved her up because she did so well pride.
It was to be short lived.
Of course she didn't leave the field and head toward the parents like every other kid when they were dismissed. I had to walk up and retrieve her. Which is when she told me that she had gotten lost after lunch.
She spent the majority of the afternoon wandering around because she couldn't remember her coach's name. Or apparently, what side of the fields she had been playing on all morning or what any of her new friends and teammates looked like or how freaking old she was.
Apparently, she finally asked a coach who just told her to go join in with some team.
And that's how she wasted her afternoon at soccer camp.
You know, that's fine. Whatever. She made a mistake. A totally ditsy mistake that took the joy out of the whole experience, but whatever. But I knew that they made a big deal out of checking each kid out at the end of the day with the right coach.
Her original group was gathered on the bleachers and I told her to run and join them. That's when the tears started.
I was so put out. By her. By the camp. What coach loses a kid halfway through the day and doesn't bother to tell anyone or look for her?
She could have left campus for all they knew.
I was so disappointed. I had been so excited to pick her up and hear about her day. She loves soccer. She desperately needs new friends. And it all degenerated into another tear fest.
I swear. Nothing is ever easy with her. Nothing.
It's funny, because my husband feels the same way about my son.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Ready for the CIA
My husband wasn't gone for more than fifteen minutes on Friday when all hell broke loose.
With the DirecTV guys still in the house, my husband headed off for his very last week in his old job on the bayou. And my son locked himself out of his bedroom.
Who the fuck puts locks on every bedroom door in a house?
Now I can't stop thinking about what kind of kinky lifestyle the former owners led. I mean, what other reason is there to put a lock on a bedroom door than a sexual one? Having met the bleach blond former owner at our cul-de-sac party, the images aren't pretty.
Anyway, I tried to pick the lock without success, so I dismantled the knob. I still couldn't pop the lock and the DirecTV guy felt bad for me so he gave it a try with no luck.
Thirty seconds later, I put some muscle into it and popped that bad boy open.
The DirecTV guy was quite impressed. I think he may have been a little turned on. You know how some men like strong, lock-picking women.
With the DirecTV guys still in the house, my husband headed off for his very last week in his old job on the bayou. And my son locked himself out of his bedroom.
Who the fuck puts locks on every bedroom door in a house?
Now I can't stop thinking about what kind of kinky lifestyle the former owners led. I mean, what other reason is there to put a lock on a bedroom door than a sexual one? Having met the bleach blond former owner at our cul-de-sac party, the images aren't pretty.
Anyway, I tried to pick the lock without success, so I dismantled the knob. I still couldn't pop the lock and the DirecTV guy felt bad for me so he gave it a try with no luck.
Thirty seconds later, I put some muscle into it and popped that bad boy open.
The DirecTV guy was quite impressed. I think he may have been a little turned on. You know how some men like strong, lock-picking women.
Friday, June 20, 2008
It's a MoBlog! With Pictures
Sort of.
I'm blogging from my back deck while I watch the kids swim in the pool. (One of those cheap above ground numbers you can buy at Target.)
I'd be blogging on my husband's laptop and our spiffy new wireless connection but he took it with him on his week-long trip back to the bayou.
He left me here with two bored kids who only want to swim. I can't leave them in the pool unsupervised so I'm stuck out here on the deck.
Meanwhile, I got two boxes unpacked in the last two days. That's right. Count 'em. Two.
Thank god for soccer camp next week.
I guess the forced rest is kind of nice. It is beautiful here. Too bad gazing at the beautiful landscape only makes me stress about maintaining it.
And there are a lot of bugs. Bugs ruin everything. I'm such an indoor girl.
In other news, I've realized that my skin is more pale than a Band Aid.
Maybe some time communing with the bugs and plants wouldn't kill me.
Update: How about some pictures?
I'm blogging from my back deck while I watch the kids swim in the pool. (One of those cheap above ground numbers you can buy at Target.)
I'd be blogging on my husband's laptop and our spiffy new wireless connection but he took it with him on his week-long trip back to the bayou.
He left me here with two bored kids who only want to swim. I can't leave them in the pool unsupervised so I'm stuck out here on the deck.
Meanwhile, I got two boxes unpacked in the last two days. That's right. Count 'em. Two.
Thank god for soccer camp next week.
I guess the forced rest is kind of nice. It is beautiful here. Too bad gazing at the beautiful landscape only makes me stress about maintaining it.
And there are a lot of bugs. Bugs ruin everything. I'm such an indoor girl.
In other news, I've realized that my skin is more pale than a Band Aid.
Maybe some time communing with the bugs and plants wouldn't kill me.
Update: How about some pictures?
The back deck featuring the umbrella my daughter's class made for the school auction (lovingly referred to as the thousand dollar umbrella).
From the side toward the front.
One side
The Cherry trees across the back
The back corner and the cheap pool. I hope we'll have the inground put in by next summer.
The house from the backyard
Across the back toward the other side.
Back toward the deck.
The other side yard and a half-put-together trampoline. The trampoline might move to the other side and a playset might go here.
From the front to the back.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Square Pegs, Roundish Holes
It is taking us a ridiculous amount of time to unpack here at the new House of Tuna.
It took me the entire three days between dropping my kids off at my parents and heading back to pick them up just to unpack the kids' bedrooms. Of course unpacking my daughter's room also meant throwing away mounds of stuff I couldn't get rid of when she was around.
The poor packers must have been horrified to have to pack her room. There was a whole box of stuff that they found behind her beds when they moved them. They also packed up a big green garbage bag very neatly in a box.
I guess it's better then them packing up the sex toys I had forgotten about when we moved from Florida.
There's nothing like unrolling a huge lump of paper and finding a big, purple dildo wrapped lovingly inside.
Unpacking the rest of the house has been an exercise in frustration, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. The house is so different from our last one. There are tons more kitchen cabinets, but no medicine cabinets. We lost a playroom and an office, but gained a bedroom and open living room/dining room combo.
I swear it is going to take me a month just to get the essentials unpacked. I'm still living out of a suitcase and after three days of unpacking the kitchen, I still haven't found the plates and glasses.
Complain, complain, complain. I know. I'm in a horrible mood and I wish I could have just stayed in bed all day. (Considering I just got up, I practically did.)
It took me the entire three days between dropping my kids off at my parents and heading back to pick them up just to unpack the kids' bedrooms. Of course unpacking my daughter's room also meant throwing away mounds of stuff I couldn't get rid of when she was around.
The poor packers must have been horrified to have to pack her room. There was a whole box of stuff that they found behind her beds when they moved them. They also packed up a big green garbage bag very neatly in a box.
I guess it's better then them packing up the sex toys I had forgotten about when we moved from Florida.
There's nothing like unrolling a huge lump of paper and finding a big, purple dildo wrapped lovingly inside.
Unpacking the rest of the house has been an exercise in frustration, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. The house is so different from our last one. There are tons more kitchen cabinets, but no medicine cabinets. We lost a playroom and an office, but gained a bedroom and open living room/dining room combo.
I swear it is going to take me a month just to get the essentials unpacked. I'm still living out of a suitcase and after three days of unpacking the kitchen, I still haven't found the plates and glasses.
Complain, complain, complain. I know. I'm in a horrible mood and I wish I could have just stayed in bed all day. (Considering I just got up, I practically did.)
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Mouthes of Babes
Yesterday as I was heading out the door to pick up some lunch, my son called out, "Why does Mommy always have to do all the work?"
Fuck, yeah, kid! Why is that?
Let's all just ignore for a moment that my husband does more before 9 a.m. than I do all day. Let's ignore his trips to the dump, manual labor, lawn mowing and multiple frustrating fix-its around the house.
Ignore it! Ignore it!
In the eyes of my kid, I do all the work.
And kids always tell the truth, right?
(There's a cookie in the cupboard just for you, Buddy.)
Fuck, yeah, kid! Why is that?
Let's all just ignore for a moment that my husband does more before 9 a.m. than I do all day. Let's ignore his trips to the dump, manual labor, lawn mowing and multiple frustrating fix-its around the house.
Ignore it! Ignore it!
In the eyes of my kid, I do all the work.
And kids always tell the truth, right?
(There's a cookie in the cupboard just for you, Buddy.)
Monday, June 16, 2008
On Swan River
While much has happened in the last couple of weeks, nothing was more noteworthy than my husband's attempt to collect my life insurance policy.
I mean, I know things have been tight lately, but I'm not sure the $300,000 I'm worth dead would be quite enough incentive for him to try and kill me.
You see, while we were on Cape Cod, we had the brilliant idea to take the kids kayaking on a small waterway called Swan River. For only fifty bucks, we could rent two tandem kayaks for an hour and a half. In that amount of time we could either head upriver to Swan Pond or downriver to the ocean side beach.
I was leaning toward Swan Pond.
I was a little nervous about kayaking, as I have never done it before. But when I saw the retired couple gearing up in front of us, I felt a little better. The women overheard my husband ask, "Which way do you want to go?" and piped right up to tell us that the tide was going out so we should head upriver toward the pond.
"You don't want to have to fight the current back up when you're tired," she said. "If you head to the pond, you can practically float back here on the tide."
Sounded good to me. "Did you hear that?" I asked my husband.
"Well, yeah, but I really want to go to the beach." he replied.
"Are you sure? I'm not in very good shape, you know." I felt the need to point out.
"You'll be fine," he assured me as he always does. And we set off.
The first forty-five minutes or so of our trip were quite fun. I was even thinking about buying our own kayak to use on our own much larger river. Then we passed under a bridge. And we saw the ocean.
"I want to turn around!" my son yelled over his shoulder to me.
I have to admit, I was of the same mind. That ocean looked awfully big from that little kayak. But suddenly, we had no choice.
I knew if I stayed broadside against the current for too long that we would get swept away. So I used my paddle as a rudder to make the sharpest turn possible.
And then we were headed broadside out into the Atlantic.
My son, clearly the smartest of the whole family, decided he wanted to bail out before we hit the big surf. I agreed. As I screamed for my husband (who had steered himself and my daughter onto a sandbar) to help us my son gracefully climbed out.
My husband was able to grab onto our kayak as we passed, and I took a full on header into the water.
We rested for a while on the sandbar, but we knew we'd have to get back upriver somehow. And the tide was going out fast.
After walking the kayaks upriver twenty feet at a time for well over a half hour, my husband decided I was ready to paddle. I lasted for all of about two minutes before I had a total breakdown.
If I stopped paddling at all, we'd start drifting backward toward the ocean again. In my panicked mind at the time, I was fighting for my son's life. Though I kept paddling, even though my arms were on fire I was also sobbing and alternating between crying "I can't do this" and yelling "I'm so mad at your father!"
My husband and daughter ended up towing us back to the rental place.
And I haven't been able to life my hands above my waist since then.
I don't know. $300,000 is a lot of money, but my husband should have considered that he'd have to pay for the lost kayak. And that retired woman could have been a witness should my husband have been brought up on murder charges. I'm just not sure if the risk was worth it.
Next time, we head toward the pond.
I mean, I know things have been tight lately, but I'm not sure the $300,000 I'm worth dead would be quite enough incentive for him to try and kill me.
You see, while we were on Cape Cod, we had the brilliant idea to take the kids kayaking on a small waterway called Swan River. For only fifty bucks, we could rent two tandem kayaks for an hour and a half. In that amount of time we could either head upriver to Swan Pond or downriver to the ocean side beach.
I was leaning toward Swan Pond.
I was a little nervous about kayaking, as I have never done it before. But when I saw the retired couple gearing up in front of us, I felt a little better. The women overheard my husband ask, "Which way do you want to go?" and piped right up to tell us that the tide was going out so we should head upriver toward the pond.
"You don't want to have to fight the current back up when you're tired," she said. "If you head to the pond, you can practically float back here on the tide."
Sounded good to me. "Did you hear that?" I asked my husband.
"Well, yeah, but I really want to go to the beach." he replied.
"Are you sure? I'm not in very good shape, you know." I felt the need to point out.
"You'll be fine," he assured me as he always does. And we set off.
The first forty-five minutes or so of our trip were quite fun. I was even thinking about buying our own kayak to use on our own much larger river. Then we passed under a bridge. And we saw the ocean.
"I want to turn around!" my son yelled over his shoulder to me.
I have to admit, I was of the same mind. That ocean looked awfully big from that little kayak. But suddenly, we had no choice.
I knew if I stayed broadside against the current for too long that we would get swept away. So I used my paddle as a rudder to make the sharpest turn possible.
And then we were headed broadside out into the Atlantic.
My son, clearly the smartest of the whole family, decided he wanted to bail out before we hit the big surf. I agreed. As I screamed for my husband (who had steered himself and my daughter onto a sandbar) to help us my son gracefully climbed out.
My husband was able to grab onto our kayak as we passed, and I took a full on header into the water.
We rested for a while on the sandbar, but we knew we'd have to get back upriver somehow. And the tide was going out fast.
After walking the kayaks upriver twenty feet at a time for well over a half hour, my husband decided I was ready to paddle. I lasted for all of about two minutes before I had a total breakdown.
If I stopped paddling at all, we'd start drifting backward toward the ocean again. In my panicked mind at the time, I was fighting for my son's life. Though I kept paddling, even though my arms were on fire I was also sobbing and alternating between crying "I can't do this" and yelling "I'm so mad at your father!"
My husband and daughter ended up towing us back to the rental place.
And I haven't been able to life my hands above my waist since then.
I don't know. $300,000 is a lot of money, but my husband should have considered that he'd have to pay for the lost kayak. And that retired woman could have been a witness should my husband have been brought up on murder charges. I'm just not sure if the risk was worth it.
Next time, we head toward the pond.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Limitations
Well, so much for blogging regularly.
I have been almost desperate to get back to some kind of routine. Things have been so crazy for so long that I feel like I have lost a part of myself somewhere in the shuffle.
But how can I complain? Right now I'm curled up and relaxing at our house on Cape Cod.
It's been really nice having this time with my little family. But, alas, we have no computer here.
My hands are shot...carpel tunnel, I think, from too much...typing. I can only write so much from my Treo.
But I will fight through the pain in order to type this:
Go Celts!
See you soon.
I have been almost desperate to get back to some kind of routine. Things have been so crazy for so long that I feel like I have lost a part of myself somewhere in the shuffle.
But how can I complain? Right now I'm curled up and relaxing at our house on Cape Cod.
It's been really nice having this time with my little family. But, alas, we have no computer here.
My hands are shot...carpel tunnel, I think, from too much...typing. I can only write so much from my Treo.
But I will fight through the pain in order to type this:
Go Celts!
See you soon.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Safe and Sound
And she posts, at last!
I can't believe it has been about two weeks. That means it's been two weeks since they started packing up my house. It has been two weeks and my life feels completely different. I feel...in flux.
I had hoped to blog from TLF (Temporary Living Facilities) on their free wi-fi, but apparently, they block Blogger. My life that last week on the bayou was absolutely crazy. I turned thirty-five, my friends through me a lunch, we had a million social obligations, my girls finished out their softball season in second place, and my kids bid farewell to the only home they have ever known.
It was pure emotional upheaval. But through it all I was mostly happy. And excited. I really feel like we're headed to bigger and better things.
It took us two days to drive up to our new home. My husband pulled the U-haul with his truck and I schlepped the kids and the dog. I have never been so happy to arrive at a destination.
My parents had planned to meet us here and entertain the kids while we received our household goods, but our plans got all mucked up. First the movers took a few days longer than expected and then my parents had some doctors appointments they had to keep.
So I continued schlepping the kids another ten hours north to my parents' house. They are ecstatic to be keeping them for a few days while we get started setting up the house. My father hadn't seen the kids in almost a year.
Our stuff finally arrived yesterday. I wouldn't say it was a smooth move, but at least everything we own is in our new house. Everything we have tried to do, from fixing a leaky faucet to installing new hardwood floor has been a challenge. Nothing is going right.
But everything is great. I am so happy to be in this town. I miss my kids terribly but I dread driving even more to go up and spend some time on the Cape with them. If I never drive long distance again, I'll be happy. My husband is dying to get a little vacation time, but I just want to hunker down and make my new house a home.
So far I have only unpacked one room.
I have a bunch of non-moving stories to tell. I'm going to try and take some time in the next few days to blog a bit. In the meantime, I'll be attending a cul-de-sac party for our departing neighbors James and Rob. The invite was printed on rainbow paper.
I'm in a whole new land. Farewell bayou! Hello beach!
I can't believe it has been about two weeks. That means it's been two weeks since they started packing up my house. It has been two weeks and my life feels completely different. I feel...in flux.
I had hoped to blog from TLF (Temporary Living Facilities) on their free wi-fi, but apparently, they block Blogger. My life that last week on the bayou was absolutely crazy. I turned thirty-five, my friends through me a lunch, we had a million social obligations, my girls finished out their softball season in second place, and my kids bid farewell to the only home they have ever known.
It was pure emotional upheaval. But through it all I was mostly happy. And excited. I really feel like we're headed to bigger and better things.
It took us two days to drive up to our new home. My husband pulled the U-haul with his truck and I schlepped the kids and the dog. I have never been so happy to arrive at a destination.
My parents had planned to meet us here and entertain the kids while we received our household goods, but our plans got all mucked up. First the movers took a few days longer than expected and then my parents had some doctors appointments they had to keep.
So I continued schlepping the kids another ten hours north to my parents' house. They are ecstatic to be keeping them for a few days while we get started setting up the house. My father hadn't seen the kids in almost a year.
Our stuff finally arrived yesterday. I wouldn't say it was a smooth move, but at least everything we own is in our new house. Everything we have tried to do, from fixing a leaky faucet to installing new hardwood floor has been a challenge. Nothing is going right.
But everything is great. I am so happy to be in this town. I miss my kids terribly but I dread driving even more to go up and spend some time on the Cape with them. If I never drive long distance again, I'll be happy. My husband is dying to get a little vacation time, but I just want to hunker down and make my new house a home.
So far I have only unpacked one room.
I have a bunch of non-moving stories to tell. I'm going to try and take some time in the next few days to blog a bit. In the meantime, I'll be attending a cul-de-sac party for our departing neighbors James and Rob. The invite was printed on rainbow paper.
I'm in a whole new land. Farewell bayou! Hello beach!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Homeowners
I just got the following message from our lawyer about our house closing:
"Everything went great. I'll put your keys and your copy of the documents our front for your Realtor."
So, it's official. We're homeowners again! Yay!
We also had our initial base housing inspection this morning. In the past, before base housing was privatized, you basically had to remove any evidence that humans ever lived in your home before they would let you sign out. We always paid professionals to do the cleaning for us.
But the new private company swore to us that it wasn't necessary to clean like that. I just had trouble believing them. I've done this too many times before.
And so I was up at 3 a.m. this morning to clean our two and a half baths.
Incidentally, it took me an hour and twenty-three minutes to clean them all. It is official. My family is disgusting. And my fingertips are red and raw today.
I took the dog and went to pump gas while the housing people were here. I just couldn't bear to watch them walk through and judge my house.
Their conclusion? "It looks much better than most."
It is official. I am a domestic goddess. Just one who makes big messes before I clean them up.
I finally feel like this move is really happening. I guess I better start packing, huh?
"Everything went great. I'll put your keys and your copy of the documents our front for your Realtor."
So, it's official. We're homeowners again! Yay!
We also had our initial base housing inspection this morning. In the past, before base housing was privatized, you basically had to remove any evidence that humans ever lived in your home before they would let you sign out. We always paid professionals to do the cleaning for us.
But the new private company swore to us that it wasn't necessary to clean like that. I just had trouble believing them. I've done this too many times before.
And so I was up at 3 a.m. this morning to clean our two and a half baths.
Incidentally, it took me an hour and twenty-three minutes to clean them all. It is official. My family is disgusting. And my fingertips are red and raw today.
I took the dog and went to pump gas while the housing people were here. I just couldn't bear to watch them walk through and judge my house.
Their conclusion? "It looks much better than most."
It is official. I am a domestic goddess. Just one who makes big messes before I clean them up.
I finally feel like this move is really happening. I guess I better start packing, huh?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Closing and Happy
We're closing on our new house today. And I am 100% stress-free about it. In fact, since we paid a lawyer $600 to take care of the whole thing for us, it's kind of like our house will just magically become ours by the end of the day.
Except for the huge, gaping hole in our bank account.
I'm feeling a little self-righteous (or maybe just mean) today. We just found out that the people who owned our soon-to-be-new home, whom we hate on principle (What? I think it is a law.) are getting divorced. In fact, their divorce just went through.
I should feel pity for them, but there is a part of me that wants to do a little dance and say, "Ha ha! We're as happy as can be! Every bad thing that happened in that house is going to be erased by our happy little family. I won the life jack pot and youooooooo didn't." And then I'd stick my tongue out.
I kind of suck.
But I'm happy.
Except for the huge, gaping hole in our bank account.
I'm feeling a little self-righteous (or maybe just mean) today. We just found out that the people who owned our soon-to-be-new home, whom we hate on principle (What? I think it is a law.) are getting divorced. In fact, their divorce just went through.
I should feel pity for them, but there is a part of me that wants to do a little dance and say, "Ha ha! We're as happy as can be! Every bad thing that happened in that house is going to be erased by our happy little family. I won the life jack pot and youooooooo didn't." And then I'd stick my tongue out.
I kind of suck.
But I'm happy.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Where's Moses when you need him?
My kids are damn lucky I love them.
This morning just as we were getting ready to leave for school, my husband got a call that the base was closed due to flooding. Of course this happens on a day when my son has a field trip he's been looking forward to for a month and my daughter has her dress rehearsal for her play. (Did I mention she's the lead?)
So I loaded us all up into the car anyway and headed to the base gate. I had to plead my way off base by basically promising not to come back. But besides having a big meeting at school this morning, I figured I could meet up with my son at the science museum and make a day of it.
Well, it turns out the field trip was canceled. The meeting was short. My daughter damn well better have had that dress rehearsal or we could have just stayed home!
I spent a couple of hours driving around flooded streets just waiting for them to open the base gates so I could get home. And just as I drive through them I hear on the radio that they are closing all the public schools. I figured our school wouldn't be far behind. Especially since they had three feet of water in the fine arts wing (which also houses the school's historical archives, which sucks!)
My husband came home right then too, as his building has no power and he is locked out of his office. Since his truck keys were in the office, he got a ride home from a friend.
Ten seconds after he walked in the door, every phone we have rang at the same time with an emergency message from our school. They are closed now too.
So I drove my husband back to his truck with spare keys and he is off to pick up the kids. They say the base is closed until noon now. I had a hard time just getting back though the flooded streets of our neighborhood.
I really hope he can make it home with the kids. It would suck for them to be out in these horrible conditions. The waters are rising fast.
Man, if only I didn't love my kids so much, we all could have slept in and avoided all this crap this morning!
I hate to be a typical mom, but I'm really kind of worried about my family out there. My stress level is thought the roof.
Oh! Have I mentioned that the house will be inspected for cleanliness on Friday and the packers start packing on Monday and I am not even close to ready? I've barely done anything! Stress!
This morning just as we were getting ready to leave for school, my husband got a call that the base was closed due to flooding. Of course this happens on a day when my son has a field trip he's been looking forward to for a month and my daughter has her dress rehearsal for her play. (Did I mention she's the lead?)
So I loaded us all up into the car anyway and headed to the base gate. I had to plead my way off base by basically promising not to come back. But besides having a big meeting at school this morning, I figured I could meet up with my son at the science museum and make a day of it.
Well, it turns out the field trip was canceled. The meeting was short. My daughter damn well better have had that dress rehearsal or we could have just stayed home!
I spent a couple of hours driving around flooded streets just waiting for them to open the base gates so I could get home. And just as I drive through them I hear on the radio that they are closing all the public schools. I figured our school wouldn't be far behind. Especially since they had three feet of water in the fine arts wing (which also houses the school's historical archives, which sucks!)
My husband came home right then too, as his building has no power and he is locked out of his office. Since his truck keys were in the office, he got a ride home from a friend.
Ten seconds after he walked in the door, every phone we have rang at the same time with an emergency message from our school. They are closed now too.
So I drove my husband back to his truck with spare keys and he is off to pick up the kids. They say the base is closed until noon now. I had a hard time just getting back though the flooded streets of our neighborhood.
I really hope he can make it home with the kids. It would suck for them to be out in these horrible conditions. The waters are rising fast.
Man, if only I didn't love my kids so much, we all could have slept in and avoided all this crap this morning!
I hate to be a typical mom, but I'm really kind of worried about my family out there. My stress level is thought the roof.
Oh! Have I mentioned that the house will be inspected for cleanliness on Friday and the packers start packing on Monday and I am not even close to ready? I've barely done anything! Stress!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Friends in High Places
We found out this weekend that a friend of ours is running for Congress.
This is the strangest thing. We think of him as this big, goofy guy. Even though he is a lawyer, we never considered him as anything more than a...well...big, goofy guy.
His wife is currently the president on the Junior League here, which always struck me as strange because she just isn't the type. I guess now I know why she took the position.
Suddenly their family's faces are all over the place. The wife and I have been joking about the stress of being celebrities. We've been calling her Oprah because she was on the cover of a magazine.
It's funny. My friend SW and her doctor husband are opening a very big new business here (a fat clinic, more or less). Our truly celebrity friends have been gaining more and more celebrity. It seems like things here are on the brink of blowing up big.
And off we go.
Eh. We wouldn't have fit in with our new swankified friends anyway. But still...we've got to think about it. Maybe that new congressman will need a military friend on Capital Hill.
Or maybe we should remember just how middle class we really are.
This is the strangest thing. We think of him as this big, goofy guy. Even though he is a lawyer, we never considered him as anything more than a...well...big, goofy guy.
His wife is currently the president on the Junior League here, which always struck me as strange because she just isn't the type. I guess now I know why she took the position.
Suddenly their family's faces are all over the place. The wife and I have been joking about the stress of being celebrities. We've been calling her Oprah because she was on the cover of a magazine.
It's funny. My friend SW and her doctor husband are opening a very big new business here (a fat clinic, more or less). Our truly celebrity friends have been gaining more and more celebrity. It seems like things here are on the brink of blowing up big.
And off we go.
Eh. We wouldn't have fit in with our new swankified friends anyway. But still...we've got to think about it. Maybe that new congressman will need a military friend on Capital Hill.
Or maybe we should remember just how middle class we really are.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Farewell Ye Other Blog
I just spent a couple of hours wrapping up my Other Blog.
I've been jokingly telling my friends that I was fired for not writing enough. But really, they consider their site a local online community for local people so they are not interested in having me write for them once I move. They politely asked me when I would like my last day to be.
Since the site was officially launched last Mother's Day, I thought tomorrow would be a nice day to end my blog.
I thought I might be a little sad, but I'm not. I won't really miss the pay. It never really seemed to make an impact on our finances. I also won't really miss the responsibility of writing. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells over there.
Truthfully, I will miss the attention. Aren't all bloggers attention whores, at least a little bit? It was sort of nice to have my real life friends and family keep up with my blog.
It makes me consider sharing this address with them. And then I think of all things I've written here in the last four years and I just can't do it.
So I decided to keep up a little blog to update my friends and family about our lives. I foresee short blurbs and pictures, nothing like what I used to do here back in the heyday of Tuna Girl.
I don't know how Tuna Girl will fit into my new life, but I'm hoping that I can get back to some of the writing I used to do. All I know right now is that I am feeling quite a bit of relief to have finished being the voice of military moms for a whole metropolitan area.
Now I can go back to being me, an emotional, friendless, wordy, dirty girl with a penchant for overshare. Isn't that why you loved me in the first place?
I've been jokingly telling my friends that I was fired for not writing enough. But really, they consider their site a local online community for local people so they are not interested in having me write for them once I move. They politely asked me when I would like my last day to be.
Since the site was officially launched last Mother's Day, I thought tomorrow would be a nice day to end my blog.
I thought I might be a little sad, but I'm not. I won't really miss the pay. It never really seemed to make an impact on our finances. I also won't really miss the responsibility of writing. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells over there.
Truthfully, I will miss the attention. Aren't all bloggers attention whores, at least a little bit? It was sort of nice to have my real life friends and family keep up with my blog.
It makes me consider sharing this address with them. And then I think of all things I've written here in the last four years and I just can't do it.
So I decided to keep up a little blog to update my friends and family about our lives. I foresee short blurbs and pictures, nothing like what I used to do here back in the heyday of Tuna Girl.
I don't know how Tuna Girl will fit into my new life, but I'm hoping that I can get back to some of the writing I used to do. All I know right now is that I am feeling quite a bit of relief to have finished being the voice of military moms for a whole metropolitan area.
Now I can go back to being me, an emotional, friendless, wordy, dirty girl with a penchant for overshare. Isn't that why you loved me in the first place?
Friday, May 09, 2008
Emotional Tease--Hurt and Anger
From an emotional point of view, today has truly sucked. Hard.
This has been worse than the day I put the dog to sleep.
News at 11. (We're headed to a crawfish boil.)
***** (5:36 a.m. Saturday morning)
So I'm glad we went to the crawfish boil, even if I spent the entire evening swatting bugs, answering questions about our move and not eating crawfish. It gave me some time away from real life to cool down a bit.
I was having a perfectly normal day of cleaning and escapism when things started to go sour.
When she got home from school, my eight-year-old daughter managed to hurt my feelings worse than they've ever been hurt. It's hard to believe that a child could hurt someone she loves so much. She is normally sensitive to a fault.
But I'm not angry at her or anything. She is a child after all. I am furious and disappointed with myself for being the kind of person she would ever even think to say those things about.
Imagine if someone made a list of everything you hate about yourself; a list confirming the validity of all of your insecurities and then presented it to you in a birthday card.
That's how my Mother's Day weekend started out.
Yeah. Yay for mom. Woo fucking hoo. I suck.
Then while my son and I were off practicing the violin, my husband's relationship with his father changed forever.
I wish I could talk more about it. I can't say the things my heart is screaming for me to say to my husband or anyone else because my husband will always be...well...loyal. "He is still my father," he tells me and I want to shake my husband and wail, "He never was! Can't you see he never was?"
I am so angry I could burst apart at the seems.
I've always stayed out of their so-called relationship. I've been cool, but cordial. I have over and over again through the years wanted to declare that my children would never be exposed to that man and his wife.
Now I have valid reason.
My kids don't even know who Grandpa B is. It will stay that way. That man has been dead to me since my husband was a teenager. Now he will be dead to all of us for good.
Except my husband is still open to a reconciliation if his father should ever realize what an idiot he has been.
There is a fine line a woman must walk when she wants to protect her own. Deep down inside, I want to call my own father and have him (in his very impressive way) put my dead-to-me-father-in-law in his place.
But I love my husband too much to overstep my bounds. Should I ever meet that man again, I will tell him...well...I can't tell you that. But I already have the words memorized should I ever lay eyes on him.
I have always wondered how my husband could have been raised by such a horrible little man and turned out to be the wonderful husband and father he is?
No matter his flaws, my husband is a wonderful man. I think it is proof that people can be born with everything good already inside of them. With enough strength, they can overcome anything.
This man is walking away from a happy, successful son who has committed his life to his country, his loving wife and his two amazing children. That is the definition of loser.
This has been worse than the day I put the dog to sleep.
News at 11. (We're headed to a crawfish boil.)
***** (5:36 a.m. Saturday morning)
So I'm glad we went to the crawfish boil, even if I spent the entire evening swatting bugs, answering questions about our move and not eating crawfish. It gave me some time away from real life to cool down a bit.
I was having a perfectly normal day of cleaning and escapism when things started to go sour.
When she got home from school, my eight-year-old daughter managed to hurt my feelings worse than they've ever been hurt. It's hard to believe that a child could hurt someone she loves so much. She is normally sensitive to a fault.
But I'm not angry at her or anything. She is a child after all. I am furious and disappointed with myself for being the kind of person she would ever even think to say those things about.
Imagine if someone made a list of everything you hate about yourself; a list confirming the validity of all of your insecurities and then presented it to you in a birthday card.
That's how my Mother's Day weekend started out.
Yeah. Yay for mom. Woo fucking hoo. I suck.
Then while my son and I were off practicing the violin, my husband's relationship with his father changed forever.
I wish I could talk more about it. I can't say the things my heart is screaming for me to say to my husband or anyone else because my husband will always be...well...loyal. "He is still my father," he tells me and I want to shake my husband and wail, "He never was! Can't you see he never was?"
I am so angry I could burst apart at the seems.
I've always stayed out of their so-called relationship. I've been cool, but cordial. I have over and over again through the years wanted to declare that my children would never be exposed to that man and his wife.
Now I have valid reason.
My kids don't even know who Grandpa B is. It will stay that way. That man has been dead to me since my husband was a teenager. Now he will be dead to all of us for good.
Except my husband is still open to a reconciliation if his father should ever realize what an idiot he has been.
There is a fine line a woman must walk when she wants to protect her own. Deep down inside, I want to call my own father and have him (in his very impressive way) put my dead-to-me-father-in-law in his place.
But I love my husband too much to overstep my bounds. Should I ever meet that man again, I will tell him...well...I can't tell you that. But I already have the words memorized should I ever lay eyes on him.
I have always wondered how my husband could have been raised by such a horrible little man and turned out to be the wonderful husband and father he is?
No matter his flaws, my husband is a wonderful man. I think it is proof that people can be born with everything good already inside of them. With enough strength, they can overcome anything.
This man is walking away from a happy, successful son who has committed his life to his country, his loving wife and his two amazing children. That is the definition of loser.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
I have a cold so...
I have a cold.
So my ultra sweet husband got up and took the kids to school yesterday and I slept in until 11:30.
So when he went to bed at 11:30 tonight (last night really) I wasn't tired enough to sleep yet.
So I stayed up and hunted for houses on the Internet, which is a really stupid thing to do since we close on our house next Thursday. Luckily, I didn't find anything even remotely interesting.
So I turned on the TV and started watching the USA Softball team slaughter De Paul on ESPN2, which reminded me of how much I love softball, even though the stress of coaching my daughter's team has sucked the joy right out of the game and made me declare that we won't coach or play next year.
So now I've changed my mind and I am somehow going to miraculously turn my daughter into a stellar player in the next ten months, so that she'll love the game and won't ever cry when she strikes out.
So I've spent the last hour online researching softball leagues and camps in Virginia.
So now it's 3:16 a.m. and I'm wide awake.
And I have a cold.
So my ultra sweet husband got up and took the kids to school yesterday and I slept in until 11:30.
So when he went to bed at 11:30 tonight (last night really) I wasn't tired enough to sleep yet.
So I stayed up and hunted for houses on the Internet, which is a really stupid thing to do since we close on our house next Thursday. Luckily, I didn't find anything even remotely interesting.
So I turned on the TV and started watching the USA Softball team slaughter De Paul on ESPN2, which reminded me of how much I love softball, even though the stress of coaching my daughter's team has sucked the joy right out of the game and made me declare that we won't coach or play next year.
So now I've changed my mind and I am somehow going to miraculously turn my daughter into a stellar player in the next ten months, so that she'll love the game and won't ever cry when she strikes out.
So I've spent the last hour online researching softball leagues and camps in Virginia.
So now it's 3:16 a.m. and I'm wide awake.
And I have a cold.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
A Village of Idiots
I am so over this place.
I worried about telling people we were moving because I knew people would start to disassociate themselves right away. But I knew I would start to disassociate too. And I have.
The biggest thing I've noticed is that I've lost all tolerance for idiots. I mean, I know my tolerance wasn't high to start with. But I could always make nice and laugh them off. (Or write about them on my blog and let it go)
Now that I know I'll probably never see these people again after May 23 I have absolutely no reason to be nice.
One thing we've always hated about living here on the bayou is that it seems like there is a disproportionate number of idiots around. Now I'm worried that the entire world has exploded with idiots in the last ten years and because we were stuck down here we just thought it was the bayou effect.
I'll miss my friends a lot, I think. But I am not going to miss most of my life here. It will be so easy to say, "So long!" to most of the people we have to deal with here.
Virginia is starting to look like Nirvana to me. I have to keep reminding myself that there must be idiots there too.
I worried about telling people we were moving because I knew people would start to disassociate themselves right away. But I knew I would start to disassociate too. And I have.
The biggest thing I've noticed is that I've lost all tolerance for idiots. I mean, I know my tolerance wasn't high to start with. But I could always make nice and laugh them off. (Or write about them on my blog and let it go)
Now that I know I'll probably never see these people again after May 23 I have absolutely no reason to be nice.
One thing we've always hated about living here on the bayou is that it seems like there is a disproportionate number of idiots around. Now I'm worried that the entire world has exploded with idiots in the last ten years and because we were stuck down here we just thought it was the bayou effect.
I'll miss my friends a lot, I think. But I am not going to miss most of my life here. It will be so easy to say, "So long!" to most of the people we have to deal with here.
Virginia is starting to look like Nirvana to me. I have to keep reminding myself that there must be idiots there too.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Headmistress for a Day
Can you imagine, for a moment, what a kid would do if she could run her school for a day?
Today, I got to find out.
At our school's auction in March, my husband placed the winning bid on Headmaster for a Day for our daughter. I may have guilted him into it just a little by saying, "Aw, come on. Wouldn't that be a great way for her to end her time here?" But he's the one who raised his paddle.
Today was the day she got to be Headmistress for a Day.
She got to lead the school in the Pledge of Allegiance at flag ceremony this morning. She also got to make proclamations (with guidance for the administration of course). She proclaimed that there would be no homework for the third grade. And she proclaimed that the whole school could have extra recess.
I'm sure she's quite popular among her classmates now.
She also asked if her little brother could be included somehow. So he got to be the Associate Headmaster for the day. I let him wear his little tie and he was pretty cute. He was so eager to get to the microphone and sing God Bless America. I was very proud that my daughter would want to include her brother and share the limelight that way.
Toward the end of the flag ceremony, our wonderful art teacher stepped forward to announce the winners from the local art fair. My son crossed his fingers and chanted his sister's name in a quiet whisper. "I hope she wins," he said. "I hope she wins."
How sweet is that?
As it turned out, it was his name that was announced. He won a little Showcase Award. I was so proud of him. We think of him as our little math wizard but he really loves fine arts too.
I can't wait to go pick them up today and see how the rest of their day went. I'm also really looking forward to a homework free evening. But I didn't push her to make that proclamation at all.
I swear. (I'm just getting my 600 bucks worth.)
We are going to miss our school so much. I don't know how I kept from sobbing this morning.
Today, I got to find out.
At our school's auction in March, my husband placed the winning bid on Headmaster for a Day for our daughter. I may have guilted him into it just a little by saying, "Aw, come on. Wouldn't that be a great way for her to end her time here?" But he's the one who raised his paddle.
Today was the day she got to be Headmistress for a Day.
She got to lead the school in the Pledge of Allegiance at flag ceremony this morning. She also got to make proclamations (with guidance for the administration of course). She proclaimed that there would be no homework for the third grade. And she proclaimed that the whole school could have extra recess.
I'm sure she's quite popular among her classmates now.
She also asked if her little brother could be included somehow. So he got to be the Associate Headmaster for the day. I let him wear his little tie and he was pretty cute. He was so eager to get to the microphone and sing God Bless America. I was very proud that my daughter would want to include her brother and share the limelight that way.
Toward the end of the flag ceremony, our wonderful art teacher stepped forward to announce the winners from the local art fair. My son crossed his fingers and chanted his sister's name in a quiet whisper. "I hope she wins," he said. "I hope she wins."
How sweet is that?
As it turned out, it was his name that was announced. He won a little Showcase Award. I was so proud of him. We think of him as our little math wizard but he really loves fine arts too.
I can't wait to go pick them up today and see how the rest of their day went. I'm also really looking forward to a homework free evening. But I didn't push her to make that proclamation at all.
I swear. (I'm just getting my 600 bucks worth.)
We are going to miss our school so much. I don't know how I kept from sobbing this morning.
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