June 13, 2007

plunger: $3.99 (also, eeew)

I left our plunger behind when we moved, because eeew. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve been thinking must get new plunger. Unfortunately, in the FRONT of my mind I’ve been thinking MUST GET NEW SOFA and that, plus my new obsession with paint and wall paper (I’m thinking a nice black and white toile would be really lovely in the foyer), pretty much overwhelmed the plunger.

Until this morning, when Henry politely called, “Mom! The toilet won’t flush!” And then added, very apologetically, “I think I put too much toilet paper in there.”

That wasn’t all he put in there, let me tell you.

My kids are suddenly so grown up; Charlie bounces between baby cuteness and total thugness hundreds of times a day, and Henry is seven going on forty. As I write this, they are in the dining room playing Camping, which includes both being various Bionicles and hunting for native animals. (”But only as many as we need,” Henry told me, “so we don’t make them extinct.” Good to know that there will still be pretend buffalo roaming the upstairs of my house later.) Charlie just whizzed past me and announced “Mama! I killed and ANTELOPE! And now I need a fork!”

Of course he does.

This is the second summer that I am home with the kids full time and nap free, and so far it’s been pretty good. Everyone can use the potty on his own (with a little help wiping and plungering); they have their toys upstairs in the playroom, not strewn all the hell over the house. Henry is starting to read and more and more often I will find him reading to Charlie, which melts my heart every time. We’ve been to the pool maybe three times this summer, and only ONCE have I had to get in the water. One day I actually sat IN THE SHADE the entire time.

Oh yes.

We’ve had a couple of loooooong days this week, when I have been so tired by two pm that I was seriously considering lying down on the floor in the bookstore to get a five minute nap, but when I think back to what the days were like when the boys were little, when I had a baby and a toddler, or a toddler and a preschooler who didn’t know how to walk (run! only run! all the time!) the days don’t seem so bad. I spend a lot of my time marveling at the kids, at the funny way they talk to each other (Henry: Charlie, stop playing. We need to get back to work.) and the funny way they talk to me (Charlie calls me “Poshy” now, for no good reason).

The Friday night before we moved, I was on the phone outside and when I looked in the front window BOTH children were up and running around the living room. Wade was watching Man vs. Wild and in a fit of packing induced insanity, we let them stay up and watch with us (because the odds that my kids will one day be lost in the wild are really pretty good, what with the not paying attention to directions and all). This morning at breakfast, Henry said, “What day is today?”

Wednesday, we told him.

“So tomorrow is Thursday and then Friday and MAN VERSUS WILD!”

And Charlie said, “Can we watch Bear Grylls?”

This morning I told my Lovely Neighbor about the whole plunger dilemma and she said, “I have a plunger! And I would offer to loan it to you, but eeew.” And I agreed.

June 12, 2007

brave new world

This morning we had a playdate with the Lovely Neighbor. I made coffee and when it was time to relocate to her house (because she lives NEXT DOOR! so we can totally DO THAT!), we toted our cups with us and sat in her yard and sipped while the boys jumped on the trampoline. And then her husband came home for lunch and we said goodbye and went on our merry way.

Now, Sex and the City is on and Wade is outside shooting hoops in the driveway and monitoring the sprinklers.

I’m wearing a nice linen skirt and drinking wine from a crystal glass and and thinking OH MY GOD WE HAVE PLANTATION SHUTTERS IN OUR LIVING ROOM! And also I HAVE LEFTOVER ICE CREAM PIE IN THE FREEZER!

I love it here.

June 9, 2007

my boobs are very happy here

Welcome to the Virtual House Tour! Please wipe your feet, because I JUST vacuumed.

We’ll start in the foyer. Note the nice white marble tile, which is SO MUCH BETTER than the old ugly dirt colored tile.

Dining room. It’s supposed to be the formal living room, but we don’t need no stinkin’ formal living room. We do, however, need a new dining room table. And no, that’s not blood on the end there, it’s paint. I think.

Living room. That sofa has to go. Soon.

The wet bar. WET! BAR! Awesome.

Kitchen. Still figuring out how things work.

Sun porch. I love this room more than any other in the house, especially since I actually CAN sit on the love seat and work while the kids play in the driveway.

Okay! Now who wants a cocktail?

June 7, 2007

it’s a C cup kind of hood

For the longest time, I’ve been telling Wade, “If we buy a house in that neighborhood, I will need a nicer car.”

“Hmmm.”

“And probably a better wardrobe.”

“Mmmmm.”

“AND a boob job.”

“Let’s talk more about that.”

Of course, we bought a house in that neighborhood, and no I’m not getting a new car or a new wardrobe or a boob job, although I would certainly benefit from one. Instead, I have a beautiful house with a kitchen full of appliances I don’t know how to use (last night I couldn’t figure out how to turn the oven off. You think I’m kidding BUT I AM NOT) and a wine refrigerator that currently only has one bottle of wine in it (because yes, I totally DO know how to work that, which maybe is part of the problem).

I love this house; I have loved it from the moment I first walked in. I love the neighborhood; I always have. When I first met Wade, his parents lived not far from here, in the house he grew up in. We have talked for years about how we would like to live here, and now we do.

But I still feel a little like I don’t fit in.

I’ve gotten lost three times in the past two days. This morning, on the way back from the grocery, I overshot the entrance to the neighborhood; yesterday AND today, I have missed the turn coming home from the pool and wound up on the wrong side of the golf course.

Yes, you heard me: the wrong side of the GOLF COURSE. Yesterday I was on the phone with Wade when I realized that I had missed the turn; I said, “Oh dammit I can’t get to the house from here.” And Wade said, “I love it that you’re lost in our neighborhood.”

Our neighborhood.

I love this neighborhood because the homes are all beautiful; the lawns are mowed and the flowers are nice and the garages are all in the back (not visible from the street! Call me shallow but I LOVE THAT). I love the neighborhood because the people in the pretty houses with the nice flowers are our age–our! age!–and have kids the same ages as mine. On Sunday, the couple next door came over with a plate of cookies; they left their cell phone numbers and invited the boys to use their son’s trampoline. Today I ran into her in the grocery and she invited me to a girl’s night out dinner on Tuesday.

I wonder if I can get a boob job before Tuesday?

The other night, Henry brought me the liner notes to his Pokemon CD (what–you don’t have the Pokemon CD? Sheesh) and asked me to read him the names of all 150 Pokemon. I had my glasses on and when I looked at the itty bitty words I couldn’t see anything, so I held the page waaaaaay out in front of me and THEN I took my glasses off and voila! I could see. And when I realized what I was doing I sent Henry back to bed and said to Wade, “Dammit I am OLD.”

I told my mother-in-law about that the next day and she said, “It’s 40. When you’re 40, things start to go.”

“NO NO I WON’T BE 40 FOR ANOTHER TEN MONTHS!” I wailed. Which is true.

But now I live in a Grown Up neighborhood with other women who plant flowers and have window treatments and belong to the Junior League, and I feel simultaneously old (nearly 40!) and very young (no idea how my convection oven works!). And I keep getting lost because there is a GOLF COURSE between the pool and my house.

Dude.

This morning, in the grocery check out, I ran into the next door neighbor, the one who brought the cookies. She looked so lovely, in a beautiful dress, with her hair washed and makeup on. I was wearing a pair of brown pedal pushers that I hate and my MOMMY HAS HER MOMENTS t-shirt which I love but which not everyone gets and my Race for the Cure ball cap because who has time for a shower with all this growing up to do? And as I was chatting with the neighbor (who is so! very! nice!) I thought I should try harder.

Or maybe I’ll just go for the boob job.

June 6, 2007

home at last

Okay! We’re moved! So easy!

If by “easy” you understand me to mean three back-breakingly long days of wondering why the hell we have so much STUFF, of course. The best day was Sunday, when my housekeeper failed to show up to help me clean the old house (she is SO FIRED) and so I did it ALL MYSELF (so at least I knew it was extra clean). While I cleaned, Wade entertained the kids and then dumped them with his parents and came to load up the last of our stuff. He kept saying, “I think we only have ONE MORE LOAD to go,” and I was all, “One load if you’re going to be driving an eighteen wheeler when you came back,” and two or three loads later he was saying, “Okay NOW it’s only one load,” and that went on all afternoon. Good times.

We also had the following fun conversation:

Me: Did you happen to bring me anything to eat?

Wade: No, I’m good. I had lunch at my parent’s house, with the boys.

Me: Did you bring ME anything?

Wade: Oh. No. Do you want something?

Me: YES PLEASE.

On Saturday night, our first night in the new house, Charlie had a bloody nose, in the middle of the night. He managed not to bleed on the tan carpet but he did leave a little bloody Stephen King-style hand print on the wallpaper in the bathroom when he was looking for the light switch. I thought about leaving it, because it was so perfect but that seemed kind of weird. And gross.

Our dryer died in transit. It was an old dryer any way, one that we inherited from Wade’s parents when we first moved here, seven years ago, and it had been on its last legs for a loooooooong time. The new dryer is coming today, thank god, because I am seriously frightened by the piles of laundry in our room. Gah.

We’re about 90% unpacked. There are a few more things that need to go in the attic, and a couple pieces of furniture that we’re giving away, but otherwise, we’re done. And before you say WOW THAT WAS FAST let me remind you that we HATE clutter. HATE IT. It makes us itchy and anxious and we certainly don’t need any more of THAT around here. I’ll post some pictures later today, but first I have to go move all the crap that’s piled in front of the broken dryer so that the men can haul it away and hook up my Brand New Dryer. And THEN I’m going to vacuum, with my new Dyson.

This house has turned me into June Cleaver. I’m a little scared.