Counting the Minutes

I've been a mother for 1,242 days or three years, four months and 26 days. I've been a mother of two for 589 days or one year, seven months and 11 days. I have been away from them for one night from the hours of 10 pm until 6 am (because I was so sleep deprived that I went to my mother's house (see last post) to sleep for a few hours). Tomorrow morning before they wake up I'll be on a plane to see a friend in Austin. Two things come to mind immediately—WOOOOHOOO and OH MY GOD! In case you are wondering, I will be away for 4,630 minutes or three days, five hours and 10 minutes.

To say I am a bit of an emotional wreck about this is an understatement. Any of you who have children this age know that you cannot tell your kids about something until it is nearly upon them. They just don't have a concept of time. So this morning at breakfast, I coughed through the quiver in my voice as I said told them that when they wake up tomorrow I would not be present. Thankfully, my (wonderfully emotional and dramatic) three year told me that she would be very sad. I never thought I would be so glad to hear that. I should also note that I am in no way concerned about their well-being. Their father is more than capable of taking care of them. Sure he may not do things the way I do or the way I'd like him to all the time, but he is no slouch in the parent department. All this concern has to do with me. I'm the one who will be sipping margaritas at some wonderful restaurant (that's where the WOOOOHOOO part comes in) with my friend while finding any way possible to talk (more) about my kids. Sorry in advance, Sarah.

My mother has assured me that not only will everyone be fine (including me) but that this will likely make me a better mother (as if!) and my kids and my husband will appreciate me that much more. Those are all things I look forward to enjoying after a long 4,630 minutes have passed.

Moving Day

No, not for us but for my Mom. On April 7th the movers showed up at the house where I have spent nearly my entire life. I couldn't be there and maybe that was for the best because I was much more emotional about it than I anticipated. Fortunately several of my sisters were there to help so Mom was not alone. I can't speak for her but I imagine the weight of memories and work involved to get to moving day has been lifted. Now hopefully she can hang the picture of our house on the wall in her new place and remember those days fondly.
It's hard to put into words what this house has meant to me. In some ways it is me. We moved in before I turned a year old. And I have moved back in and out more times than I would like to admit. With the exception of my parents room, I have slept in every bedroom at one time or another. Those bushes in the front used to be thicker because I hid behind them and smoked my first cigarette. I believe I was in the seventh grade when I found the white filtered stick on the floor of my sister's car. My age should be enough to explain why I decided to light it below an open window when my Mom and others were sitting in the room. They walked out the front door and looked down at me squatting in a cloud of smoke. Luckily that was the first of only a handful of cigarettes that I would smoke in my entire life. So many "firsts" happened there that I can't begin to recall them all. I won't embarrass myself and mention all the things that went on in our basement. All I can say is, don't go there! Funny how all the questionable things come to mind right now, but really the joyous and carefree moments far outweigh any shenanigans.

My parents probably should have moved a few years ago, but Dad refused to give it up. In the end, he was right about that too. It was so nice to have all that space for everyone to gather on the day we buried him. He would have liked that. I guess in some ways the house is him, too. Soon there will be a "For Sale" sign in the yard. I just wonder how many times I'll pull in the drive by accident once it belongs to someone else. Hopefully they will change the locks. So long old house, you will not be forgotten.

No April Fools here

I have purposefully waited for the first day of April to pass to post this so as to avoid skepticism. Actually, I should have posted this on April 1st so after every big fat lie like that one, I could write "APRIL FOOLS!" This whole resolution thing has got me hog-tied. There just isn't enough time to write, read, work, workout, sleep, make meals, and take care of my girls (and definitely not in that order). Every week something has to give and the latter is not an option. So some weeks I actually put a few words on the page and other weeks I manage to run a few times and then there are the weeks when I cook and some weeks I bill enough hours to make me feel like a financial contributor (albeit a small one) the bank account and on rare occasions we actually sleep in this house. Unfortunately for my husband, things like dusting or mopping never even make it to the list. I hate those things. When he finally gets tired of scraping away some dust to see the clock on the nightstand, then he manages to dust the entire house in one day. I do laundry and I do it quite well, thank you. And vacuum.

Hello "writing" week! Yep, here we are. (Fingers tapping on the desk. La de da. La de da.)

So the weather is starting to warm around here and that makes things easier. It seems those hours late in the day when dinner preparations are necessary become the most stressful. The girls whine for holding while I figure out a way to feed them without turning on the "babysitter" to do it. But when it's warm they have dirt and dandelions to occupy them long enough for chicken to grill and rice to boil. The "hold me's" just lift away like lost balloons. This is a good thing since we've made some changes in the house. No more babysitter days for me. Things just weren't going as planned on more than one front--the billable hours were not as predictable and the sitter just wasn't working out--so warm weather helps me get through the rough patches. I'm hoping we'll save some money and have more fun time.

You might be wondering why there has been no talk of moving lately. Well, after a bit of research and discussion with the mortgage broker, it seems the best thing for us is to wait until next year to move. We have all those fraudulent lenders and borrowers to thank for this one. In order to qualify for the best possible rates we need another tax return year to prove we'll pay our mortgage. Whatever! I'm a bit sad about this but at the same time relieved. All those things we need to do to list our house can now be properly put off until next spring! Long live procrastination! Although we have vowed to complete a project a month to avoid that problem, it does not mean that will happen. I have spent my life perfecting the art of procrastination and I don't intend to stop that now.

Okay, I'm going to bed because I've been putting that off for two hours now. I am good!