Thanksgiving Recap

So. Thanksgiving.

It began Friday when the kids got out for the holiday after the special Grandparents' Day chapel service. Shawn and I started preparing for all the family that was willing to come to us, to come to us.

But, then we realized they weren't coming until Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. And, my step-sisters and their families would be down at my mom and step-dad's come the Saturday before Thanksgiving. There really wasn't anything keeping us from going down for a little visit save a two-hour car drive. But, we can make that interstate drive with our eyes closed by now.

We did have to stick around for Lulu's finger check on Monday. But, come Monday evening, we were a-visitin'! And, Tuesday, we had Thanksgiving. (My mom is so good about "the date on the calendar doesn't matter. We can celebrate whenever we're all together!") And, so, we all stood around the kitchen on Tuesday and cooked a Thanksgiving meal together. It was awesome.

Also, while we were there. We stumbled upon Uno Attack. Do you people have this game?! Well, you should! It's plan ol' Uno but instead of a "draw pile" there is a machine that randomly shoots cards at you - it will give you no cards up to, well, we got twelve cards one time. So fun for kids 6 to 96 to be able to "attack" their loved ones!

Quote of the visit: "Come lick my finger and tell me what it tastes like."

We awoke Wednesday to hit the road home and welcome our own guests: Shawn's cousin, David, his wife, Anna, and their little girl, Cora; Shawn's aunt and uncle, Reda and Bill; Shawn's brother, Will, and his son David; and, of course, Shawn's parents live here, David and Marie. (Notice there are three Davids? One would assume this would cause mass confusion. But, somehow we manage. I guess because there's Little David and the two Big Daves have different last names. Or we, as a collective family, are brilliant and not very prone to confusion. One of those...) Shawn's other cousin (Reda & Bill's daughter) and her boyfriend would have been here but there was a little too much vomit coming out of them to make for a pleasant car trip... wait... I've probably said too much... And, Will's wife and daughter, Cynthia and Kristen, didn't make it this time either. We'll give everyone a pass... this time... but, we expect bright, shiny (vomit-free) faces at the next family-gathering!

This little group of Shawn's family have always been so gracious to come to our house for Thanksgiving the past... four... or is it five?!... years. And, they made no exception this year even though we moved the party two hours further away from them!

They kept saying we were the best hosts. But, seriously. They are the best guests. Case in point: I tried to rescue this mangy, little, mean, rat dog that was wandering the neighborhood one night. But, it wouldn't let anyone touch it, so I just lured it into the garage with a piece of turkey and trapped it there. However, by the time we figured out it didn't belong to anyone to whom we thought it belonged and was really just a mangy, little, mean, rat dog, it had torn open all the bags of Thanksgiving trash that were in the garage with it. However, somewhere in the time that I was told of the mess and turned around to deal with it, Shawn's uncle and cousin had cleaned up every ounce of the mess. Now those are good guests.

And, that's just one example. That doesn't include the hostess gifts, the laundry, the counter cleaner because they noticed we were out, the cooking, the taking us out to dinner, the fun games of Uno Attack (Oh yeah. We bought our own.), the black-Thursday night/Friday shopping adventures, or Anna, the professional photographer, taking our family's picture as a "thank you" again this year...

I'm telling you. Good guests.

And, cute kids.

Quote of the visit:

This one needs a little background.

We needed bread to make sandwiches from the Thanksgiving leftovers. So, after Anna took our pictures, we stopped by Walmart. I ran in while the kids, Shawn and Anna waited in the car.

I came back and announced to Shawn and Anna, "I think I made a new best friend. He was wearing a skull cap, had a crazy eye and I think he was a little bit drunk. But, we had a great time in the check-out line together."

Shawn asked how I knew he was drunk and I told him that he was buying mixer and, when asked (by me) if it had reached the point of Thanksgiving when it was time to start drinking, he replied, "Oh it already reached that point a long time ago."

Spencer piped in, "What's mixer?"

I said, "The stuff you use to make 'grown-up drinks.'"

Spence said, "What's drunk?"

I said, "When you drink too many 'grown-up drinks.'"

And, I truly believe Spence's next statement was meant to demonstrate how he could use his new-found word in a sentence. But, what came out sounded for all the world like he had just figured out his mother. Like all his many, many questions were answered when he looked right at me and said,

"You're drunk."

I wanted to come up with another song to get stuck in your head for today's post title. But, I couldn't think of one. So I'll just say this: "I Got You Babe." You're Welcome.

My sister called to check on me. Big sisters will never listen. I kicked her in the crotch.

After I got off the phone with her, Shawn said, "What was that?" (Um. Honey? You don't read my blog?! WTH?!)

I told him, "I wrote a 'wah, wah, wah' blog post yesterday."

And, truly. That's what it was. I just needed to feel sorry for myself for a minute, get it out of my system and move on. Pity, Party of One?

Thanks for listening. Thanks for not making me feel like a doofus for "sharing." You guys really are the greatest.

I feel much better today.

Also, after the post the following happened:

• Shawn found us a babysitter* so I could go to the Book Club of which I had counted myself out. (Probably the origin of my whining yesterday, truth be told. Shawn had an event. My in-laws were snowed in**. I was going to miss the first "girl thing" I had been looking forward to for a month.) But, I got to go! And, talk to grown-ups! And, there were cookies!
• Shawn and I got an Evite to a cocktail hour at a church we visited. (Love the churches that throw happy hours!) I'm not even sure we can go. But we got invited!
• I went to Elizabeth's Valentine's Party at school. I was reminded. There will be opportunities to be around other people. (And, sometimes, those opportunities are class parties. With loud children everywhere. And I wonder why I thought solitude was such a bad thing... I jest... Kinda.)

Like I knew all along. It will happen. It just takes time. I have to be patient.

Have I mentioned I'm not very good at "patient"?

But, thanks again for thinking of me. Thanks for not worrying about me (out loud). If you all are examples of the friends that are out there waiting for me, I have amazing things ahead of me, indeed. 

Today is a much brighter day.

*Awesome girl. She came even though I called her at the last minute. She drove in snow and ice**. She got stuck in a snowbank at the edge of our steep driveway when she arrived; she threw open her door and said, "I think I'll park here!" Both kids woke up this morning and told us at separate times how much they liked her and that "she was funny!" (I think she read their bedtime stories with funny voices. A Johnson favorite, evidently.)

**Have I mentioned that there's about six inches of ice covering everything around here? Have I mentioned that Wednesday morning, after this blew in, it felt like NEGATIVE 26 degrees outside? I'm not sure why I'm whining about meeting people. I should probably be more concerned with The End of Times!

She's Just a Small Town Girl, Living in a Lonely World

{I don't know if I'll even post this, or if I'm just doing some therapeutic writing.}

I noticed last night that I only posted nine times in the entire month of January. NINE. That's terrible. I think my creative juices are blocked because of what I'm trying not to say.

I hate to get too "heavy" on this here little, ol' blog. Life is "heavy" enough without dwelling on it. I prefer to find the things to laugh about. I survive finding the things to laugh about.

But, we're officially moved in. Life is in a routine. I clean. I run errands. I cook dinner. Shawn goes to work. The kids go to school. The four of us have never gotten along so well together or had so much fun with each other.

And, I'm lonely.

Now, here's the primary reason I will hesitate to publish this post: I don't want all of my friends from the old hometown calling everyone they know up here, putting out a APB on the lonely girl. I don't want to be set up on a million blind dates.

I also don't want to be pitied. I will be fine. I will make friends. I'm not at all worried about that. I just want all of that to have happened yesterday. We've discussed my complete lack of patience before, haven't we?

I just want time to move faster. I want to go to those events; help out at that school function; go to dinner with Shawn's associates; and, get to know people. And, I want it to happen now. I want to have my place in this space.

That all takes time.

{I just re-read this. "I want. I want. I want." I can almost hear God saying, "Yeah, Al. But, that's not what you need. I got this. Relax." (But, I don't literally hear Him. I promise. I don't hear voices. Yet.) Have you ever heard that saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." I like that. I am that.}

Ok. I just needed to say it type it out loud. I feel better. The first one of you to pity me or call "because you're worried about me," is going to get kicked in the crotch.

Let the sarcasm resume.

{What do you know? I decided to post it...}

The Kids and Moving

[Ed. note: I really tried to trim back this wordy, wordy post and I couldn't do it. I guess my kids just make me loquacious. (Yeah. Go look up that word. Impressed, aren't you?) Anyway, sorry to be so verbose. (I know! It's like I'm a freakin' thesaurus!)]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kids are amazingly resilient, aren't they? And, I guess ours aren't that different. They've taken our new adventure (mostly) in stride.

SCHOOL
We had parent/teacher conferences yesterday. (Note to self: When attending your first parent/teacher conference as "the new parent," jokes about hitting your child don't fly so well. Noted.) Their inappropriate mother notwithstanding, both kids are doing amazingly well in school.

Spencer:
At the meeting with Spencer's teacher, I had to force myself not to cry when I thanked her for helping him adjust so well (Lulu, we never worried about - as Shawn says, "She's bullet-proof." Cautious, careful Spencer had us holding our breath).

Elizabeth:
We made a big decision at Lulu's conference. Ever since she was born on a bright, sunny day in June, I've been worried about whether she should be the oldest or youngest in her class (Yes. I worried about this the. day. she. was. born). She's always been so bright, though, I didn't want to offend her by making her repeat a grade. Our old school had a Pre-1st in between Kindergarten and 1st grade, so we were going to be able to wait a few years to make the big decision.

Not so at this school. Preschool is really the do or die time for this choice, otherwise they're just repeating a grade - when they're old enough to "get it." Lots of the kids at this school are the oldest in their grades if their birthdays are May through August. And, we can "spin" it for Lulu that we're just letting her get a "full" year of Pre-K since she only got here in the middle of the year.

So, it was a no-brainer today once we raised the subject with her teacher. And, I am so relieved and confident with this course of action (someone remind me I said that when she's 18 and I get to "keep her" one more year)! My biggest concern is that all the things that are challenging to her now are going to become a breeze next year and she'll get a superiority complex - this girl is already the most confident one in the family! 

Anyway, that's the awesome news about school.

HOME
Don't worry. I'm never one to sugar-coat things. There have been some hiccups along the way.

Spencer:

Spence can. not. turn his mind off at night. Like I said, he's our structure and routine child. (Hmmm. Wonder where he gets that from?! Stop looking at me!) We knew settling into a new house, new school and new routine would be hardest on him. God bless his teachers that school hasn't been a problem. Then again, this school is the definition of structure and routine. But, at night... oh, at night. He comes up with 32,000 things he must discuss with us. He gets out of his bed - repeatedly - until 10:00 at night sometimes! But, it's hard to get mad at the kid when you know his whole world has been given a good shake. Unfortunately, I think he smells the blood in the water with our parental guilt and has been using it to his fullest advantage. However, we've had great nights the past few nights, so maybe, just maybe, like all things parenting, this too shall pass... 

Elizabeth:
As for the indomitable Lulu (her teacher said, "You would think she's been with us since the beginning of the year!" and "She raised her hand to tell me she loved me!"), even she has had her heartbreaking moments. Unfortunately, (for me!) hers come right out of the blue.

Like saying, "I bet Miss Zouzalik (her Pre-K teacher at the old school) misses me."

"I bet she does, too, Lulu."

"When are we going back?"

And, "When are we moving back to Lubbock?"

"We don't have any plans to move back to Lubbock, sweetie. What do you miss about Lubbock?"

"Our old house."

"What do you miss about our old house?"

"It had Scooby Doo on the TV for our Family Date Nights."

You can bet your sweet life that we will be featuring Scooby Doo on this television for our next Family Date Night.

AND, THE HEAVENLY...
My in-laws called out of the blue and asked if the kids could come spend the night with them tonight, then stay and hang out for a little while on Saturday. I'm sorry? Did I move to Heaven?! I feel like I should have dressed better.

Great, Exhausted and No

Everyone keeps asking how we're doing and if we've made any new friends.

Short answers: great, but exhausted; and no.

At the kids' last school, drop-off and pick-up was a very social occasion. You couldn't help but see, visit and get to know other parents. At our new school, drop-off and pick-up is a very exact science. You drive up, you drop off/pick up, you move on. Don't get me wrong. I love the regimen, but it's not conducive to getting to know people.

Oddly enough, this has been... wonderful. It's been so nice to catch our breath; to just focus on each other and just have fun with each other - our kids are really funny people. Couple that with the fact that I'm an introvert at heart (shut up, I am - Introvert (n.): a person who is energized by being alone and whose energy is drained by being around other people*), it's been a really nice break since we've moved.

I've also gotten to obsessively work on getting the house in order. But, I can see the light at the end of the moving-in-tunnel and it's starting to occur to me just how "worn smooth out" I am. Couple that with cleaning the house, cooking dinner and generally maintaining a family and... well... I think I need a Diet Coke.

So, I've been blissfully trudging along, thinking, "It's nice to not have any social schedule; to be able to get things done. I don't need to hurry and find people just to 'hang out' with."

Then I went to the mall yesterday.

I'm so not a chit-chatter. (See: Introvert.) I went up to the Kiehl's counter... and I became best friends with the man working there. He knows we just moved here, where we're from, where we grew up, where we went to school. I know his daughter's name is Ali! We both agree that you just can't beat Kiehl's moisturizer, especially in this cold, dry climate...

Ya'll? I think I need to find some friends.

It's alright, though. I've been invited to a Book Club. And, I have some old college friends I can call for lunch. I might not have to become a Mall Worker groupie just yet...

* See?! I really like being around people; it just wears me out. You people wear me out. ;)

What I've been doing while I wasn't blogging

I know it's been long enough since I've checked in that some of you have started to worry that the reality of moving has finally sunk in and I've begun rocking myself in the corner. I haven't.

What I haven't been able to tell you is that Shawn moved me to a new city and then left town for ten days.

Rude.

I couldn't tell you because of the murderers and all... And, by the way, my fears were not alleviated by the fact that he took the time to reacquaint me with the handgun before he left. Awesome. He thinks he's moved me to a town of thieves and scoundrels.

But, I scored some really awesome roses out of the deal.

And, he's back now, being as helpful around the house and with the kids as ever. I can get back to blogging. Finally. Does he not know how his earning a living really interferes with what I want to do sometimes?! (His response would be: "Yeah. Turns out everyone in the family likes to eat.")

So, to catch you up:

Thursday, I traveled two hours to get my hair done. Excessive? If you think so, clearly you've never loved your hair colorist. That. And, it's Joyce who's taken care of me since I was fifteen. Sometimes you just have to travel two hours to get your hair done.

While I was there, I asked her to wax my eyebrows. Eyebrow maintenance has been very low on my list of priorities since moving. I just haven't been motivated to find "an eyebrow person." (I'm not sure how one gets oneself motivate to find "an eyebrow person," actually.) Joyce went to work and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, girl! These eyebrows! No wonder you haven't made any friends up there!"

Rude.

And, right after she ripped the wax off she said, "That was probably like the first time!" Well, ummm, Joyce? I'm not sure what "first time" you're talking about, but,  no. No, it wasn't. At all.

I'm proud to announce that the last of the boxes are unpacked (well, except for the piles and piles and piles of boxes of china and crystal. Why, pray tell, do I own so much china and crystal? You would think I'm much fancier than I actually am. But, there's nowhere for it to go in this house, so, for now, it will stay in the boxes and I shall proclaim myself unpacked! And fancy...)

Back to the story: On Friday, I worked on actually decorating the house. My mom has a friend who is a decorator. And, if you think I'm too proud to take advantage of that relationship, you'd be wrong. That was slower going than I thought. And, of course I discovered that I needed to buy a few things because, well, duh.

Priscilla came to visit on Saturday. And, since she was here we asked her to babysit so we could go on a Date Night. We're awesome hosts like that. Seriously. We should write a book.

But, we all had fun while she visited. You would have thought by the kids' reactions that iCarly herself had come for a visit.

We all drove back to Lubbock together on Sunday. We had to clear some final things out of the house for closing (turns out the new owners don't want our broken armoir or ottoman, or all the miscellaneous crap that was hiding under said armoir and ottoman - weird). And, on Monday there was that shopping I told you had to be done for the new house...

But, anyway. We're back. The kids are back to school. I'm back to blogging. All is right with the world.

The house is a wreck. So, I'm off to get busy. A girl doesn't score roses around here for nothin', you know!



Also, for those of you who have been wondering, the divorce is final. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I never want to experience anything like that again. as. long. as. I. live.

What's a Mess?

This is a mess:

And, this?

This is far too many headbands. I wear them at night when I'm washing my face. Um. Yeah. I think I'm covered. (Nineteen. There are nineteen. I don't want you to get fingerprints on your monitor trying to count them. Nineteen. And one with my face soap - that makes twenty. I own twenty headbands.)

So, to be clear: My hoarding seems to be triggered by spices, handsoap (that count is up to ten) and headbands. I have no idea what that says about me. I sense it's not good.

Barf or Small World?

Which to tell you? Which to tell you?

Both.

Barf:

I signed up for E-mealz. (Public Service Announcement: You should, too. $15 for 3 months. It gives you weekly meal plans/recipes - it has a ton of different options - and a grocery list. And, it tries to economize, so I spend much less on groceries than I ever have before.)

Last night called for cheese grits as a side. I'm always a fan of making my kids try new things. "Just one bite. Taster's Club (as many bites as your age), if you want dessert." No fuss, no muss, no drama. Do or don't. Their choice. But, they've discovered quite a few things that they actually like in their quest to attain dessert each night (and by "dessert" I mean a piece of candy out of the Candy Basket).

Anyway, back to cheese grits. Personally, not a fan. Elizabeth scarfed them down like they're about to stop making grits forever. Spencer... really wanted dessert. He took a bite and gagged. A bonafide, legitimate gag. I looked away to try to let him suffer without an audience. He started chewing. And chewing. (A sign that you really don't want to eat something: When you're chewing the unchewable. How exactly does one chew grits?) I started talking to Elizabeth and... splash! He barfed out the grits he had tried to swallow.

Alright, son. Point taken. You really do not like grits. Go get dessert.

Small World:

Shawn and I had a beloved professor in college. Actually, he was advisor to both of us. He rocked. He was an hysterical smart-ass. He was hard. Studying for Surviving his class is when Shawn and I got to know each other so well. He's also probably the only reason I have a degree in accounting. I loved him (and I hate accounting). We still send him Christmas cards. He always wrote back. Last year he didn't write back.

Today, I dropped Elizabeth off at school. Her teacher said, "You live on the same street as one of our other families."

"Really?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, the mom said you sent her parents a Christmas card." (So, we sent a Christmas card to the grandparents of some of the kids at our school. hmmm...)

"Really?! I wonder who her parents are?" (Especially, since there are precious few people up here that we even know to send Christmas cards to. I was thinking more along the lines of one of Shawn's business associates.)

"I don't know. But, I think her dad was a teacher."

I screamed his name. Elizabeth's teacher agreed that that was right. And, I realized that the mom's name the teacher was telling me was the name of The Daughter that he would go on and on about, he adored her so. And, then the teacher said...

"He's passed away. She said she didn't think you knew."

I almost cried in the hallway.

I can't wait to meet The Beloved Daughter. But, first, I came home and wrote her a note that I'm going to drop in one of her kids' bags. I don't think I can tell her what her dad meant to Shawn and me without blubbering like a loon - and what a first impression that would be.

Have you missed me?

Have you missed me? Tell me your answer is "yes." I really need you to say "yes." I'm just going to pretend that you said "yes." K? K.

I was going to check in on Monday, but the telephone/internet modem was out. I was composing the scathing blog I was going to post about how much I loathe the internet provider up here (who seems to have a monopoly on the market), until the technician arrived and asked, "Where's the power cord?" Power cord? Oh, you mean the power cord I put in the garage with the other power cords because I couldn't figure out where it came from? That power cord? So, yeah, my internet and telephone were down for three days because I unplugged it. I've officially lost my mind.

Then I came down with a 24 hour bug. I'll spare you the details. You're welcome.

Anyway, I'm back. And, the update is: I've been unpacking. People? Not one of you told me that this was awful. Yeah, sure, you can try to pass the blame by saying that I could have remembered from some of my previous umpteen moves that unpacking was awful. But, I feel like you should just take responsibility and admit that not. a. one. of you reminded me that this would be awful; that cleaning the bathrooms today would feel like a pleasant escape from unpacking.

I have now reached that vicious cycle of moving piles back and forth because a) I don't really know what I'm going to do with them; or b) I haven't decided if I should keep them or not. I'm about to reach c) so sick of the mess, anything without a place is going to get thrown away. That's a shame, since one of the homeless things I'm looking at right now is a Baccarat vase. Oh well. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

In happier news:

The kids love their new school. I'm pretty sure the overwhelming reasons are "big lockers" (Spence); "Expended Day" (Elizabeth) [Extended Day - the program after their morning classes where Lulu can eat lunch, take a nap and generally have a romping good time in "the fun room"]; and backpacks (Spencer and Lulu). I'm not picky. I was just happy to see those smiling (but, tired) faces when I picked them up from their first day yesterday.

And, everyone is so nice to me at their school. I don't know if I expected them to kick me in the shins every time I had a question or what. But, truly, I haven't felt like I've asked a dumb question yet (and, y'all, I've asked plenty of dumb questions). But, as Shawn said, "Those must be really nice people. Everyone is consistently nice. They couldn't all fake it every single time we have an interaction with them."

In other news:
Have you ever tried shopping for school supplies in the middle of the school year? Don't. Or get ready to hear this a lot: "That's a seasonal item." (And, that would be in reference to a pencil box!)

So, that's about it. I leave you with this anecdote (and a promise to check back in much sooner):
Spencer, Elizabeth and I were squeezed into the handicap stall in the Target restroom (going to the bathroom with children - I don't care who you are, that is a handicap). Spencer went. I lined the toilet so Elizabeth could go and she got slightly obsessed with the fact that she ripped the paper when she sat on it. She finished and I was going to go. Elizabeth said, "Brother, do you think Mommy can go pee-pee without ripping the paper?" Spencer: "Yeah." Elizabeth: "Yeah. But, she's got a big bottom."

Rude.

The Refrigerator and Priscilla are Here!

I may not be excited in that order. Or I might be. Either way: Priscilla and the new refrigerator are here!

I shall now add "knows how to work" to the reasons I love 'Cilla. She is an unpacking machine; and, she makes me laugh; and, she yells at my kids when they need it. It's the trifecta of moving companionship.

She makes it easier to take the absolute chaos that is all around me. When did I accumulate so much stuff? I don't care who you are, seven foaming hand soaps are too many.

And the refrigerator. *swoon* I can't talk about it. My feelings for the refrigerator border on the obscene. But, I don't think the feeling is mutual. It's been acting awfully cold toward me.

Oh, yeah. I said it.

Moving Update: Moving In and Unpacking

The internet guy came! I speak to you now from my own legitimate signal. Thank you. Thank you very much.

When he left yesterday, I realized I spent his entire visit wearing a white t-shirt and a black bra. Just a little unintentional eye candy for the cable guy since I was making him work Sunday and all. I'm a giver like that. (And lest we have any confusion like the previous post where I left some of you with the impression that I wore nothing but a scarf - I was wearing pants. I'm not that much of a giver.) But, I have really got to get my clothes unpacked.

On the plus side, I unpacked the pantry and it seems that I have a lifetime supply of:

oregano

basil

Italian seasoning

lemon pepper

celery salt (!)

I can't really remember ever using celery salt, so why I have so much is a complete mystery to me. Anyway, I'm going to start making spaghetti sauce in bulk so I can even begin to make a dent in some of this oregano, basil and Italian seasoning. If anyone has a recipe that utilizes mass amounts of lemon pepper and celery salt, be sure and pass it along asap. Thanks.

Oh, and the refrigerator verdict is Kenmore Elite with a bottom freezer. Don't tell me if you think that's a terrible choice. It was bright and shiny and it was on sale! It gets delivered on Wednesday. In the meantime, Shawn and I have a new favorite saying: "Remember when we used to have ice? That was awesome."

Things I May (or May Not) Have Done While Moving

[Horror! I got kicked off my hijacked internet signal. I've been drifting aimlessly for a day. But, it's back! For how long?! I can't say, so I must make this quick.]

Things I May (or May Not) Have Done While Moving:

...Stolen my neighbor's internet. (Wait. You all already know I did that.)

...Ordered two venti coffees from Starbucks... both for me.

...Bathed with Baby Wash and Baby Shampoo.

..."Improvised" on the underwear situation.

...Parted my daughter's hair with a screwdriver.

...Worn nothing but a scarf in 30 degree weather for three days and counting because I can't figure out which box my coat is in.

...Have found eleven years worth of crumbs in the toaster (just before I threw it away).

...Listened to my husband call my car "a piece of crap." It's like my second home. I could not be more offended.

...Paper cut my cheek on a cardboard box. (Oddly, though, this doesn't bother me so much. I have a friend who told me about paper cutting her boob on a box while she was moving. Ummm. I'll take the cheek. I'm good.)

My internet will be installed on Sunday. Sunday? That seems like a weird date for the poor installation man to have to work. But, I'm not giving him a pass. I don't feel that bad for him. I'll check back in (on a legit wi-fi signal) after his work is done.

Much love to all our friends and family, far and wide, virtual and real; and Merry, Merry Christmas!

It's a Christmas Miracle

I'm sitting in my new house. On. the. internet. One of my neighbors has wireless that's not password protected. I love my new neighbors.

Gotta go! I'm getting dirty looks from my husband for being on the computer instead of helping direct the movers.

Christmas love! Moving miracles! Check back when I can.

Refrigerators: The Things That Keep Me Up at Night

Ok. I don't like to post twice in one day. (Well, technically, it's after midnight so this is really the next day. But, it's before 9:00 a.m., so my point is...) The email subscribers will get both of my most recent posts in one email. And, I worry that they'll miss the second one. And, that would be sad because what if I wrote something that would make them happy in the second post, and they miss it. I live to make the world happy. (And, yes. I do know what the email posts look like and when they are sent out because I subscribe to my own blog. I'm narcissistic like that.)

Wow. That was all really rambly. It's either because It's after midnight and I should go to sleep (Okay. That one's true whether it's the reason I'm rambly or not), or I've officially snapped because I chose to move over the holidays. I don't feel like I've snapped. But then again, crazy people never know they're crazy, do they?

Anyway, where was I?

Ok, Rambly, settle down and get to the point.

Which was?

I don't know. Oh, wait. Refrigerators.

Yes. This is what keeps me up when the rest of the world sleeps. Refrigerators. We had a built-in in the house we're leaving, so we need to buy a new one. I spent about 5 whole minutes googling refrigerator ratings, but that was really boring. So, I need you to tell me.

I think I really like the freezer on the bottom kind, but I don't know why. I probably just like it like I like shiny things. It's new, it's pretty, it's a freezer on the bottom! But, truly, it seems like I would want to be able to see the things in my fridge at eye-level so that fruit doesn't sit in the crisper drawers near the floor and turn into a science experiments. (Not that I would ever let that happen in my refrigerator. That would be unseemly!)

So, go! Help me, people! I've posted twice in 24 hours. There are going to be two posts in one email subscription. Don't make me regret this. Do you have a refrigerator that you love? What is it and why do you love it? Or, on the other hand, do you know of one that is the spawn of the devil and should avoided like the plague?

Moving Update: HORROR!

The packers are done. (I've had my toothbrush in my possession the entire time. I can guarantee that no one but me has touched it.)

The movers come to load tomorrow. If they get the trucks (I just said, truckS. Remember when we were in college and everything we owned would fit in a couple of cars - a U-Haul, at the most, if we had a few pieces of our parents' furniture in our possession?) loaded by 1:00 tomorrow, they'll head on up and unload us. If it takes longer, they'll take off first thing Wednesday.

Amarillo by Morning...

Anyway, Shawn was giving me the run-down of the services that will be turned on and when*. And, he told me... Ok, people, stop reading. You should sit for this. And, I need you to be strong... internet will be turned on on the... we can get through this together... 29th. *gasp*

I don't care what my parenting-expert friend Jamie says, I don't see anything wrong with leaving the kids alone while I go to Starbucks and use their wi-fi. She's just being overprotective. She has no idea how mature my seven-year-old is.

*He keeps giving me phone numbers in case I need to change the times of the appointments. Ummm, babe? I think I know three people up there. My calendar is pretty open.

You Could Just Dream for Daughters Like Us

So, my sister's been getting divorced. (What?! No. Who knew? Ok. Shut up, there's a point here.) My mom was down visiting her last week. While there, they went out shopping. My mom saw a St. Francis of Assisi statue that was an exact replica, at the exact price, of one that she had talked herself out of buying here at home. As any good shopper would, she took this as a sign that she should come home and buy the statue for herself. But, she told my sister, if it wasn't in the shop at home anymore, she was going to send Brandy back to buy that one and ship it to her.

Later, when they returned home from shopping, Brandy came to my mom with money and said something to the effect of, "This holiday has been so crazy. Please take this and buy your St. Francis with it for your Christmas present. It will be one less thing I'll have worry about taking care of."

My mom thought it was fairly brilliant and funny and was recounting the story to us after she returned home.

I called my sister.

The next time I saw my mom I said, "My holidays are hectic and busy this year, too. So, I'm sending Brandy a check. Half that St. Francis is from me."

She laughed until she choked.

"Her children arise and call her blessed" indeed.

Moving Update: Peaceful

So. I must be coming across as such a basket case that people have begun praying for me. (Which is good. Because I am a basket case and I do need you to pray for me.)

But, people, I have felt the prayers. I awoke this morning, so overcome with sadness. Today would be filled with so many "lasts." And, Shawn didn't make that last flight home (although, the mediation was successful - can I have an "HALLELUJAH!"?), so he would miss the kids' last day at school. I was so overwhelmed that it felt like my arms were floating. That's about the time the first person told me they were praying for me.

The kids and I got in the car to drive to school. (Here's the part where I would like to be able to tell you that I lovingly herded them through our morning routine without shouting and snapping their heads off, but that would be a lie. I was stressed out, we were running late and I took it out on the innocents in my path. Parenting Fail. *clink clink - coins in the therapy fund.* I did apologize to them. *taking some coins out for a Starbucks*)

In the car, Elizabeth was holding her stuffed poodle and Spencer was holding his nutcracker. This is the conversation I overheard:

"Nutcracker, do you want to go on a date night?"

"No."

"Ok. Do you want to have a sleepover?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Come on. Let's go to my room."

Ok. That's just funny. I don't care who you are. That poodle is a Good Time Girl!

I smiled.

I got to school and there was a letter labeled "Ali Johnson" in Elizabeth's cubby. It was quite a few pages. I opened it and read:

"Oh! The Places You'll Go!

by the incomparable Dr. Seuss

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!..."

It was the poem Oh! The Places You'll Go! with a note written at the end. I gulped and crammed it back into the envelope from which it had come. I gulped. I gulped. I blinked. I smiled and blurted out a goodbye to Elizabeth. I walked out and thought, "Who DID that?!" I went to the last page and saw the signature. I sought out my friend, Elizabeth's teacher from last year, Lindl and yelled at her for trying to make me cry on the last day of school.

We both laughed.

It was only moments ago that I finally felt like I would be able to read the note she added at the end of the poem without crying. It was so undeservedly kind. And, she asked me at the end if I needed to go potty (a reference to the little Ali that was in Elizabeth's pre-3 class last year. Every time Lindl asked, "Ali, do you need to go potty?" I thought, "Did she really just ask me that?" It took a good two weeks before I stopped being confused every single morning at drop-off).

I laughed.

The 1st graders had a Going-Away Party for Spence. They each told him something they liked about him or a memory they had of him. One little girl said she liked Spencer "because sometimes he really looked cute."

I smiled.

Then this happened on Twitter:

I laughed.

Our darling, sweet chaplain said a prayer specifically for our family during the Lessons and Carols service. It brought me peace.

Priscilla sat with me at Lessons and Carols. She reminded me that I accidentally groped her the other night and my finger got hung in her bra.

I laughed. hard.

It's so easy to be tough when the kids are around. If they saw me sad about this move, they would think, "Wait. What? You're taking us to a SAD place?!" So, I put on a smile. I say we're off on our new adventure. I tell them to tell the people who love us that we'll be back to visit! And, I ignore the ache in my chest.

But, now I'm sitting here alone. The kids are off playing with friends down the street. Movers are packing all around me. And, you. You are praying for my family and me.

There's still the ache in my chest. But, things keep making me smile and laugh.

I am at peace.

Moving Update: I've Cried All Morning

I dropped the kids off for school and realized they were going to their last "regular" chapel service at their school. Spence asked me if I could sit with them in chapel. I couldn't. I needed to run errands.

I got in the car and I was s.a.d. I was sad that I wouldn't have another opportunity to sit with them in chapel at this school. I was sad that I didn't really want to sit with them, because, even if they haven't wrapped their heads around it, it's their last chance to sit with their classmates at morning chapel.

I called Shawn. He's down at the mediation for my sister's divorce. That made me sad, too. I want this nightmare to be over. For everyone. But, selfishly, I want Shawn to be able to make that 4:15 flight this afternoon that will get him back in time to see the kids perform at their last Lessons and Carols service tomorrow morning.

So, by the time I got to my last Zumba class, all of my emotional cylinders were firing. We laughed a lot in class. But, we cried, too. (Who would have thought one could cry to the song "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston?) I flat-out had to stop looking at my friend in the front corner - she cried more than I did! Have you ever tired to workout hard while crying? There may have been a few moments where I blacked-out.

I got home and the housekeeper and I started crying together. She shouldn't be sad to see us go! She knows what pigs we are!

So, anyway. The house inspector is here. I guess we really are selling our house.

I hear something about movers tomorrow.

I have a weird vein standing out on my temple. Can you have a stroke from too many emotions?

Also? I think I ate all the cake.

If Someone Comes Across My Sanity, Please Don't Wait to Return It

I ran around the store the other day with my heart in my throat trying to figure out where I had set my purse. I had left it in the car. Things are not looking well for my mental health. (No one really expected that I could handle the holidays and moving and still keep my %&!* together, did they?!)

                                                                                   

And. Um. Wow. Guess what I forgot to tell you? I was a Parent of the Week over on my friend Jamie's parenting blog, Avant Garde Parenting - BACK IN NOVEMBER. Don't worry - there are no "good-parent requirements" to be given this honor, so you don't have to question her judgement. It's probably something along the lines of a teacher encouraging the "bad kid" to try to reinforce positive behavior. (I'm right, aren't I, Jamie? ;)

Jamie really is an honest-to-goodness, card-carrying parenting expert (i.e., she has a PhD - I know, right?!). And, yet, she's still down-to-earth, honest, friendly and funny. Parents of the world - read this blog! Her dissertation was on how moms raised their wee ones in order to have teenagers that didn't need to be euthanized could "1. Communicate effectively with them and 2. Display independence in the relationship." (Again. I know, right?! I wonder if she'll let me have her cell phone number?)

In all seriousness, AGP has made me a better parent and given me tools I didn't even know I was missing in my parenting arsenal. I can rarely make a comment on her blog, though, because I'm seldom thinking, "Let me tell you about a time I successfully employed that technique." I'm usually thinking, "Holy crap! That's a great idea!" And, it would just get old if I commented that time after time after time after time.

Much love to you, Jamie!

                                                                                   

In moving news:

Our friends keep trying to love us with food. I have a cookie cake and half a sheet cake in my kitchen as I type.

Every. single. outing is becoming emotionally exhausting for Shawn and me. You never really know how many amazing friends you have until they are given a deadline to tell you. We come home and collapse, not just from the physical exhaustion of too many events and not enough sleep, but from the emotional exhaustion of being smothered with love. This weekend alone:

• Some of our friends gave us a going-away party. This was from where the cake came. It was actually our wedding cake. It's Shawn's favorite cake in the world (white cake with buttercream icing and imported, seedless raspberry jam between the layers). I get him one every year on his birthday. But, when one of the hostesses called to order the cake, she was told that the cake lady only made wedding cakes. Our friend managed to blurt out our names; to which she was told, "Oh. I make it special for them. I will make you one if it's for them." I. had. no. idea. This was one of about 362 things that almost made me cry that night.
• On Saturday we attended a Christmas Party. We got to hang out with some amazing friends that we haven't had nearly enough time to get to know. There may have come a point in the evening where we were hugging, declaring, "I love you, man!"
• Our Middle School/High School Sunday School class had a celebration for us (with cookie cake).
• And, the rector at our church called the four of us to the front yesterday during the service and gave us a blessing. That one almost did me in. I almost lied down on the floor of the church and told someone to come get me when the new house was unpacked.

Such amazing people. We are surrounded by such amazing people. And, the movers come on Friday.

Now. I'm off to push these feelings down with get some cake cookie cake cookie both.

Moving Update: The Kids Like It

I took the kids up to see their new school today. The headmaster took them to the kitchen to raid for warm cookies and he keeps Jelly Bellies on his desk. Ummm... He had them at "cookies."

I'm not sure they even remember the teachers or classmates that they met. Did you not hear the "cookies and Jelly Bellies" part? But, there were classrooms, cafeterias, libraries, gyms, science rooms, computer rooms, orchestra rooms, music rooms, art rooms. They were even given a school t-shirt and shopping bag with the school logo on it!

They are definitely excited. But, of course, the majority of their interactions with people at the school consisted of mumbled "hi's" and an occasional revelation of their name, age or grade or a [prompted-from-Mom] "thank-you" for a compliment or a welcome. (We've done such a fine job with our children's social graces.)

We went to lunch and we saw the new house, too. And, so far, the only conclusions I've heard Spencer draw are these:

• This new school and house are cool because they both have upstairs and his at home are both just "flat."
• The queso at Abuelo's is better in the new city.

Awesome!

-----------------------------------------------------

Now. More about me. I've pinpointed the only point of angst I have with this move.

• I have an issue. (I know. I know. I shouldn't tee it up so easily. But, focus for a minute, please. I'm trying to make a point.) I like everything to have a place and everything to be in its place. Moving to a new town just throws everything up in the air and you have to wait for it to land in its new "place." And by "it" I mean the four of us, too.

This isn't anything that a little time can't solve. I've always needed to work on my patience anyway.

It is also going to be weird (in a good way!) to have our manic lives slow down. We won't have as many social events because we won't know as many people with whom to socialize! We won't have the kids enrolled in a million extra-curricular activities - because I'm pretty sure we're missing every Spring deadline there is as we speak. And, we won't have regular date nights because we won't have Priscilla. Oh, Priscilla. (Forcing her to move with us is not the right thing to do. Right? Right?!) Ok. I don't want to talk about it anymore.

So, that's where we are. I don't know what more to do than continue on in my present state of denial and wait for the end of the kids' semester to get here. But, Shawn keeps sending me confirmation emails from the movers that our move is "on the books" to begin on Friday, December 17th. He's making it really hard to maintain my theoretical view about this whole thing.

Why didn't anyone tell me I was moving?!

P.S. On a positive note, I did find the Wal-Mart closest to our new house today and a feeling of peace descended upon me... Geez. I can hear you shrieking through the computer. Hush, already. Let me cope in my own ways.