Friday, September 25, 2009

Waiting for This Moment

The last time I signed papers such as these I felt resigned. I was glad to be buying my first home, sure, and grateful for the gift that it was, but it wasn't what I wanted. I felt as though I had settled for less than my dream. Which is to be expected in a first home, I'm certain.

And since that time, since the leap back to the Midwest, since the change in careers, since all the risks we've taken to get here, I have prayed for this moment.

And so here I sit. Looking around my apartment. To the wall that beheld the "Welcome to Michigan!" sign my sister made for us two years ago. To the couch and loveseat, tattered, worn and aged that I have made-do with while I put our money aside for a house, not new furniture. To the handful of plants that survived the move, and have sustained themselves on limited sunlight. To the puppy that I promised a yard to.

In two hours I will sign the papers. And they will hand me my keys. Keys to a yard. To a garden. To arched doorways and a fireplace. Keys to a home with a guest room. To a lawn with flowers and trees. To a deck and falling autumn leaves. To pantry shelves in the basement awaiting my canned fruits and sauces.

It's a place where I can finally play the piano again. Where we can snuggle up in front of a fire during the long cold Michigan winter. To a yard where we can run and play with the puppy and enjoy his excitement and freedom. To a kitchen with an east window where we will sit together and eat breakfast, sit together to pray.

This afternoon I feel like I am finally coming home. Finally coming to MY home. To the home I always wanted my boy to have.

It's a blessing I do not deserve. But one I will forever be grateful for.

Home.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I have decided that packing is overrated. Much to my sister's dismay, I just don't see what the fuss is all about. I guess once you've moved halfway across the country on 10 days' notice, packing to move across town just seems like overkill. We have a few things packed (Jules made me do it) and beyond that we figure we'll throw some things in the car, drive over and take it out. The big stuff will all get moved by some very helpful people in a week or so. Beyond that, it just doesn't seem to concern me.

Which is good, because my closing has been postphoned. We hope it's just being pushed from tomorrow to Friday, but working with the government, I won't hold my breath on that. While I was thrilled to work summer school and bring in some money over those months, FHA seems to have some questions about my position, my salary and my contract. Oiy. We hope we've given them the necessary documentation, but if I've learned anything, assuming anything is well, a bad idea.

Along with having no closing date, I have no voice. My annual favorite-season allergies have kicked in and while I tried to combat them with a duet of o-t-c solutions, I am still left with more snot than any one person should contain and no voice. A balance of less of one and more of the other would be welcome.

So while my sister hopes that I put more things into cardboard cubes, and the government partners with God in trying to teach me patience, and my son sulks because I won't allow him to use his computer unless he sacrifices his ipod (a trade made necessary by routine abuses of my generous computer allowances for homework purposes - but a trade he deems entirely unfair and unwarranted) I think I shall take my sorry, tired, snot-infested, mean-mother self to bed.

And hope it's one of the last times I do so in this particular location.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Well That Explains It Then

Birdy came home from school the other day excited that one of her friends was going to have a baby brother by C-section in a few weeks. George wanted to know what a C-section was. My sister delicately explained to her nine-year old son that a C-section is when they have to cut a mommy's tummy to get the baby out that way. She went on to explain that George had been delivered by C-section.

"But not me!" Birdy exclaimed.

"How did Birdy get out of your tummy?" asked a very curious George.

My sister pondered and thought of how to as delicately explain that process especially considering they were all at the dinner table and was proud of herself when she answered with, "Well, babies usually come out of a mommy's girl parts."

George looked quizzically at my sister and then asked in complete bewilderment, "Babies come out of your boobs?"

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Monday, September 14, 2009

Last night it was a pork chop, green beans, four pieces of cornbread, and large glass of milk dinner followed by a request not 20 minutes later for a piece of strawberry rhubarb crisp (that was followed up shortly by another piece).

Tonight it was two and a half pieces of lasagne, six pieces of garlic bread, a Caesar salad, a glass of lemonade and well, you guessed it, onto the strawberry rhubarb crisp before the kitchen was even cleaned up.

And yet, the size 28x32 jeans we had to search the world over for are so big they keep falling off my boy?

Oh to have such problems!

Flash Just Reminded Me

That NaNoWriMo begins in six weeks.

Whether his motive was to give me plenty of notice so I began to think about my next Really Cruddy Novel or if he just wanted to send me into a tailspin, I can personally confirm he did the latter.

Thanks, Flash.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Something's Gotta Give

I just want to know if I should pack 'em or pitch 'em.



Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Printed with Permission

Girl: Schools tomorrow! wish you were gonna be there!

Flash: You wish I was gonna be there? Last year you couldn't get rid of me soon enough.

Girl: How was your first day at school?? Yeah I do wish you had been there!! I mean everyone else is totally retarded!! YOUr my bus buddy!! YOur supposed to be there to make me laugh and for me to be maen to when I'm not having a good day!!!!

Flash: Careful; you make is sound as if you actually liked dealing with me.
Besides, there's still four years of High school that you'll have to put up with me.
And you weren't mean; you were funny.


Girl: OOh thanks now i know why when I tell the kids i babysit I'll get upset if they don't do what I tell them they just laugh!!! and I do like dealing with you compared to some of the buffoons at this new school!!!!! and what college are you thinking for your Graduate and undergrad?? I want either NMU or MSU for Undergrad and Cornell University for my Graduate!

Flash: Y'know, you might want to watch what you say about me. You are sounding mighty friendly; I think over the summer you magnified my good traits (humor, wittiness, smarts, etc.) and forgot about my negative traits (aggravating, annoying, boy, etc.) hence making me seem a much better person than I actually am. Not that I'm complaining. Just keep it in mind.

(Mom: I have to say it's a little weird to watch your teen flirt with a girl! He was mad a year or so ago when I said this girl liked him after he announced that she had baked him cinnamon rolls and brought them to school! Now, he blushes when her name is mentioned and seems a little disheartened that he's not at the new middle school with her this year! Budding romance in the house!! But she's at least ambitious - she knows what college she wants to go to as an 8th grader! And she doesn't use text-speak! Is it too soon to be impressed?)

First Day

Somehow, the fact that he held his own sign upside down just seems befitting of the age!
(He made his 8 with pictures that represent his year...ipod, pizza, computers..)