Home Sweet Home...

We're in.  Finally.  The men are still working on converting an extra bedroom, but for the most part, our new home is finally livable.  I'm so happy I could sing, but I'll spare you.  The past few weeks have been incredibly chaotic and stressful, but it was definitely worth it.  It's soooo nice to have plenty of room, a lovely, old, established yard, and neighbors who continue to drop by with welcomes.  I even have some empty cabinets and drawers--seriously shocking.

I've also been asked to "Go to the river" with my worker friend, "Cockeye."  While dressed in his signature jorts and shirtless combo, he asked me my Memorial Day plans. When I made the mistake of saying that we didn't have much in the works, he insisted on my coming to the river with him.  He even told me he'd pick me up.  I'm not exactly sure what river he's talking about--the Pearl?  I didn't really pursue this conversation.    I guess the whole wedding ring thing doesn't serve as a deterrent for him.  Yet another reason why I'll be glad when they're completely through with the house. 

I would attempt to write about everything that's gone on, but it would take me forever. So, here's a summation of what has happened in the past few weeks.


Paint, paint, and lots more paint...Sam turned 2--sniff...Curious George birthday party with family...lots and lots of yard work by my brother and my dad--thanks a bunch, guys...furniture rearranging...more trips to Target than I care to remember...a book club gathering in the new place...several awesome summer evenings on the deck...restocking of the pantry and fridge resulting in astronomical grocery bills...no internet for over a week...a couple of illnesses for Sam and me...a serious lack of sleep...decorating anxiety...

Aren't you glad I refrained from posting about the above nonsense?  You would have been bored to tears--if you already aren't. 

Happy Memorial Day!

Right now....

there is an interesting snapshot of America in my future home.Yes, they are still working on the new house.  And what an interesting "they" indeed.

This morning I walked into my future home to check on the progress. I was greeted by...

2 shirtless men
1 mullet
Several piercings
A plethora of tattoos depicting scantily clad women
1 cockeye
A plumber's crack or two
Lots and lots of cigarettes

I am not making any of this up.  I didn't even have to exaggerate.  God love them, they're working hard, and I'll give them some serious credit--they're polite as can be.

The move-in date has been moved to at least Monday, which probably means more like next Wednesday.  Does anybody out there know if there is a patron saint of carpenters and painters?  I need to put in a prayer or two.   Lizbeth and Laura, I know Marilyn would know the answer to this question. 

Turn out lights, the party's over...

We have officially been out of our house for 8 days.  I spent the last few hours sweeping and mopping, and I really felt like I was holding it together...until I walked by Sam's empty room. The walls were still baby blue, but there were no toys, no books, no crib.  I had a small personal crisis, but I managed to pull myself together.  We turned off the lights, locked it up, and walked away from our sweet home.

It has been a truly chaotic couple of weeks with no end in sight.  I have been told by my husband that I better be happy in this new house because we will live there until we die.  Right now, I can't disagree.

Speaking of the new house, we're not in it right now.  Our new casa needs quite a bit of love and tenderness before we can actually live there.  We are painting every inch of it, changing out some light fixtures, and replacing a ceiling.  The paint alone is a pretty big job, but there is no way I'm living with puke peach paint.  And I mean peach.  Did I mention the country blue paisley wallpaper?  No offense if you're into that kind of thing, but it's just not me, so we're getting rid of it. 

While we are waiting on the new place to be habitable, we are bunking with my in-laws.  They have graciously taken in 2 adults, a 23-month-old, and a stinky Boston Terrier.  

The first few nights no one slept.  Sam's crib is in their guest room, and sleep doesn't really happen when a soon-to-be-2-year-old rolls over and sees his parents in the same room.  He ended up in bed with us several times, which resulted in my getting kicked all night long and Anthony ending up on the couch.  We finally retreated to the extra bedroom, which means that we are sleeping in separate twin beds a la June and Ward Cleaver.  Let's just hope I don't start turning black and white and vacuuming with pearls on.