If I don't answer the door, assume that I am off shopping for ugly lawn ornaments

Four weeks until freedom.

In just four short weeks our contract with the latest realtor is up.  She has been such a great realtor, but we need a break from the insanity.

I'm positive this is the right decision for now, because I'm already fantasizing about coming home to a house without one of those stupid key holder boxes on the door.  It's been so long that I have forgotten what our doorknob looks like.

It's crazy the things that you can adjust to when a process that is meant to take a couple of months ends up dragging on for years.  Nothing surprises me about the homebuyer anymore. It doesn't phase me when I see people trying to peek into my windows. I'm no longer taken aback when someone knocks on the door at eight in the morning wanting to know the price. And when Sean is out doing yardwork on the weekend and someone begs to come through the house?  I actually survey the mess and contemplate, instead of being appalled. I'm not exaggerating. This has all happened.  More than once.

A couple of weeks ago, I came home to find a large van blocking my driveway.  With my arms full of groceries, I casually went inside and set them down before confronting the strange woman on my deck.  She had "just come by to check out the property" which she mistakenly had assumed was "vacant" which surprised me, considering Kelan's bike was parked on the front walk.
But these days, my head is in a house sans a For Sale sign in the front yard. I'm almost feeling a little rebellious. The freedom will bring seemingly endless possibilities! I can stop being hyperaware of the superficial negatives of the house. Hell, in a month, if I want to, I can put a bed in the livingroom! I can plaster the rooms with personal pictures, paint a room neon pink, or even take a shower without being unduly afraid that the call center has gotten the time wrong or forgotten to confirm a showing and someone might walk in at any moment.*

This zombie lawn art?  Is now officially an option. I bet you take that for granted, comfortable home owner.

I am excitedly awaiting that large sigh of relief that I can breathe on August 1st. 


*The various call centers have yet to mess up, but it doesn't stop me from showering with lightening speed on days with showings...

I think you need to see this

I heart google images.  It's like this hotbed of weirdness at my fingertips whenever I wish.  A couple weeks ago, I came across an image that I just couldn't stop looking at.  I saved it to my desktop and I have been looking at it when I need some cheering up. I did follow the link once and it turns out it is a picture from a Japanese catalog (I'm not sure what is for sale in the picture though, because I am not fluent and it's really not all that clear). 

So I'm putting it here to share it with you.  I'm kind of sure that it's illegal to just be grabbing images and posting them all willy nilly, but I really think that the law would understand once they saw.

!!!!!!!!!

And I'm not sure exactly, if it's the orange socks, the look on his face, the pose, or the unhealthy plant that draws me in. But. yeah. This is the cure for the Monday Mundane.

I'm sorry or you're welcome. Depending on what you want to hear at this point.  

Mrs. Robinson, I'm not.

Apparently I live in a neighborhood that loves handing out money, because I feel like I am constantly answering the door to people who want it.
I don't know if you feel the same way, but for me, this is awkward under the best of circumstances. Then add me and, if the money-wanter is even a bit awkward themselves, it is literally the perfect storm. And, I swear I'm not a misanthropist, but it kind of makes me long for the days of "buzzing people in" if only to prevent the discomfort for all involved. 

There is one visit in particular that I dread each and every year. It's a very specific group that is politically motivated to "make some big changes in our state". The irony, is that I agree with the political affiliation, I just can't stand anything else about the group. Especially how they go after donations. One year I made the mistake of giving them my phone number and I was kind of harassed on the phone.  The woman actually offered me a limited time "deal" on a certain donation amount. True story. Like I was lucky that she was going to "knock down the price" of a donation.  When I tried to kindly get off the phone by saying that I was going to see about it and possibly make a donation online? She told me that she would be happy to stay on the phone while I walked to my computer. I felt like some sort of hostage. My palms are sweating just thinking about it.

Well, This year's visit was equally crazy. Well, to me anyway. 

Let me paint you a picture. It's a Monday afternoon. I'm right in the middle of cleaning out the refrigerator (because I live a fancy and glamorous life). I've got my iPod headphones in my ears, not even a tiny bit of make-up on, and my hair (which I'd just let air dry into a frizzy, curly, mess) is thrown up into one of those scary top knot deals. Earlier in the day I had a stroke of genius in which I decide to wash all the shelves at once in the dishwasher so of course I'm busy trying to remember where they originally were, determinedly trying to jam them in places they don't fit (much like a toddler doing a jigsaw puzzle) I am literally sweating.

That is when I heard a knock at the door. 

It was loud, so I figured it must be important. I mean, I had to answer it. What kind of neighbor would I be if the house next door was on fire and someone needed a phone or CPR or something and I just ignore them to scrub the fridge? But, by now you know where this is going...

I open the door to find three young men. Since my cats have a way of darting out the door and pissing off my neighbors by eating the local wildlife, I am forced to hastily shut the door and join them outside. When the deer-in-headlights thing finally wears off, I realize that it's too late to turn back. I'm forced to say, "Sure, I've got 'a sec'." I will now share with you the weirdness in all it's glory, complete with Italics for my inner monologue!!

I feel like if I need to share the burden of this interesting exchange. 

First off, the characters: 

Boy #1-  age anywhere from 17-23 tops. Carries himself as if he looks like...

Hey there, can I have a second of your time?

                                                                             THIS.

Only, what I actually see is more like...

                                                                           THIS

Also, I feel the need to add that he was wearing hipster glasses.

Boys #2 and 3-  approx the same age as boy #1, although I never really looked at either one of them as they were standing a good 3 feet behind boy #1 the entire time.

Hot mess answering the door- 28 going on 60, looking a lot like....



Say what?



                                                                               THIS

                                            (only without the nice features or any of the makeup)

Boy # 1 (after I tell him I have a second) "Hey, did you just get back from UW Madison?" 

Me- Uhhhhh long silence as I realize that I am wearing an old Badgers tee that I acquired from the little boys section in a thrift store.  

            

              "Oh. Um. No"   

(Wait "back?" How old does this kid think I am? Is he asking if I'm home from college for the summer?)

Boys #2 and 3:

Boy #1 (Still smiling exactly like the picture) "Great, well I'm "forgothisnameasecondafterhesaidit" and we're here in your neighborhood today because we are looking for people to help us out with our fill-in-the-blank organization.  As you know the job market has really been suffering in our state.  We are part of the fill-in-the-blank project to help create more jobs in your area, it's very important to our state and the future...

(hands me a clipboard with a laminated newsletter or something, on the message and stares at me expectantly.)

Me- Am I supposed to read this? Like right now? Can't he just give me a pamphlet or something?

          (staring at the paper thinking instead of reading)

Boy #1- (Two seconds later) So, I think you are on our side in terms of this agenda?

Boys #2 and 3-

Me- In terms of jobs being a good thing and that we need them? What exactly is this? Is anyone against jobs? Is he asking if I agree that jobs in Wisconsin have been on the decline?

          "Uh.. Yes"

Boy#1-

                "So, obviously this initiative is going to take a lot of us to rise up and work hard to get this done.  Today we are asking for donations from twenty dollars on up, I was wondering if I could have your signature and your cooperation in this?"

Boys #2 and 3-

Me- Why is he still smiling like that? He must think I'm some sad, frumpy college student that is going to give him money because he's paying me attention. How do I get out of giving these people money without them talking to me longer?

    "Do you have a website that I can use to do more research on this topic?"

Boy #1-

               "Well yes we do have a website and here is the address (pointing to the laminated paper) but we're hoping that you understand how important this is right now, blah blah blah ITS GOING TO TAKE A LOT OF US....blah blah blah blah ROLL UP OUR SLEEVES AND blah blah blah blah BIG CORPORATIONS....blah blah blah blah So, can I have your signature?

Me-  Oh my gosh they are never going to leave and I'm sweating now. I sure would like these boys to give me a pamphlet... why would he think I should give money to them right now, I don't even know if they are legit..

         "You know what? I would really like some time to do more research and discuss this with my husband before making a commitment to donate."

Boy #1- "Well, that's cool.  I understand.  We are going to be in your neighborhood until pretty late tonight, what time can I come back this evening after you've spoken to your...husband?"

Me- Wow. Is this guy bluffing?

            "Well he doesn't even get back from work until six so....

Boy#1- (interrupts) Great! Well see you later then!

Me- OMFG! They are going to come back and break my kneecaps.

         "Uh, bye?"

Boy #2 and 3-


Oh, and they did come back, I heard a loud knock at my door at around 8:30, but Kelan and I were too busy watching SheRa to answer the door. 

Thoughts on motherhood from someone who has a lot of thoughts. Too many, almost.

It's mother's day and I have had far too much caffeine, so bear with me, because this may or may not make any sense.  

I remember my expectations of having kids before I actually had one.  2012 emily smiles and nods at sweet, ridiculous, idealistic, pre-child emily. The only way I can really sum up the thoughts about motherhood that are rolling around in my head right now, is with a list; Here goes: 

THINGS I THOUGHT WOULD HAPPEN OVERNIGHT UPON GIVING BIRTH (BUT THAT DIDN'T BECAUSE HAVING EXPECTATIONS IS THE WORST MISTAKE ANYONE CAN MAKE WHILE RAISING HUMANS):

1) That I'd know how to keep my own baby alive (Also included, that my baby would know that he was supposed to help me out a little in this department).  You think I'm joking but I'm not.  Many people asked me when I was going to take all those Lamaze classes and the breastfeeding tutorials.  People gave me books that just sat around, because I was smug. I just kind of wandered around in a haze, ignoring everyone. People have been doing this shit for thousands of years, and I'm not an idiot, so why do I need to "study"? Then I had my baby a month early. No notice, no suitcase, no idea. The four NICU nurses waiting to see if my baby would come out blue with no idea how to breathe on his own? Yeah, not exactly what I had envisioned. 

2) That I would fall in love. That I would cry and feel euphoric. That I would be so overcome with love for my baby that I would immediately want to jump in front of cars and buses and stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love my child and rainbows and kittens and butterflies and all of that, but I'm only a little ashamed to say that my first thought after delivering my son? (well after finding out that he wasn't against breathing oxygen and all), That was gross. Someone get me into the shower so that I can stay there for a couple days. Also, I would appreciate everyone keeping their hands to themselves now. I'm still waiting for that euphoria by the way. 

3) That everyone would shut the hell up about my breasts. Ha! I've blogged about this ad nauseum, so I'm not really going to get into it, but I honestly thought once the baby came he would provide a distraction for people from the never ending breast is best discussions. And I wasn't against breast feeding, I just thought that it would not be all that complicated...or that public, is all. Turns out, people care. Nurses care. Lactation consultants care. Strangers who see you in the formula aisle at the store care. My baby? not so much. Scold me if you will, La Leche League, but there is NOTHING natural about my breastfeeding experience, which included pumps, unsolicited advice, batteries, creams, rules, time sheets, and more people than I have breasts.  Like quadruple the amount of people. The only one who didn't give a crap was Kelan. And truthfully, I still thank him for that.

4) That my vocabulary would just up and change all by itself. My generation swears a lot. I don't like it, but I accept it. I don't swear a lot, but I do drop an f bomb way more easily than I should. No worries, because people with kids don't swear! I assumed that this was because something magically happens in your brain when you give birth. Um, it doesn't. Just ask my son's babysitters about that damn it phase he went through. I'm not perfect you guys. It turns out you actually have to TRY to not act like a sailor around children.

5) That I would suddenly love dealing with bodily fluids. No. Just...no. I still hate talking about feces, dealing with vomit and blood and mucus and I'm dry heaving just typing this. Eww you guys, kids are constantly leaking stuff. It doesn't magically become awesome. 

6)That sleep would be insignificant compared to the amazing life I created. Screw that noise, I'm still tired.

7) Basically, that I would know what the hell I was doing. I suppose I could have just had this be number one and stop there, and I'm kind of sorry that I didn't because you probably think I am a child- hating freak. On mother's day. Great.

Guess what? I'm going to reference a movie! The Weather Man. Seriously an underrated movie. It makes me cry every time I see it. I hope you aren't thinking of that one Will Ferrel movie, because I'm talking about that Nicolas Cage one. There is a line in that movie that gets me every time. Nicolas Cage's character is talking to his dad and the dad says, "You always worry about your kids... no matter how old, there's always looking after." That? Has taken me four years so far to come to terms with. The concept, not the scene in the movie. 

Because motherhood is for life. I kept thinking that there was going to be a magic day that everything just gets easier. Because some moms make it look like a breeze. I have found an unreasonable amount of contentedness in the fact that I'm probably never going to feel good at it. It's not ever going to get easy. On the other hand though, it's never going to be less exciting. It's never going to be less of a gift. 

And after all that?

I think I want to do it again. Perhaps if you are a mom you will understand.

Happy Mother's Day, everyone!

A post that isn't about my kid!

So, I'm sure you've heard that adage about the definition of insanity, or perhaps it is not so much an adage as it is the actual definition of insanity, but I'm too tired to look it up. Anyway, so apparently the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Something like that? Well, I was folding laundry and crying yesterday, when I realized that technically, what we are doing with this house on the market is insane.  I mean, not just silly, or annoying--not even stupid, or maddening.  But BAT SHIT CRAZY. 

And the worst part, is that it's self inflicted.  No one has had a gun to our heads for the past three years forcing us to let hundreds of strangers walk through and judge our abode unlivable. So I sucked it up and gave myself a pep talk, which went something like this, "Oh my gawd emily, what the hell is wrong with you. People live in Darfur. Seriously. Your life is awesome, so quit being an entitled whore." This is actually my go-to pep talk btw. Welcome to the inside of my head.

So then I started to think rational thoughts for a few minutes, and decided that I can't have it both ways.  I can't be involved in this clearly-masochistic-at-this-point process of selling my house, and then feel sorry for myself when I get a last minute showing on my "mommy-Kelan day" no matter how much detailed planning I had done.

Because, once again, let me explain to you that selling your (old character) house (without a garage) in this market (if you can't afford to take a 10-20 grand hit), is hell. Or, to express my feelings in the form of a Jerry Maguire quote, "An up-at-dawn, pride-swallowing siege, that I will never fully tell you about." Which works, because I was literally up at quarter to five steam-cleaning the carpet in my basement, trying to hide the fact that yesterday's rain storm caused a mysterious wet mess in the basement that neither Sean nor I want to even think about because we just spent a ridiculous amount of money replacing our water heater last month, and we gots mouths to feed and cats to vaccinate and we can't see Kelan's eyes underneath that mop of hair on his head.

So the crux. Am I stubborn enough to fight the universe on this one? Do I keep smiling at strangers who stop in front of our house to peer into the windows? Do I address the fact that the neighbors might want to not live next to the house that is forever on sale?

Truth?

We haven't decided yet. 

But it's kind of fun to laugh about. I don't know what I would do if my life suddenly became predictable. Probably not laugh as much I guess, or for that matter, not cry into mismatched socks as often. And who wants that? 

In his defense, most people react this way to my cooking

Kelan and I have been clashing over dinner lately.  He argues that I don't make pizza often enough, and I argue that his palate is not as refined as it could be. Seeing as it's a struggle for me to put one dinner on the table, I kind of refuse to make him his own special foods, because in the words of every other sadistic mom, "You will eat what I make buddy, this is not a restaurant!"

On Friday it was cold, like, jack up the furnace when Sean isn't looking, cold. So I put together some chili and made some rice.  I hadn't yet put out sides when I called Kelan to the table. Because I am passive aggressive amused by his antics, I grabbed the camera so that I could share. Because if you can't learn to laugh at your kids (publicly and behind their backs, of course) you are in for a lot of crying. 

Someone hand me a drink, before I think myself to death

I have to admit, it's not writer's block or an insanely busy schedule that has kept me away from this blog.  Sadly, it's just my raging insecurities, and the fact that if you are reading this, you might be judging me.

Once in awhile I will think of a quote from that movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" that has stuck with me for years. Actually, it's a conversation that Johnny Depp's character has with Juliette Lewis' character. Juliette asks Johnny* what it is he wants in life and he starts to list the things he wants for his family. She ignores it and presses him to answer what it really is that he wants for himself. He finally replies with, "I just want to be a good person"* I know it sounds childish and completely trite, but I totally understand that line, which I guess kind of goes without saying, or I probably wouldn't be refrencing a strange film from the early nineties.

I've heard people mention that they "are not good at taking criticism," and I'm not sure I know what this means.  Does it mean that you instantly become super angry and defensive? Suicidal? Or that you just don't use the information to elicit any changes? 

I think I am amazing at taking criticism.  Which is why I think so many people offer it so freely. I just kind of ponder it and use the information to create crazy racing thoughts that keep me awake at night; wondering what it all means, and what I should do about it.** I had a therapist once call this process, "mental masturbation" I suppose because it is actually kind of a narcissistic process that hides under the guise of self improvement.

What I'm saying is that this has been a year of much self examination so far, and it's only April.  I have had the chance to see myself through a lot of other peoples' eyes, and am still trying to figure out what I want to do about it.  I vacillate between wanting to make people understand me and trying my hardest to make everyone love me, and wanting to simplify things by being so private that no one even knows what I do or say so they don't even get a chance to have an opinion.

So my solution I think, is going to be throwing myself into more volunteer work, so that I can get a break from thinking about myself period, because I'm kind of sick of humble pie. It's pretty much all I eat these days. True Story. 

Um, lighter posts to follow soon?



*I'm sorry, I am too lazy to IMDb this and find the actual names, well just hers because his is in the title, I suppose. 

** It's sick, I mean, you should be thankful that you were not in my head during the "I'm quitting breastfeeding, or aren't I era, that lasted roughly eight weeks. The social pressure of this decision has made me dry heave when anyone even mentions it.  And I dare you to ask me about my plans if I ever get pregnant again.  I. dare. you.