In Limbo

Have I mentioned our house is on the market? I don’t know who I think I’m talking to, I’m pretty sure no one reads this blog. My own husband missed my entire 30 days of gratitude, and who knows what else. I keep telling myself someday my kids might want to read it.

Anyway, over a year ago, we made a difficult decision to begin the process to sell our house. Although we have realtors in our family who we love and trust, and actually helped us through the process when we bought the house, the legal process of a short sale is very distinct and complicated and using family would likely create disclosure issues and delays, potentially jeopardizing a sale, and probably not a wise decision. We chose an agent recommended to us. We first talked with him November 17, 2011, and he assured us we wouldn’t be “one of those short sale horror stories.” He gave us an example of a house that had just closed after almost 2 years. I was a few months pregnant with Avery and he hoped and expected that we’d be in a new home by the time she was born. We figured we would probably be moving the week she was due, knowing our life.

So we gathered mountains of paperwork, wrote letters, drafted forms, purged clutter, sent more clutter up to the attic, and made the decision to maintain a fairly aggressive showing schedule. We listed the house the first week of January 2011. We set up to allow for showings during the week day with no notice, by appointment on the weekend. This meant leaving the house show ready every morning, a massive challenge when battling an uncooperative toddler who leaves a trail of destruction behind him.

We had a few showings. Every day we came home, after an invariably chaotic morning, hoping there would be a card left on the table. January turned into February, which turned into March, and then April. I was growing increasingly exhausted as my pregnancy progressed and the pace of no notice showings became too much, so we changed the listing to appointment only. I think we got one call. In the meantime, my parents graciously put in a backyard for us. Our mounds of dirt and weeds are now a great patch of grass where Carter loves to play.

In May, Avery was born. A few weeks after she was born, an agent and buyer knocked on the door and asked if they could look around. I reluctantly agreed, thanks to the encouragement of my husband, and we shuttled them past the sleeping newborn in the master bedroom.

I went back to work in August and once we got our new routine down, we ramped back up on the housing front. The walls were closing in on us, and I wasn’t sure how much longer we could keep everything contained in our two bedroom house without a garage. I felt like the baby gear and toys threatened to overtake us at any moment.

We held an Open House in October. Still nothing. Not an offer, not a mention of an offer, barely a showing. We heard of a new opportunity through an investment company and a different agent that we felt we had to pursue. So we did, and after much prayer and consideration, we switched agents.

We gathered more paperwork, rewrote the letters, updated the forms. We felt a little exhausted to essentially start over, but cautiously optimistic and hopeful that it was the right decision. We met with the new agent, walked through the house with her, pointed out quirks and issues, and relisted it December 1, 2011, a Thursday. We took an emotional deep breath and braced for the somewhat grueling mornings, now trying to leave the house show ready with an even less cooperative toddler and an infant to get out the door.

That weekend we had our first showing! We cleaned like mad, shoved a few things out of sight (also, there are very few places “out of sight” considering buyers generally want to look in closets and cupboards), and crossed our fingers. Later that night, I got a call from the agent saying the buyer liked it and wanted to come back the next day and then make an offer. As it turns out, she didn’t come back and didn’t make an offer. The next week, we had showings on Thursday, two on Friday, and we got an offer over the weekend.

The week after, we got the official offer paperwork. We went back and forth and on the last round of counters, it stalled. We've had many other showings, and a few more potential buyers. Someone is coming for a second showing today, and there's one particular somewhat crazy lady who has come 3 times and continues to drive by. I saw her drive by four times over the weekend, and she also brought us Christmas treats.

Selling a house is a lot like dating, and this feels like speed dating. I really hope someone likes us before the bell dings and they move on to the next option. If we get an offer (and finalize it), we begin the next steps, which may take 60 days or 6 months, maybe more, and probably a 30 day escrow after that. Even if everything goes perfectly, it’s going to be a long time. Yet, we feel like we have to be prepared for a quick turnaround, in case we are caught by surprise. This trickles into so many areas of our lives. That’s the part that makes me crazy anxious. Where will we live? Will we have to switch Avery’s daycare? We’ve been planning to move Carter to preschool in January. Will we have to move him to a new preschool? Is it still a good idea to switch him, or should we wait? How will he handle the change, considering he is the most inflexible child ever? Those are the questions we’ll have to answer slowly as we trudge through this process.

Then there are other questions… Some of those are the ones we’ll never be able to answer, but we trust there’s a reason for everything and a lesson to be learned. Eventually, we’ll be on the other side of this. At least we hope so. 

Seven Months of Avery

Dear Avery,

Today you are seven months old!

You continue to be a joy and delight. You are sugar and spice and everything nice. You are the sweetest, cutest baby girl I’ve ever encountered. You are a little charmer and win everyone over with your adorable smile. I took you to Costco last week and many people commented on how adorable you were, perched up in the top of the shopping cart taking it all in, smiling at everyone. One woman told me you looked like the Queen of Costco. We went out to lunch a few weeks ago and a couple at a nearby table actually stopped me to tell me how well behaved and delightful you were. You’re also a little spice, and you’ve got a little feisty streak. I may regret these words later, but I like that. I’m glad you hold your own. Overall, though, you really are all things nice.

We celebrated your first Thanksgiving this year, and you loved it almost as much as everyone loved you. Lots of our family was able to meet you for the first time. You looked absolutely adorable in your sweet dress and tiny dress shoes. You ate sweet potatoes while we feasted on the same, and made it very clear you did not want to be left out of the festivities.

You love to sleep on your tummy. The second I put you down, even if you’re completely asleep, you roll from your back to your stomach. You are so cute sleeping, with your tush up in the air and your sweet hands tucked under your chin. Also, as a side note on the topic of sleep, we would like more of it. When will you release us from the 3am wakings?!

I took you in for your six month checkup last week. You and your brother were fairly well behaved for the entire TWO HOURS we were stuck there. You’re just a happy girl and when you got fussy, I was able to buy some time with a new toy and you were back to your content self. At the end though, when you got your shots, you were furious! I have never heard you scream like that. I felt just awful, it was so sad. I think you were more angry and surprised than anything else. It was a good opportunity to spend some extra time snuggling with you.

You are finding your voice more and more lately. We love hearing your little noises and trying to figure out what you’re telling us. You are so close to crawling! You pop up to your knees and rock back and forth, but you haven’t quite figured out how to move forward. Occasionally you scoot back and you definitely have figured out how to roll where you want to go. In fact, you’re faster than we can keep up with. Once we set up the Christmas tree, you entire goal in life was to roll under it and grab the ornaments. How such a tiny baby can out-roll two adults is still a mystery to me!

Every day with you is a delight. Well, most days. You are such a perfect addition to our family. You probably wonder what in the world is going on with all this chaos, but most of the time you just laugh at it and find it generally amusing. I hope you hold on to that quality for the rest of your life and always find it within yourself to laugh when things gets a little (or a lot) crazy.

Much love,

Mama

Not okay!

Yesterday's weather was blustery and chilly, with a few raindrops in the evening. It was perfect weather to curl up with a blanket. Perfect weather for Christmas.

However, Christmas is forecast to be 71 degrees and sunny, warmer than average. This is not okay with me. Avery has an adorable sweater dress with matching tights and hat. Carter has a handsome sweater vest. Both of them will be sweating and wondering why their mother is insane. Here's hoping the San Diego weatherman is wrong (which is usually the case).

I have a problem.

I'm almost done Christmas shopping. I have a few little things to pick up, but I've been done with the bulk of it for weeks.

I set a very reasonable (read: low) budget for my kids and picked a few things I knew they would like. Our kids are so incredible blessed (read: spoiled) by four grandparents, four great grandparents, and a slew of aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, etc. that they really get more than a kid could need. I know they're young, but we're starting early and trying not to overload them with gifts and set the bar at overindulgence.

But then there was a really great sale on a toy on Amazon for Avery. And then I saw some Cars on ebay. And then there was this other awesome thing I thought of, a $5 addition here, another $3 there, a $10 extra splurge...

My love language is gifts, and it is safe to say I really love my kids.

Toddler Wisdom

We're trying to shape our wild little boy into a wild little boy with good manners. I know he'll never be spectacularly well behaved or cooperative. He's always going to be strong willed, and I want him to have the freedom and forum to voice those opinions, but hopefully after waiting for the right moment instead of bursting into the conversation. We're trying to teach him to be polite, thoughtful, and say please and thank you. However, he's picked up a few less than ideal words, as kids do from time to time, especially boys. He's now learned that we don't say stupid, shut up, or butt. This list will grow immensely, I'm sure. He is a little vocabulary police man. Anytime he hears anyone say one of those words, he immediately corrects them and continues to tell everyone else about it. Last week, Grandma slipped a "stupid" in front of the word police. For days we heard, "Grandma said stupid. That's not a nice word."

When Seth was changing his diaper over the weekend, a little diaper rash spurred this conversation:

Seth: (something like...) Hold on buddy, let me put this cream on your booty.
Carter: That's my butt.
Seth: No, Carter, that's your booty.
Carter: (after a thoughtful pause) Then where's my butt?

No one can say he's not listening and thinking about what we tell him.

Treasures

I love this time with Carter. He is at such a fun age (pretty sure I've said that about every age). I love watching how he considers things and contemplates the world, how he conjugates verbs in the most logical but not always correct way ("who buyed this dinner?"), how he reacts to unexpected events. I am constantly amazed and amused by what comes out of that kid's mouth. Here are a few treasures recently:

• His favorite color is orange. We thought this was a fluke, since orange seemed like such a random color, but he's told us that repeatedly. 

• Nothing gets past those little ears. Grandma accidentally slipped a certain word into conversation and we've been hearing all about how Gramma said stupid and that it's a mean word for the last two days.

• After Seth changed a stinky diaper last weekend, Carter commented, "the trash man needs to come pick up my poop." He's very matter of fact.

• When he was boycotting his nap and running around his room, Seth went in to settle him down and get him to sleep. When Seth asked what he was doing, Carter's response was "I'm just picking out clothes for God."

• He never names anything. His most creative moment was mixing it up and naming his smaller monkey "little monkey" and the larger one "big monkey." However, he recently named his two rubber ducks Joseph and Hallelujah. Apparently he was getting into the Christmas story early.

Dinnertime.

I would like our family dinners to look like this:

They don't.

Especially now that Avery is eating solids, she is adding her very vocal thoughts to the mix. And Carter has been particularly defiant the last week. Seth and I spend dinner time attempting to get a few bites of food in while passing Avery's spoon (and sometimes Avery) back and forth and hoping she doesn't scream too loudly in her impatience, trying to contain, redirect, and discipline Carter when he acts up, and make sure the dog doesn't steal anything off the table, which she very rarely does but opportunity abounds. 

Last night, Carter had no pants on (Seth's decision, not mine) because he had just leaked through his diaper and was getting a bath immediately after dinner anyway. In the midst of dinner, he smeared sour cream in his hair and threw his fork at the wall, resulting in a chair time out where he proceeded to scream at the tops of his lungs, therefore resulting in a much longer chair time out. The flying fork hit the wall and bounced into the dog's water bowl, so Stella pounced faster than a cheetah on the hunt, thinking it was food and not just a metal utensil gone awry. Avery was yelling for more squash! More Squash! MORE SQUASH! At one point, I had lifted the spoon into the air and paused while I turned my head toward Carter. All of the sudden, as I was looking away, I feel two tiny hands grab my arm and shove the spoon into her mouth. At least she can hold her own around here. 

Someday, Norman Rockwell. Someday.