I hate reading other blogs that are all whiny and depressed. I read blogs to see pretty pictures, learn things and laugh. I do not come looking for a glimpse of someone else's reality. But, I started this blog almost two years ago to exercise a part of my brain that was going numb and occassionally post pretty pictures of my little family. But, I fear that if I don't write about the real stuff, this blog will go silent and eventually die itself.
We are under contract on another house. A house that someone polite might say "has potential." It's old, has room to grow, mostly renovated, but has a few quirks. By quirks, I mean, you might place a pencil at the back door only to watch it roll to the front. Technically, we are supposed to close at the end of the month, but I am not sure that will actually happen. The seller doesn't seem all that eager to actually sell this house, despite the fact he doesn't live in it. Between this house and the last house, I didn't buy any celebratory art or throw pillows to celebrate the beginning of creating a new home. I didn't want to curse it. However, I think I need to at least start choosing paint chips so I can feel somewhat invested and keep the hope alive. I will keep you posted.
Rocky and I work too much. I don't know how this happened because we moved to slow down. I have early morning meetings and late night events. Rocky is crisscrossing the state for depositions and consultations. Even on "normal" days, we sometimes do not sit down to eat until 9:00. And don't get me started on what constitutes a dinner these days. Let me just say, Trader Joe's and I have become good friends.
When we lived in Arlington, Bennett went to bed promptly at 7:00. Even though we moved to Central Time, Bennett transitioned to an 8:00 bedtime. It is wonderful to get an extra hour with my little man, but my evenings have gotten even more hectic because I have one less hour to pick up my house, do the dishes, read the mail, love on Atticus, and make dinner. Come Friday (or Thursday), my home looks like I should be hosting a frat party. I'm not used to living like this.
Speaking of evenings, I thought I would share with you a little play by play of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night. Picture it, Nashville, Tennessee, May 2012, 5:47 pm...
Bennett's sippy cup somehow lost suction and he's screaming in frustration from the backseat as I pull into the carport. I give him my keys to help me unlock the door. Instead, he runs off to greet the neighbor and I have to pretend I'm not immensely irritated that I can't go rescue the dog. It all goes steadily downhill from there. B cried when I turned left instead of right. Atticus ate half of Bennett's dinner when I went to get him milk. B screamed when I brought it back in a new cup. He got upset when I took away the ink pen that had been left out on the coffee table. He peed on the carpet when I took off his diaper before bathtime. It was one thing after another until I tucked him in and went downstairs to start my nightly routine of making lunches, making coffee, cleaning the kitchen, washing cups and doing the dishes.
I just hope and pray I'll be recreating my routine in a new house this time next month. If not, heaven help the blog.