Because Inquiring Minds Want To Know.....

Last week on Boy Crazy:



On a whim, we bought a house.

Really.

On Mother's Day something possessed us go to to an open house in the neighborhood across the highway from new house. We weren't impressed. That house was huge but it was very pink. We liked the room, but we weren't willing to sink thirty thousand bucks in it to rid it of it's pinkness. We were trying to pull left out of the neighborhood forever so Derick took a right and said he was going to turn around in the new house neighborhood and then, since we were already there, why don't we go see if our house was still available. Funny, but we have referred to that house as "our house" since we found it in January. It was a little joke because when we saw it in January, it was WWWAAAYYY out of our price range. Why we even walked through it back then is beyond me, maybe we were bored, but we did and we loved it instantly, but we could not afford it. Not even close. But anyway, after another drive-by, Derick said he wanted to go into the sales office to see if the price had come down anymore, and honestly, if the littles weren't asleep in the back I would have told him don't bother, but since they were sleeping and I wanted them to sleep a little longer, I said go ahead but we'd sit in the car. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Thank goodness I had my knitting because I waited some more. Then I started to get mad because, damn, does he know how much gas we're wasting keeping that AC running? Then he came running out all googly-eyed and said the sales dude would sell it to him for only 20,000 more than the butt-ugly house across the street we had semi-considered. WTF??? The price, the "deal" he'd give us was 73,000 off the original asking price, 30,000 off the price he gave us in January. And March. He wouldn't drop the extra 9,000 to bring it into our price range, but he did take the trip for two to Paris they were offering for May sales and subtracted that amount off the final price if we agreed to close before the end of their fiscal year on June 26. We thought about it for a couple of days and agonized over such a huge mortgage, but we have figured out a way to swing it. The deal was just too sweet for a house and neighborhood that we absolutely love to walk away from it. In the end, it really just came down to the fact that we would be sad if we ever saw someone else living in that house. That was our house.

That is our house.



So that's how I got a house for Mother's Day.

Next on Boy Crazy: The Inside Tour. Stay Tuned.

You're Golden, Dude!

Guess who got his Gold Star?



Fifty-seven verses recited from memory one day before the deadline.

We were so proud, we bought him a new house!

My New View

You like that?

It's not exactly my direct view, but if I walk ten houses down and to the right a bit, there it is. Me likey.



I am still stunned that finally, finally we'll be moving away from here.

And I am stunned that I am sad about it. Would you believe I have actually been sobbing about it most of the day?

Pulling into the driveway this morning, I got a different view of this house. I realize I actually do like this house. I like my huge bedroom and the his and hers closets. The covered porch is beautiful and I love having dinner out there when the weather is nice. I will really miss the orange trees and the hibiscus we planted right after Jacob was born. I love having mature trees that shade us from the Texas heat and hold the homemade swing Jacob is so crazy about (what he'll miss the most he says). And my laundry room! I think I'll miss it most of all. I LOVE having an upstairs laundry room. How will I ever adjust?

Mostly, though, I am sad because my kids probably won't remember this house at all. I can't show Jacob where I stood at the mirror in the entryway as we entered the house with him the first time and tell him how I cried just seeing myself holding our wee baby in our house. How I gauged his growth every night by that same mirror as I hefted him up the stairs to bed every night. How I've done that with each one of them and I still remember that day every time. None of them will remember joining the family here, walking through the door the first time as we struggled to adjust to a new life with a new person. This is where our family began. This is where our view on life changed. I will miss it for that.

We'll miss you little red house. We'd stay if you weren't so small and in the middle of a crappy neighborhood. We'll find a nice family to appreciate you or be able to get funding, whichever comes first.

House, Meet Internetz

Internetz, meet my new house!

We're moving on up. To the big time. To a gated community off the freeway.

Thank you housing slump for making this dream possible.

This Makes My Stomach Hurt A Little

We've lived in Texas for eight years now.

It was my idea, mostly, to move here so we could be closer to my parents, who in the grandest twist of irony I have known, moved to the exact town we moved away from one year later.

When we pulled into our driveway for the first time, we had to ask the neighbor kids to move off the porch so we could unlock the door. We had to ask the same kid's parents to move their cars out of our driveway so we could park ours there. They all pretended not to speak English. It didn't get much better after that. In fact, I pretty much began plotting our departure from crap-ass neighborhood before the boxes were even unpacked. Have you ever gotten the distinct impression that you don't belong somewhere?

That was eight years and four months ago.

At this moment my husband is talking with our mortgage company trying to get us preapproved for loan on a house we have been stalking admiring for months. It's a brand new home, never been lived in, in a gated community we really can't afford. The house has sat empty for almost ten months and the price has continued to drop and drop until it's now only nine thousand dollars more than our self-imposed limit. We're going tomorrow to see how badly that extra nine thousand means to them.

We like the neighborhood. We've sat in the house and watched the minimal traffic drive by. We've watched the kids come and go from the park. We've introduced ourselves to the neighbors and, so far, they seem pretty easy to get along with. The backyard is smaller than we'd like and we'd no longer be on a cul-de-sac, but we like the neighorhood. It seems to be a place where we might actually fit.

I think it's time.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Happy Mothers Day!

Was I crazy to even think of this?

WANTED: Mother to Three.
HOURS: Full-time, twenty-fours a day, seven days a week.
REQUIREMENTS:Must provide nutrition by preparing three square meals a day and being an on-call open milk bar. Heavy housekeeping is a must. You will be responsible for transportation to all children's activities including school, gym, sports, library, music at all times. You must be able to fix boo-boos, both physical and emotional, entertain troops during periods of boredom, tutor students in all subject areas, fix broken toys. You will clean vomit and wipe poop. You will scrub fingernail polish from the floor. There will be lots of breakage. You will wear pajamas in public at least once and you will forget to button your blouse after nursing and expose yourself to the man trying to fix your phone.
VACATION: You must remain on the job roughly eighteen years then we'll discuss
PAY: Oh, there's no pay. You were expecting a paycheck?
BENEFITS:



Always someone there to let you know if your camera lens is broken.



You can go into the petting zoo without looking silly.



You'll finally have a way to get rid of those pesky telemarketers.



You can get a little help with your blog.



Your driveway will always be pretty.



You can play Webkinz. A lot.



The grocery store is always an adventure.



Easter dresses....



And funky Easter eggs.



Three more Mountaineer fans



Yes, there are many, many requirements to this job. And the pay really, really sucks. But the benefits outweigh them all. I was meant to do this.

It's the perfect job for me.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you. I hope you're enjoying your benefits today.

The Gold Star Treatment

Only twenty more days of school.

Hallelujah!

You don't know how happy I will be NOT to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to risk my life in the Houston traffic just to get my kid to class on time. I know I am just jinxing myself here, but the kid hasn't been tardy all year long. I think my new system of going in barefeet and pajamas has made a world of difference.

I will also be glad to put "The Gold Star" behind us.

You don't know what "The Gold Star" is? Well, I didn't either until a couple of weeks ago. I did know about the red stars though.

Every child in every class in every grade at Jacob's school is required to recite a new scripture from memory at the beginning of each month. They then take their turn standing in front of the class and saying it and if they do it correctly, they get a red star on a chart and on their report card. A child cannot be passed on to the next grade until they have all of their red stars. THEN they must recite all nine monthly verses all together to earn "The Gold Star" or else you may feel like crap sitting at the awards banquet surrounded by your classmates who did say it. It was easy-peasy last year because kindergarteners only have to say one verse and I really was expecting a little more work this year, I mean, he is a first grader after all, but I wasn't expecting him to recite the same ten to sixteen verse scriptures as the twelfth graders!

Yes, reread that if you must. Everyone says the same verse.

I don't get that.

Every month when the newsletter comes home, there is a picture of some high-schoolers with a caption underneath that states, "Congratulate these-persons for saying their Gold Star". And for two years I have been impressed by this. "WOW!" I'd think. "That girl must be such a hard worker and so smart to have done those ultra-hard scriptures three months ahead of schedule! I so hope my kids will strive to be just like her" After a little research, and yes, finally reading that dern manual, I find out that ain't no big thing at all! You're eleven years older than my kid who's doing the same thing! You SHOULD do those scriptures! Maybe even the first week of school. It's first grade work after all.

Jacob did his red star scriptures flawlessly. He was usually the first one in class to do so. He recited April's verse in January and was so pleased to be three stars ahead of the rest of his class. Of course, his mama, not knowing anything about first graders being required to say "The Gold Star", ceased practicing them with him after he finished May's verse in March. Because, you know, I have other kids to tend to in the evenings and we like to eat dinner around here sometimes.

So, a couple of weeks ago, the teacher sent a mass email letting us all know that the last day to recite "The Gold Star" would be May 15 and a few of the children had already accomplished it and, pretty much, yada, yada, yada, get your ass in gear and practice those scriptures that you obviously should be reciting at the dinner table every evening so as never to forget them because you'll be so embarrassed if your child is the only one without a trophy on awards day. But in a much nicer tone, of course. Yikes.

So for two solid weeks, over and over and over again, my son is reciting Proverbs, and Colossions, and some other book of the bible that I don't even remember, and he still doesn't quite have it. I mean, after months and months of this you would think I might be able to memorize them too, but no, I can't even tell you this second what's the first word. I know they have something to do with Jesus. Does that count? I am thirty-cough years old, I can't do it. How do they expect a six year old to do it?

My kid has ADD. The smaller verses were easy to him because he only had to concentrate for about two minutes. There is no way his brain can process the amount of words in the fifteen minutes it takes him to get through that whole passage. He tries, damn he tries, and I think for six years old he does a phenomenal job, but I just don't think he's getting "The Gold Star" this year. I hate to be negative and I hope like hell I am wrong, but it's hard. And stressful. And really, I don't like making him feel badly about himself every time we practice it. I'll trade his self-esteem for that stupid gold star, but he wants that trophy because Hummer Mama has offered to throw a party for the kids who get one.

That. Is just wrong.

And it doesn't matter that I offered him his own party, or a new Game Boy game, or a week's worth of Marble Slab, he wants to be included. He wants to feel important too.

So, if you don't hear much from me between now and May 15, just know we are gold-starring it until we get it right.

Lord, help us.