Wherein I Bitch...

My friend Megan is, indeed, the luckiest bitch in the world.  You see, she wanted a new house, and found one, and then a neighborhood old man just knocked on her door and wanted to buy her house.  No realtor, no open house, none of that. I hate her.

Our house is listed currently, which means I have to keep it at least 80% "show room" ready all the time.  Ha. Ha.  What an exercise in futility.  I have two children and 3 pets.  Regardless, I do try as hard as I can to keep it tidy enough that if I get a call for a showing, I can throw clutter in a laundry basket, load up the troops, and get the hell out in plenty of time. Febreeze? It's a wonderful thing.

But you know what? I am getting tired of this shit.  I hate that I have to make it look like nobody lives here. Dude, we LIVE here.  It's hard to explain to the kids why I don't want to play with their 5000 piece bead set, or truck out the Moon Sand (that shit is the devil, btw).  Tomorrow we have a realtor open house, where area realtors come over and eat at our house, look around, and then hopefully tell all of their clients that my house is the best one in the entire world and you need to go buy it RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

Someone buy this house before I lose my mind. I'm starting to dream of cleaning all of the things, and I cringe every time my kids say "uh-oh."  And, we are dangerously low on Febreeze.

My Family Is Nuttier Than A Fruitcake.

I've heard many tales of families who have a white elephant-esque item that gets wrapped and passed around the family during Christmas.  One of my friends passed around her cut off pony tail for years.

My family recently got into some hilarious sneaky swapping that strikes when you least expect it.

It's the fruitcake that keeps on giving. :)

My parents got a fruitcake from a friend for the holiday season.  It is a fruitcake that conforms perfectly to the stereotype: full of gummy fruits, solid, dry, and gross.  When they unwrapped it, us kids were all there, and were laughing hysterically about how nasty and gross fruitcake is.  My dad tried it, said yuck, and then *said* that he was going to take it out to the trash in the garage.  The sneaky little man took it out to my car, and stuffed it into one of our bags we had loaded for the drive home. Imagine my surprise and subsequent laughter at unloading bags and finding an aluminum foil brick in one of them. :) This was war.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, my parents were in town visiting.  I went out to get the paper on the day they left, cruised past my freezer that held the fruitcake, and stuffed it in the back seat of their car.  They called me rolling as soon as they got home too.

This past weekend, we were back home visiting the folks.  My sister Meg became the lucky recipient of the brick fruitcake. She has declared that it will be coming to someone when they least expect it...and so the swap continues.

I think it's hilarious, and such a fun way to play a practical joke on our family members. Keep an eye on your belongings at all times and lock your car...the Hot Mess family is planting fruitcake bombs.

Damn Kids.

My daughter is now almost 3, and she is the most outgoing kid I have ever met. Happy, opinionated, POTTY TRAINED!!!! (woo woo!) and just all around a pain in my ass. :)

Today, she gave me a heart attack.

My mom used to tell me stories of how, when I was a kid, I was a hider. They locked down the Oklahoma City mall once looking for me, and I was enjoying a make believe picnic between the clothes racks at the JCPenney. I also got lost at Sea World or Six Flags or some amusement park equivalent. I remember being 15 and laughing SO much about how funny that must have been for my mom. She was not impressed.

Pay backs are hell.

Today, I was at the grocery store, mailing off some super important document that my now Vegas-residing husband HAD TO HAVE RIGHT THIS MINUTE. GO NOW AND DO IT!!!  So, I schlepped my kids up to the store to their post office kiosk. Since we were only going to be there a minute, I bypassed the carts. It would take 2 seconds. No biggie.

Well, in that 2 seconds, I managed to lose my daughter...or more so, she lost me.  I looked down the check out aisles, and over by the videos thinking "she couldn't have gone too far in 2 seconds."  Couldn't find her.  Blood pressure rising, I called out her name.  No response.  So I started looking a bit farther from the post office, and couldn't find her there, either.  Now it was a Code Red, all out panic.  I found the manager, and he put the store on lock down looking for my kid. The clerks all stopped what they were doing to look for her. I was close to hysterics.

Three minutes later, they found her. In the bakery aisle. Trying to sweet talk some old lady for a cookie from the free sample bin.

She is now the lucky, lucky kid who gets to wear the .Lowered Expectations Monkey Leash.

Damn kids.

Deal With It, LTrain.

For the next few weeks, this place will probably be where I go to help navigate my huge "let's move across the country" life change.  Just so you know. ;)  

John left today. It went about as well as it could have, with a few last minute cluster f#$ks. You know, best laid plans and all that. My head light was burned out this morning when I left to take Sam to school, so in John's last ditch effort to be Man Of The House, he decided he would fix it before he left.  It took both of us to do it, and my hands were smaller, so they could maneuver the tight space easier. Suffice it to say, I ended up doing most of the light bulb installation.  It's almost like it was preparation for the weeks to come...John wanting to come do the things I don't want to do, but not being able to, and me having to put on my Big Girl Pants and do it myself.

I do not like to be alone.  John will tell you that one of our first serious conversations started with "I do not like to sleep alone."  And I do not.  And tonight, for the first of many nights in a row, I will crawl into my bed without my best friend next to me.  I know that it is temporary, and that the end result will be that we all end up in the desert together, happy and safe and sound.  But tonight?  Tonight I am heartbroken.  I miss my husband, and do not look forward to being the 100%, around the clock, only care provider for my household.

Life sometimes sucks.  A lot of times, though, the sucky times in life are what define and shape our relationships. They make them stronger. They make us more appreciative of the roles played in our family. They make the love grow when you thought your heart was at capacity.  They make you put on your Big Girl Pants and do what it right for your family, even if it isn't ideal.

I put mine on. Bring it.

Not Goodbye, but See You Soon?

Hubs leaves Friday. We recited our vows again by our garden pond tonight, just like we did on a very rainy day almost 6 years ago. Cheers to new beginnings, but I will always have heart strings attached to that spot in our yard here. For better or worse, in comfort and in new adventure. I ♥ you, John.

Wow.

Many of you know we have a son with autism.  He's doing really, really well, and I am thankful that he is on the higher functioning side of the spectrum. It could be so much more difficult for us.  We still have our days, but the really difficult ones are not as frequent since Sam began therapy.

This PSA really spoke to me, though.  Autism knows no socioeconomic boundaries.  Rich, poor, famous or infamous, everyone has the same chance of having a child with autism: 1 in 110. Staggering.

Vegas or Bust

Commence freak out.

My husband was offered a really great job opportunity recently.  He's been unhappy at his job for quite some time, and a recent meeting with the big wigs of the old company was the sign from Grilled Cheezus that it was time for Hubs to start putting feelers out.  Well, feel no more.  He's been offered, and has accepted a new position, which he starts the 30th of January.

Yes. That is in a mere 25 days.

Twenty five days to get this house in tip top, "please buy me" mode.  Twenty five days to try and find a place to live.  Oh yeah, and an interstate, 1300 mile move.

Twenty five days to say goodbye to 25 years of friendships, old haunts, favorite spots, and family.

I waffle between being really excited, and being totally scared. I love it here in my comfortable spot.  I also love a new adventure.

Ready or not, Las Vegas. Here comes the Hot Mess Express.