That's it. After almost eight years of marriage, for the first time ever, Adam is sleeping on the couch (for the night; everyone knows he naps there regularly). Booted out of the bed. Sleeping solo.

Don't fear. Our marriage isn't in trouble. Just our basement. Adam's camping out on the couch so he can get up every few hours to make sure the waters haven't reached epic Gilgamesh levels (because, let's face it, all the Noah references are getting a bit... draining).

(And I can't get "Rise and Shine" out of my head. Aaaaaggg!)

It's not so dire, as long as someone stays on top of it. Adam stayed home from work today to keep the levels down, and our playroom is still water free (well, except for the water we've tracked through it). It's just the back room and his office. And the waters are at low levels; they just need to be monitored and vacuumed. We've got three sump pumps going--my father-in-law brought the only one he could find in all the New Hampshire hardware stores he checked; Adam waited in line at our local hardware store for their 12:30 shipment; and a neighbor saw my Facebook posting and called to offer me one of hers--so we're better off than most of this town (the local e-mail list is filled with folks trying to find sump pumps and wet vacs. A number of folks are waiting for the fire department to bail them out.)

Adam is only worried about his office, as there's a subfloor than can get moldy. But as I pointed out, he's allergic to mold, so we can just wait till he gets sick and then we'll know there's mold. For some reason, he didn't love that idea.

Tomorrow, Adam seems to think he's returning to work. So I go from a day with Pie to a day with the sump pump. Sump pump. At least it's fun to say. Well, not as fun as "Bombay Sapphire martini with extra olive," but we all must find our fun where we can. Sump pump. Tee hee.

Labels: house

Some days just don't go as planned. Today is one of them.

The weekend was good but hectic with lots of running running running to get to places on time. Doodles and Pie had their last morning of hockey. Hockey ended at 10:30. Pie had a birthday party to attend at 10:30. Run run run. On Sunday, Doodles had Hebrew School at 9. Pie had an introduction to Hebrew school at 9. So Adam took them because I had a 5k race at 11, a baby shower at 11:30, and, as it turned out, Cub Scouts at 3. Run run run.

I promised a friend to run this 5k with her, to make sure she got over the finish line, which she did in fabulous style. She ran faster than I think she had anticipated and it was great. And wet. Very wet. We've got a Nor'easter going on here with, if I may, wicked winds and rain. Oy, the rain. We were soaked before we even got into the car, never mind the race. But let me tell you, the St. Paddy's Day crowd in Somerville is a dedicated one and the race was packed. And the lines for the pubs after were insane. Not that I went. Because I ran to the baby shower.

Show up at the shower, run upstairs to change my clothes. Only... I forgot a dry pair of shoes and a dry bra. So I put my lovely shirt on over my jog bra (which had been under both my shirt and my jacket), but as it was soaking wet, I soon sported what looked like two lovely milk leaks. Fun times! I spent the whole party with my hands crossed over my chest, a la a junior high girl with new breasts, until I got teased one too many times so I flipped my shirt backwards.

I got home with a whole half hour to dry off, greet my family, change my clothes and then get the boy to Scouts.

All the while, I was keeping my fingers crossed. Every Facebook status, it seems, of local folk, every message on the town's Parents e-mail list, even some e-mails on the school's PTO list, was pleading for help on how to get water out of basements. My fingers are crossed. My fingers are crossed. My fingers are crossed.

Guess what? It doesn't work. Adam is home right now trying to concoct some Rube Goldberg-style contraption to get the water out of our basement. Of course, there's not a sump pump to be found, so Adam asked his father who lives the next state over to scour the hardware stores there and to bring one to us. His father is currently searching. I won't bother keeping my fingers crossed that he'll find one. The next step is to build an ark. I swear I saw two squirrels and two raccoons waiting patiently by our back door.

But at least it's a blessed Monday, so while Adam vacuums out the basement, I can give my novel that final read over and try to get it out the door. Oh, wait! That's right. Pie has no school today. For some random conference. But she does have a room full of Polly Pockets and Groovy Girl dolls that she wants me to play with.

Good times, people. Good times.

Labels: adam, house, running

While it wouldn't be quite accurate to say summer has arrived to New England, we do finally have a day decent enough to sit outside. I'd be happy if it were a tad warmer--lower 70s would be perfect--but it's not raining at the moment and I'm happy to simply accept that. Our yard is finally in, and while the backyard is not-yet-suitable for walking upon, well, we're walking upon it anyway. We put down grass seed in the back and all this rain has washed a third of it away and the birds have gotten the another third. So our backyard currently looks like a failed Chia Pet. Lovely. I do appreciate the fact that the wireless connects in the backyard so I can play on the computer while Pie plays with her friend. The front we used sod on, which kind of depresses me, because it is the ultimate in suburban lawns. However we've got a lovely planting plan that will transform it into something romantic and inviting--we just need to wait till the coffers are refilled enough to afford all those romantic and inviting plants.

But summer it apparently is, and we had a lovely 4th of July and now both kids are at camp. I had a hard time sending Doodles to camp, putting him on a bus to be carted off with all these children who were about twice his size to go off to swimming and boating and ropes and T-ball on his own. Pie is at her preschool camp and she, in her spunky way, "LOVES IT!" while Doodles in his typical more subdued way "kinda likes" camp, but definitely enjoys it more than he would staying home. And me? Me, I've got a three and a half hour stretch in front of me every day. And while I am doing a bit of puttering and cleaning--finally getting the clothes Pie has grown out of out of the house, doing the grocery shopping and baking cookies for friends with a new baby--I am also working on the novel. I'm getting in a good hour a day of decent writing time. It's one of those things that I have a hard time starting, but once I get started, I have a hard time stopping. I find my thoughts frequently drift back to my characters and I'm trying to take notes at odd times so I don't forget ideas. It feels good to get back into a writing routine again. I've got three more weeks of kids' camp (maybe more!) so I hope to really get a solid portion under my belt. (I'd like to write "under my typewriter ribbon" but it's been too long since I've used one of those... Maybe "under my web camera"? as that's what's atop my computer.) I make myself a pot of tea (because, yes, it's been that chilly), sit at my computer, attempt to ignore Facebook and Twitter, and plug away. My novel readers are awesome and have been giving me great feedback, which I'm working hard to incorporate. Writing is a lot like exercise--when you're not doing it, you can't imagine doing so. But once you start, you simply can't stop.

So yes, the blog posts may be a bit more infrequent. But that's only because there's other writing to be done. Because it's summer time. And the writing is easy.

Labels: doodles, house, pie, writing

For the past few weeks, my life has been all about unpacking and preparing for Passover. Well, the seders have passed. The house is 97% unpacked. And I was looking forward to finally getting my office all in place and getting back to my writing! I'm jonesing for my computer. Eager to get back to my writing. Last week, Pie didn't have school on both Wednesday and Friday for Passover. Doodles was out of school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday because he was sick. Friday no school for him because it was Good Friday.

So this is my week! Except... Adam just reminded me that tomorrow we have to go to close the loan on our house refinance. So I won't work tomorrow. And he's leaving town tomorrow night for a couple of nights in NYC for work, so there's no back up at night. And normally that's rather fun for me because I can put together a girls' night in, but with the kids being sick, I can't count on them to reliably sleep through the night and I don't want to leave guests for two hours while Pie has night terrors/trouble sleeping. And of course there's no extra night of sushi ordering, because of Passover. Oh, and Wednesday Pie has no school for the last days of Passover. And Friday is a short day--Pie is only in school from 9 till noon, which means I can either get my office going or I can get a smidgen of writing done.

But the week after... Oh, wait. The week after is spring break. Right. Both kids have the entire week off. And Adam's company, for all the things they do right, don't see Patriot's Day as a holiday.

My to-do list is growing: I have birthday gifts that are well over a month old waiting to be mailed. My office supplies are rustling loosely in a box, waiting for a home. I still don't have a desk. I have a Torah portion to read at my bat mitzvah in, oh, about a month, and I haven't even begun to try to decipher the Hebrew never mind the Torah trope. Nothing major, but as a Type-A label-making, superorganized person, the little things not being in their place make me crazy.

Enough whining. Time to go to bed. I'm got a closing to go to tomorrow. At least it's close to a Container Store. Organized drawers, at the very least, here I come!

Labels: house, me, writing

Why was that night different from all other nights? Because it was the first night I was able to host a dinner for 18 people and not stress about it! There was plenty of room in our house, the fridge amply held all the food, I had plenty of burners for cooking, and I could relax knowing that with 8 adults and 10 kids, it didn't really matter what I did because the night would be such complete chaos that no one would know what the heck I did. The only downer of it was that Doodles has some sort of weird something that's been going around, where during the day he seems pretty fine, but he tends to run a fever at night, so he's been homebound and lethargic for a while.

So I was pleased with the way the seder went--I went a little cheesy at points (the Pharaoh called in the middle to demand the kids build pyramids; I messed up the story of the Exodus and had to give the kids prizes); Pie complained about my singing (she covered my mouth and whined, "No, Mommy! No!") although she executed one of the four questions beautifully, if through tears {she had been injured in rough Passover play); I had to simply yell the end of the seder to be heard over the kids ("NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM!"); but the food was eaten, the wine was drunk, conversations seemed to flow, and we made it through the (homemade) haggadah. What else can you ask for?

But now we are in the middle of Passover, and all I can do is despair that my diet is normally absolutely, completely, and totally carb based. Sushi on Saturdays. Spaghetti once or twice a week. Rice, tortillas, bread. Snacks are popcorn, veggie chips, snap pea crisps. Passover isn't a big deal in the sense of "Oh my gosh, how will I make it!" because really, it's a freakin' week. I can eat this way for a week (although Doodles is another story--that kid may starve before the week is over; the kids are eating about a dozen eggs a day. Pie woke up yesterday morning crying, "I want Cheerios! I want Mighty Bites!"). But it's a big deal in, "Oh my God, what is my diet?" Every Passover I swear I'll eat better. And for one week, I generally do. More fruit. More veggies. This is the way we're supposed to be eating. All year. Not just at Passover.

Of course, it might all be negated by how much matzah and jelly and matzah and cheese and matzah and cream cheese I eat. And the candy fruit slices. I do eat a lot of candy fruit slices. And the Passover brownies. They're actually better than normal brownies. I mean, how can you go wrong with any recipe that starts with two sticks of butter (and every Passover recipe starts with two sticks of butter and a dozen eggs).

Tonight's dinner is a veggie lasagna (zucchini instead of noodles). It'll be nice and healthy. Which is good, because I just got another box of fruit slices. The yellow ones are the best!

Labels: holiday, house, jewish

--The boy twisted his ankle today and sprained it while playing on his gymnastics mat. He had to hop to dinner. Lie on the couch. Moan. We did the RICE treatment, so I had him stick his leg on the arm of the sofa and put an ice pack on it. He got a couple of shows. Adam carried him to bed. And then I asked, "Can you twirl your foot?"

The boy: Ow, ow, ow! [he twirls his foot] It hurts!

Me: Are you sure? Because when you were laying on the couch, it was the other foot was the twisted one.

The boy: Oh. Which ankle did I sprain?

--I promised my b'nai mitzvah class that I'd have a rough draft of our dvar written in two weeks. That was one week and six days ago. It's a very dry parsha. Jubilee years and all sorts of fun stuff. But no worries. I have a couple hours tomorrow after volunteering in the kindergarten to get it done. Oh, whoops! What's that? Pie has a fever? No school tomorrow? I've had how much wine? Should be an interesting Torah talk...

--The boxes are pretty much unpacked. But in order to get those boxes unpacked, I had to put the stuff somewhere. So the floor is now covered with stuff that had been neatly put away in boxes. I have one week to get it all put away because...

--In one week I host my first social event of the year. Sure, some might call it a solemn religious occasion, but why split hairs? I'm hosting a Passover seder, which will call for full use of my beautiful new stove. I can't wait. Including my family, there will be 18 of us. I've already made two huge batches of chicken soup, farfel kugel, and I've bought enough matzah and gefilte fish to get us through at least a few days, so at this point I know no one will starve. I'm plotting out what to cook next.

--So the contractor handed back his key today. Sad, sad day for me. No more, "Could you just..." "Would you mind..." "Hey, maybe we should..." Now it's just me and Adam. The trailer's out of the front yard, the garbage is off the front porch, and the mailbox has even been returned to its rightful place on the house. All that's left is for me to get my crap off the floor.

--Random link: I love this site. Everyone go save a word. I haven't officially adopted a word yet. I haven't found the one yet. I'm waiting for my beshert. Although I'm sure you'll be able to tell on this blog when I've chosen my one. I'm also into the Very Short List. Best e-mails I get.

--When I was a wee girl, I had three stuffed animals: Beady Bear (named for the book of the same name), Snoopy, and Elly Belly Elephant. I will come out and say that Elly Belly Elephant was a disputed animal: The Tweedle Twirp seemed to think that Elly Belly was hers. Let me set the record straight here: The Tweedle Twirp was wrong. I still own Beady Bear. He's a little worn, but still recognizable. Tweeds had custody of the other two.

Tweeds decided it was time to pass the two on to my children. I took the two creatures, which were recognizable. That is, if by recognizable you think of a homeless, strung out, Avenue Q-version of Snoopy and Elly. Those two have never been washed. I'm pretty sure not ever. Those animals are about 38 or so years old, and untouched by water. So I took those animals in the name of my children. And I decided it was high time they were introduced to the pleasures of cleanliness. Into the washer they went.

It is with great regret that I have to inform you that they didn't make it back out and they have gone to the great playroom in the sky.

RIP Snoopy and Elly. You were well loved.

Labels: doodles, house, jewish

We've got separation anxiety going on here. Serious, serious separation anxiety. The kind that keeps you up at night and leaves you in cold sweats. Because we are about a week away from the contractors being done. And leaving. Us. Me. No more, "Hey, I can't quite reach that. Can you put in that light bulb?" Or, "What do you say? Should we hang that mirror there?" Or what about, "This shelf is sticking. Could you get it in the proper place for me?" Forget live-in maid or cook. I want a live-in contractor. Every time we've had any oddity ("Is that supposed to do that? Is that making a funny noise? I wish we had an outlet there"), it's been a simple matter of "Oh, Leo will be here in the morning. We can ask him."

But it will end. The punch list is just about punched. The shingles are shingled. We've got a single stair rail to go up outside. We've got gutters to go up. But that's really about it. We've got just mere days of "ask Leo."

And I'm not sure I can handle it.

But it's time. Time to let go. Time to grow up and enjoy my brand-new grown-up house all on our own. And speaking of brand-new house, I believe I've been delinquent on photos. Today I give you the kitchen. I was going to wait until it was nice and clean and everything put away, but I thought you'd want photos sometime this year, so here it is in all it's everyday-use glory.

The old kitchen:


See those expanses of counter space? The beautiful cabinets? The aisles of storage space?


Note, here, the oven hood that Adam installed that prevents the cabinet next to it from opening all the way:


The new kitchen. Not the best pictures because you can't truly see my beautiful 36-inch stove, but I'm too lazy to take more photos:


We couldn't get a proper mud room into the house, so we now have a new side entrance and cubbies for each of us:




With Adam's master Elfa pantry. I haven't mastered the wide shot of the small space, so you can't really see it in all it's true glory, complete with my lovely drawer labels. There's a whole wall on the right with more shelves and drawers:


(And I have a secret: we'll need to replace our front windows and front door soon. Leo may not have seen the last of us yet!)

More rooms to come...

Labels: house

I'm unpacking. Can't you tell? I'm doing the big push of just freakin' emptying the boxes so I now have individual pieces of crap all over the house, but at least the boxes are noticeably dwindling. The kids have more toys than any of us know what to do with and I need to do some stealth thinning. And we have a lot of stuff that I'm getting rid of now (like hooded towels--I had saved all those baby hooded towels and the kids just aren't wrapping themselves in ducky hooded towels any more). Freecycle has been my best friend these past few days.

Adam's best friend has been the Container Store. he is elfa-ing like crazy. At this second, he's knee-deep configuring our pantry (I'll add a picture here when he's done). He's also done the fourth--yes, fourth--Ikea run in the past three weeks (our house is embarrassingly filled with Expedit shelves).

And now I need to find a space for everything. We have lots of room, but a lot of the stuff I have is "display" stuff, and I don't have many surfaces for "display" at the moment. My mom sent me a ton of my grandmother's stuff--about a year ago I went through her house (with the other grandkids) picking out things we wanted. And then she packed it all up and saved it for the year while we did our house remodel. Which is great, but as I'm unpacking, I don't remember what half the stuff is. Some of the stuff is super cool--I have this musical cigarette holder of my grandmother that makes me want to take up smoking (not really, Mom; it's just a joke). And most of the stuff is cute tchotchkes that I want out and about.

Okay, break over. Time for sushi and then more unpacking. No rest till the boxes are gone!

Labels: house

My life revolves around routines. It's what keeps me sane and organized. It's what allows me to bake hamantaschen in time to give to Pie's teachers, to bake hallah every Friday, to take classes here and there, to volunteer at the kindergarten and synagogue. It's what keeps me up-to-date on this blog and on my e-mail. It's what allows me to plan trips to Israel (or New York or Miami). It's what keeps this house together. But most importantly in my little world it's what gives me the freedom to be able to write creatively, to work on my novel. Routine gives me my haus frau extraoridinaire status (is mixing German and French cliches the same as mixing my metaphors?).

Can you guess what's sorely lacking in our lives?

We haven't had family dinners, I didn't get to boot camp class, the Purim preparations were nil (at least I did get the boy his Darth Vader costume and I was able to find it used), and I can't get to evening classes because I'm usually asleep these days by about 9:30 because I've spent the days unpacking and running errands at top speed.

We're slowly getting out from under the boxes but we're missing some basic pieces of furniture essential for getting things away (I don't have a desk--my computer is set up on a card table--nor a shelf or file cabinet...; the kids playroom doesn't have a single piece of storage equipment so it's toys, toys, toys everywhere!), so those things are lingering in boxes. We have no shades yet so we spend our evenings dodging the many open windows (thank goodness it's Beetle and her family who lives across the street, and I don't care if they see us all in our PJs). My running has fallen by the wayside--I basically took two weeks off--figured my body could use a break--but man is it hard to get back to that routine! My first run after two weeks and it was like I hadn't run in years. I barely made it four miles and I was sore the next day.

But that's going to change. It's time to reintroduce the routines! The Nana is here to help out--we'll be hanging artwork, figuring out where to put what, meeting with someone to choose some window coverings, and perhaps even squeeze in a trip to Ikea or the Container Store. The weather is improving just enough that I can no longer use it as an excuse not to run (although I can always use daylight savings, as running in the dark at 6:30 is a total downer). And I'm going to get this office set ASAP so starting next week, when the kids are in school, I can get my writing routine back. I promise (well, I strongly intend) not to desert this blog again for such a long time, as it's as hard getting back on the blog as it is to get back into those running shoes.

Starting now, it'll be business as usual again. Now to catch up on that backlog of e-mails....

Labels: house, me, sporty mom

1) Figure out how to clean vomit out a mattress
2) Figure out where to stash child who was going to have a playdate, but will now be moaning quietly in some corner of the house while we move.
3) Load crap into van.
4) Listen to sick child whine.
5) Move furniture into house from apartment.
6) Listen to healthy child whine.
7) Go back to apartment for 12 more runs grabbing those last little things that somehow didn't make it into boxes.
8) Grab lunch from Blue Ribbon for brother-in-law's birthday, which we wouldn't be celebrating at all if it were left up to my deadbeat husband who says things like, "Isn't his helping us move into the house on his birthday present enough?"
9) Clean the apartment.
10) Clean the house.
11) Wash sheets covered in vomit because we'll actually have a dishwasher again.
11b) Realize that it's been so long since I've done laundry that I can't tell a dishwasher from a washer and let Adam do wash.
12) Hope that the cable guy can hook us up otherwise we'll have an ad nauseum repeat of #4 and #6.
13) Clean the house some more.
14) Go to unpack but realize we have no where to put things as furniture doesn't come out of storage until Friday and closets won't be complete until Monday.
15) Try to get kids to sleep in their own new rooms.
16) Take a bubble bath in my new bathtub and have a glass--or five--of wine.
17) Spend the night--all four of us to a double futon mattress--in my and Adam's brand new bedroom.

Labels: house

Our friend with the pickup truck comes 8 a.m. Saturday. Our lease
expires midnight Saturday. Oy vey! The packing commences... now!

Labels: house

I've baked my last hallot in this apartment (that's the plural of hallah for you goyim out there). Tomorrow night will be my last Saturday night in this apartment. Sunday will be my last Sunday night in this apartment.

We leave for Israel on Wednesday (and I have no compunctions writing this because there are big burly construction workers at my house so just forget about making any mischief over there!). We get back home on Monday, the 23rd. (And I won't have a laptop while I'm gone--if I get into areas of WiFi, I'll be able to post pics from my iPhone, but otherwise, this blog will be quiet for a while.) We are out of our apartment and into our house on Saturday the 28th, when our lease is up. So we are into the lasts.

And the firsts. I peed in my house yesterday. Yes, I did! And I was the first member of my family to do so, much to Adam's chagrin. We'll do our last load of laundry here before we go, and then when we get back, trip laundry will be done in our brand new washer and dryer at the house.

The painters are coming today. The floors went in yesterday (they need to be sealed one more time, but there are floors!). We have toilets and heat and working showers. Countertops will be measured on Monday and put in the following week with sinks. We are nearing the end people. The house may not be completely done, but I'm starting to have confidence that it will be most livable!

I'll miss this tiny apartment. Adam thinks I'm crazy when I say it, as I do go crazy with the lack of privacy. But I'll also miss the closeness of my kids around. But I'm excited to let them scream at 6 a.m. without waking the neighbors. I'm happy to be able to let them jump without worrying about them shaking the apartment below. I'll be happy to have their toys out of storage so they can get playing again.

And I'm already planning the first party. I'm thinking an all-day open house. Sometime in March. With boxes and no furniture. But in our own house!

Labels: house

I need a color for my office that will meld nicely with another color for the bedroom, because the spaces really lead into one another. My architect doesn't like Bryant Gold. My husband doesn't like Bryant Gold. My mother doesn't like Bryant Gold. Adam likes kind of a dark gray-blue. My mom is a fan of greens. The architect suggested some yellows. Bryant Gold doesn't go much with any other colors we like. So, of course, I'm using Bryant Gold. Because I like Bryant Gold. I'm a rebel that way.

There's also a lighting fixture I love. Nice. Old-fashioned. Very classic. Can't you see it hanging over Robert Benchley's desk? I've been told it's too big for the space I have. Guess who's going to have a too-big lighting fixture in her office?

I have this vision in my head--I want my office to be Dorothy Parker (without the suicidal tendencies floating around). My first thought to achieve that was more of a russet color, but it was simply too much for the space. To me, Bryant Gold evoked much of the same feeling. So Bryant Gold it shall be! Of course, we're blowing our whole budget on the renovation, so I don't have a desk for my Dorothy Parker office, but we'll find something soon. Adam really wants to get rid of a lot of our current furniture--and I admit, much of it has seen better days--but we've agreed to hold onto everything for the time being. As we can afford nice pieces, we'll replace what we have, but in the meantime, I'm reading books like Use What You Have Decorating and 750 Great Ideas for Decorating on a Budget: Transform Your Home Inside & Out. And my computer will sit on the floor or a card table for a bit. It's what you do for Bryant Gold.

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
after four I'm under my host.
--Dorothy Parker

Labels: house

My son, tonight, when he had the opportunity to choose any show to watch tonight, requested "a wedding show."

And right now I'm selecting lighting fixtures and color and it turns out that Adam and I totally agree on the former and not at all on the latter. This should be fun, except that I'm just not a stylish person and I find the process painful and stressful. I want to hire a designer to help us, only the first one we priced gave us a quote that was higher than our entire furniture budget. So we may be on our own here except for the kindness of friends with good taste.

But I'm still giving my Martha side a go. The kids and I tonight made homemade tortillas for dinner. Do you have any idea how easy it is to make homemade tortillas? It's so ridiculously simple I can't believe how much I wasted on these mondo packs of tortillas only to toss them out when the family ate 2 1/2 out of 12. We made six--and they're all gone.

Apropos of nothing, I love Carol Kane. We don't see enough Carol Kane. And if you know why I said that, then you're watching what I'm watching, so you can't judge me.

And continuing this randomness, I hate winter marathon training. I have dreams of the Goofy Challenge, but it's another January marathon and I'm so sick of running on ice and snow. I can't wait for this marathon to be over so I can be a lazy ass again.

Did I mention that I hate color? I do. I think our new house will be all black and white. Just so I don't have to pick any colors.

Doodles turned down a concert at the library because he's just not into music. And he's grown out of our yearly SteveSongs concert, which is too bad--he's going anyway. He hates babysitters even more than he hates music.

Bed. I need bed. I'm scared of bed, though. Because I dream in color. But all the wrong colors.

Labels: doodles, house, sporty mom

I'm contributing to the delinquency of a diva. The snow is piling up outside. Adam isn't feeling well, so he's napping. We've read books, shoveled in the snow (just for fun and we discovered the greatest snow fun there is--I pull sheets of ice off the picnic bench in the backyard and the kids jump on it to shatter it), had hot chocolate, wrote some thank you notes, kids played with Legos and painted and I cleaned, and we started packing. And it's only 3 p.m. I don't have the energy for an afternoon of Mickey Mouse Playhouse and Imagination Movers, so I've turned on Wedding Central and the kids are riveted. Pie's already chosen her cake: "It's going to be the biggest one in the world. It's going to have chocolate sticks with trees and a piggy. And it's going to be Pie and Jasmine." For what it's worth, I did try to show them both Land Before Time and Charlotte's Web but Pie freaked out at both of them, and Doodles finally said, "Can we just keep watching the wedding channel." Et tu, Doodles?

It's been a languorous weekend. Despite sounding like I got a lot done this morning, I've had this lazy haze about me. I'm feeling unusually stressed these days as there's a lot coming up. Two things are on the forefront of my mind:

The first is the house remodel. We've given our notice on the apartment--we're to be out by February 28--and things are supposedly in the fast-moving stage of the house. I'm not completely sure I believe it. We were stuck at a point where I couldn't see the changes--electrical work, plumbing work, waiting for inspections. But now we're moving. Insulation is in. The walls started going up on Friday. Plastering will be done this week. According to the contractor, we're about two weeks away from the hardwood floors going in (one of the final steps). According to the architect, we're supposed to be picking out paint colors. So we have about six weeks till we're out of here and in the house. Only, we're going to be gone for ten of those days, which means we get back from our trip, and will have just five days to get out of the apartment...

Which brings me to my second stress. Our trip. We're going to Israel. Yes, Israel. And I'm waffling big time on the trip. Everyone I know who's ever been to Israel tells me I'm being silly and it'll be fine. For starters, we're going nowhere near the Gaza. For second, we're going with a tour group (with our synagogue), so we'll be on a tour bus with security on the bus. They'll be constantly checking the security situation and revising our itinerary as needed. We won't be on any public transportation at all. The biggest issue is that we won't be allowed to do many of the things I really have enjoyed doing in the past (like shopping in the shuk. I'd been fantasizing about everything I was going to buy for our new home, but that's totally out at this point). We leave in about four weeks. And four weeks in Middle East terms can really be a lifetime. For the first time ever, we bought travel insurance, which means up to 24 hours in advance of the trip, we can cancel and still get 75% of our money back. But I really don't want to cancel. Adam's never been and I'm anxious for him to see it. Israel is such an amazing country (I've been three times already, including a six-month stay on a kibbutz). But--and this is not an invitation for anyone get to political with me; I don't do politics here--I'm feeling vaguely terrified. How do I decide whether or not to go? (And yes, it's "me." Adam really isn't worried at all, he's said, and he's looking forward to the trip, as is the rest of our group.) I'm literally waking up in the middle of the night worried about taking my kids into a war zone. Yet every time a trip to Israel has been postponed (my sister missed out a trip in the '80s), it's been for naught. I am absolutely certain if I cancel the trip, I'll seriously regret it. I am confident that once we get to Israel, it will all be fine. But I can't stop my stomach from churning now.

So I'm trying to focus on other things. Like the marathon I have coming up in two weeks. And the craft projects I want to do as soon as we get into the house and I have easy access to my sewing machine. I'm officially addicted to craft blogs. And I'm thinking about organizing (starting with photos and ending with the kids' toys in the new house). And packing boxes (I'm storing them in Beetle's basement so there isn't a mad rush when we get back from Israel). And Pie's wedding. And the multitude of other minutiae that crop up.

And come March 1, I'll be a sane person again. Relatively speaking, of course.

Labels: house, pie, vacation

Adam signed up for a site called icovia, which is a site for decorators that let's you lay out rooms. It's kind of silly, because we realized that once we've paid for our kitchen, there will be no money to furnish the rooms that need furniture (which are our bedrooms, my office, the living room, and the family room). But I've been playing with the site anyway, and have discovered it has some pretty nifty features on it. Adam's not too sure about the Santa, but I figure this is kind of what it's all going to look like:


(Do all interior decorators have to factor in crime scenes when planning out a house? I mean, it strikes me as fairly practical, but it requires an awful lot of forethought.)

Labels: house

In a marathon, it's very important not to focus on the end point. Sure, in training, visualizing myself crossing the finish line can be really helpful in getting me through some tedious long runs. And then there are those glorious days, when I feel like I could run forever--say the leaves along the trail are in full fall color, the air is nippy but not not cold enough yet for gloves and hat, and my legs just feel powerful and strong--when I pick up the pace and picture myself sprinting across the finish line to the undulating sounds of the crowds on the side lines.

But really, those thoughts are few and far between. Because when you're at the start of a marathon, that finish line is a lifetime away. For me, the only way to get through the marathon, is to break it into smaller pieces. The first two miles fly by. Really. Adrenaline. The crowds. The freshness of your body. But it doesn't take long for that feeling to set in. "Three down... Twenty-three point two left to go." That kind of feeling will kill you. So you focus on the first 10k. Then the second 10k. All you think about is making it to 13.1, the halfway point. Because the finish is simply unreal.

But then, then I hit the halfway point, and it doesn't seem so difficult. After all, at that halfway point, all I have is a half marathon left. And I run like four of those a year. No big deal. At 13 mile run isn't even worth going to sleep early for. It's not worth forgoing that second glass of wine. Because from 13.1, 15 miles is just around the corner. And from there, 18 is easy breezy. At 20, you've blasted through the wall and are in the final 10k. Of course, that's when it all gets hard again. That final 10k is somehow the longer than the previous 20 miles and the last mile is simply the longest mile you will ever run. Ever. Ever! So there's this magic window of marathoning, when life is good and fun and you even entertain thoughts of picking up the pace, of breaking a few records, of going for it all the way.

I'm discovering house remodeling is similar. That first half marathon was a killer. After a week, the novelty of being in this teeny tiny apartment wore off, and the miles were just too daunting face.

And now, now we've hit the half marathon point. The second floor is framed. The roof will be complete in a matter of days. We are two months into our four month project (and, yes, so far things are on schedule). While I am still having problems envisioning how this shell of a house will transform itself into a livable space by January, I'm starting to feel just a twinge of hope, a smidgen of optimism. The stove has been purchased. The refrigerator is on order. The studs of walls-to-be are defining an actual living space.



Every time I do something in this apartment, I wonder how many more times I'll have to do it. Changing the roll of toilet paper. Vacuuming up the crumbs under the kids' seats at the table. Yelling at the kids that they can't be stomping dinosaurs before 7 a.m. on a weekday or 9 a.m. on a Sunday. How many times will I go for something, only to remember it's sitting deep in some vault in Wilmington. I feel like we're on the back side of those numbers.

So yes the apartment is miserable. Yes, everyone's tensions are high. Yes, I'm tired of being the noise police and vacuuming cereal from where it adheres to the rug. But we're in the magic window. We're on the backside of the race. We're sailing free and easy and clear and all will be good... right up to that last 10k. Dear God, please don't let that last 10k shred us! I'm already mentally crossing that finish line.

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Things are tense in my oh-so-tiny apartment and I've consolidated my life down to miniature size, which is why I'm having such a tough time blogging these days. I no longer think in blog terms--the most I think is one-line Facebook statuses. Writing actual paragraphs, strings of those oh-so-pithy status updates, if you will, now seems a colossal task. My mind is thinking things like, "Jenny is contemplating tossing all of her children's toys out the window to see if anyone notices" or "Jenny is thinking of moving abroad for three months with no forwarding address" but this empty Blogger box seems to want more from me.

But here I am, with a rare moment of peace as Adam has the monsters at the playground. Our house is in total destruction mode--the roof comes off this week--but progress is happening. I can't envision this thing done, but apparently it will happen. I have an incredible lack of imagination on this. All I see are dollar signs as we need to pick out appliances, counters, fixtures and our savings account--like all of yours, I'm sure--is spiraling down, down, down, down, down....




My daughter is enmeshed in wedding planning (at 5 a.m., she woke up, literally screaming, "I NEED MY BRIDE DRESS NOW! Where's my white bride dress! Get it for me now!). We had a lovely conversation on Wednesday, mere hours before the start of Kol Nidre:

Pie: I'm getting married today.
Me: Today is not such a good day to get married. Kol Nidre is in just a couple of hours.
Pie: NO! I'm getting married today!
Me: And just who do you think is going to marry you today?
Pie: Jasmine!
Me: No, I meant, who is going to perform the ceremony? All the rabbis are busy today!
Pie: But my wedding is today!
Me: And what kind of reception will that be? You can't serve any food! The grown-ups will all be fasting.
Pie: [getting furious] NO! MY WEDDING IS TODAY!

Doodles is so Doodles. I can't even elaborate on that. He's just... well, Doodles.

And me? Well, "Jenny is going off to see a movie by herself. No kids or spouses allowed." And that sums it all up nicely.

Labels: house, pie

I have a nemesis. This is quite exciting for me, because I haven't had a nemesis since Adam was at HBS (ah, RS, where are you now?). But now, now I have one. And it is... our mail carrier! I've never loved our mail carrier--she shoves envelopes in magazines and flyers so they're hard to find and occasionally get tossed and then retrieved from recycling. She often misdelivers mail. But last week was the kicker. Our mail stopped coming. I mean completely. I went to the main post office, dragging a sleepy Pie, and picked up my mail. "She's deemed it unsafe to deliver to your house because of the construction," I was told. "You can call her in the morning to figure something out." Unsafe? I walk into that house everyday with my two children. Would I do that if it were unsafe? There's no construction at all on the front porch.

I was so annoyed by this that I made Adam call, because I knew I wouldn't be nice. "We have to move the mailbox to the light pole or the tree," Adam told me. Adam went in the morning to try and move it to the light pole, but whatever he bought to do it, didn't do the trick, so our contractor moved the mailbox to the outside of the porch, as you see here:

I came home that afternoon to no mail. "I saw your mail person," my contractor said. "She said its still too dangerous."

"That's too dangerous?"

He shrugged. "The box has to be on the pole or the tree."

"She said that?"

"Yep."

"And she didn't just give you the mail to place in the mailbox?"

"Nope."

The next day we had mail delivery. I asked the contractor but I knew even before he answered that it was our weekend guy subbing in. He didn't deem it too dangerous.

The box has since moved to our tree. But I'm bitter. And annoyed. And I have a nemesis. I am plotting my revenge....

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

Labels: house

So, what's going on with me? I'm not purposely neglecting you guys--I think it's just that there's so much going on and I'm just overwhelmed enough that I feel like I have absolutely nothing interesting to blog about. But that stops now! I'm cranking up the iTunes (so loving the new Genius playlist feature), ignoring the copyedit that's whispering to me from the side of my desk ("Jenny! I have misplaced modifiers! I'm going to secretly removed serial commas! Look, Jenny, look! I've got inconsistent numerals.... Jennnnnny! Come fiiiiiix me!"), and I'm now prepared to give you all my full attention.

I'm sorry, what was the question?

Let me tell you some of the things I've learned this past week:

• If you give a child 60 cents and tell him he can buy his milk at school, 5 times out of 5 times, he will choose chocolate milk. (Nostalgia: When I was in elementary school, lunch prices increased from 50 cents to 55 cents. And we didn't have three lunch choices, including pizza pretty much every day.)
  
  
• A house with no walls is way more interesting than a house with walls.
  
  
• You can watch a cement truck pour cement for hours.
  
  
• If your family can't keep a decent-sized house clean, no way can they keep a 700-square-foot apartment clean. You will be stepping on Legos for the duration. And if your husband didn't know what clean was in your house, he really won't know what it means in the apartment. By the way, you are not invited over. Not any of you. Because this place is a mess.
  
  
• No matter how little food you put into your son's lunchbox, he will not be able to finish it. I gave that boy two falafel balls (note: not an entire falafel sandwich, just two of the little balls) and two slices of red pepper. He ate one falafel ball, one slice of red pepper, and complained that I gave him too much food because he doesn't have time to finish it. Kindergartners get a half hour for lunch. He can't manage to put away four small pieces of food? That boy is a Chatty Cathy is what it is. Today he said I was giving him too much lunch: a cheese sandwich and two red pepper slices. He said, "Just give me the red pepper." Um, no? Because I'm not going to be the mom called by DSS for starving her child. At least I won't starve him in a public setting. We compromised on half a cheese sandwich and red pepper. And this kid wonders why he doesn't weigh enough for a "big kid booster seat" in the car.
  
  
• If you buy your daughter a dress so she can be a flower girl, you'll need to get shoes to go with the dress. Otherwise, you will wake up two days before the wedding and think, "OH SHIT! I didn't buy any shoes!" and you'll have to run to the store and pay top dollar to Stride Rite because your wide-footed daughter doesn't fit into normal shoes and you don't have enough time to order them online.
  
  
• When your son says he's not learning anything yet at school... he LIES! At back-to-school night, it was downright overwhelming to see how much they are learning. And sure enough, this morning, I said to Doodles, "In September, for awhile..." and he chimed immediately in, making hand motions, "I will ride a crocodile down the chicken soupy Nile. Paddle once, paddle twice, paddle chicken soup and rice," and, oh yes, they have gone over some of the letters of the alphabet, and yeah, they do count every day, many times a day, and he has been writing his name, but no, he really isn't learning anything. Okay, fine. As long as he keeps not learning at this pace, I'll be happy.
  
  
• If you're size 4 son needs a suit, you will be paying hand over fist for it. In fact, he might even have to give up his brand-new room in his brand-new house, it costs so much.
  
  
• Running 19 miles after taking two weeks off of running may not be the smartest thing in the world.
  
  
• If, when you move, you think that purging your house of chocolate will prevent you from bingeing when your children are in preschool and you're working, you are wrong. You will just find other things to binge on.
  

Okay, enough you people! I hear a "comprised of" (AAAACK!) beckoning me from the manuscript. (Where is my red pencil! Bad of, bad, bad, bad of.) We've got one wedding rehearsal, one party, one half marathon, two sets of formal photos, a mountain of logistics, and one wedding to attend this weekend. I'm sure I'll have something to say about it all next week.

Labels: doodles, house, school

What time is it? Oy. It's move day. The house is only half packed. If I start to wrap dishes in paper, will I wake the kids? What the HELL did I do to my foot? This week's 10 miler was a mistake. Which podiatrist should I see? Maybe Adam's right and we shouldn't have chosen to move into a teeny-tiny apartment and remodel during an election year. How did I end up with a Republican? My baby isn't ready for kindergarten. I wonder where Mrs. Ferrer, my kindergarten teacher, is? Ugh, those stupid red mats we had to lie down on, and how often I did end up napping. "I pledge allegiance to the flag..." Mrs. Ferrer wasn't Mrs. Ferrer though, till I had her in first grade. She was Miss Rios in kindergarten and after a couple of weeks of first grade, when answer me when I called her Miss Rios. Gads, she was probably half my age right now when she was my teacher. My baby is so not ready for that big elementary school. My baby. My babies. Remember Sophie's Choice? How did she make that choice. I could never do that. But what if the Nazis were about to get them? Don't think about it! Don't think about it! Is it time to get up yet? Ugh. Not yet. Man, my foot is buggin' me. What kind of paint should I let the kids use to mess up the walls tonight? Doodles wants to write, "Good-bye house" on the walls. Are we really doing this? This is the house I had my children in. Do I really want to mess with it? Will this stupid project ever get underway? Did I really agree to be a room parent at the preschool? And I've got to plan that Sukkot program soon. What can we do that's different from the last one? Can I bake round hallahs in that tiny apartment kitchen? I said I'd start working again tomorrow. Am I really going to start working again tomorrow? I'm too tired to start working again tomorrow. How are we going to get all the crap out of our house? Is it time to get up yet? Ugh. Sleep or coffee? Sleep or coffee? What time does Starbucks open on Labor Day? What time is it now? Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. It's move day. Ugh.

Labels: house, misc.

This is what my office looks like:

This is what my living room looks like:

This is what the kids' playroom looks like:

So I've mentioned before there are things I don't blog about. But the biggest one consuming me must now come out of the closet. Because the closet is about to be demoed.

For over a year now, we've been planning a remodel. At first, it was to be a modest kitchen remodel, family room add-on. But then we discovered that we couldn't afford the family room add-on. So we decided to gain more space by working within the footprint of our existing house: our ceilings are incredibly dormered and by lifting them out, we can match the footprint of the first floor and therefore add a whole 'nother bedroom and bathroom upstairs. A little creative thought by our architect and I get an office attached to the (new) master bedroom, over our front porch. Everyone's happy, well, except Adam who really wanted that family room. Our plans were finished in December, and we were ready to go out to bid...

...when through an unfortunate event we inherited the EXACT amount it would take to add on a family room. So back to the drawing boards. Now, a zillion months later, we're ready to begin. Actually, we were ready to begin last week, but the permitting process is holding us up.

In a nutshell, we refurbished our modest plans into a full scale revamping. We'll be taking off the second floor to put on a new second floor. We'll be remodeling the bathroom on the main floor. We'll be redoing the kitchen. We'll be adding on a family room with a playroom underneath it. We'll be finishing off the basement. We'll be paying off a mortgage that our great-grandchildren will most likely inherit.

Of course, with all this work, we need to move out of our house. Earlier this week, movers came to put about 70% of our belongings into storage. About 10% is in a storage unit we'll have access to (things like winter clothes, Hanukkah necessities, and things we don't need now but may need as the seasons change). And the rest is coming with us into, as Pie can tell you, "A teeny apartment!" We're sleeping on mattresses as bed frames are in storage. We got a futon off of freecycle, as our normal sofa won't fit into the apartment. We're using an older TV that can't be hooked up to a DVD player because Adam's lovely, big-screen TV is not going to attempt the apartment move. Clothes are on the floor as dressers are in storage. The shelves in my office were given away so everything on them is on the desk and floor. You get the idea.

Work is going to be starting on the basement, so everything you see in that playroom used to be in our basement.

This is the basement before and after:



On Monday, we'll be moving into the apartment. We lucked out and found one just a mile from our house, so things like spontaneous playdates and after-school activities won't be interrupted.

The remodel is a good thing. Our heating system is horrible (baseboards downstairs and radiators upstairs so the downstairs broils while the upstairs is freezing), the floors are crooked, there are holes in my horsehair-plaster walls. Our kitchen is laid out so poorly that the fridge opens the wrong way but it can't be switched because it's too close to the wall. The kids are sharing a room (well, theoretically, as really they share with us), and they'll reach a point where they want their own rooms. So it's all a good thing.

But life has been in chaos, between birthdays and packing and freecycling (boy does that take a lot of work!) and getting ready for the start of school. I took the summer off of work (and it explains why blog posts have been light), but I'm going to resume work next week. And eating cupcakes. Lots and lots of cupcakes. So many cupcakes. And, honestly, they're not really helping.

Labels: house