The First

Since selling my first, beloved house, I have been told by countless people, my parents included, that leaving your first house is among the hardest things a person will do in life, especially if children were ever there. In a way, I’m glad that I didn’t know how hard it would be beforehand, but it also would have been nice to be able to prepare. I don’t really do well with surprises, so when I started crying as I walked through the house for the last time, I was less than pleased with my unexpected emotional reaction. I cried twice about leaving the house, the other time being the last time I put Colin to bed in his room. Both times, it was Colin’s room that started it. Of course it was.

When Patrick and I first bought the house, we had whole rooms that were empty. It was so much more space than we needed, but it was exactly the kind of house we wanted and we felt incredibly lucky to have found it, enormous as it was. We said to each other that we would never fill it and that we would have to carry radios to talk to each other in the vast, vacant rooms. But, as people do, we expanded to fill the space we had. Within a year, we had filled the old house up and were making regular trips to the Goodwill. By the time we found out we were pregnant, there was no place to put a baby.

But the baby was coming whether he had a bedroom or not, so we carved out a place in our house for him and, in doing so, a place in our lives and hearts as well. Though I loved our house before he came along, it wasn’t until that room became a nursery that the rest of the house made sense. Then it was clear that that room was meant to be his nursery all along, we had just had to wait for him in order to see it.

Starting a family creates all kinds of sentimentality where it would otherwise be ridiculous. Driving around our neighborhood before leaving town for the last time, I got choked up at the most absurd things, like the CVS Pharmacy, where I bought the two-pack pregnancy test, the first of which confirmed that I had stomach cancer, and the second (a week later) confirmed that I was both a mother and an idiot. Or the neighbor’s house where I would regularly stop to use the restroom on my walks to try to convince Colin to be born early. Or the post office box where I mailed his announcement cards. Absurd, yes, but meaningful nevertheless.

The house was even worse. Finding all of his tiny little hats and mittens packing up his room. Remembering all the nights spent on the couch through the end of my pregnancy and while Colin was still tiny. Disassembling his crib. He would never know this house, this lovely house where we lived when we were all young and where he was brought home from the hospital in a tiny blanket and a not-tiny-enough outfit. Pictures would never do this house justice, and stories are not the same as standing there yourself, smelling and seeing, and tasting the air of home.

It was immeasurably helpful that we sold the house to a young, excited, lovely couple who reminded me and Patrick of younger versions of ourselves. This is their first house, the woman told me breathlessly, and they planned to stay the night on an air mattress, even though they live in town! They have all kinds of grand plans for the house and I could not be happier for them. It is a fantastic house, the best. I am not the type to get too hung up on a place or material things, but I doubt that I will ever love any place as much as I loved that house. And now someone else lives in my house, and I am now living in someone else’s house.

And so it was without shame that tears flowed as we walked out the door and drove away. But it was with great joy that I handed the house – and all the love and happiness that we experienced within it – over to a new set of owners. I couldn’t help but drive by the house one last time on the way out of town. The blinds were up, the door was open, and the sign was gone from the yard. Inside, the new owners were celebrating. My first house is ready for its next incarnation. And so are we.

And We're Back!

FINALLY we have internet. We are paying too much for it, something that 14 more phone calls might fix, but at least we are connected to the world again FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY.

As I mentioned: Don't ever move. It is all the bad things you remember and much, much more that you have blocked from your mind.

Despite all that, we made it. I have lots - LOTS - to tell you, but let me list the big ones for you quickly:

• We moved. We bought, we sold, we moved. We are still unpacking, but the house is getting better, we can see the floors (and the filth) and almost everything has a place. I have approximately 9 boxes to go to Goodwill, if I can just get them by Patrick. I know, I know. Why I didn't determine that those 9 boxes of crap could go to a Lexington Goodwill is a question for the ages.
  
• I started school today. I think I will survive, but this is a weird, weird place. The people are nice, the facilities are crazy beautiful, and I think I will get really good training here, but I don't know if I'll ever feel at home here at this school. But it's only two years, whatever.
  
• Our neighbors are amazing. Did I tell you this? They threw us a BLOCK PARTY. Truly: they closed off the street at both ends, bought a $500 blow up water slide, made tons of food, and got a FIRETRUCK to come! The street is full of kids, all of whose heads exploded when the FIRETRUCK showed up. The kids (along with Patrick) climbed all over the truck, honked the horn, tried on the hat, turned on the lights, got their pictures taken sitting in the driver's seat. It was unbelievable. Also? On our moving day, our immediately next door neighbor brought over a picnic blanket, plastic forks and paper plates, a tub of ice cream, and a HOMEMADE APPLE PIE, saying that she thought we looked like we needed a snack. I almost cried.
  
• I came home today, my first day of "work", to find this: HE STANDS UP BY HIMSELF NOW. My next post will detail how he toddled off and got a job at the local market bagging canned goods, which will be followed promptly by a post recounting his discovery of the cure for cancer. I'm going to go ahead and get this cliche out of the way now: I can't believe how fast he is growing up. This morning he couldn't stand up by himself. Now he can. Amazing.
  
• I got an iphone! After drooling over them for almost 4 years, I decided to get one, then decided to wait for the new ones, then needed a local phone number, then offered Colin my old phone to chew on in a moment of desperation amid a particularly painful teething episode, then my old phone didn't work anymore, then I gave in and bought an iphone. And, if I may just tell you a secret, IT'S EVEN BETTER THAN I'D HOPED.
• I have ACLS training tomorrow, so I have to go learn about that so I can pass the test and maybe someday shock your heart back into a normal rhythm. Before that, though, I need to download the facebook and twitter iphone apps so that I have something to distract me during ACLS tomorrow. Maybe it would be best to get someone who didn't have an iphone during ACLS training to do your emergency resuscitation. Just a thought.
  

Enjoy the backlog of posts that are coming. I've missed you.

Not Dead!

Hi! Hihihi!

I'm not dead!

I'm currently stealing internet from one of my new, lovely neighbors. It won't last, but I wanted to assure you that:

1. I'm not dead.

2. We successfully moved, sold our old house, and are getting settled in the new one.

3. Moving IS AWFUL DON'T EVER DO IT STAY WHERE YOU ARE.

4. Even so, I'm still not dead!

We're scheduled to have internet tomorrow night, so look for many, many posts then - I've been writing, but unable to publish, so prepare yourself for an onslaught. You're excited. And you just can't hide it.

Questions for You

Now that we are again vertical, have kept food in our bellies for over 12 hours, and have run through two rolls of packing tape this morning alone, I have some questions for you, my beloved and talented and experienced Readers. I have planned the bejeezus out of this move, right down to the minute, but now that I'm actually putting things in boxes I realize that I have no idea what I'm doing. Help me.

First, how ever does one move with plants? We have big ones and little ones and I am stumped. How do you keep them from falling over? How do you keep them from dying? When do you stop watering them? Any tricks you care to share?

Second, and you may laugh at me for this one, but how do you pack a lamp? We hired movers to help us load the truck and they sent papers in advance with tips and rules. One little bullet point said, "Movers will not move any lamp which is not properly packed" so now I'm worried that I'm going to have to carry the things up to Indy on foot and I've already packed my hiking shoes.

Lastly, I ask your opinion. Patrick and I are arguing over light bulbs. Do we take them or leave them? They are the energy saving kind, which are apparently too expensive to leave and re-buy in Indy so Patrick went out and bought some of the regular kind. This is incomprehensible to my poor brain. How does it sit with yours? He uses the excuse that, were we in Germany, we would even take the toilet paper, but we won't do that because we are generous people. I reply that we are not in Germany so that argument means nothing but by this point in the conversation he has moved on to how he went through the trash and rescued some precious piece of junk and how could I get rid of THIS!, at which point my head explodes. What I'm really asking for is some backup here. We don't need to move lightbulbs, right? RIGHT?

Today marks 4 years that Patrick and I have been married. He let me sleep in this morning and woke me up with a cupcake and a sweet card, but other than that we plan to go out to celebrate once we get up to Indy and find our shampoo and toothbrushes.

Excuses, Excuses

Whose website is this anyway and why did the person fall off the edge of the earth? Who just leaves their lovely, adoring audience hanging like that?

*cough*

I'm sorry. I've missed you. I have a whole load of posts to write, all sketched out and everything. But we've been so crazy busy and out of town and did I mention busy and last night we got food poisoning and were up all night evacuating our entire systems from every orifice available, which was really very unpleasant. So now, I'm sprawled out on the couch drinking diet ginger ale and begging your forgiveness.

Let me hit you with the highlights of the last week. (Ack! Sorry...)

1. I finished my research job! There was cake and gifts and some nice words were said, then I turned around and walked out of that hospital for the last time. It was refreshing.

2. Colin transitioned onto table food! I hate the baby food in jars and while I recognize the need for some pureed to hell food while they are getting used to eating food, I'm over it. More importantly, Colin is over it and has started rejected the baby food in favor or actual strawberries and crackers and the like. It is not only cheaper and easier, it is also unbelievably cute.

3. Colin turned 8 months old! The update is one of the posts that is drafted, but then Food Exodus '09 happened...

4. We bought a house yesterday! The closing went well, with only one minor hitch, but it's over and we now own two houses. We close here in Lex on the 9th, so let's hope those lovely Buyers (<3) show up, as we can't afford two mortgages.

In other news, the Best Nephew Ever continues to live up to his name, the Baby Mama (Toddler Mama?) and her lovely hubby are gracious folks who let us move into their house for many, many weekends without any audible complaint, and Littlest Sister is a high school grad!

Times are good! If only we can keep down our Ginger Ale. I will keep you informed as to how that goes.

Day Care and the News

By some accident of Fate, we have to be in Indy for the next two weekends for events completely unrelated to our moving there or starting work. Were you aware that there are things happening that are not related to either of those two things? I really wasn’t either. And yet, here we are: Littlest Sister is graduating from high school. This is kind of incredible to me, as I’m sure all you big siblings (and parents, of course) can understand. I left home 11 years ago when Littlest Sister was seven years old. As you might expect, she stayed that way in my brain, just as I stayed the punky 18 year old in hers. Every time I visit I am momentarily taken aback by how grown up she is, how many words she knows, how TALL she is. It takes me a second to remember that she is 18 years old herself now, not seven, and is ready to set out into the world and make her own path.

And so, we will travel to celebrate her almost-within-reach freedom from the festering dungeon that is high school. This weekend we’re up for Littlest Sister’s graduation PARTY, and we’ll return NEXT weekend for her ACTUAL graduation. Then the following weekend is when we ACTUALLY MOVE. Say it with me, scream the cry of all those who try to do everything and get their own stuff done too: AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH.

But we’re making the most of the bonus trips. We’ve been packing all along and so have collected a good bit of boxes that are in the way and so we’re dragging a trailer up with us this weekend and next to get some of that stuff out of the house. I rented a storage unit for us near our (hopefully) new house and we are considering just moving into that space for the next few weeks. We aren’t really needed at work and it would be way more convenient to just stay in Indy rather than trek back and forth. The lack of a bathroom makes the rent really cheap.

By the way, all the inspections and negotiations have been finalized and I think we are all in agreement about everything on all fronts. Can you believe it? We’re actually going to both sell and buy the houses and move and start work in the next three and a half weeks. We are fixing a few little things here and there for our Lex house, and they are fixing a few slightly bigger things here and there for our (hopefully) Indy house and it is all going to ACTUALLY HAPPEN.

To continue with this little tangent, I’ve been wanting to send a big thank you out into the world to all of you people who bit your poor tongues over and over and did not tell us how completely and totally crazy we were to think that any of this could possibly happen. I was thinking it too, I really was, but I think that you just have to ignore those more practical but less ideal concerns and hope for the best. To retrospectively put your mind at ease, we had back up plans. We had started looking for apartments in case we couldn’t sell and I was looking for research positions in case I didn’t get into school. But we hoped for the best and here we are: in the best possible situation. So thank you, my friends, for hoping for the best with us.

Coming back to my original point, we’re planning to continue in this line of hoping for the best. I’ve lined up appointments to interview babysitters while we’re in Indy this weekend. Sunday, we’re meeting Cheap and Close, who for obvious reasons, we really, really want to like. She’s right on our way to work and, as you may have guessed, is inexpensive and quite near our house. She’s nice on the phone, promptly returns emails, has extended hours, and seems entirely too good to be true. We’ll see, but we are… well, you know. Hoping for the best!

Either this weekend or next, we’ll also be meeting Costly and Far, who does not have the long hours we will no doubt need, is in the opposite direction from work, and tries to be a little more of a business than I prefer. Also, she’s an extra $60 a week. EXTRA. We are so fond of our current situation - a sweet, sweet lady who watches a total of 5 munchkins. Colin is referred to by all as “Baby Colin!” and is universally adored (naturally). She’s also cheap and close. We’re trying to emulate that as much as possible in Indy.

In other thrilling (for me) news, I got my 3rd year schedule today! It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it is really quite close. I start with Peds, which means that I may get to work with my good friend Julie! I have a vacation month in August! I do OB/GYN in December and January, which means that I may not be a twittering idiot by that time! I end the year with Psych, which means that I will be able to rest a little before 4th year. I am actually going to be a 3rd year! Which means that, one day, I may actually be a doctor!

Third year schedules are an odd and beastly task at any school, and I feel that there is truly no right or perfect way to do it. However, I think that my future alma mater has a little more work to do to simplify this process. There are 36 (THIRTY-SIX) schedules from which a timid little 2nd year must choose. Each schedule has the nine rotations in a different order over the course of 12 months. Apparently, 36 choices are not enough, as my schedule is a unique created-for-me monster that no one else will share. Yep – not only am I an outsider, but I’ll be alone. But no matter! I am a personable girl, easy to talk to and nice to hang out with. I am interesting and fun! It will be fiiiiiine.

Right?

Hold me.

Full Speed Ahead

When we were looking at houses in Indy, we got a little behind schedule through the course of the day. So when we toured the house we are now trying to buy, we spent all of ten minutes in it, then decided later that we wanted to live there. The short time that we were in the house was not enough to absorb all of the details, thus we have found ourselves having countless, pointless arguments about the color of the living room, if there is a coat closet or not, and where exactly the bathroom is located in relation to the bedrooms.

Yesterday we drove up for the day so we could be present for the inspection. (Read: go through the house again and not be snipped at for looking through all the drawers.)

As a side note, are you a nosy person? I have learned that I am an inherently nosy person and I ABSOLUTELY LOVE going through other people's stuff. I realize that this is potentially problematic and have so far been able to keep it at bay, but the temptation is really severe when left alone in someone else's house with a blanket permission slip to go through their closets. I know. I'm a terrible, terrible person. However, some people might say that I am "curious" or "interested" and that this is exactly what will make me an excellent physician. Let's go with that.

Anyway, we were really anxious about the inspection for two reasons. First, obviously, I was concerned that there would be, like, a huge crack in the middle of the house which would cause it to fall down as soon as we took possession. I don't tend to notice those things, which is why we pay an inspector. Second, and more serious, I was terrified that I wouldn't like the house. I have a really awful memory, see, and my brain also likes to make things up, which I then believe because my brain tells me they're true. (I'm going to be a great doctor.) The point here being that I only remembered a few tiny glimpses of the house and I wasn't really sure if those glimpses were even real.

I know. Don't you wish you had my brain? It's always an adventure.

Thank GOD, we both still like the house. Love it, in fact. My father-in-law joined us for the outing, being a very handy person, so we could bounce some ideas off of him. Incidentally, he is also a man of, shall we say, strong opinions, so when he "liked it A LOT" I almost reconsidered my growing fondness for our (hopefully) new house, but decided to go with it and be glad he couldn't find anything to complain about. (He still found a few things, but, truly, they were pretty minor. Comical, even.)

My task for the day was to adequately document the house so that we could settle future arguments regarding bathroom location quickly. In a 1660 square foot house, plus an attic, a basement, and the outside, I took over 150 photos. Yay for digital!

Here are a few to give you an idea:

It's an Arts and Crafts style, which we may not have chosen out of a lineup, but is charming nonetheless. And it's green, my favorite color! Sold.



The house is sideways on the lot (again, not how I would have designed it, but it's cool.), so the front door is on the side, but most people will probably use the French doors in the front which open into the living room.



This is standing in the living room looking through the entry hall (on the side of the house. whatever.) to the dining room and the kitchen beyond. Those interested can spy Patrick's very cute rear end peeking in from the hallway. The bedrooms are off that hall, with the bath in between them.



The house currently is two bedroom, one bath, but we plan to finish the attic space into a "master suite", a completely ridiculous name for a room that will almost certainly still require a window air conditioner. We hope to add a bathroom, but here is the current bath, which Patrick loooooooooves because of the small hexagonal tiles on the floor and the subway tiles in the shower and I loooooooove because of the bright lights, double sinks, and modern fixtures.



Here is future master suite! It will take a little work...



It will be directly over the whole house, except for this room, which was added on at some point. I love it because it is so bright and cheery. I like things that are bright and cheery. I like people like that too.



The family room is off of the kitchen, which is about twice the size of our current kitchen. It is a little dark and overly formal for my taste, but my taste also includes having enough room to put groceries away as well as getting ice out of the refrigerator door (which this refrigerator is capable of, but is not evident in this picture so I probably shouldn't have mentioned it. Take my word for it.) so it works out well enough.



There are about 145 more pictures, mostly of light fixtures and the insides of closets and of staircases and plants and so forth, none of which are particularly blog worthy, but the sheer volume of photos should communicate to you that we are really, really excited about this house, can't wait to get up there and dig in, and absolutely, positively, truly cannot believe how lucky we are that this all worked out.

The Grumps

My apologies for not writing more lately. It’s not that I haven’t had things to share, I have. There is a lot going on and I could tell you all about how the house buying and house selling is going and how Colin has started making choking and gasping sounds to indicate that he is playing happily by himself or even how I am winding down at work. And I’ve tried, Dear Readers, I really have. But everything I write lately comes out gruff and mad and cynical and, well, just really, really grumpy.

I think it’s the stress of all of these things that I’ve been balancing and how precarious they are in relation to each other. I wrote an email to my mother recently outlining the events of the next four weeks and she wrote back, “Uh, wow. Okay, well you have certainly planned everything very… close.”

In short: This week: inspections of both houses, negotiate, deal with that (including a one-day round trip to Indy). Next weekend: tow a trailer to Indy with half of the storage unit’s stuff to put in Indy storage unit, attend Littlest Sister’s high school graduation party, meet with potential babysitters. Back to Lex for last week at work. That weekend: tow another trailer to Indy with rest of storage unit stuff, attend Littlest Sister’s actual graduation, stay through Monday to close on the Indy house (hopefully). Patrick flies to Boston Tuesday to give a presentation. 4 year anniversary Wednesday. (Patrick is still in Boston, making this a non-issue.) Rent GIANT truck and load all remaining earthly possessions Thursday. Drive to Indy, take possession Friday. Move in over the weekend. Drive back to Lex to close on house the following Tuesday (hopefully). Back to Indy (for good) and frantically look for white coat and stethoscopes to start school on the following Monday. Eventually – finish the upstairs of the house and graduate med school.

There is no better option, as we all know. There is simply too much to do in not enough time with not enough money in the world to make things easier. In discussing this with my father, I said, “HOW do normal people do this? HOW??”

And he, in his infinite wisdom and financial security, said, “With lawyers and movers, honey.” So true.

So the planning of that has been a huge pain, but there have been other pains also. For example, Sunday was Mother’s Day – my very first one - and instead of relaxing and being gifted with jewelry or flowers or an iPhone, we worked all day long, me packing secondhand boxes and scrubbing cabinets, Patrick and his father doing something in the basement that required a lot of banging and loud discussion. I was glad it was Mother’s Day, as I used it as an excuse to take a break from work to talk to my own mother on the phone for a while. Who would fault me for that?

The inspection of our Lex house was scheduled for Monday, so we had tons to do that couldn’t wait. So, of course, as we were preparing, we found water damage in the ceiling of a bedroom and a huge leak from the kitchen sink. Naturally. Then, we had to vacate our house last night while they inspected and discussed from 4 – 7, Colin’s bedtime. We went to Louisville to pick up our beloved, banished dogs from my mother-in-law. At 8pm my phone rings and I jump for it, putting my negotiating face on, but learn that the inspector had canceled at 3:45 and would need to return Tuesday. Same time: bedtime, two days in a row. As if the rest wasn’t enough to make me grumpy, a tired, forcibly still-awake Colin will certainly do the trick.

And that is just the last few days. Can you blame me for being grumpy? Or, at least, can you forgive me for trying to spare you from it?

Voodoo a-comin'

The last three days have been excruciating and it’s all Jerk Face’s fault.

As a side note: Jerk Face is a realtor in Indy, and I am happy to provide Jerk Face’s name, telephone number, and website upon request. If you are looking for a realtor in the Indy area, let me know so you can keep FAR, FAR AWAY from this dirtbag.

So all is right with the world, right? We sold our house Friday! We found a great house to buy on Saturday! We discuss, price, and decide on Sunday. Monday, we make an offer! We wait by the phone. And wait. And then fall asleep, still clutching the phone that won’t ring.

As a little background, the transaction of selling our house took less than an hour Friday afternoon and was conducted mostly by phone. An offer was made by our Buyer (<3). We countered. He accepted! Done, easy. Thus, we are spoiled.

Anyway, so we continued to wait. We waited until 10:30 this morning to get their offer back. Their AWFUL, TERRIBLE, INSULTING offer, which looked like they didn’t even notice our offered price, coming down only $2500 from their list. Also? They wanted it back by 5pm today after taking 2 days to get back to us. JERK FACE. Finally, they wanted OUR Buyer’s (<3) preapproval letter and contact/bank information. Yeah, um…. No.

So we counter-countered. Strike the contingency bit. Offered slightly higher price than before. Sign. Fax. Wait.

Quicker this time, we got their counter-counter-counter offer. A slightly bigger drop in price. But the radon mitigation that they previously agreed to cover? No more. “Buyer’s expense.”

GAH!

So we’ll submit our counter-counter-counter-counter offer. Agree to the price, but you shmucks pay the radon business. Or, if I were you, have the Jerk Face realtor pay it.

I haaaaaaaaaaaaaate this. I want to just call them up – they both are affiliated with the university – and say, “Hi! Love your house! What’s your bottom line? We’ll take it for that, as-is, done and done.” Seriously, how hard is this? Move it along, boys.

Seven Months

It’s no secret that this has been a stressful month for my little family. Having your house on the market is no easy situation, as you are constantly cleaning and straightening and worrying about what it is you’re going to do with yourself if the house doesn’t sell. Poor Colin has spent a lot of time on my hip pacing around the house while I fretted over which pillows were more universally attractive on the guest bed (Answer: no one cares.) and if people would be turned off by laundry piles on the bed. (Answer: probably; better to just put it away and quit wasting time worrying about it.) I don’t think Colin noticed that he was sort of neglected this month since he served as my Instant Happy. Anytime I was near a meltdown over the house or the move or the delayed acceptance letter, I would go munch on his cheeks and he would laugh and squish his eyes closed and everything would be better. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a counselor or a social worker. I doubt people will find as much pleasure in chewing on his cheeks as I do, but he is quite good at making people feel better.



He is still thisclose to crawling, thought I’m not sure he has a lot of reason to figure it out since he is such an accomplished army crawler. I don’t think that he is lacking in mobility, especially since he is so good at finding the most dangerous thing in the room in less than 60 seconds, laughing all the way. Be it the edge of the bed, a collection of wires, or the stairs to the basement, he has an uncanny knack of heading straight for it. Once he figures out how to crawl on all fours, he will probably be able to outrun me. I shudder to think of what it’s going to be like when he learns to walk.

We tried some real, big people food this month for the first time. He liked the avocado immediately (and now tries to steal all of mine, the little mooch) and the strawberry on the second try. However, he was not at all fond of banana, even when mixed with sweet potato or apple, his two favorites. I am looking forward to introducing other foods to him, as he is not so much of a fan of baby food. Truthfully, neither am I. It is expensive and gross and did I mention that it is expensive? Mealtime is often a struggle because Colin gets rather impatient, demanding more and more food until he is suddenly FINISHED AND TIRED AND NEEDS A BOTTLE AND BED RIGHT NOW! Like so:



This month has revealed to Colin the wonders of bath time as well. And what, you ask, convinced him? Splashing! It was an Also Sprach Zarathustra moment when I sat him up in the bath, he reached down to bang on the water, and instead of making a loud noise like the floor does, water went everywhere and I screamed. To a baby, this = AWESOME. By the end of the bath, I looked like I had jumped into the sink with him and Colin could not have been more pleased with himself. This picture was during his last bath in the sink. He has now graduated to the bathtub so he can splash away and play with his floaty plastic sea creatures and poop in the tub that his mother bathes in instead of the sink where our dishes are washed. Doesn’t that seem better to you?



The biggest and probably best accomplishment of Colin’s this month, at least as far as his future allowances are concerned, is that he has fallen head over heels in love with his father. When he seems me, he smiles and sometimes laughs but often relaxes and snuggles in for food or snuggles. Or he starts fussing, which I take to mean that he feels that he can really talk to me about what’s wrong and trust that I can help him fix it. Or maybe he doesn’t like me anymore. That’s not my point, though. He is very cute when he sees me, but when he sees Patrick, his head explodes. The whole top half of his head hinges backwards due to his enormous, open-mouthed grin and he kicks and squirms and launches himself at his dad. Patrick tickles him and tosses him in the air and hangs him upside down and bounces him on his leg and Colin squeals with unadulterated delight. Every time this happens, my feelings of “maybe he doesn’t like me anymore” are completely and immediately overwhelmed by an almost oppressive love for them both. The more Patrick and Colin get to know and love each other, the more I love each of them and it takes everything I have to keep from taking them both in my arms and smashing them into my heart.

New Day

What a weekend we had!

We sold the house Friday afternoon – less than a month and for what we wanted – and then trekked up to Indy to look for houses. We found several that would work and settled on the one that “felt right”, though we will have to make some adjustments to fit our needs. We’re making an offer on that house today and hope to be able to close in the next few weeks. Sunday, we came back to Lex in time for Colin to go to his first party. It was adorable and Colin had a great time for about two hours. After an epic meltdown in the middle of “happy birthday”, we left so the poor kid could have a nap. We came home to find a letter accepting my transfer to my new med school! Then we celebrated with good friends last night with mint juleps and enchiladas.

After all the excitement from the weekend, work seems so mundane today.

I simply cannot believe our luck. We spent the whole weekend saying, “I can’t believe we sold the house!” and “I can’t believe that everything is working out. I just can’t believe it!” Though there is now the trudging through house inspections and, of course, the moving to consider, things are just going our way. I don’t know what we did to deserve this, but we are so, so grateful.

More soon, but that’s the news. THANK YOU for all your thoughts, emails, comments, and support. Are you excited to have moving posts to look forward to? You should be!

Thank You Note

My dearest, bestest, most favoritest Universe,

Holy cow! You are one fast worker! THANK YOU SO MUCH for sending us these lovely, realistic, and timely buyers! Just so you know, all sides have accepted the terms and we are ready to go! My little family happened to be heading to Indy this weekend anyway to look at houses and play with the fam, so this - as you know - could not have been more perfect.

I have to admit to some, shall we say, cynicism when I wrote you last time. It was actually kind of tongue-in-cheek, to be truthful. But I am a convert! I believe and I am grateful!

Please keep us safe as we travel north (there are crazies out there!), and please keep all those pretty ponies and their legs safe as they run in silly circles around the track this weekend. Last year absolutely broke my heart, so, now that I know you're listening, watch out for them this weekend, if you would.

You are THE BEST UNIVERSE EVER and thanks a bunch!

xo,

Katie!

Asking the Universe

Dear Universe,

Just a quick note to say two things.

First, thanks for a fun weekend trip to Maryland! We had a good drive, great weather, and a fantastic time with our friends. Colin did great on his first road trip, as you know, with the notable exception of the Poo Explosion laaaaaate Thursday night. Though it was arguably our fault and not his; he was great and put up with sitting in the Poo Explosion until we got to our friends’ house and I went to change his diaper before putting him to bed and discovered the Explosion. He even stayed tolerant, if not pleasant even, through an impromptu bath at 1:30am when I ran out of wipes. I really, really appreciate that you sent me a mellow baby, Universe, I really do. I think that there should only be one hyper one in a family, and I clearly have that covered.

It was also nice of you to send such nice weather for Patrick’s sailing excursions! So thoughtful. I’m glad that he didn’t drown – or even fall out of the boat, not once – and had a generally good time. I don’t quite understand how it was a good time, after all the complaining and the aching it doesn’t seem like it was fun in the slightest, but he maintains that it was the Best Weekend Ever. Perhaps we should get out more.

And thanks for letting us not die on the way home. We tempted you, I know, by leaving at 6pm and driving all night, but you are a true friend. I need to send a note to the Coffee Gods too, since they were also instrumental in keeping us awake and alive.

My second topic is not quite as pleasant. You guessed it – it’s about my house.

What is the deal, Universe? I am not sure what even to say here. We’ve done everything right, the house looks great, the property is lovely, and we’ve even lowered the price! You’ve sent plenty of people to come look at it, which is great! 8 individual showings and 16 people at our open houses! But no one seems to feel like living here. What gives?

You know the stakes, Universe. You know that we have places to be. Places other than Lex. And you also know that we’re super excited about our lives and the changes happening in them. Just today, Patrick said, “I am ready to move on. I want to sell the house and move on.” And you know what kind of thing that is for him to say! He doesn’t ever move on, from anything!

So help us out here, please. I am going to send this letter out into the internet and into the Universe, hoping that you get the message. We don’t have anything else scheduled right now and we’re running out of blind, naïve optimism. Help us out, Universe. Send us a buyer!

Hope you’re well and well done on Spring this year – really swell job.

xo,

Katie!

A Lack of Patience

Seven days into the Come Look At My House and Buy It! phase, my patience is beginning to wear thin. I am not known for my patience to begin with and this whole process might give me an ulcer. We have had three showings and all feedback has been positive. So what gives? Are people coming to the right house? Do they see this house? It’s great! And they should buy it! In fact, they should all try to buy it and fight over it. Why has this not happened yet?

It is completely beyond me how people keep their houses on the market for months and years at a time. First of all, WHY would you do that? Who has years to just wait and live in limbo? Why would you do that to yourself and your family? Second, is it really worth waiting for the perfect deal if you have to wipe down the bathrooms twice a day and make your bed and leave no evidence that you live in your house? Is it worth the possibility that, at any moment, complete strangers could walk into your house while you’re at work? For me: not a chance.

Seven days and three showings. I’m ready for this to be over and to move on with our lives. I want to be able to leave my pajamas on the floor in the morning and leave my makeup on the counter. I want to come home from work and roll around on the floor with Colin instead of putting him in a playpen and dusting and vacuuming for the second time in a day. This is LAME!

More important than living this way is being free to move on with our lives. We are talking about decorating and strategies for moving and timelines when we have no place, no options, no idea about what will happen. Nothing can happen until this house moves. We have done everything we can think of. We emailed friends, classmates, incoming residents and medical students, strangers. We’ve posted fliers, asked friends to talk to their friends, and have chewed our nails until there was nothing left. And still we make our bed in the morning, wipe down the sink and the kitchen, and leave with the hope that today will be the day.

This Old House

Oh, my dear friends, I don't even know where to begin. I don't even remember when I last wrote or what I talked about, and I'm afraid to look, as I am ashamed to have neglected you for so long. Let me make no excuses and simply say this: Approximately 70% of my personal belongings are currently a mile down the road in a mini-storage unit and my house is now on the market.

Anyone who has either bought or sold a house is now groaning with sympathetic back pain. Yes.

We called in the troops in a major way last week: My mother came Monday through Wednesday. Patrick's mom came Tuesday (her third day trip in two weeks). My father and the Baby Mama came Thursday and Friday. Friends came Saturday. Patrick's father and stepmother came Sunday. We cleaned the yard and took it all to the city dump (where I left my wallet, unfortunately), cleaned out four years of funk from the basement, weeded out dishes and books and body lotions and clothes and food and baby stuff that we won't be using in the next few weeks and packed it up to ship off to either the storage unit or the Goodwill. We scrubbed and painted and sweat and moaned and argued and shot lots of dirty looks at Patrick, who kept finding more stuff that needed to be done. Also, we staged the hell out of the house. We were working feverishly until 11:01 yesterday morning.

Then, the photographer came yesterday morning at 11:03, and the realtor last night at 5:30. The house went on the market officially at 6pm and was online this morning.

This is the most major undertaking I've ever been a part of and I CAN NOT believe how much work was done and how much my back hurts even thinking about it. We completely transformed the house from a very lived-in, family-oriented comfy house to a real show house (complete with fluffy pillows in the bathroom and table linens set out just for looks). I say, unequivicably, there is no way on God's green earth that we could have pulled this off without our families. I am so grateful to them.

We hope someone sees the house and falls in love with it, just like we did. I will never forget walking into our house and thinking, "Sold." Walking around the house and yard, I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling. Patrick and I had an impromptu rendez-vous in the backyard, where he said, "What do you think?"

"I love it," I said, smiling. He looked at me, returned the grin, and said," So do I."

Nothing has ever changed my mind and I would buy this house a hundred times again. Preparing the house and property for sale has been therapeutic for me; getting it back into excellent condition makes me feel like I'm honoring the place where we have been so happy. I'm saying goodbye to it, one coat of paint at a time.

Now that the first major hurdle has been hurdled (or whatever you do to hurdles), I will be able to post more often and hopefully catch up on my Hulu queue (Oh, Echo - what in the world are they having you do this week?) as well as sleep without dreaming of which wall to paint next or which closet to pack up. Although, last night I dreamed that we sold the house in four hours and I was all disappointed this morning when I woke up and still had to make the stupid bed.

Six Months

We recently went to a party and I naturally talked about Colin the entire time we were there to anyone who even glanced in my direction. At one point, I was musing about how Colin is changing so fast and that I don’t want to blink in case I miss something. My friend took the opportunity to divulge his theory that the passage of time is not a constant, but moves at different speeds depending on where you are in life. It moves slowly and meaningfully for Colin because he is still so new; his seconds are much longer relative to his life span than my seconds are relative to mine. Time passes more quickly for me because I have been alive for more moments, so each moment seems shorter. And this arrangement just gets more dramatic as we all get older. Life goes faster and faster every day.

Luckily, I had already had a good bit to drink, otherwise this would have made no sense. In fact, as I type it now, I don’t totally remember why I thought it was so profound. Still, my friend’s heady, overly dramatic theory resonated with me and I felt humbled and a little nervous. It boils down to this simple and common sentiment: Time flies. No need to remind me of this, friend. I think about it all the time.



Colin is a totally different kid than he was last month. He remians the same sweet, perfect little guy, and I still nibble his cheeks every morning and night, but he is growing up, so clearly, right in front of me. Over the past few weeks, he has become quite vocal (I can’t imagine where he gets that from) and is constantly babbling about something or singing to his toys. He is newly interested in people and conversations. He is truly a Roll-n-Scooch pro. The types of toys that he likes have changed from small, soft, and stuffed to noisy, bright, and chewable, and he passes those toys back and forth between his hands with ease. (Milestone: check!) He finds food especially fascinating, and it is not at all unlikely that he will throw himself face first into your coffee or spaghetti with (veggie!) meatballs. Though he still seems to like pureed sweet potatoes and pears, I doubt that he would object to a big steak. Just like his dad, this one.



Over the weekend, Colin figured out how to prop himself up on all fours. His aunts, who clearly do not live with him and thus will not have to face the consequences of their actions, were pushing on his feet, trying to teach him to shove off and crawl. He is so close and I am rather terrified, especially with the current state of our house. Boxes, tape, string, markers, and box cutters, not to mention everything that goes in the boxes, are strewn about every room. There is a path carved out of the chaos, but it is a treacherous one. It has been almost two weeks since we ran a vacuum, owing to the sheer volume of stuff everywhere and it is seriously taking years off my life. Being in this house makes my eye twitch and I can’t wait until we are at least “staged” and especially moved into our new place (wherever that may be). Until that time, Colin will not be allowed on the floor for fear that he will suddenly figure out how to crawl and unearth the paring knife we’ve been missing for the last two years.



There is obviously no way for Colin to understand what is happening or how dramatically life is changing for his parents. His routine has stayed the same, his room is – for now – unchanged. There are more people around, but they are all people who love him and snuggle him and think he hung the moon, so that is okay with him. But this time is rife with change for our family, our days full of endings and beginnings, of alternating and sometimes simultaneous joy and sadness, always tempered by lots of stress. While Colin is presently unaware of the new direction we are taking, his life will be necessarily and irrevocably altered because of it. Moving will put us close to arts, museums, parks, fresh produce delivery, and Trader Joe’s. Instead of growing up in relative isolation, he will be surrounded by his family. Though he is Wildcat-born, he will be raised in Hoosier country. His father and I will go back to work (our real work) and we will be tired and stressed, but intellectually satisfied. Our living space will be smaller, but Colin will be able to walk to a friend’s house and hang out in the yard, maybe even play in the street. All good things. I hope.

I have such high expectations for this move and this new life. Every moment I spend with Colin convinces me further that this is the right thing to do and that temporarily uprooting our family will be good for us in the end. But we will miss our beautiful house and our beloved, wonderful friends. Part of me aches that Colin will not know the town where we lived, the house where our family was born, the friends who cared for me and him and us while we were here. In moving, we are closing this door for him. I hope it is the right choice. As with everything now, we are doing it for him.

Purge

Because I was not already exhausted enough, we decided to make a flyby of Indy this weekend and spend a few hours looking at houses. It went well, thankfully. We love the realtor we were assigned to, we saw some interesting houses that could work, but nothing that we couldn’t live without (perfect since we aren’t in a position to buy yet). Overall, the visit accomplished exactly what we had hoped for and now we are focusing on selling our Lex house.

Here’s the overarching theme though: We’re going to have to downsize. A lot. Like, by at least half.

So far, my strategy has been to go through every box, every closet, every cupboard and make piles of things that we haven’t used or had forgotten existed. Then I attempt to skirt all of these things into a box or a bag or container and get them into the car and to the Goodwill before Patrick can spot them and moan about his beloved yellow and neon green fleece that he wore when he was in the fourth grade (but not since) and how could I even think of getting rid of it? We have recently been having a passive-aggressive fight over a water-damaged talking picture frame. I put it in the donation piles, he “rescues” it and hides it somewhere in the house, where I find it and put it in the donation pile. This happened three times, each time with me saying, “Why do we have so many of these stupid talking picture frames?” before I caught on to his antics.

But, as much as I argue that they are just THINGS and things are TRANSIENT and that it is ridiculous to be so attached to random, dusty, useless JUNK, I kind of feel his pain. I mean, I love organization and order, but I also still have every card, note, letter, or postcard ever sent to me. I’m kind of a hypocrite like that.

So, again, I ask your help. I have taken your advice on creating master lists of boxes and am planning a moving party soon and have been ruthless when it comes to purging (but not sentimental stuff). Now, I ask you how to get rid of half of your earthly possessions? Some things will be easy to part with. Particle board bookshelf from college? Gone. Thrice inherited dresser with more layers of paint than a clown? Outta here. Wobbly, creaky chairs in which I dare not sit for fear of imminent demise? Already on the curb. I am working on the 35 stacks of “Archived” Car and Driver magazines.

But the spare table from my grandmother’s first house? The 1940s patio furniture gifted to us by family friends for our wedding? The wicker chest Colin inherited from his Nana’s cousin? The cards from wedding and baby showers? Programs from when Patrick and I used to perform? Nothing we need, exactly, but it doesn’t feel right to get rid of it either.

How do you make the break? How do you choose which pieces make the cut and which pieces are voted off the island? Especially when you don’t even know where you’re moving yet!

Random Topics to Keep You In The Know

So much has happened in the last few weeks, I feel like a little update is in order.

In case any of you were curious or in need of an awkward topic fix, I still have herpes. As I found written in my med school notes the other day while cleaning out the basement, “HERPES IS FOREVER”. I found great pleasure in chucking those notes into the bin. Sadly, that action does not make the previous statement any less true. I still - STILL! - have a cold sore on the corner of my mouth – it has been for three long, long weeks. It finally seems to be healing, so I have renewed hope that it might disappear by Colin’s high school graduation open house. In fact, it has healed up so much that Patrick momentarily forgot about my disease ridden status and accidentally kissed me on the mouth yesterday, something he has not done in nearly a month (since we thought I had mono before that). His eyes flung open the second his lips touched mine and he recoiled in disgust, kind of like that moment in Back to the Future where Lorraine kisses Marty before the Enchantment Under the Sea dance. It was the most romantic moment I’ve had in weeks.

So we’re moving! The work that we have already done on this little project is enough to fill up three pages, but I can sum it up by saying that we are going to try to sell our house, buy a new one, and move out of state before June and if we pull it off it will be a miracle. We’re meeting with a realtor in Lex tonight, a plaster guy tomorrow, a realtor in Indy Friday, and will try to have our house on the market in about 10 days. OMG! I’ve made good headway through the basement and thrown out $120,000 worth of medical education by getting rid of all of our notes from med school. I was a little hesitant to get rid of mine, since it hasn’t been that long, but Step 1 is over and I’ve been away from them long enough to no longer remember what color the hippocampus was shaded in my Neuro notes, so I think a clean break is best.

Going through the basement also led me to several gems, including a disgusting Hornets ski hat that belonged to a high school boyfriend which once held some forgotten romantic value, 4 boxes of love notes from various people, term papers from the History class in college that I almost failed (honest to God FAILED) because I never attended and she changed the syllabus halfway through, and approximately 4000 car magazines that Patrick swears he will someday revisit. I threw out almost everything, attempting to finally cut out that sappy, pathetic high school girl who still lives in a dark corner of my head, but I wasn’t able to part with everything. I mean, who can blame me for holding onto the fly baseball that I caught at a Reds game or the piece of rock that I stole from the Falls of the Ohio on my first date with Patrick? Or the stuffed hamster dressed in wedding garb that sings “Here Comes the Bride” or the box full of response cards to my wedding? Fine… I’m a hopeless, sentimental goofball and there’s nothing I can do about it. Also, I have a terrible memory and I’m afraid that if I get rid of this stuff I won’t remember anything about my past. Is that depressing or what?

By the way, thanks for all of the ideas and suggestions about moving! I plan to implement all of them, especially the one about the moving party – that is a bloody great idea. Who’s free? I’ll provide food and you provide sanity, an excellent trade-off. If possible, you should bring boxes, newspaper, and/or wine. Especially the wine, methinks. And it will need to be drunk soon so I don’t have to move it. Does that convince anyone else to come help?

I sent in my transfer application this morning! Just getting that thing in the mail is a huge relief, although I have already begun the needless worrying. Can’t procrastinate on something like that. I’ve also dug out my copy of First Aid for the Wards, which I’ve heard is useless but I feel better having it collect dust on my bedside table. Believe in the power of osmosis, friends!

Now I think you’re all caught up, at least for the moment. After months of sitting around and waiting, now everything is happening so fast that posting every day feels like I’m live blogging a race. Place your bets!

Plea for help, Also: The Jinx

So, obviously, things are movin' and shakin' around here!

We've already started the frantic "How in the hell are we going to MOVE in, like, a month" discussions. I've put in several phone calls and several dozen email to various realtors, moving companies, truck rental places, and the like to attempt to get some kind of idea of what we're looking at here.

Why didn't I do all this before? Well, I'll tell you.

When I first told Patrick that I wanted to go to medical school, his first reaction was shocked silence. His second was, "Oh, God." His third (the point of this story) was, "Well, you'll fit right in. Doctors are among the most superstitious people I know."

I am not superstitious about normal things, like walked under ladders or black cats or whatever. (Though I have been known to throw spilled salt over my left shoulder.) But there are some things, some times, where I've got it bad.

This match business, for example. Patrick has been looking at houses in Indy for months, ever since his interview. I, however, had not looked at a single one for fear of jinxing it. We visited Patrick's mother last weekend, who said that she'd been saving boxes for us - I interrupted her before she could utter the words "in case you move", because that would obviously ruin the whole thing. On Thursday, the day of the match (did you hear about that?), I considered taking my IU transfer application to work with me in case - OH NO! I possibly destroyed any hope of matching there just by THINKING about that.

I talked to my physician father the other night after everything went down and he said that he hadn't even mentioned the word "Match" all day, so as not to jinx us. I told him about almost taking the application to work and he said, "That would have been the worst thing you could possibly have done!"

Michelle recently blogged about The Jinx as well, proving that this crazy is not merely confined to my own family.

We medical folk are an odd bunch, no?

Wow, this is so far off the topic I had planned to talk about. Anyway, Dear Readers and beloved internet, I am asking for your help and time-honored advice. How does one move? We have a decent sized house that is packed full of stuff. What do we do? What has worked for you and what has been catastrophic? Tell me your secrets!