Disgruntled

 For me, writing is basically free therapy.  That said, I know I frighten--strong word, but you know what I mean--some of my readers with the depth of what I write and I know some of you must think I am crazy for putting so much of myself 'out there' for human consumption...and feedback.  But, on some level, getting out the words on paper or screen as it is these days, is beneficial.  Okay, so what is my gripe du jour?  In a word, everything.  From receiving poorly articulated emails to annoying phone calls to everyone needing something from me today, I am just out of sorts.  I suppose that now having test-driven my 'new normal' life for a while I have decided I would like to return it but, apparently, there is a no return policy in place. Bummer...really.  

The new normal of my life is like a great pair of jeans that are just a size too small, they still look good enough to wear but I simply cannot wait to take them off as soon as I get home. My friends don't know why I am always complaining when I wear them either, but they just squeeze me in all the wrong places making me uncomfortable and cranky as life sometimes does. I want my old life back, please, because some days my new one just doesn't seem to fit me.

Static

I have a friend whose husband has changed jobs at least 5 times in the almost 12 years that I have known her and she has never had to move nor has her son had to switch schools for any reason.  She would never think of leaving her home as there are too many memories there for her as she has told me a million times.  I used to think she was crazy as I have always embraced change, even searched it out as I grow tired of things so quickly.  Now, after 4 tumultuous years of seeming non-stop change in our lives--almost none of which has been in our control--I envy her life.  I would thoroughly embrace some consistency and lack of flux right about now.  We have had our house on the market, taken it off, put it back on and now taken it back off again because leaving it on, and facing a potential six figure loss in a sale, is simply ludicrous.  I had to take back control and essentially take my house back, too.  We are not leaving anytime soon.  I was just about to let my guard down and think that we might get a little routine in our lives when tonight, we were told that the barn at which my son has ridden for the past 5 years is being sold.  Sounds simple enough except that he has a fabulous relationship with the present owner, who also happens to be his instructor, and she is probably not staying on to continue teaching.  My son is absolutely devastated; he could not even eat tonight.  It broke my heart to see him so sad.

Of course, we put a positive swing on it and,of course, children are resilient and he will move forward, but, wow, it hurts.  I suppose it bothers me even more based on just how much craziness and change my children have had to endure over these past years.  We are war-weary and the battle is not over yet.  My youngest asked me if I really believe 'all the stuff that comes out of my mouth' and the truth is, no, not really, but no one wins if they see me down and they must learn to handle adversity no matter how sick of it we are.

So tonight as I sit here and ponder this past week--not a fun one for sure--I really envy (I know how bad that is, wink, wink) my friend and her calm and somewhat routine life.  I wish that I could change my mantra of 'don't get too attached' to 'let's plan something for next summer' and then be able to stick to the plan.

This Is It!

Back to school.  Those three simple words fill me with such emotion today that I am annoying myself.  If you have been following my blog even for a brief time, you must know by now that my oldest is a senior in high school and you probably already have decided that I am not fine with this at all.  Interestingly, it has nothing to do with me getting older though I am none too happy with that fact either but, my displeasure in his new found 'senior' status stems from what will happen at the end of this short year.  Yes, he is going to graduate and leave me.  Yes, I know how selfish (okay bordering on certifiable, I know) I am being in never wanting that to happen but I feel like a two-year-old in the throes of a tantrum.  NO! NO! NO! I don't want my children leaving home!  I love all the noise and chaos, the endless stream of meals to be made and the never-ending laundry (that might be a stretch) and I love how much they need me even if it is just to find something that had it been put away properly, they would not need me to find at all.

My son's departure next summer will completely upset the apple cart that is my life so to speak.  Take 'back to school photos' as an example.  I have a tradition where each child stands by the front door, hand on the handle, backpack on shoulder, smiling at the camera.  So what will I have to do next year?  Hire a stand-in? Do I really only need to cajole three not four children into taking this picture?  Impossible.  What about my group shot in front of the door?  Who is going to bully the younger ones to get the larger shot in the picture? (that never seems to grow old for him).  Who will yell 'shut up' to his siblings or blast the radio to drown out their never ending stream of chatter all the way to school?  I don't know of any stand-in worthy of such a lofty honor.

Before I became a first-time mom, I read 26 books on everything from baby in utero to baby heading off to kindergarten.  Unfortunately for me, first-time mom never ever gave one thought to 'baby heading off to college.'  Being the apparent glutton for punishment that I seem to be, I never found one of those books for any of my subsequent children either because if I had, I certainly would have spaced those children better than I did.  You see, with my children being spaced as they are, I barely have time to come up for air before the next one walks out the door, too. Damn, I never learn.

Killing Me Softly

I used to think that my children would be the death of me particularly my youngest with his 6.5 year 'phase' of not sleeping through the night.  This summer was a game changer, however, and I now realize that I had been mistaken. My darling angels will not have a hand in my early demise, but selling this house is going to send me straight to a psych ward or six feet under. From the price reductions (yes, we just took another one today) to the frustrations with our realtor to the mayhem that precedes a showing, I am losing brain cells and my patience faster than my Suburban blows through gas. All I want is a little calm for the children.  I swear after the past five years they really have no concept what it is like to live in a home without wondering if they will be there the following year. The 'For Sale' sign is yet another lawn ornament to them, they have learned to play around it.

From the very bottom of my heart today, I am 100% fed up with this process. On the bright side (snarky sarcasm here), we will start the day tomorrow with a brand spanking new price and reworded copy in our listing, courtesy my suggestion.  I need to sell this house and turn the page on this extremely long chapter in our lives. When that moving truck finally pulls up for us, I truly don't know how I will contain myself!

Realty Lingo Must Go

This new real estate lexicon is driving me crazy.  No longer do people simply not like something about your home.  Now, they are 'offended' by it or 'turned off' by it.  It is driving me crazy.  I keep telling my wood floors not to say anything that can be misconstrued as mean to potential buyers but, time and again, the buyers are offended by my floors.  I suppose I should have had a conversation with our brick exterior to turn on its charm because, apparently, our most recent showing did not go well as the buyers were 'turned off' by my brick.  The shame.  While I am certainly not insinuating that everyone who enters my home need clamour to buy it--though that would be nice--I do fantasize about losing all the colorful language in feedback.  I am a big girl, really, I can handle someone hating the look of my inlaid floor.  Of course, it might be nice to hear the realtor tell me that she tried to explain how it is far less costly to buy a beautiful rug to cover said floors than it is to tear up and replace the creepy old wall to wall I have been seeing in our own home search.  As for the brick, that is a personal choice, but I would love to just hear the cold hard truth. With all this crazy descriptive language going on,  I am waiting to be told that our lawn caused buyers' 'heartache' or that seeing my ceiling fan 'ruined their lives.' 

My husband is always complaining that I live in a world that is totally black and white (his world, of course, is way more than 50 shades of gray...minds out of the gutter, please, I am talking about colors here and colors only). This fact drives him crazy but I am a straight shooter, painfully honest, and while I may not make lots of friends as a result, I tell it like it is.  So, please Mrs. Realtor, the next time a potential buyer does not like something about my house, just tell me the plain and simple truth and I will try not to be 'offended' or 'turned off' by what you have to say.

Four Wheeler Woes

Today's post will be a digression from my usual complaints (audible sigh). Please don't think that my daily problems have been solved as they are certainly still in full swing from the stall in the sale of my house, issues finding a part-time job (rejection letter, anyone?) and my general crankiness about the turn our life has taken. I did not want you to get the impression that things were on the upswing here as I know how much you all count on me for adding a little 'happiness' into your life with my blogs.  Remember what my friend told me about how when she is feeling down, she always finds solace in the fact that she is not me. Special, huh?

Okay, enough lead in. The crux of my trouble today is my son's four-wheeler. No, not the fact that my mom bought him this 'toy' that needs to be deemed the most obnoxiously loud and intrusive toy on the planet.  Despite that ( and perhaps because I am going a little deaf from hearing it all the time), he loves to ride this four-wheeler so much and it gives him so much pleasure, I could never complain about it. Which leads me to the problem at hand. At less than a year old, it has already needed its tires replaced twice, had an issue with stalling, needing new parts and an engineering degree to replace them and now the silly thing will not go in reverse!  I have called the manufacturer so many times that they greet me by name. My file is so long it never ceases to surprise the poor customer service rep who gets stuck with me on the phone. Today's call was no different except that now the expectation is that we bring this gigantic...and dirty...four-wheeler to a repair center as the rep cannot trouble shoot the issue over the phone. First, I am exasperated as it is less than a year old and has caused more trouble than my little guy himself plus, second, I have a 'thing' about my car and keeping it clean whereby it gets washed multiple times a week (perhaps once or twice it was even washed twice in one day) and now this toy needs to go in MY car?  This is a big problem.

Basically, I am wildly annoyed that this very expensive toy has had such a problematic few months and that my usually busy little guy is wondering around like he lost his best friend...which also happened a week ago when his best friend moved off our block. What an annoying afternoon.

Deck Chairs

It has been a solid four weeks without one showing for our house and to say that I am ticked and frustrated is truly a gross understatement of the facts. Honestly, I spent a lot of time researching which realtor with whom to sign, plus I have spent countless hours de-personalizing our house and making it buyer friendly, whatever the heck that means these days (to me it means trying to be all things to all people all at the same time, a seemingly impossible task). I have consulted with said realtor, touted as the best in the business and the top seller in our area, who seems to offer nothing more than the standard 'everyone is facing this now, the market has changed' answer. Perhaps realistic enough, however, I find it terribly hard to believe that there is absolutely no one, nary a soul, looking in our price range right now who could be cajoled into coming to see our house.  I mean four weeks is pretty long dry spell, no?  No one in a month looking for a nice house, a fenced yard and a cul de sac location?  While I don't have the answers, I am certainly trying to find a way to drive traffic into our home so I am looking for more than a pat answer.

Today I received a call from my realtor's assistant informing me that the new price sheets and new photo sheets were ready.  She wanted to drop them off so that I could replace the old ones in our very pricey marketing folders we had made up for prospective buyers to take with them once they view our house. Interestingly, I had just replaced these pages a couple of weeks ago when we took the first (first being the operative word here and denoting a subsequent change as well) price reduction.  She dropped them off to me and as I was replacing the pages in the same four folders that I had from a month ago, I could not help but remember a comment a friend made to me years ago regarding doing something that was simply 'busy work.'  She said that is was like 'rearranging the chairs on the deck of the Titanic.'  I loved the line and have used it often since hearing it as it is so true. All the price changing, pretty marketing packets and de-personalization are all for naught if no one is coming to see the house in the first place.  Color me cranky tonight.