Dreams. Awkward ones. Alternately titled at bottom.

{This has taken me two days to write and I was going to leave all kinds of this story out for later … but ended up just letting it come out. So … Here’s the ordeal.}

I had this bizarre dream yesterday Wednesday while napping with my kids. It could be chalked up to the fact that I haven’t napped mid day in over a year or that I’m emotionally raw and receptive to all kinds of 4th dimension thinking when my eyes are closed. Or that I was so exhausted I just made up some really fantastically awkward situations for myself in a dream.

As promised by Aaron today:

conversational promises

We’ll get to the news one of these days – and this dream has to do with the current status of this situation called Our Address. Or rather, Our Hunt For An Address. Or rather, How We’re Trying Not To Be Homeless In Nine Days.

I interrupt this broadcast to yell: Grandma? Please look away.


So the dream, then.

We’ve been looking at homes to rent these past few days because our lease at our current rental is expiring the end of this month and is already re-rented to a new tenant.

In the mean time – early last month we put an offer on another home. And told NO ONE about it. For a good 6 weeks. Can we keep our mouths shut about being pregnant? Not for a second – but buying a house after the first try earlier this year didn’t work out in epic proportions – we were damn well going to cross every single T and dot ALL the I’s before admitting to trying this again.

Like Mortgage Infertility.

We weren’t having any luck looking for a rental that would be a month to month situation while we figured out the closing date and what not of the home. Our realtor has a rental he showed us and we are forever thankful to him for all the work he’s done for us this year … without getting paid because we have yet to close on a house. Seriously. Ugh. However – there is a real possibility this rental (where ever we end up) could be another permanent-for-the-time-being situation if we didn’t get things ironed out with the house. And the rental he showed us wasn’t something we could see ourselves living in long(short) term.

When the skies opened and we found a house to rent in town. An entire house. It has a dishwasher. It’s almost double what we’re paying in rent now (ugh!) but it’s a whole house and did I mention the dishwasher? And hopefully, it’s temporary. I want my own house. Let’s just be clear there. Renting needs an expiration date in my life.

So, hi?! There’s a dream in here somewhere.

We had yet to see the house, in fact had just heard about it and finally I stopped vomiting and crying constantly about WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO NOW when I laid down with my kids and fell dead to the dream that folded out like this:

In my dream we hadn’t signed a lease yet but were given keys to move things in – only instead of moving things in we became squatters in the house. There was orange carpet and the owners were on vacation so we were just there. For some reason, Aaron was naked. (I said it was awkward) and we were all sleeping when the owners came home to check on things … only to find us just literally hanging out in their house.

Enter the most difficult dream-conversation I’ve ever had to direct with my eyes closed.

Good news is: we did meet the owners and saw the house (no orange carpet) and are signing a lease (month to month for now) tomorrow morning. We’re also moving tomorrow.

However: About our Mortgage Infertility …

So guess what? We were promised by the bank that we were all set – things were a GO! We had a tentative closing date, then a home inspection. And here’s where we take a left turn. Or would this be considered the round-about? Are we lost? We’ve been down this road before.

Still haven’t told any one. Refuse to write about it online or make any proclamations. Why? Why not just tell our families and get the support of our closest friends? Because I want this so bad. Because I want my own kitchen and bedroom and I want a garden and safe place for my children to play.

There were some major issues with the house after the inspection – and the bank (the home was a forclosure) was willing to fix the biggest of the problems but would not give us a time line and of course, we’re counting down the days til we have to be out of the apartment we’re already in.

Last week Aaron took a couple days off work because we were looking at homelessness as a serious option for a good month. Our families are mostly around here but no one has enough room for a family of 4 to live with them for an extended period of time. And house-hopping is just no longer and option for us.

Somewhere in there we told our families who then would not stop asking us questions about the house or what color paint am I thinking for the kitchen …. SERIOUSLY? THAT IS NOT OK. Stop. It.

Painful is what this is – to constantly be reminded that something we want so badly is not available to us.

We had started to tell some friends about this as well – we announced We’re Buying a House! a few weeks ago only to have things fall apart from there.

I’m embarrassed and ashamed. Not because we didn’t keep this quiet longer or because people are going to find out, again, that this isn’t working for us – but for believing so blindly that when we were ready – a house would be too.

Which I suppose begs the question: Are we really ready, then?

This post could also be titled “How we went from taking a loss on our home, to building – and selling that home all the while renting to trying to buy a bungalow – to not buying a bungalow to still renting to wanting to buy a home while renting – to our lease is expiring and we’re going to be homeless … To: We’re still renting. Somewhere new.

I guess I just needed to write this? Sorry it’s forever wordy. I’m a fragile flower lately – and tonight I’m going on a fabulous date with the love of my life and some of our best friends. Tonight? I have an address … and it turns out, tomorrow I will too.


My day has been a little insane by my own doing. Yesterday I kind of started the madness and today I’m full out kicking ass and taking names.

Before I started the decent into Crazy Town I took the kids to a coffee shop to color.


The differences between my kids’ coloring methods is quite stark. One is complete mayhem and the other is actually looking like her brain waves are under control. (We’ve been waiting a long time for that to happen.)

I had this conversation with my daughter in the car:

Her: I listen better at school.

Me: Why is that? However, I’m happy to hear that.

Her: I get more playtime. Like, if I get to play more then I can concentrate and listen better.

Me: {Completely confused by her statement yet somehow I understand her logic} Uh? And how is being at home DIFFERENT than that? You play all day!

Her: Well. Yeah, but. It’s different. MOM! I can’t explain it.

Me: I see. Maybe you need less screen time at home? Would that help?

Her: NOPE! Not at all. That’s how I relax.

Me: You are contradicting yourself. I’m confused.

Her: Stop it. I don’t know what that means. What are we talking about?

Me: Ok, never mind. BUT! I would like you to listen more at home so I’m making a sign for the TV, Computer and games – it’ll say STOP and when the sign is out – you have to find something else to do or help me with a chore. Good?

Her: {Grumbles} Fine.

This coming off the heels of a “deal” we just made with her – she has 30 days to improve her attitude around here (this means, respectful attitude towards others, working well in a team (family), picking up after herself, putting her clothes away and to stop sniffing (she needs to blow her nose!) and bitting her nails) then we’ll buy her a NintendoDS with 2 games.

One of those games has to be educational – the other … her pick.

Guess what happened overnight? I got my kid back. We’re on day 2 and I have a helpful, respectful child who loves to pick up after herself and share the funniest stories.

I’ll see you in about 10 days. We might be starting over.

SO ANYWAY. The point of this WTF? post has more to do with the fact that I just gave about 1/4 of our storage unit to Goodwill and finally collected the last few boxes for the kids … books, toys etc and found my sewing notions. Then I went through ever box and found one full of paper napkins.

This shit has got to go. Only a potion of load one.

I was already pissed to begin with – enough CRAP already – but a box of paper napkins?? You have got to be kidding. We’ve been paying $67 a month to store a box of paper napkins? These little fuckers are worth over $400 right about now and I. Am. So. Sick. Of. It.

WHO NEEDS NAPKINS!???!?!?!?!!!!

Here’s the load of boxes I took home … which should also read: the same amount of shit is leaving this here apartment to exchange for what’s in these boxes.


I am giving stuff away.

A very angry letter to my blood sugar, you have been warned.

Alright you leech loving blood suckers that are my blood sugar levels – lets get one thing straight here. I do not like you. I do not like that you’re in my body, that you’re messing with me in any way. You are to me what Sam I Am is to Green Eggs and Ham. Effing annoying.
I’ve been reading about you and all your stupid suggestions since I found out you were invading me and let me just say – you totally suck. I know I’m not dieing, I do have perspective here, but I’d like to unleash my rage on something right now and since you’re the reason for it – you get it, you tasty little bitch.
Thats right. I said it and I meant it, wholeheartedly. I’ve got 4-letter words coming out of my ears for you. Not only do we not have maternity coverage for this pregnancy – and not only are you already expensive enough – but now I’m almost guaranteed to have more tests and expensive things done to me, all of which we have to pay in full for. I HATE YOU.
I also am disgusted with the fact that although this is in the cards for some people, for others it’s preventable and I can’t help but thinking – was this preventable for me? Did I do something wrong? I’m not one to second guess most things, I’m pretty laid back – easy going and Blood Sugar, tonight you’re messing with that and I have more than myself to let you know how stupid that is. Jessica, for one, would like to kick you in the butt and scream in your ear. I’m going to let her.
And Aaron – he’d like to have some peace and quiet after a long and hard day – and he’s pretty much going to be greeted by a pregnant monster overtaken with high levels of glucose who is crying because my damn wedding ring doesn’t fit any more.

Do you know the muffin man?

I took some internet advice this morning and focused on some one other than myself or my pity. It’s lonely in my head some times – and I feel bad about that. But life goes on and we grabbed that by the horns this morning and made muffins for our Grandma-Great’s and then hand delivered them.
It snow balled into a wonderful day in which my ever endearing husband got not only me but our daughter flowers – there are other reasons, but this would be on the top ten of why I love him and how good of a dad he is – always a surprise. The day ended in Thai Palace with our friends.
All because of Muffins. I really like muffins.