And, I think I'm happy

And, I think I'm happy.

Learning to love being out here with nothing but the stars and the shushing of the wind's kiss on the trees.

My dog lays at my feet. My kids run up and down the hill in the backyard.

The rock sits heavy on the trashcan lid to keep foxes and raccoons out. I turn on the motion light in the morning to watch my son and husband drive to school. Jack, our fox scammers away.

The deer sleep five feet away like happy fat cows in my backyard during the day, then graze when the sun sets along our nonfence lined property. I love how they wander to and fro as if they own this place long before we were here. I am okay with that.

Appreciation of a nonsewage smell in the house makes me happy. This week, learned all I could about septic tanks. Grateful for the green cover and updated plug outlet now buried inside the yard. I know it's safe. And, $1600 later, I know all about septic pumps, how to switch the valve and how to survive when the light screams high water. I know I can go three days without a running septic and survive.

Learning how to shop all at once when I am "in town." It's very Laura Ingalls Wilder. Learned to over buy milk and staples and to appreciate the treats when I get them. Learned also to appreciate life without them.

Learned to live without pizza delivery and weeks without Starbucks. I've learned to make my own coffee concoction at home. My perfect brew: Folgers Vanilla Biscotti coffee pod, a dash of Amaretto coffee creamer and a slice of Hershey syrup or a piece of a Hershey bar works fine. It's perfect and only 80 cents a cup.

Working on making my own scones too. It seems only fitting since I live on Scone drive. Why not? Though, to be honest, if I could buy them, I'd just buy them. I get giddy when I get something new in the mail. I love also having my own non-community mailbox too. Mail order is great. When there's nothing near, ordering and paying shipping seems to be the only way.

I love waving at our mail lady too. This small community makes me happy in my soul. It's like we all take care of each other.

I have one friend out here, actually almost two. I am okay with that. Good friends are hard to find. And, I have some family too. We are related by marriage almost. Well, not really, but she's family. I get to see her Sunday. Makes me feel whole.

No word from my MIL, but expect something is brewing. Letting it be. Have to let hubby deal with it- -or not deal with it. But, I finally feel peace with that. I finally feel forgiveness. It's almost an excitement in my heart to be free of it. It's a joy I can't contain. I am happy. Weight is lifted.

Spending Thanksgiving with my aunt and her husband. Chicken Fried Steak is on the menu and of course, pie. It will be the first time in eleven years that I am not entertaining hubby's mom. We are making the family recipes- -like grandma used to make. We won't overindulge. We make just enough and we will make it together. No kitchen bosses, just kitchen family working together alongside each other in the kitchen. The home feels warm. I can't wait to make memories.

Christmas in Colorado. Excited, yet nervous about getting on a plane as a family of five, being somewhere else for five days, nervous about my mom's Rottweiler dogs too. But, if I can live in a one bedroom apartment for three months, I can have fun in a new place. And, besides, there will be snow.

Found a great place to put the dog while we are gone. It's a dog ranch. $28 a day, but he won't be cooped up in a vet cage. It's worth it.

Found a vet I love. Found a pediatric dentist that's fine. I found a doctor for me and a barber for the boys. Found a dentist for me and hubby too.

It's slowly coming together. I even found a school for my son to attend preschool and he's so happy. And, it only brings balance to my life to have that time apart from him.

It also feels nice not to be poor either. We have what we need and we are not scrimping to buy groceries so we can save to buy and sell a house. It's nice. It's like breathing again.

Bought some things for myself too. Felt great.  We are not talking going crazy, but I bought a pair of boots, some clothes for myself and for my oldest. Small stuff like shoes without holes are very much appreciated. We literally had shoes with holes in them for a while. Wal-mart shoes don't last too long on a six year old.

Living with so little for so long was like living with open wounds. Now, I remember them clearly, makes me appreciate all that I have now.

Makes me happy.

I'll rest here for a while- -enjoying every minute of this blessing.

My marriage is better. We fight. We argue. We fall away. We come back together. We get beneath the layers, little by little. Out here in the country, there's no place to go.

It's good.

Yes, it's good.

I know I am happy. There's too many blessings to count.

Fences of comfort

Oct 2012

This new city thing is coming together…a little. 

I DID get a little sad when I talked to our dog’s former vet yesterday. It wasn’t that I LOVED the place; it’s just that I could picture who was on the other side of the phone. Then, I missed home.

I don’t miss my old house, but I miss how I knew everything about it.

This house is a new adventure every day. Today the septic high water light went on again. Sigh. Tomorrow, it may be something else. Learning to roll with what comes at me. It’s not easy, but to look back and see what waters we’ve rafted, it doesn’t seem that bad.

So far….

Met a new friend.  She makes me laugh. She GETS me. She’s very vocal and very laid back. She’s older, like she graduated in 89…older. That’s fine. Still trying to figure us out.  I can tell she’s trying to figure me out too..only she’s the more confident one. I feel like I just put my toe in the water.

Went to the park with her. Her kids are a bit older. She’s a nature person. She is now in charge of the ropes course at the school, on city council and a couple other important things. Though, talking to her, you’d never know it. I really feel like myself with her, yet still I feel it’s a balancing act not to share too much. I have to also remember she knows nothing about me.

It’s starting from ground zero. It’s a weird place.  And, I remember neighbor issues at the old house and just things I could have done better, so I try to do the best I can. 

I don’t want to appear clingy or needy or share too much.  I want to undo anything else I could have done wrong with other friends.  It seems like it’s better when you need your friends less than they need you.. I always feel like I need them more and it’s harder that way.. So I stand tough these days..

Probably too tough.

The hard part is not having years to fall back on. Like, I’ve only known her a week or two so we don’t have a history to ground the friendship. Like, any day she could like stop calling and inviting me to stuff and I’ve got to be okay with that. It’s hard since I feel  so vulnerable right now.

So, I feel a little lost some days not having a home base because my friends really are my family. They are. And, I have no family here.. but I know it will come…

Still don’t know if I am in her club yet. She embraces me, but I wait every day and prepare if I don’t make the cut. Not sure exactly who the popular kids are. I think I know two of them now, so I am all too careful. This really is a small town. Population 1250, it feels like population 5.

I’m holding back a ton these days. They call me “Houston.” They laugh at my hills fears and my strong pain of missing chain restaurants and pizza. And, how I WHINE about how everything is so FAR away (25 minutes away).

She got along well with John and she seems to be on my wavelength. Her house is over the hill. I can see her metal roof from my deck.  It makes my world feel smaller when I can point to someone I know from my front deck. It, actually means the WORLD to me.

I am great when we talk over the phone, but together, in person, like all other times, I get shy. I don’t feel as confident. Or as bold.

I attended the Halloween party for the neighbors. It was a bunch of parents and their kids. It was great, but I froze up the minute I was in the crowd. I suddenly didn’t know what to do. I said hello, shook some hands and got all stiff.  Small talk. I am great with a couple of people at a time, but in crowds, I just don’t do as well.

I visited a neighbor church Halloween gig. It was awesome, though I fought back the tears because I didn’t know a soul.

I find I am afraid to let the kids go too. I don’t want them to leave my side. Even in the backyard, I am careful. Of course, there are no fences.

Fences, now that’s the deeper issue.  The fences I’ve built around me over the 34 years I lived in Houston. Fences of friends become family.

Fences of familiarity. Fences of safety. Fences of people that took care of me. Doctors, teachers, fire fighters.

It’s not easy. When people don’t know you. It’s like I’m walking a tightrope without a safety net all of the time- -an orphan out here.

But, little by little, I feel like this COULD be home… Just have to give it time…

LOVE over Perfection

Sometimes the hardest part about being a mom is the other moms...

Sometimes it's my own mom.

Sometimes it's my MIL.

Sometimes it's the comparisons.... Sometimes it's me.

Sometimes it's the quest for perfection- -whatever that is.

Yesterday my mom visited. The first two days were fine. Then, the third day, she was rearranging my house, criticizing the drawer space, the kids' rooms, my lack of a cracker-crumb-free car...

Everything was under the breath words.. She started to remind me a lot of my MIL. I've never noticed it before. My dad said they had much in common, but I never noticed that before. I guess because well, she's my mom.

Dad and mom, divorced since I was four, seem to have only harsh sarcastic words for one another.. I take it with stride and a sense of humor..

These last two days were filled with passive aggressive conversations. She said, "I know you are late.. it doesn't bother me you are 15 minutes late but... if it were you..." I start to drive a 50 in a 30 and then stop and think it's not worth it. I can bend over backwards and still, can't make her happy.

The story of my life and the beginning of NEW habits. I took a deep breath and turned up the radio. Let her wait. It's her character that needs to change not mine. I explained to her sweetly we had plenty of time. Any other mom with three youngsters would have totally understood being 15 minutes off "schedule." Fifteen minutes is a given.

But growing up if I was 5 minutes late, it was a verbal beating for sure. It was TERRIBLE.

The whole day was a tug of war. I said let's do the running around in town then go back home to wash your clothes so we don't have to make a 15 mile commute more than once today. She doesn't listen.. "Well, when it's not your way, it's a 30 min commute, but when you are late it's only 20 minutes.."

I shrug and let another one go. She has no idea how unkind she is.  She has no idea my son missed his nap Tuesday so I could spend the day driving 150 miles around town to entertain. We don't have days like this. We are home most of the day. We do one activity at most on a given day. It's all about balance.

Meanwhile all day she calls her husband's co-worker all day to check on the arrival of their baby.. all day long.. leaving messages for someone she's beaten up for years verbally behind his back.. like she wants to be important..like she's HIS family..but I've never heard her say a kind work about the guy..She changes her voice all sweet and it bothers me. A lot.

I love her.. she's been very good to me..she paid for my surgery last June. It changed my life. She changes my life, but it does't seem to last.. the goodness changes with her moods.. and it's hard to always embrace all of her.. all of the time..

It's complicated. So I walk a tightrope. Her emotions turn and move. I ask again why she didn't sleep, she says, "Because I ate that weird meal" She growls. I respond back with kindness, "No, I meant was it anything else?"

She repeats things over and over. I nod again. She makes conversations with strangers to tell them how much money she has, to tell them about their business and their search for a home and about private schools as if she's high society. We wait outside on the patio at the coffee shop while she makes new friends with strangers.

She gets embarrassed when the valet sees the inside of my car and tells him, "it's a mess." I get angry and yell out cheerfully "I am a pig!" I am angry, but hiding it well.  I vacuumed the car out two weeks ago... it's not enough.. but I MOVED 5 days ago.. Give me a break woman!

While cleaning up the room in my sons' room. I unpack the drawers.

She said, "this is a mess!"

I said, "Yes, but I don't want to clean it now. I want to spend time with my sister! I want to take that time.. now.. and not miss it.."  The goal three days ago was to JUST get things into drawers and off of the floor...

She says (your sister), "She doesn't need that. She's fine."

I say, "But I need the time with her. I miss her." And, I keep cleaning..

Tug of War.

Then I went to check on the tree cutter people outside.. she said, under her breath as I leave, "I am SURE that's more important" than cleaning up this room..

And, I feel like, yes, if I am cutting them a check for a grand to cut 8 trees down, yes, I should take a step or two outside to check on the progress or lack thereof.

And no, my house is not always perfect. Yes, I keep dishes in the sink a night or two once or twice a month. If it's a choice between losing my mind, I'll choose sanity. 

You see, with three kids, ages 2, 4 and 6, there's a lot of juggling to do. You don't remember that if you don't have young kids.

She has a 13 year old and it's so easy to remember how easy it was.. right?

That's the hard part. I feel strongly that encouragement with moms is HUGE. There's no ONE way to do this job. I know my kids. I know them.  It's even harder when it's your own mom or MIL cutting you down.

And, no I am not perfect. It's a progression. And, one day it works one day and the other, it works another way. This mom job is ever-changing-- so BACK OFF already!

But, it's hard when other moms, my mom or a MIL sees only THEIR way as the right way. Those cutting words still linger in the air here like puffs of smoke..."Filth!"

We don't live in filth. We don't. And, I REFUSE to put myself down because I don't meet her standards. I just won't.  I want to tell her, "You have WAY more time than I have right now. You step in my shoes for a WEEK and see what really works and what doesn't. If you are not willing to do that, then back away."

I found I kept my home perfect while I was showing it for 6 months and I yelled like a crazy woman almost every single day. I can have a clean house, but I always regretted treating my kids that way at the end of the day. I couldn't recognize the monster I had become.

Today, I cleaned the bathroom, swept the floor, did three loads of laundry, made lunches, cleaned kitchen, bathed a two year old, checked email, sent out 8 grade reports, responded to work emails, prepared Halloween clothing and plans, took out the trash and showered all by 11 a.m. That's actually a lot for me. But, I made time to snuggle on the couch with my 4 year old too.

I won't always have that time to snuggle.. nor will he want to snuggle with me..

So, I say as moms, we can agree to disagree. No one is perfect. But we all love our children. Love is what sticks. So, less criticism please.

I want to tell my mom to back off, but I nod and let her ramble on about everything she's sure she knows best about. I figure she will be gone in a day. Keep the peace. But, if and when she moves here, things will HAVE to change..

She calls two and three times in one morning. She gets angry when I don't call her RIGHT back, but I sweetly (with clenched teeth) tell her I was bathing my son, I needed a minute..and she stops her frustration. She didn't have control and it bothered her.

She HAS to have control.

The expectations she has for me are way too high most days. And, I've stopped putting on aires and the illusions of cleaning for three days before she comes just so she won't verbally go at it with undercuts of passive aggression. She can think what she wants. That is a major step for me. It's a great step. That, and not driving 50 to appease her time constraints.

Reality, she couldn't do what I do. She couldn't work 10-14 hours a week from home, take care of three kids and balance it all. I get angry when she only sees her side of things.

But, it keeps me humble too. I set it down. I know there are things I can do to improve. I'll take the steps but in my OWN way and in my OWN time. The days, the undercutting words. Like when you watch an Imax film and you get dizzy they say "close your eyes and the moment will pass.."

So, I close my eyes, focus on the good and know the moment will pass.. Yes, I can be BETTER, but YES there are some WONDERFUL things I am doing right.

So, I embrace THAT moment and THAT feeling: I am a great mom. I LOVE My kids and the house is JUST fine :)

Perfection comes later. My kids are babies now. I think I'll embrace THEM over the house.

"Even the trees are different here.."

The house is in need of lots of TLC when it comes to trees and clearing. It's like it needs a facelift or two or three. So it's become my job to find the best candidate for the job. So, far I've interviewed a pirate-look-alike, an arbor enthusiast and a surfer-black and white song Michael Jackson video surfer dude at the end of the music video look-alike.

The surfer tree cutter estimate guy walks up and starts talk to me about the trees today.

He says “See, you need to cut this one back because the Oak tree behind it can’t grow.

"The tree coming through was taking out it’s life. It was sucking it dry. It was keeping the branches from reaching up and toward the other side."

All I could think about was relationships. Like my MIL and people in my life that have been toxic- -that have been in my life and kept me from growing toward the light- -my light- -or the best and brightest place for me.

Or, perhaps, sometimes it was me keeping myself from growing toward the light. Focused on the darkness or the bad over the good.

I think about putdowns or LIES rather I’ve believed all this time about myself. Now, at 34, I still have to brush these under the rug.

I remember when my OBGYN walked out in a huff one day after a routine exam. He said, “You’ve gotta start believing you are a smart beautiful woman!” 

The words stuck in my head. And with all these NEW people coming by in my life- -even tree people, skylight fixer and septic tank worker, I am meeting people of all walks of life.  It’s like being a freshman again in high school. I’m walking into the lunchroom for the first time and I don’t know where to sit.

And, they can tell I’m green. It stumps my self-confidence a little. It’s easy to rule a roost when you’ve been there for years, but to come in and to take charge, well, that’s more about acting. I guess they say act it until you can believe it.

So, I play taking charge of the land. Yes, take those pine trees down. I own it. The other tree hippie says “You can’t! Save the precious tree!”

Yet, he and I could have talked for hours. He reminded me of my dad and my kids’ former pediatrician rolled up in one person. I think we actually talked for two hours and it felt like half an hour.  He got my vision for the property. I told him he both inspired and annoyed me. He showed me everything that COULD be about the property. He also reminded me of my mom. She has a green thumb and an artist’s touch. My husband didn’t like his price and said to get more estimates, ironically, I was inspired, but I had to keep looking. Maybe I can use him as our landscape guru. But, what a moment to connect with another artist.

But, today I talked to surfer dude. Blue eyes and a new college graduation grin. A degree in forestry from Aggieland he bragged with a firm handshake. I had to shake away the giggles. He gave us the lowest estimate and the fairest price. Only $1800 to clear out the land of the shrubs and five or so trees that were overgrown. We keep the Oaks, clear out the Pine and Cedar trees.

Worried it will look naked or disturbed. Hurt that I have to hug the trees and say I am sorry to them.  But, the inspector said it’s the best thing for the property. So, I sigh and make the decision and sign the consent form….

Still, I am trying to inhale the spirit of the land. And, it’s teaching me. And, I feel like I should ask permission first.

I type next to the only sound out here—a howling old freezer. It moans all day reminding my why it was free.

So, with the newness of new relationships, new friendships, new expertise, I embrace the day, learn from the yesterday, prune out the bad, hold on to the new. Watch the changes in landscape- -and appreciate the changes in me. Holding on and believing. It really is a sifting of my life and a huge moment of pruning.

Even when I get the boxes from the move, I toss things that were former treasures.

It’s weird how nature speaks to us. 

I was blessed to interview a young girl in my early reporting days from Russia that was brought here with the help of missionaries about five years ago. They were going to save her arm with medical sponsors. She said of her first impression of America and her heart, “Even the trees are different here.” The American team saved her arm and changed her life forever.

Yes, even the trees are different here two hours from home. I can only imagine how she must have felt continents away from home at age 14. Still, at 34, having never lived away from home before, I still feel almost that tender. 

And, I hear the hippie arbor guy say, "Pine trees are considered gold because they just don’t exist out here" and we are choosing to make room for something new.  He frowns. 

Everything is not always so clear.

It’s like the gold inside me is buried treasure too. I am finding too as I stand out here, without distraction. Everything speaks to me. The roots, the trees, the birds that made their home in the shrubs.

They chirp with nothing to claim their own and yet they are happy—happy enough to sing a song. Life can be so simple.

I stand out here, trying to claim land that isn’t exactly mine yet.

Perhaps I am waiting for it to embrace me too.

Brave New World

This was written in Oct 2012.

As I meet more and more new people out here, I keep thinking about an opening to a Stephen King novel.. you know the ones where everything SEEMS all right in the beginning?

I meet more people that come to me and tell me, "You're gonna LOVE it here! Everyone loves it here!"

Everyone is so nice and kind, but I have my guard up. I am waiting to see when reality hits.

I'm weary of new neighbors and besides talking about colleges, degrees, interests and children or where the local grocery store is (there isn't one closer than 25 minutes), I've kept it surface.

I remember the all too well that if you say or do the wrong thing, well, the neighbor is STILL there, so watch your steps.

Also, I am weary of learning about the personality types and about who I can trust. A new friend reminded me that the first person you meet may not really be the BEST person to trust either. And, the person that knows everyone, well, usually KNOWS everyone and talks a lot too.

I feel them making judgments. I realize quickly they don't get my dry sarcasm so I have to explain things like what it means when my husband is "home" now. The girl says, "He works from home?" "No, I say, he's not working til 9 pm. as a principal and pursuing his doctoral degree. He's home at 5 now. It's great!"

I have polite talk with an engineer kindof lady from Aggie land. I try to watch my children at the park and still give her the center of my attention. It's hard work to watch my words, be very polite and watch my kids and try to take in my surroundings.

I think maybe I'll meet my new best friend here and now. I should really try to take it all in. This is a great new start..maybe...

When I first walked up, the lady I met through her husband the other day welcomes me as if she was waiting for me for hours.. And, I meet everyone else she knows.  Suddenly, five people know my name and I stumble to remember just two names. They were all expecting me. I explain I got there about 12 hours ago and been waiting for the cable guy from 1-4. They don't laugh but smile. Looking back, maybe they would have GOT it if I had explained that we literally moved in at noon this very same day and it's 3 pm. here.

Of course, they could have taken that wrong too. See, I am second-guessing everything. I had some tough weird mean people in my other neighborhood so I'm scared. And, I could say the wrong thing and they'd just turn me away or gossip would get going. My friend Carrie, a man in his late 60s who taught tech theatre at the high school I taught with would tell me, "Stay out of the teacher's lounge. If they don't know you, they can't talk about you."

He passed away two years ago in Dec. I still miss him.

And, so this meet up feels like the teacher's lounge. It APPEARS sweet and "safe", but I look for sharks and worry about bored busy bodies that might take something sarcastic I say and RUN with it.. I know, I am being paranoid. I'm just scared.

Scared of caring too much too. I am also hurt.  I miss my friends. One, it just hurt so much once I got sortof settled on Saturday and I just broke down and called her. She never-well, maybe twice in the seven years I've known her, answered the phone on a weekend..but I called.

I told her how much I missed her..no really missed her SO much. So much. Well, it's Monday and haven't even gotten an email. I think I got a FB comment or something. It's been since June 22 or so since I've seen her. And it's been ages since her and I have gotten together and it feels like YEARS since we'd spend one night a week together watching TV like we used to. I miss that SO much. It had become part of me that made me feel complete. I had a constant friend. And, then life changed and it went away.

Perhaps, that's another blog..you see she has family nearby. .and doesn't need me as much as I needed her. WE got through the miscarriages together. It was our time. We had our babies together. She took care of me by watching my oldest when I had my second. She brought me Chick Fil-A when I was sick, we went to movies, we were close for a time. It's silly I can't let go.

I should be stronger than this, right? I've suffered through far more..so why does this feel like I'm attending my own funeral and no one has showed up?

But, the truth is, my friends are my family so maybe that's why it's hard to let go. Not having family near and well, never really depending on my family- -I depend on my friends for spiritual comfort, emotional encouragement and just to be there..

Maybe I have it backwards and Maybe that's why it's harder for ME and not my friends. They HAVE people. They have family apart from their friends..

But everyone is SO far away.. everyone that I could be REAL with. Everyone that KNOWS what the past five years have been like with hubby working nonstop and conflicts that have been sooo hard. This really is a new start.

But, I miss my friends that got me through that time. Part of me blames myself. Maybe they don't call and check on me because they think I am high-maintenance. Or maybe they are tired of me. Or maybe I was as one friend said I was "too much." Maybe I am "too much" thus the surface conversations I've started and trying not to depend on people besides grocery store talks. Now, I See it as I read this. .. I maybe was too much.. I can work on that.. And I AM working on that.

I am not sure.

But, one friend and I have talked over the phone for 30 min and that was wonderful. It was two weeks ago. She never feels too far somehow. One I text throughout the day. The other was a neighbor and she's moved. I still would love to talk to her every day too, but I know time changes and one must let go a little. Darn my bond for life characteristics.

I have three friends in this new place.. One I'd call a relative- -she knew my grandma. She is basically family. I've seen her three times since we came here. She's now um, well an hour a way. The other, my journalism friend lives over that way too. And, another is in a mom's group and she's nearer. In fact, when she moves she will be 5 min away. See, I have leads..

I have a friend Bonnie and she texts me to check on me. So, I guess I am not completely alone.  And, then there's Nicole and leslie and Stacia. I really miss them too. Nicole is running marathons and busy at her church and she's an old friend from college. Haven't seen her in a year. But, in my heart, she still feels close. Leslie and Stacia lived far and I didn't see them as much, but I still miss them too.

So, I am okay. Just watching the sun come up. All I hear is the humming fridge I've inherited, the keys on the keyboard and a darn cricket that won't SHUT up.

It's not bad. It's a growing time. Just hurts to be lonely. To feel like I have to calculate everything I say because no one here even knows my favorite color. I want to hide. I don't even want to see the landscape guy or the skylight guy today.

I'm terrified that I have to pack up kids in the pitch dark driveway tomorrow to take M to school.

I have to be here alone tonight since hubby is out of town. Ironically, in Houston.

I literally feel like an electric wire that has been tossed into a bath of water. All of my circuits are wigging out. I'm in shock. I want to hide to some place of safety. But, there's no place to run.

I have to try all this new stuff. Without a break. A new dentist. I HATE the dentist. New doctors. New people. It's a brave new world- -but I'm not feeling so brave.

How to sell a house- -blunt ways to save your sanity

Over the past two years I knew we were moving. I knew my husband was changing jobs eventually and, I just had a gut feeling a major change was coming.

We put the house on the market the first year, seven viewings in 11 months. Two realtors. One wasn't at all like her bubbly video or picture when I met her. She turned sarcastic when I wouldn't lower my price after the first sixty days.  The other realtor was nice, but clearly a retired worker that did this to pay for yearly cruises. With her, we got one showing all summer. The showing cancelled. And, two miraculously when we were about to run out of time on her contract.

Then, in April of the next year, I got the bug to try again. So, we staged the house, did all of the pictures and started again. This time, I went with the town realtor. His pictures reminded me of Beetleguise movie trailer clips, but everyone knew him and so I thought I'd give him a try. In four months, this time we had 25 showings.

He was a nice guy, but soon, I learned he only was the face of the company, he worked mostly part time because of his famousness (he came in Prada glasses) and his crew did most of the grunt work. After two weeks he was suddenly not returning emails but referring me. Even, as I was eager to learn every step of the way.

I was a plyable, eager student. But, I soon learned my place. Selling a home in the 145k range, doesn't get you a great-range of service...I know I was over eager.. I kept hearing, "Well in your price range.. or THOSE houses..etc etc." We were selling a four bed, two and half bath, 2300 home out side of a major city.  It wasn't a $3-500,000 deal. Realtors don't do backbends for 8 grand. And, in the end, I ended up paying 6K to close after living in the home for 9 years. I paid their closing costs and came away with nothing but an escrow check thirty days later.

I also asked everyone what they were doing to sell their homes. Most didn't answer bluntly. Most, lied. Or, most just changed the subject. I dug and dug. I heard all sorts of excuses and "reasons" for homes not selling. But, I never got the "real" story until I was in the trenches myself.

Friday, after six months and two years of on the market "fun" our house finally closes. As I look back, I can remember each room. The nursery. The tree in the back yard. The kitchen. The living room and all the work we did. All of the memories. And, I feel a little of something, but most of what I felt was lost through the process of selling. I only cried when I painted the baby blue walls neutral and when I had to kiss our beloved tree out back goodbye.

I also had to have a circle of friends and family nearby to call. I had my share of rantings, tears, angry fits, prayers crying out in agony will this ever end type days.. It was a LONG stretch.

It was as I refer to it as a "slow divorce," but maybe my tips will help someone else. Here it is: tips to save your sanity..when you try to sell a home in 2012. Blunt, but real.

Blunt tips for selling your house

1.     Pick a realtor everyone knows. These people know everyone and they can get more of their buddies to see your house.  It's like picking the prom king. Pick the popular guy or gal. Don’t pick someone with a nice picture in a small company. Pick the town realtor big wig. He or she will have a crew of people dependent on selling the house. And no matter who you choose, they are bound to turn a little annoying after the first week or two. When you first meet them they become your instant buddy (aka eager to get your signature for any dance) then, things change. Quickly.  It’s a business. It’s smoke and mirrors. And, at the end of the day, the price sells the house. That and prayer and patience.

2.     Or, pick a realtor that’s somewhat new with a small office and no staff and that realtor will still be green enough to care and the job will get done. That's how we bought our new home.

3.     Prepare to lose about 16 grand. In this market, think about what you’d LIKE to sell for and mark it down 10 grand, then wait. Budget to mark it down another 5 grand WITH repairs. Be prepared for the buyers to ask for the world. Be prepared to be angry. We tried to sell for 154. The house sold for $147, with us paying closing costs and 500 in repairs and two months of delay with closing dates.

4.     Prepare in that budget to give closing costs too. Now people have to have a down payment and another 5 grand for closing and they can’t get loans so it truly is a buyer’s market. But you will make it up when you buy.

5.     Your pictures online are a pretty big deal. Work hard at making those count.

6.     And, sadly take down all of your family pictures.  Mine sold the DAY AFTER I did this. Even one picture in the hallway, take it down. I know, it’s YOUR house, no, for three to six months, it’s a museum that you must try to pretend you don’t actually live in.

7.     Don’t get emotional. It’s a house. It’s a slow divorce. Be prepared to feel and go a little crazy with this constant cleaning thing. Especially if you have kids and pets. Also, be prepared for the dodge ball experience. The phone rings for a showing. The house is a mess. You’ve got ten minutes to clean and get out of the house. And, after all of that, they may not even show up. Or, they may give you feedback that will blow your mind (i.e. the walls are too short).

8.     When they come to see the house, if you want, stick a card in the front door jam so you know they came. Leave and don’t watch the house. You will drive yourself crazy. And, most of the time you may have no idea if they actually came. It’s a thankless torture.

9.     Clean, leave and try not to think about it. But you will agonize over every detail, every comparable house in the neighborhood, etc.

10. Don’t make too much of the online feedback. Half of the time they are not correct feedback postings. Most of the agents are lazy. Don’t expect much feedback.

11.  Don’t hang around when they inspect your house. It’s awkward. And take a deep breath before you read the inspection report. It will feel like someone is criticizing your first-born child’s baby photos.

12.  Be prepared to haggle. Be prepared for pitfalls, for things to change instantly and to have to start all over. I remember sitting there watching the people come in and out of the house on the edge of my car seat biting my nails. Kids and dog in car, we had cleaned for two hours and circled the house for two hours so that it could have a five minute showing. It was brutal.

13. Keep your head high. Keep looking for your new house. This will keep your spirits up. Remember, it will be over, eventually.  And, you will walk away a little angry, but your new house will be better and you, like those who bought your house, can ask for the world and expect it in this market.  And, you never know what tomorrow will bring. Like, my friend Natalie kept telling me, "It's going to sell. It's going to sell," this chant kept my spirits high.  Keeping this in mind kept the Eeyore in me from taking over.

Good-bye dorm experience

Walking thru the halls of the YMCA, backpack on my pack, shower shoes in tow, I feel like I’m at the UH dorm again. It's a mini vacation..of sorts...

It’s been my escape for three months now. Drop off kids and run to the cycles and silenced TVs.

I’d escape to the walking trails and call a friend or just watch the trees for a while.

Today I spend time hiding in a corner grading feverously. I had 4 hours of work to get done in 2 hours.  In fact, when someone said hello, I jumped. Free wi-fi and chaos.

People pushing from behind my chair to reach for coffee. Employees complaining about the broken snack machine. They gab loudly behind me. I can tell the other worker doesn't really want to talk.

Flashing around me were noises of all kinds. A boy bounced a basketball like a drum, a baby SCREAMED, a child blared a Mario video game on the Iphone.  It was a circus around me. It was my “study lounge” for a time. It almost drove me crazy.  I had the focus of a ninja.

I remember showering there a couple of times. Balancing on my flip flops and changing in small corner. Watched the water drain like the Nile winding around the room. Nothing like community showers. 

I pretend I get to get away from it all. I dress. Wring out my hair and blow dry. I pretend I have a great place to go- -not picking up the kids and heading home. I pretend the night is about endless surprises and nothing is on a schedule.

For a moment, I walk around the winding halls in peace. Take a breath and then, pick up the kids. Adventure out to the car, refreshed.

Today I caught a glimpse of my kids being restless. They were kicking and playing fight. It was boy stuff. I am glad I saw this because I would have been much harder on them if I hadn't seen the tone of their actions at the time.

The larger mean type lady- -the personality type I am learning to spot and STAY away from immediately these days- -at the childcare made sure to tell me when I picked them up with the same smurk she had when she told me I couldn’t place my stroller there a month ago. I said, “I am folding it up and putting it away.” She had pounced on me before I had a chance to explain.

Today she pounced on me again. 

I said, “This is our last Saturday here.”

She smurked and said sheepishly, “Well they are welcome anytime,” as to pull away from her stance. Or, as if to interpret me as fighting back. 

I said, “Yep, they’ve been rowdier. They’ve been pretty good actually. You see we’ve been living in a one bedroom apartment for three months now,"I continued, "Five people. One bedroom. It's been really    tough."

I started to cry. She said, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I said, “We had to huddle while we sold our Houston home. We move next week.”

She was then nicer, “My girls get that way at the end of summer after too much time together. They have to get away from each other.”

She then smiled and started to act differently. I am glad for this ending. If only she started out this way, it would have changed my response.

It was another dorm experience scenario- -a close quarter place where neighbors are forced friends.

My first phone call in Austin was at this YMCA. My first break from the kids from these very close quarters was at the YMCA. I still have the three tags from the Houston YMCA. They won't come off my key ring. 

Sentimental at times still too. So much has changed since I came here. This has become my small little city- -in a place where I knew no one.

My first 4 miles on the cycles. My first French 78-yr-old friend was at this YMCA.

I feel like I’ve graduated. I’ll miss this place.

Joy personified: A Fairy godmother comes to life.

I remember my grandmother very well, but perhaps she came alive for me again just yesterday.

Painted inside a meal with an old friend that was more like a big sister to me than a "cousin's ex-wife's niece," she recalled the many moments we spent together with my grandmother her "fairy godmother."

I met my cousin, sister, friend Nan when she was twelve. I was nine. My first picture of her in my memory is of her sitting at the foot of a Christmas tree in my grandmother's condo. The lights on the tree aglow in the dark-lit room. She was wearing a white Mexican-style dress with embroidered red flowers.

It was the beginning of a sweet and dear friendship.

Over my summers growing up I spent MOST of my time with my grandmother. We'd visit my aunt in Victoria, Texas, we'd stay in hotels, order room service, play in the pool and explore the world.

When I got old enough, grandma would let me drive the country roads.  I remember the Holiday Inn well, covered in green. And the smell of the food and plastic wrapped over coffee and creamer when the waiter would bring the food in from the hallway. It was never too late for room service.

I remember TV and indoor/outdoor pools. Chlorine and endless holiday trips. Shopping too, of course.

We'd visit my aunt's place, ride horses, see chickens, count cats and I'd spend endless hours playing in the green fields surrounding my aunt's home. And, Nan would be there with me sometimes too.

Nan would pop in and we'd enjoy adventure together. The memories of her are so vivid perhaps because I looked up to her so much. I remember conversations. I remember the Hard Rock Cafe pin she wore on her blouse. I remember what her room looked like and the blue dangle earrings she got when she turned 13 at her roller skating party.

I remember when Nan was finally 16 and she got her driver's license, we'd leave my aunt and grandma at Luby's to go "motor" or aka drive around the block to basically nowhere. It didn't matter. We were cool. Yes, we'd let the keys jingle so everyone knew we could drive. DRIVE!

She named that old Ford Escort "Nutter Butter" because it was a butter color. And, I was there when she wrecked it too. At a stoplight near a mall. We hit the person in front of us as the person behind us smacked our bumper. The rear-view mirror slammed to the backseat and the bumper fell to the street.

A policeman came. Nan cried endlessly at the foot of the hotel bed, "It wasn't my fault," shaken up by the whole experience.

Nan and I would attend a dance after her drillteam kick routine and football game. Then we'd decide it was boring, a boy would hitch a ride with us to a party with older folk that lived in a real house. No adults. The college boys were playing cards at the kitchen table downstairs and then we'd go to another "party" where not much was going on, just people gathering and talking. It was more about being seen than really doing anything.

It was about the essence of freedom. Or the seemingly seamless attempt to authenticate it.

Yesterday after many years apart, Nan and I were together again.  Well, we met for a day briefly last spring for the first time since high school. The kids played in the water at the beach condo and it was nothing short of lovely. She introduced me to Provolone grilled-cheese sandwiches and how to swim with three kids in a pool with just two mommy arms.

And, yesterday, she texts me to get me out for her birthday. She offers and MAKES me come, she picks me up and takes me try sushi at a beautiful HIP place downtown. I meet four of her other closer friends from all parts of her life. One remembers me, but I don't remember her. I wouldn't expect to. If someone else was around when I was with Nan, I never noticed. Nan was the sun and the moon back then.

She drives up in her new vehicle. Music blaring. I said "this isn't Nutter Butter." She can't believe I remember that.

She curls her hair in our 500 sq foot one bedroom apartment on the floor because the plugs don't work in the bathroom of the home..the one we are renting until we can find a new home. It's a mess. I have cleaned for hours to try to make it seem not-so-scary. There's not too much I could do..

She is as carefree as I remember her. She's dressed in five and we are ready for our shared-night on the town. I still can't believe she came to pick up ME.

We catch up. We talk. It's like no time has passed and yet so much has happened since high school. We each have three kids. Been married 12 years. We have a lot of honest talks. It's so refreshing to hear someone say a lot of the things I've been feeling lately. Someone makes sense. I make sense. It's clearer.

We arrive. Valet takes the car. I meet her friends. We look like dolls. We chat. And, then she mentions her fairy godmother- -my grandmother--how we went places and did things she would never had had the chance to do.

It's meaningful to me because very few people in my life right now KNEW my grandmother- -the imperfect woman that helped make me who I am today..and led me to be better..to know my faith, to be honest and to stand firm in my heart. Oh, the days she'd wrap me up in her arms all day...My favorite place in front of the TV with cuddles.

A fairy godmother... I told Nan, "She passed in 1999.." She said, "I wish I could have been around there at that time.."

I smile.  Nan pushes me to try another fish and it's like I am 7 and I stall, but it's worth it..She's always a step ahead. Like old times.

We take pictures. We smile. We have this long wonderful talk on the way home.  We may see each other at church on Sunday. Turns out her church is a block away from my ghetto apartment.

I walk into the apartment a changed woman. I'm not mom.. I am not a woman dragged down by real estate agentS (yes, many agents), bank lenders, bank people, an apartment, TWO houses, living in a BOX..but I am a strong, beautiful woman again. With all of this weight off of my shoulders.. For an evening..

SHE was my fairy godmother teaching me to dance, to laugh, to smile, to let it all go.. My flip flops were my glass slippers. 

The memories shared and the moment of escape reboot my journey. It was a refocus on what I am. What I can be. I am not the sum mount of all of these problems.

I am more than all of these things that HANG in the air.

A little bit of magic goes a long way...

F bombs and mixed blessings

This was written as we were staying in a 1 bedroom 400 sq foot apartment, trying to sell our Houston home and just after visiting the 2100 sq Houston home to pack up.

Today I was awoken at five am by a neighbor of sorts yelling and cursing about money. He used the F-bomb more times than I could count.

He threatened violence and there was power and force behind each time he used the word. I peaked outside and saw nothing. He must have been above us or below us or walking outside of the three-story apartment complex.

Now, I've lived in bad neighborhoods before in NW Houston. I've felt the chill of someone watching. I remember the day my grandmother's Cadillac got stolen right outside of her driveway. I was about 11 and I just FELT like someone was watching us that night.

And, I remember when the alarm went off in the house and she grabbed the gun...But, I didn't feel this kind-of-scared this morning. But, I worried enough to check on the kids and lay away from the windows.

I layed on the floor. It just felt like he would begin shooting or something. It bothered me enough to start looking for rent houses too away from the 500 sq foot box we are living in until Oct 18th.

Mikey starts school Monday. We continue our house search Monday too. The offer we made for the house we found was liked SOOO much that they seller decided to take the house OFF of the market.

I look at it like a closed door and a blessing. I really do.

I am not quite sure yet how to look at the yelling and cursing alarm that awoke me this morning just yet though.. All, I can say is that coming home to pack up more belongings put a smile on my face that hadn't been there for MONTHS!  Husband packed. I took the kids to church. "Don't cry." I said to myself as I withheld my emotion to run up to the pastor and high five him.

I later got a chance to high five him when we all shook hands and he remembered me enough to ask, "You! You're here?" I said, yep, "It was worth the 3 hour drive."

I felt at home. It was right. Everything was right with the world.

I then took myself out to the Starbucks I love near my home. Hot chocolate and then home again to live for a day in my MANSION! Every child has his own room. It's awesome.

I didn't realize what a SHOCK it's been to live in such a small place. Emotional shock.  Emergency feeling kind-of shock.

TO be home. HOME.  Home, where it's quiet. Where I can breathe. HOME, for one more night.

HOME.
Amazing what you can feel when you get away for a while.

Humility and the first days of school

Joining a new place has been a lot like starting at a new school.

It's very Felicity pilot episode. Right down to the part when Felicity runs into her new friend as class and it's emotional. This is me. I sat down yesterday at the YMCA. Dropped off my kids. Filled out a form. All I could do not to cry. I told myself, "Stay cool. Don't cry." Stay cool.

Felicity

I feel like we are hobos of sorts. Riley's wearing shoes two sizes too big because his current shoes are not working. Noah's wearing shoes that sortof fit and Mikey's due for a new pair. And, they all share clothes. My "best" is a pair of jeans. Half of my clothes are back at the house.

And, I want a note on my car that says, "Be patient with me..I'm learning the roads.. I promise I'm not an idiot.."

So, we look like a ragamuffin family at times. We live in a box. We have like two cents to our name. No one knows us. We have credit with no one. 

I applied to register my son at school today and they gave me red tape. They said," You have to file with HR at Central office, then get the form and then we wait.."

It was nice to call husband and suddenly the Superintendent of the school district sends us an email with letterhead and his signature. Then, I call Mikey's new school again and talked to the same lady who led me to all the red tape and suddenly I get a very sweet "Hello" with a giggle.

We show up on time with all the documents. It's almost too easy. It was a joyful moment to both get there driving up these cliffs and feeling lost in a new place and to show up with forms in a place we don't even live in ...yet. I sign up next to a couple on WIC with "no income."

Usually, I would judge them with a thought like, "It's not fair!" but, this time I don't feel that way. I get it. No one is better than anyone else..And, all those times, I was wrong. This sense of humility has been really good for me.

Went to look at a home today.. it was disappointing. The house was surrounded by unkept HOA nightmare houses and goodness, not a place I'd want the kids to grow up. Disappointing because it's the ONLY house we can afford to live in 5 minutes from Mikey's new school.

Every day is a learning curve. Today I found the grocery store again. I found my way home. I found Hwy 620. No one cursed me off the road.

Today I got a smile at the YMCA. The kids' teachers remembered their names. I learned a few of the ropes.

Found a home in Leander. Talked on the phone to the real estate agent. Got the financial questions answered from our lender.

Small strides for a hobo.

It's NOT Rocket Science! Or, is it?

One of my journalism soul mates, college friends once asked me, as I complained about my missing writing, to be a stay at home mom, "Why can't you both be Sting?"

I wondered why hubby could run after his dreams, yet I was the one at home. It didn't seem fair, though, I fought to be home- -I know home was better for the kids. Hubby and I can't BOTH work 70-hour weeks. Someone has to be home to catch the extra needs.

I've written before that I feel like a mommy hybrid. My heart is at home, but many days, my mind is elsewhere. It's like I am two people. Or, perhaps I was two people- -or another person before kids. I get stuck between my former self and my current place.

Today, I took the kids to the splashpad. I am learning if I keep them busy I don't lose my voice from yelling. Too transparent? Some days, it's that tough.

I talked with a mom that was a rocket scientist. Really, she worked at NASA full time and decided about a year ago to stay home. She admitted to me that it hasn't been easy. She, actually, doesn't feel fufilled.

I said, "Yes! That's normal. It took me about a year to figure out how to stay home and be somewhat, yes only somewhat sane."

I told her even now with just one point five students (one student that works and one that's blowing the class off) I feel life is too simple. I don't feel fulfilled in this role. My heart is at home, but many days I feel like something is missing and I wonder why my husband gets to be the rockstar. I work part time as an online teacher, so that's about 5-15 hours a week. And, lately it's about 3 hours a week. It's too simple.

She laughed.

Trudie, Sting's wife, when asked about his travels on the road for the last 30 years, how does she cope, etc, she said, "Well, I know how much his music means to his fans. And, it makes him happy."

Sigh.

Rocket scientist said she copes with taking a class at a time while her one child is at play school.

I asked, "But, then, there is this tendency to make a degree out of it. Like, you can't stop. I did that with Education and ended up with a Masters degree. I take a Ballet tone class and think I COULD teach this. I SHOULD teach this.."

It's like there's a hole where the competitive edge used to be. There's no one competing. So, I compete with myself. I don't know where to draw the line.

She said, yes and  "THAT'S why I am in a program that only allows me to take ONE class at a time.."

She felt overjoyed to hear that I understood how she felt. She felt nothing less than validated. And, we both agreed that in just a few years, we will go back and miss this time. We will think we were fools not to absorb every minute of this time. The challenge is to enjoy now - - for all that it is..the good, with the bad.

It's interesting. Like in the movie Mona Lisa Smile, the women find fufillment at home, while their minds are like the side story of a sitcom. I am living in the opposite dimension.

It seems for moms like me the best of both worlds is to work part time. And, to be sure that part time work is fufilling.  I learned a hard lesson when I gave up 100 hours of my time to teach for University of Phoenix and right away I knew it wasn't worth my time. You see, the time I get to myself is very precious now. It's more expensive, that is very very rare...so.. the job needs to be WORTH my time.

It IS a little bit like rocket science being a SAHM. It's a delicate balance between two worlds and the inner view of changing transition. It's an equation. One thing plus another can make you CRAZY or a little less of that can lead to peace. A pedicure can change MY life. Five minute coffee breaks can lead to a deep breath and a smile.

Sitting along side the splashpad, I gained another understanding of "rock star."

I am a one-woman show with an audience of three. It's not too bad to be in constant demand...as long as I appreciate how much my audience needs my music.

Kind Word Goes Viral

The other day at Mikey's field day I recognized a cheerful-midsized family man. He smiled at me and I scratched my head.

He went behind my line to help with Bingo. Then, a moment later, I remembered who he was. He was the washer repair man! We've had to call him two or three times.

Our red GE front loaders (all the rage) haven't been what I thought they'd be. Did you know you can't load comforters or large blankets in them? They are not full-capacity washers. And, if you are not careful, the washer will sound like a helicopter in your living room and the kids will be running for the hills.

He came last time and showed me that the spring had broken and the washer was actually hanging. He said this is usually a "two-man" job to fix cheerfully as he laughed at the damage one hand-made wool blanket had done to the powerful machine.

He showed me the strong spring about a third of the size of a garage door spring. I had made a difference (like when I pulled the wrong show for Fox Sports and 3.5 million people saw the wrong show).

He fixes the machine. It's about a $300 repair, I think. It's a mess. The washer/dryer cost about $3, 000 - -a gift from my mom three years ago. I wonder if it would have been less painful if they were blue instead of fire engine red.

While he's working Noah is loving him. He sits at his feet. Watches him. Talks to him. Experiments with his tools. The repairman talks about his wife, her desire to move to old country like Lake Jackson. He is considerate too.

I pay the bill and he leaves. Then about a week later, I receive a chance to review the man in my email. I call the company and give him a rave review. I say cheerfully (genuinely impressed with his routine customer service. He's 8 times better than the cable guy, 20 times better than the refrigerator repair guy) "He's the kindof man that the kids love and I feel safe to have him in my house with my kids. He's cheerful. He's helpful. He's respectful and considerate." Something to that effect. I know it was heart-felt.

A year later, her finds me at the school. As I am leaving, he asks, "Do you know who I am?" I said, "Yes, you are the washer guy!" He said, "I wanted to thank you for your kind review." I say, "It was nothing." He said, "Let me tell you what happened. The big boss called me into his office. He had me listen to the review and he played it at the corporate office. And they asked what I did so they could make those types of improvements to the company and all customer service. I told them 'I just try to treat others how I would want to be treated.' "

It was a cool moment. I smiled and said, "Well a kind word is never wasted." I laughed and said cheerfully, "I hope I don't have to call you soon. " He smiled and waved good-bye.

I love it when a kind word changes a day

mommy hybrid

About six years ago, I was sitting in the hallway monitoring high school students during the Texas state test. About six months pregnant, I was seated next to a returning-from-SAHM-status mom eager to be in the school to help. She had a science degree and had spent the last previous six years at home with her children. She was smart and very capable. I asked her some advice about staying home.

She said, "It's worth it. But, you miss adult conversation." 

I didn't believe her.

I don't really like crowds or bunches of people. I actually dislike parties and social events. I thought, I'm safe. I'll be fine. I've got nothing to worry about.

It wasn't until my son's first few pediatrician appointments when it hit me. I was staring at the doctor while he asked me about my son's progress. Then, alone in that room, I was staring at him and thinking, "Someone's talking to me. Actually, talking to me." After he left, I then remembered I was wearing earrings, I don't usually wear jewelry, and I thought, "This is an outing for me!" I was embarrassed. 

Studies show that 80 percent of new parents feel this type of isolation and 34 percent spend their days alone (Brain Rules for Baby 73-74). And it's not their fault. After a while, as a new mom, you stop getting out. It's hard with a baby. Heck, it takes ten minutes just to pack and another ten minutes to load the car.

And, people stop dropping by. I've noticed as a mom, you can't call other moms, you can only text, because kids just don't allow you to stop and have the intimate chat you really need. It's like illegal. So , you are stuck inside a tomb with your kids... for 12 hours or so..

You can dabble with speaker phone for five minutes every now and then, but that's rare. You can cheat every now and then and leave a long and detailed voice mail. But, it's just not the same.

On top of the isolation, women at home spend 94.4 hours a week working (Brain Rules for Baby 77) and if paid for the efforts, would earn figures close to $120,000 a year. 

SAH moms don't get paid in things they can touch. They get paid in smiles, and with viewings of the first steps, the first words and in being able to have every moment with their children.

Sometimes, ironically, though, that every moment can become hard too. I find that if I don't miss my children, I need to get away.  And, ironically, I can BE home but not actually HOME in my mind. And, I can take my kids to the park, but I'm just watching them play. 

Or, not watching them play. Last week I saw a mom bring her Ipad to the park. She ignored the kids and played on her own. I would have delighted in talking to her for a while.

In short I miss what's happening around me if I am there all the time. I zone out when I get burned out. It's not always conscious. I forget the reasons I fought to be home.

When I worked full time, I came home at 5 and was putting my son to bed by 6:30. I had very little of myself to give. Now that I am home, I give everything of myself to my children. But, I remember that I've got to save something for me too- -because that, in itself, is a gift. A happy mom makes for happy kids. After Tuesday's flight, coming off of that moment is another story.

I often laugh and think moms should get merit badges. A merit badge for cooking a new dish. A merit badge for surviving the grocery store with three kids, planning meals for the week and somehow getting home in one piece. A merit badge for getting your child to eat peas.

Or, a badge for surviving the transition between working-full-time mom to stay-at-home-full-time mom. I mean, some moms are very capable in the work force and it is sheer culture shock to stay at home. Some moms, to be frank, were made to be at home. Some moms delight in cooking and baking and caring for young people. 

That's not me. 

In fact, for me, it took a year for me to understand how to make it work, to accept my limits, understand my talents and enjoy what I was capable of doing within my created boundaries. I'll never be the best cook, but I can learn a new recipe and try it out.  I'll be sure to have a dial-up backup.  And, honestly ordering pizza is better than a message. I get food made. I don't have dishes. So, it's like getting a maid and a cook and down time for just $15.

I'll never be cool mom let's play-on-the-floor-all-day mom. The house will never SHINE. But, in time, I can progress- -however that may look.

I read a blog from a former biologist turn SAHM the other day. She said, "I hate to admit it, but I am going back to work because I am bored." And, then another mom told me six months after being home, she turned back to school to get her master's degree because she too, was "bored."

I think some women were created to work and some were created to be home. If the two could merge, that would be a phenomenon. 

To be honest, I am a bit of a hybrid in training. I am a working mom, and it took a year for me to do a little morphing to be a SAHM. I've learned to enjoy the smell of clean clothes and a warm cooked meal that wasn't just out of the box- -or to be honest, mostly from the box. 

And, if given the chance between, some days googling over my baby and writing, some days, I'll choose work over that blistful moment. Right now, I am ignoring everything in my first hour and maybe only hour alone this week just to hide on my laptop and write because I find it fulfilling.

But, every time I take a moment to spend time in my local mom's group, I come back feeling renewed. I actually end up posting a comment like, "Thank you girls. You rebooted my day." Because company really does help. It's a tiny sacrifice to get out, but it's usually worth it in the longrun.

Sometimes it's hard to give up that time. I am typing now as my one-year-old sleeps and my friend Ann requested we hang out today, but due to child illnesses, we had to reschedule. But, sometimes, I get stuck between two worlds of what I need: social time and isolation. 

Sometimes I need to be alone, to shower, to have time to shave both legs and sometimes I need time with a good friend that makes my soul happy again. Sometimes and all too often, I choose the shower over the time chatting over coffee. I am not sure if it's a survival instinct or just temperament.

There's a sense of isolation that overcomes a new mom and a SAHM mom. Unlike old days before the Internet and cable TV, neighbors tend to keep to themselves. I hear when our parents were children, neighbors used to get together to watch TV. 

Whether it is because of safety concerns or what, I don't know. My former sweet neighbor, military babe that she was, was always out and social, perhaps her habit of moving every two years made her stronger and more apt to get out and get to know the world around her.  I cried for a week when she moved.

I am, however, barricaded by two Vietnamese women who are very kept to themselves. One, I was almost friends with, but even after all I can do, she won't talk to me. So much for team work.

One mom two doors down is almost my friend. I am trying to play it cool, but some days it's all I can do not to run up to her while we are waiting for our kids at the bus stop like a lost puppy finding its way home to say hello. Yes, if I had a tail, I'd be wagging it. Some days I am THAT desperate for conversation and quality time. Who knew that lady I talked to six years ago actually knew what she was talking about?

Funny, but true, sometimes as a SAHM, the deepest- -only conversation you may have all day will be the creepy photo guy at CVS saying "Thank you. Here's your change." Or, the woman at Starbucks might ask you if you want a receipt.

I will look forward all day for that five minutes of conversation with that neighbor. The other day she Facebook friended me and I played it cool. Didn't want to seem overzealous, but, honestly, I was estactic. 

I do talk to my good friends about 6-8 times a day, via text. I would LOVE to hear their voices on the phones, but they don't answer. You see, kids just don't let you talk on the phone and there's very little time to be on the phone, even if you are multitasking. But, a kind text, can save your day. It can be a lifeline in a sea of troubled waters.

I read a blog about four years ago that I'll never forget. The young new mom blogged about her first few months as a mom. She rode the subway. She rode the train to the zoo. She did all the fun things. And, there was the quote I'll always remember. She just boarded the train, three months after baby is born. She said, "I'll talk to ANYONE." It's funny. I find myself doing the same thing in doctor offices or in elevators when it gets down to just me and the other person.

So everyone tells you that when you become a SAHM you'll miss "adult conversation." I remember thinking "What's adult conversation? I don't like adults. I don't like people. They annoy me most days." 

But, adults can give you that voice of reason a toddler can not. When your kid is screaming, "I want that!!!!" and it's not a rational want, as they are pointing to a flying fish and you've done ALL you can do to say, "The fish is NOT real," another mom can talk you off the wall.

And, I've been on that wall a thousand times. Raising kids comes in phases. It gets better and then it gets harder. Thank God for the transitions in between. He knows our limits.

And, thank God for the friends that call and drag me out of the house. Some days all I want is my own cup of coffee (or hot cocoa so I can sleep later), a warm shower, my own remote with whatever on TV (something fluffy and nothing to do with work. Gossip is fine), and quiet. Like when Jenna from 13 Going on 30 just wants "Water and a fluffy pillow!!"

Last Saturday for my birthday, I snuck away and bought a People magazine and went to Starbucks for a sandwich and a coffee. It was magnificent. I read about Hollywood maybe marriages and birthdays. I ate quietly without managing a group of three merry little men beneath my feet. My mom kept calling me and worrying. She texted, "But, you're alone.. are you okay??" 

I was okay.  I was in bliss. It was remarkable. It changed my soul inside and out. Heck, after an hour alone, I felt like Hollywood royalty.

An hour later, of course, I called her back.

Seeing The Vow movie made me want to go back...

Seeing The Vow movie made me want to go back...

To work...or school...

Yes, weird. But, it made me want to go back to work.. even part time or something.. but how?  I don't know how. I already work part time from home.

I am searching to define me. Could this be a middle-life crisis? I don't know. But I am searching for something more than SAH mommy hood. The kids need me. As I write I remember one of my children is coughing and needs to go to the doctor. The other needs two cavities filled. Just tonight, I saw it. They need me to be home. They need me not to have to take a day off of work to care for them.

Why am I not fufilled in fufilling their needs?

They need me. I need to be here. Why do I feel lost?

I dabbled on the idea of trying to work evenings at the local paper. Stammering into their offices, slamming down my Journalism degree and experience...literally blowing off the dust on my resume.

I write as my oldest makes car noises at play time before bed. That's precious.

There I am again, trapped between both worlds as if it's all or nothing.

I shopped Friday on my own and it was hard to just look around and not think of them. I shopped and wondered about who I was and what girl I was shopping for. I can't dress me in work clothes and I am tired of t-shirts and jeans. I don't work, but yet, I don't want to dress for being home.

Who am I? Am I a working girl in transition? It's just a pause? In the movie, Paige searches for herself and her husband searches to find their marriage again. It's a cross between two worlds. She is no longer an artist, nor lawyer, nor lawyer turned artist.

After watching the film I wanted to go back to school and go back to work. I wanted to find ME again. I wanted to be like Paige, lost in a room smudging my hands in clay to reclaim the message trapped inside my soul.

She found her soul. She found her spirit in her art. I find me in my writing, but to conduct an interview I have to hide in a closet and hold the door shut while screaming kids pound on the door.

I know it's a blink and they are back in school. Perhaps this is just me being prepared for big change in two years. Maybe it's a good thing. I wanted to be home. I FOUGHT to be home. I interviewed dozens to find the reasons to stay home. I am convinced now I am a working mom that stays home. Heart here, mind over there..

I really wanted to be here. I just get lost sometimes between the two worlds.

Between the two mes.

Between the vows, the promises of who I was, who I am and who I think or want or will be.

Perhaps, it's about constant change. Things are always shifting. Like clothes on the shelf. Like mirror images and time that tramples over the reflections.

Like growing babes. And seasons of coughs and cavities. Appreciation is 20-20 and the soul is in need of constant recharging. And, the reflections of those moments can't be found by dusting off trophies. But, breaking up the artist in me certainly reshapes my soul too.

Internet lust

For the last two days I've been lusting over a Lucky Bourbon colored Abbey Road style crossbody handbag. It's stylish. It's "imported Italian leather." It's stitched and lays over like it's from the old ages. http://www.zappos.com/lucky-brand-abbey-road-bourbon

Perhaps it's just a touch of Italy. My secret DRIVE to move to Tuscany. Or it's a vacation to another side of me. An illusion of the non-mommy me. It's ME without the diaper bag. It's me falling in love with an illusion. I can be cute for just $178.  For $178 I can have this soft, stitched, rugged grandpa bag-looking-carry-along friend.

In fact, I visit it daily. It says "hello" on my Iphone and on my computer. I have also passed it along to friends and family members. And, I've searched for bags "just like it." But none have it's luster. None seem to tell it's story in the same way.

My parsimonious side reined. I've left the bag alone. And, I've settled for the teal Mossimo Target-brand tote for $30. It's not the $178 price tag of the Lucky bag and there's no guilt attached to spending. And, I can abuse it. It fits snugly. It's fine.

But, I lust over this silly purse. Last night I did my research and found the illusion was in fact, just that. The product is flawed.

The Lucky bag had 90 reviews. I read them all. Three people said their bags broke. Every reviewer considered the bag for a long time, some even years before buying it and "loving" it.

I did the same thing last night on the Victoria Secret website winter clearance section. Boots, for $30, not $148. But, minutes after I put them "in my cart," the size nine boots were "sold out." I considered it a sign to move on and not purchase the multiple "deals."

I was falling in love with an image. I was being seduced by the want to look like the woman in the pictures.  She is carefree. Beautiful. I can be her for just $30.

Last night I had a dream about an elevator. The elevator dream. I have this every time there's about to be a big change, a job change, a move or a difficult emotional time when I usually feel a lack of control.

Perhaps, that's why I am attracted to the Internet shopping sales or non-sales. It's an illusion of "control."  With one click, I can have that image. It's mine. So easy, right?

In this elevator dream I am trapped. A little like the real-life event when I was nine trapped inside the First Baptist Houston elevator for a long three minutes. The door just never opened. I agonized about whether to push the open door button for fear of seeing just machinery. Would that scare me more? I pushed door open and it opened. It was the most terrifying experience.

I didn't ride alone in elevators until I was in college. Even in the state history fair competition at a hoity toity Houston hotel, I asked a stranger to ride up to the 8th floor with me at the age of 12. I think the ghetto elevators at UH cured me. Fourteen floors a day with elevators that sometimes open and sometimes kindof glide to the next floor wore me down.

In the elevator dreams sometimes the elevator separates from the sides and collapses. Or sometimes it turns over in circles like that Zipper carnival ride. Another "great" childhood experience.

Either way I'm trapped, dealing with claustrophobic feelings and heights and the loss of control. In my dream I wasn't alone, but I was with a stranger. This is new.

Also, coincidentally,  in my dream alongside my elevator rides, Oprah was challenging her viewers to just jump over the mile-high roof tops without a net for ratings. The participants were stepping over a one-inch gap jumping from roof to roof. No net over a zillion-foot high building.  Cameras rolling.

So many layers here. Perhaps it's why I dyed my hair red. It's something. One thing, I can control.

Dreams are weird. Sometimes they reflect creative aspirations. The need to fly. Sometimes the need to have control, like the dream I had with my teeth falling out.

And shopping on the Internet is an illusion of control too. Yet, in one click and you've lost a day's pay. The joys are temporary. The moment fills you up for a moment. Then, you get the bill.

Internet lust. An illusion.  A moving crossbody window shop experience. An elevator experience of it's own. Up and down. Moving me to feel like, for a moment I am what I am not. A different floor with the touch of a button. Yet, when I get there, the view isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Today I am taking more time to see what I can see in me. Right here. Away from the illusions. An original imperfect perfection.

And, Tuscany, well, I can create that dream here too.