A whole month, huh?!

Remember me? Hi! Just sitting here watching Cars for the eighty-millionth time with my sweet almost- 22 month old boy. The sweet part may be a little bit of an exaggeration seeing as he has become quite the little independent toddler which means lots of fit-throwing and screaming matches and NO! Although these days we here a lot more than no. Sentences. Full sentences. Also, singing of songs. Usher and Taio Cruz to be exact. And Elmo too, but mostly Usher. We know colors, letters, every single children's character - even ones that I never taught him, like Shrek. What the hell? We have never watched Shrek and he knows him enough to pick him out on a new grocery tote. We have been swimming a lot in the last couple weeks - enough that I tried those old-school arm floaty things and he LOVES them. He despises life vests (too restricting, imagine that) but love love loves the arm floats. He has gotten really good at going under and swallowing a minimum amount of water. A HUGE improvement to the gallons he was drinking at the beginning of the summer.

Next up? We have some weddings  happening in the next couple weeks and then MOVING DAY! To say that I am excited would be a GIANT understatement. My own space, furniture, schedule. I just cannot wait! Although I do get some beach time right before the big move, sans Mason so that will be nice. You would think I would be pumped about that, and I am, but moving? That, my friends is where it's at! Not much more to update on, I think I have it covered. Instead of reading my boring dialogue, look at some photos!

The one where I clog the toilet. Again.

We are being forced to make some very difficult decisions for the new house. We are often asked to get in the car, drive somewhere that sometimes looks like an abandoned crack den, and pick out things. Important things. Like sinks and toilets and lighting fixtures and stone, oh my. Recently, we drove, sans child of course (because an 18 month-old + lighting fixtures/unsecured sinks does not = a good time, or rational decisions) about 30 miles away to pick out the plumbing fixtures for our new house. It wasn't in the best part of town, and after seeing the building, our conversation went something like this:
Me: This is a little scary.
Paul: Well, they are wholesalers.
Me: Wholesalers, as in, we steal this stuff and sell it to you for a reasonable price?
Paul: Possibly.

As I said before, this building somewhat resembled an abandoned crack den. This was not par for our contractor - he usually sends us to really nice showrooms because he lacks the ability to do anything half-assed. Or cheap. Ahem. Anywho, I had a feeling that we were going to stumble upon a.) a syringe-toting drug lord that would rob us of everything we have - including my mom's car (that's right, we live with them AND drive their vehicles) or b.) the land of Oz-like showroom. Luckily for us, it turned out to be the latter. Sort of. It was definitely very un-assuming on the outside, let's just leave it at that.

We met a very nice lady, who made sure to make it very clear that she was the only one who was working there and that they closed at 4:30 (instead of the 5 o'clock that was posted on the door) and that she no longer worked Saturdays. We started in on the kitchen sinks and she had to run into her office to look something up when the feeling came over me: I had to poop. Now. I told Paul that I needed to use the restroom and he directed me toward the back of the showroom. When I got in there, I was totally expecting to be blown away by the coolest fixtures they had to offer. Letdown. Then I noticed a sign beside the toilet: PLEASE RETURN THE SEAT TO THE CLOSED POSITION AS THIS IS A WORKING EXHIBIT. Nice. So, what they were trying to tell me is, if I really liked that particular toilet, the lady would say, "Oh, sure. Come with me into the ladies room. We have a working exhibit!" Eww. Just as I was reading the sign I thought to myself, "Gee, self. It would really suck to clog this bitch up". I finished my business and flushed....

DAMNIT. ShitshitshitSHIT! Clogged. I swear, for such a small person I can really drop some logs. I panicked and looked around. No plunger. Not behind the toilet, not under the sink. Nothing. Men's room. If there is one thing I know it is that men always have the plunger. I ran over and peeked in. Nothing. I was going to have to do the unthinkable: reach in and pull that turd out go ask for a plunger. I arrived before the saleswoman returned and whispered to Paul that I had clogged the toilet. No, there is not plunger. No, not even in the men's room. Then he told me to reach in. F that! When the lady came back I said, "This is really embarrassing, but do you have a plunger?" she ignored me so I spoke up, "DO YOU HAVE AH PLUNGER?!" she looked up at my red face and said, "Uh, no. Don't think so. Don't worry about it hun. I'll call the guy." Oh Jesus. Great. She was going to have to call someone who was going to have to plung out my shit probably a good 3 hours later. Poor soul. We SOOoooo weren't going to get their best prices.

As you can imagine, moving on from that conversation and back to the task at hand was kind of akward. For me at least. She seemed to not skip a beat and went about showing us the options for soaking tubs. Sure. Whatever. Got any of those around? I am sure I can somehow clog the drain with hair or something gross. Needless to say, it was an awesome day. I was pretty proud of myself as that was my first real public clogging. If the quote that we recieved for the plumbing fixtures is any indication of the impression I made on the saleslady, it was rich. Priceless even.

Slow down, you're moving too fast.

I guess I can update my blog now that we are officially moved in with my parents. I know, freeloaders. I am not going to lie and say this was totally easy for all of us. I mean, with the pouring rain on moving day, the croup outbreak, missing the old house, old gym, friends, family, life, etc. but it is for the best and I know it will get easier. Mason is having a great time...well, minus the croup. Did I mention he has croup? Yeah. Something that we had to go to an urgent care facility to get perscriptions for considering we are now an hour away from his pediatrician. It was in that same urgent care facility that he had a major meltdown after skipping a nap and refusing to follow the NO EATING, NO DRINKING, & NO CELL PHONE rules...okay, I broke the last one.

I went and got a gym membership today at a place that I used to belong to...in high school. It is still the same, which almost made me cry because I realized how spoiled I had become and how instead of trying to catch up with a new, faster life, I must now learn how to slow down, minimize, and relax. Perhaps even find my happiness again. Now, before you go getting all confused, it is not that I am unhappy, but  I have certainly become hardened with life, age and responsibility. I am hoping that returning to my roots will find me in the same mindset that I had before college, cheating boyfriends, bad job experience and post-partum depression. I am also hoping that being within walking distance to family members and friends will help me drop the guilt of not being close to them, and them not getting to watch Mason grow up.

I think we will all be fine. I can do this. It just takes time and patience - which I am pretty bad at, but I can do this.

So you're going to move. With a child...

We sold our house recently and since we are going to be building a new one, we will have to live with parents in the meantime. I am one of those crazy people that loves to move. I love new experiences, rearranging things, putting everything in it's new place, packing, etc. Of course the actual moving part is never fun, but the end result is like heaven for me. I have moved 13 times (if I counted correctly) in my lifetime so I am pretty much a pro at it by now, but this is the first time that I will actually be moving MY FAMILY with Mason. I am going to move with an 18 month old.

So far, I have learned to plan ahead (which is basically the story of my life, and something I am very good at). When we learned that we would only have a mere 3 weeks to pack up our life, find storage, and be out of our house I didn't panic. No. Instead I kind of squeeled inside. I know, I'm sick. I immediately started making lists. Things to to, people to call, what goes where, WHEN. I also immediately started packing. Since we do still have to endure the inspections, appraisals, etc. I had to walk a fine packing line. I started with the "decor" items - the things that we don't use every day, but rather look at. Pictures, shelves, candles, vases, books, misc. items. Things that could easily be put back if something should happen.

Next week I will packing what I think is the most difficult room: the kitchen. I will pack all of the things I don't use every day: extra place settings, crock pot, blender, toaster, mixer and misc. items. I am going to leave enough plates, glasses and silverware to last us that week and part of the next before we will ultimately result to paper and takeout. I will also have meals planned out so that I can pack up unparishable items from the pantry and figure out which pots and pans to leave until the last cooking moment.

My mom and I were discussing Mason and his adjusting and came to the conclusion that he will be fine. He will have his toys, bed, clothes, everything he is used to (including us). The saddest part is that he won't remember this house. He won't remember the place that he lived the first year and a half of his life. The place we brought him home from the hospital to. At the same time, he probably won't remember the moving, living with family, etc. He will remember the new house of course since we pretty much plan to die there. And hopefully he will realize how hard we have worked to get him there. How much we loved him and wanted to provide the best life possible for him. It's all part of the sacrifices we have to make. I need to keep telling myself that!