I am in love

I know that I have discussed here about my never ending dying love for looking at houses online. I live in a home that was built in 1895. 1895! It is a lovely home, and for someone with time and interest, a total fixer upper into amazing-ville. It’s got warts though darling, things I won’t go into, but that make one who is trying to love it, well, a bit grumpy.
We have such a lovely kitchen and giant high ceilings, but this house just does not suit our needs. The girls are currently living in what should be the living room, because it is the only space to accommodate two beds and a whole mess’a toys.

So in perusing the local real estate websites, I ran across a gem a few months ago. I TOTALLY crushed out on it. It’s a midcentury number that hasn’t been touched and is just sweet as can be. The listing says it needs a total rehaul – which means that whoever buys it will probably gut all of the loveliness and replace it with stone tile and give it a decidedly beige and stainless makeover. I haven’t seen the inside of the house in person, but I’ve stalked it baby, I have stalked it.

They just reduced the price and it’s almost at the tippy toppy of our budget, almost. So, we discussed it, and we contacted our real estate agent! She’s coming over to help us decide how much we could realistically get for our current home. Who knows what will happen? Maybe the perfect house, if it even is that, will get away, but maybe not. Just the idea of moving into a space that actually suits our needs, instead of constantly trying to adapt to the needs of our house, it’s THRILLING. I can’t tell you how much I salivating at the thought of more square footage, a real work room, and separate bedrooms for the girls. I am light headed! How will I make it through? By daydreaming of course! The paint colors and the fabric and the furniture placement is enough to keep my mind spinning for months to come.

Seriously though, wish me luck with my crush. I totally think she’s perfect for us. I really do.

Funkity funk

I swear to myself, every year, this will be the funkless year. Oh! Not a year without the good kinda funk, the one ya’ gotta have. No the bad kinda funk, “the mean reds” to quote Holly Golightly, the days of the spaced out stare and unwashed hair. I usually hit it sometime in December, but I guess I missed it having been on vacation or something. My funk caught up with me in a BIG way after Sadie broke her arm.

Part of it is that both girls are going through some MAJOR brain growth. MAJOR brain growth means awesome new skills, but while their sweet little cortexes are growing new synapses, the higher brain functions are busy and they operate on their emotional brain alone. Which means we have a few holy terrors in our house. It’s bad enough when one of them does it, but DUDE! Two ladies operating without reason, judgment, and impulse control + a mama in a funk= CRAZY TIMES! Poor Brett, right? He is helping us all, but he is stuck in a depression that can only be healed by universal healthcare with a public option, so we are all royally screwed.

The fact that I can sit and write this means I am coming out of the funky stuff. Let me be clear, this isn’t the kind of blues where I sit under the covers in bed. I am a high functioning funky lady. My house has been cleaner than ever, I have been playing with the kids, I just have felt off. The girls are still wacky, but Olive’s vocabulary has exploded. Every morning we wake up to find she has acquired at least five new words to express herself. Sadie is reading! READING! So the brain development is excellent, it’s just the hell we have to go through to get there.

Maybe my funk is just the storm before the growth spurt! Maybe I will have a break through any moment? I will be sure to let you know if that happens.

This week has been miserable!

Last Friday night I spent my time running between the bathroom and the couch. The girls had been sleeping on me and I had been getting those gross hot and cold spells that signal something is just not right. How could I know that my constant puking would be a high point in the week? I couldn’t have.
This week everyone in this household felt gross and lethargic.
exhibit 1:

exhibit 2:

So as the weekend rolled around we were all pretty excited to spend it just sitting around and feeling gross. The last part of our week is Sadie’s dance class at a local “little gym.” We like it because while she gets to learn tap and ballet, she also gets to work on her coordination and strength in the gym. About ten minutes before the end of class, Sadie and her friends were all running in a giant circle pretending to be airplanes. Sadie took a spill, but she let out a very loud cry.

This is notable because unless she is really in pain, Sadie doesn’t really cry if she gets hurt. I once saw her toppled by a speeding tricycle at school. All of the adults on the playground braced for a scream appropriate for such a collision. Instead, Sadie brushed herself off, got up, and ran off to play. So when she let out a giant wail, I knew something wasn’t right. I entered the gym and took one look at her arm and I knew something was very wrong. It was hanging down in a bend where it should have been straight. My mom and my Bubbe were hanging out with us during class, and they helped collect Sadie’s things and wrangle Olive to the car while I slung Sadie over my shoulder and whisked her away to the car.

We drove directly to the emergency room of the local children’s hospital which was just down the street from Sadie’s class. Brett met us there and they admitted her very quickly and began to prep her to X-ray her arm. Part of the procedure was to give her a shot of morphine in order to move her arm around while they X-rayed it. A doctor kind of prodded and poked Sadie’s arm, and he kept asking her if it hurt. In typical Sadie fashion, she just kept saying no. It got to the point that the Doctor had the nurses stop prepping the shot, and he told us he thought that perhaps she had just bent her bone instead of breaking it. I was pretty skeptical. Both Brett and I mentioned how just this morning her arm didn’t bend that way, but they were pretty sure a kid would be screaming bloody murder if her arm were broken. Ha.

The X-rays showed that she had broken both the bones in her forearm. They gave her some lortab and reset the bones. That was when Sadie was most upset and said, “This realllllly hurts!” I guess the normal reaction is much more violent as they asked Brett and I to sit down so we wouldn’t pass out watching the process.

Sadie was most concerned with a school party that was being held Friday evening. She had picked out an outfit, including a wig, and she was dead set on going. In fact, the most tears in the ER came from the fact that she might miss the party.

So an hour after we were discharged from the ER we were at an 80’s themed dance party. The sling they gave us was too big for her arm, so I made Sadie a fancy new one before we left for the party.

On Wednesday we will be heading to back to the hospital to get Sadie’s splint off and a plaster cast put on for 4-6 weeks. She is keeping herself busy by trying to decide what color of cast to get. In the hospital they gave Sadie and Olive both these little dolls called “Hospital Buddies.

Whoops!

Fell of the bandwagon there for a minute, or couple of days, whatever.
I’ve been posting my daily pictures over on flickr, but I wanted to say a little more about them. Then I got super busy and well… whatever, I’m here now, right?

So where were we?

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We had our last holiday party on Sunday the 17th. I do not recommend stringing out your holidays for over a month. It is a little overwhelming. Here you see Sadie and Brett on Saturday making cookies to give to relatives. I was in the backroom most of the day putting the finishing touches on presents. Yeah. I’m glad it’s over.

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This was taken right after our holiday party. We had so much fun, but we were all tiiiiiirrrred.

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I had a chance to clean off my desk on Monday. It was amazing! It went from a giant pile of paper to this. I could actually see all my tchotchkes and clutter I MEANT to be on my desk. Here you see a sweet Jen Corace print that illustrates how I feel most days, I like to imagine that you could zoom out and see that this little swimmer is actually on someone’s head. Then there is a sweet little friend my sweet little friend gave me. Pinocchio there can hold notes in his flower. I like being surrounded by cute stuff when I work.

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Which leads me to this, which is just a capture from my webcam of me working on the computer. We had attended a meeting about kindergarten programs in our district and my head was hurting with all of the thinking and what not. I am currently designing a few web projects, but I was probably just looking on stupid gossip websites or facebook when I took this pic. So yeah, I was “working.”

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This is a secret present for some friends of ours, who I don’t think read this here blog, but I won’t go into any more detail in case they do. I was working well into the night on it, so I just caught a quick pic before the clock struck midnight.

More catch up to come!

A milestone

I have some catch up pictures to share with you, but instead, I have to share a momentous event. Sadie is 4 and a half years old, and we have never ever cut her hair. Well, the poor mop was dried out and frizzy to the max. If you walked by it would literally grab you and beg BEG to be put out of its misery. So today, before school, we visited Sadie’s aunt Emmaly and she got her hair did.
I will let the pictures speak for themselves:

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I had suggested we just get a few inches cut off, Sadie wanted it even shorter, but this was the compromise. If the rays of her smile aren’t blinding you, you can tell that she loves it. We stopped to get coffee after this photo, and she made a point of telling the barista about her haircut. Then she flipped it one majillion times as everyone at school told her how cute it is. I thought I’d be more sad to see her baby hair go, but thanks to the horrors of that show Hoarders, I am allllllll about letting things go. Though I did save one lock of it though, shhhhhhh.

Dancin’ Dancin’ Dancin’!

Sadie has been taking dance classes at our local “little gym.” It’s been a great chance for her to learn things like balance and not falling over. On Friday she had a little recital, it was hilarious. Sadie couldn’t remember her moves, but she had a blast, and her family was there to cheer her on. You can too, check it out!
You can see Olive’s pigtails in the tap movie.
Lunch before the recital:

The dance recital:

and of course, the picture of the day:
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I just noticed

The 21 month old knows how to get out the ipod, turn it on, play a few games, and then pick out her own show to watch. Who says neglectful parenting doesn’t pay off?

Star of the Week

So for the next 16 weeks Sadie and her classmates will each be lucky enough to be star of the week in their classroom. On the last day of school of the week each child must write what they like about the star of the week. For this first week the star was Beatty. Beatty is a boy Sadie used to talk a lot about. I think she is over her initial crush, but man, she used to blush when she would see him before school. Her favorite thing to say was, “That Beatty, he is soooooo silly.” She used to say that, but she doesn’t really talk about him much anymore. Now, now Beatty is just funny. Sadie added a picture of herself and a “party” around her thoughts about the boy.

I’m doing muuuuuuch better now, thanks.

After that last post, you might think that I am a grumpasouraus rex. Well, you would have been right. I had me some girl time though, which consisted of milkshakes, Wii dance parties, and some Law & Order Criminal Intent. My mood is elevated highly and I am happy to say that angry dark cloud that was hangin’ over my head is nowhere to be found. Yay!

Here is a picture of my happy sneaker next to Tracy’s Harry Potter socks and cute doggies. You can see the cause of my joy, Detectives Goren and Eames in the background. Ahhhhh, life is good.

Makin’ faces

It’s been a long day. These ladies are both the light of my life and the pain in my arse.

I am trying to focus on the positive, but I feel like someone needs to come up with a chew toy for aggravated parents. I know I can’t smoke, but if I could just have something to bite down on really really REALLY hard, maybe that would help. Can you get cancer from mind cigarettes? Because I haven’t smoked for six years, but I think I’m going to go meditate and imagine myself blazing through a whole stinkin’ pack.