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(and LOL, I'm doing a pretty good job of that, huh?) but we had one offer come in on Thursday and another one today. We're not sure we can take the second offer, which is higher, and I won't type out why because it's just fodder for a good headache, but I think we're in the home stretch. Except for that part about not liking any of the houses in CA, of course.
I'm supposed to be going out to California this coming weekend. My sister is supposed to be here about 3 hours after I *leave* the house for airport, and currently, I do not have a babysitter for the kids during that time. Any takers? ;)
***
On Saturday, we all went to see the manatees. Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea, it being the Manatee Festival and all, but even though there were more folks there, it was still a treat to see them. They only come to the springs when it is cold*, so this was a good time to see them. In fact, if you happen to be near Daytona Beach this week, a quick trip to Blue Spring Park would be a worthwhile endeavor. Our high temps probably look to be staying in the 60sF - yeah, that's the kind of "cold" I like. ;)
* Given: Florida "cold" does not = northern "cold"
A few pictures (I used my 28-200 lens - wish I hadn't, because the pictures are always soft from it):
A leaf from the side of the St. John River:
Little baby manatee, hanging out by the edge of springs
More manatees (a babysitter/foster mom? and three babies)
Note: NO color editing on this picture - straight from camera; cool, huh?
Where's the alligator?
Here's a hint:
Molly climbs a tree
Bridget and daddy..
And that's a wrap! Have a great week!
Or not, of course. ;) But the folks who were here last week for a combined total of an hour and forty minutes may be preparing an offer to submit on Thursday (James' birthday, in fact!), or so they say. We'll see, but I figured I'd put it out there for some PVs that this happens, that the offer is good/not insulting, and that we can move on.
And from Molly:
"I like the pone because it lafd at the hejhog. Molly"
The flowing mane is a new addition to her horse drawings. This picture and the words just make me smile; must be one of those mom things because seriously, who else would be so pleased to behold something with misspelled words in a childish handwriting, and a picture of a horse, some butterflies and flowers, and the sun?
Okay, it's nearly midnight, so I'll give you a hint: my realtor did not just call me. :)
No, something better! As many of my friends know, Bridget is a night owl like me. Okay, maybe she's a night owl because I am a night owl, but it's a wicked, vicious cycle: we stay up late, and then she sleeps late in the mornings, usually until 10 or even 11 am, repeat. So anyway, I knew she was tired, so I picked her up (awake - this is key), put her in her (okay, my) bed, pulled the covers up over her a bit, gave her a kiss and told her to go 'night-'night.
AND SHE DID! Three minutes later, she was asleep.
I didn't lay down with her - just put her in the bed. By herself. And walked away.
::sniff::
Yeah, my baby's really growing up, isn't she? Yesterday morning, she nursed for about a minute, for what I suspect is probably the last time. It'd been nearly a week since the last one, and for the last few months, they've only been brief - a minute or less, usually, and not always even once every day (our usual time is bedtime). So you see, This Is Big. For the first time in nearly nine years, I am neither pregnant nor nursing, and I will never be either of those again. No more babies - only kids who, with varying degrees of cooperation, get in bed on their own, and go to sleep without mommy or daddy next to them.
~*~**~*~
I started this post two days ago - Friday night, actually. Last night, Bridget crawled into bed with James and fell asleep next to him. And as I type this now, she is in my bed, awake yet, but she got in on her own and is not calling out for me. I really think she's ready for her own bed, but again - no kids in my bed at night? I might actually get to become reacquainted with my husband after all! :)
No house news. We had an Open House yesterday but it was a dud. There was a showing during that time, too. The folks who spent so much time here Wednesday (40 minutes) and Friday (60 minutes) have not been back in touch. On the other hand, the last of the houses I have liked in CA is going off the market, so maybe another month'll do us good. Let's hope that what's left of my sanity is up to the challenge.
Found this picture of Molly helping Bridget to walk; it was taken August 31, 2005, so it was another month before Bridget actually took her first solo steps. But it's sweet anyway, isn't it? My two little girls...
And while I have a lot to share, I'll keep it short because, as always, I have a lot to do to get ready for an Open House this weekend. My buddy Karin knows that we also had one last weekend, but the realtor (not our usual, but someone from the same office) did a poor job of marketing and advertising, so we've been offered another one this weekend. However, I'll add that things are picking up, and I suspect we'll be sold soonish, maybe even by the end of this month. Er, yeah, maybe. We had a buyer here a couple weeks ago who wanted it very, very much, but they couldn't close 'til the summer. We rejected that outright, unfortunately for them. And then, this Saturday, we had a showing scheduled that afternoon who returned a couple hours later for a second look. Unfortunately, they also have to sell their house so while we rejected their request for a home sale contingency, I've been told they are trying to locate financing to allow them to purchase even if their home has not sold. And then yesterday, we had an unscheduled (well, 30 minutes' notice) showing; I rarely worry about those because they rarely seem like serious buyers (usually, I get a few hours' notice to even a day or two, if a realtor is taking around a serious buyer to several houses), but they were here for nearly 45 minutes, and I can't imagine that they would have wasted all of that time here if they weren't interested. It probably helps that the local and even national media are saying that things are picking up, that we can expect prices to start inching upward again, and that this is going to be a good season (at least for the market here). And then there's the rates to consider; most likely, they'll be creeping back up again, too.
All of that gives me hope that we'll be out of here, finally, but it's not without some heartache, too. Though it was not the first house we've purchased, still, it was our first real home - the home we both wanted, the one we chose, the place where we thought we would be for so long, and where I was fully and completely unpacked. I sat at the breakfast table this morning looking out on my backyard, and at the three trees I'd planted as saplings nearly three years ago - the Red Maple, growing quickly and looking like it'll be a fine tree someday, the Golden Rain Tree, with its unusual trunk(s) shape and the remaining few lantern-like seedpods at the top of its branches, and last, the Laurel Oak, the smallest and slowest to grow, bigger now than a sapling but still dwarfed by the other two. And although I couldn't see it from the table, I thought of the Tulip Poplar, given as a gift to us by Steve's father, in whose yard resides an enormous, 30-year old specimen of the same tree. And it made me a little bit sad that I won't see these trees grow, trees that I'd chosen from the lot at the local nursery, trees I'd planted while I was still pregnant with Bridget...
And Bridget! I was four months pregnant when we bought this house; this is the home to which we brought our last wee babe, where she took her first steps (in our family room) and said her first words, and grew from newborn to infant to toddler. No longer a baby, she speaks and acts - well, like a little girl with an older brother and sister who teach her a lot of things, some of them good, thankfully. She asks "Why?" questions, is still devoted to Dora, plays with her kitchen and "Baby Jaguar", knows where her snack bowls and cups are located, and even though it is January, has faint tan lines on her arms and legs - my little Florida baby.
Molly went through two years of preschool here with the same teacher and group of children, and started kindergarten, all the while we lived in this house. She went from drawing stick people at the age of (almost) 3, to having pictures of her horses chosen by her art teacher for entry in a national art competition. She went from a precocious preschooler to a confident kindergartener who earned all "O's" on her last report card, and she has remained committed to owning a horse one day - a dream we hope to fulfill in a few years.
James has been through nearly three grades at the local elementary school. And while we wondered, many years ago, if he was destined for a career driving big machines, those were put aside long ago and now he watches and studies the Military Channel, tucking away the information he learns there about the past wars. Recently, he said to his friend, "Hey Andrew, let's pretend we're French Legionnaires, and you can be...". I try to temper his enthusiasm for such things, but the reality is, for a nearly 8-year old, it's all about strategy and logic, and about his perception of what it means to fight for freedom and country. By the end of this month, half of all of his birthdays will have been in this house.
My dear friend and neighbor tells me that lately, she thinks I've really been feeling the stress of it all a little more than usual, and she is probably right. The "end" - of this era in my life, this time in our "first" home, in our dear neighborhood with all of our quirky but mostly well-meaning neighbors, and even the end of my time as a mom with babies - is drawing near. It is both an exciting time and a sad time for us all, filled with grieving and hope and uncertainty. I want it to happen already, but I know that when we finally get an offer for this house, it will be so much more than a piece of paper with some numbers on it. It'll be my marching orders for the next phase, and while I know we'll get through it, right now, this day, is a tearful part of the journey.
I really don't have much time for blogging, and I've taken too long on this post anyway. But I'll be sure and tell you when "it' happens and maybe some day soon, I'll have some more time. I hope you are having a wonderful New Year!
Yes, finally! Not just the bangs, which was my original plan, but all of it - long overdue, too. She had two distinct layers in the back, so that was evened up as well. I forgot to take my camera to the shop, but she completely charmed the young, street-punky-but-polite-and-friendly Scottish guy-stylist at the local Super Cuts location. She was the perfect client, too - she stayed still, and did not cry or do anything terrible at all. Such a little trooper! Of course, she's extremely shy and reluctant even to acknowledge strangers, so that may have had something to do with it. He was even able to blow-dry her hair!
Anyway, the daddy wants to see the pictures, so here they are (and man, I cannot get over how adorable she is; it is just so cute on her!).
Utterly charming, isn't it? :)
This day always sneaks up on me. Even before you died, it's such a short span between Christmas and January 4th, that I've always only just begun to move past the holidays. It's different now, of course. For starters, I guess it's not critical that I go out and buy a card anymore, or make a rushed phone call with good wishes and all that. But what I wouldn't give to have the opportunity to say "Happy Birthday" to you...
Today started out like most days - hurrying to get James and Molly ready for school (Molly likes to sleep in - I'm sure you can't imagine where she got that from, right?). Right after that, though, I scooped up Bridget and we were off to the pediatrician's office for her. I learned that she's almost 25 lbs now, and in further evidence of the waning (or bygone?) days of her babyhood, she didn't sit on a baby scale, she stood on the big kid scale - the one where 5 and 7 and 15 years old kids stand. And despite her current "No!" phase, she smiled at the nurse and doctor. She has a bacterial infection and will be taking augmentin for it; we hope this isn't one of the penicillin-resistant strains of infections so I'm to keep an eye on it for the next day or so. Anyway, after that, we had to stop at James' endo's office to pick up his lab slips (and yeah, you probably know that I snuck in a stop to Starbucks...), which was followed by some grocery shopping and a quick snack at a local lunch spot. Yep.
You've been on my mind all day, but it wasn't until James and Molly came home that I could really give any sort of voice to it.
"Today is my dad's birthday," I said to them. James wanted to know how old you were - well, would have been, and I told him that you'd have been 68 today. I guess Molly was a little fuzzy on one particular detail, and asked me if you were still alive. "No, bug, my dad is your PawPaw," I explained, and because she's a bit dramatic, she cried a few tears. After a few minutes, I told James that he was at your last birthday party, and that he gave you the little car on his cake. Molly was a bit bothered that she wasn't there, but her feelings were eased when I told her that she was there, only in my tummy. James offered that she saw it all through my belly button, even though he knows that's not really possible; it was enough for a giggle, at least.
And then James asked me how you died. And I can't tell him, not right now. I told him, instead, about the ALS, and how it affects the muscles, but the conversation sort of trailed off there because his questions were a little too close to that area from which I fervently protect him. Maybe one day I will be able to tell him the truth, but he, who reenacts his 7-almost-8 year old versions of war with a bunch of little plastic green army guys, complete with statistics of how many Allied or Axis or American or German soldiers died, is too young yet to hear that information. It's not that I can't confront the truth, because I confronted and accepted it on that day in May... it's just that it's not the sort of thing he needs to know right now. And in my mind, I know you'd agree with me.
Shortly after you died, I cried to someone as I confessed my grief over the fact that you never met or held Molly, who was 12 days old when you left us. And she said to me that I have to believe that you were holding her even now. And every time I think about that statement, I lose control of it all and can't believe that I have to take the word of a stranger that my father knows a granddaughter he never met. But of all the things I hope, that is one of the things I hope the most - that you know them all, even the one who came three years later.
I miss you so much and I hope you know that you are present for us, though memory is a rather poor substitute, isn't it?
On your last birthday, we laughed SO much our sides were hurting, but of course it couldn't be helped. That's because Bec (my sister) is a bit kooky in a totally fun kind of way. 
I'm really not sure what made me choose this cake (because yes, I admit it, I did choose it); maybe it was because I knew you'd get a kick out of giving James that little car ( I think he still has it):
James had fun, too (or rather, Bec had fun with James):
So, Happy Birthday, Dad. I wish you were here, but I know you had to go. See you 'round the bend, right?
No time for the blog, you know? Will probably cancel it and maybe revert back to blogger, perhaps in February. Or not - maybe I'll just be blogless. :)
We had a great Christmas, visiting my sister in North Carolina. James got his oft-requested spy gear, plus a Nintendo DS Lite, the game "Heroscape" (which is way complicated), some Roald Dahl books, a skateboard, and more. Molly got a super-cool Sony Cybershot camera, a Baby Alive doll (which has made for some absolutely hysterical moments here), a Leapster LMAX, a Cranium SuperFort, and more. Bridget got a way cool Step 2 Lifestyles Dream Kitchen, some wood-n-velcro food, a really neat teepee and tunnel set, the game Elefun, and (of course) more. I have loads of pictures, but no time right now to load them.
We've had more showings on the house but nothing else is hap'nin'. My realtor feels we're "very close" and I don't disagree, but that's when I'm feeling hopeful. I've joined a gym and hope I can make the time to go daily. I can't quite believe it, but in just over three weeks, James will be eight years old. He wants a WWII party (???) but in a fit of desperation and perhaps some exhaustion, I offered him $100 plus a pizza party for a few friends in lieu of said party, and he was BEYOND THRILLED about that. Hmmm...maybe I should have started at $50? I feel a little bit guilty about not doing a real party because it's something he talks about all year long. If this, coupled with my many other foibles, does not convince you to award me the Worst Mom of the Year award, I'm sure I'll do something soon to sway your opinion. ;)
I never did Christmas cards (!) but hope to send out something for, um, New Years, so for my friends who wondered if they'd been dissed, the answer is a resounding no. However, I did lose (or pack) my address list so that may impact your ability to receive the sure-to-be wildly desirable NY card.
Until next time, here's a picture from shortly after midnight on NYD:
