Bread Crumbs In The Butter

Beautiful

Every once in a while (let's say every three months or so, or when John's quarterly reports are due and we're both screaming from stress), I encourage my husband to leave me alone for an evening.  I pour and nice big drink and pop in Beautiful Girls.  My all time favourite movie.

It's a flick about a group of high school friends in flux and I hugely attracted to flux.  I don't know if it's because I constantly put myself there or if it's just my own bad luck, but I find I'm always thinking "When things calm down I'm going to ... "

We had that for a bit. Maybe a year or so after we moved here.  I didn't have to work, so I didn't. John and I didn't have to worry about money, so we didn't fight about it.  For a while, life was blissfully quiet and non-threatening.

What happened next is no secret. The shit hit the fan, I got a job, we decided to move and now we wait.  Our house is for sale and being such a "unique property" it's not going to fly right off the market.  That perfect buyer is out there somewhere. I just wish he/she would find his way here a bit faster.  I want to move on.   It's almost like this house is an ex I still have to live with.  I am done with it/him and I want to get away as fast as I can, but I'm stuck.   I have to stare at his face as I pay the hydro bill.  Did that make sense?

I'm sorry. I told you that movie makes me drink.

The best line in the movie is "I just want something beautiful ..." to which Mo replies "We all want something beautiful ..."

And each and every time I hear that  line I get up out of my bed (cause you have to watch this movie while in your jammies and covered by your favourite blanket) and walk to where my children sleep.  That's beautiful. Right there.

And each and every time I watch this movie while alone John gets home just as I've fallen asleep and the movie has ended.  He usually turns it off and I'm pretty sure looks at me just the same way I've looked at my kids.

That someone, even after I've bought too expensive yogourt, bitched at him about peeing on the seat, told him that there are days when I hate my life or asked him if he thinks I'm too fat, still looks at me and sees beauty?  That's amazing and beautiful too.

Adequate/Inadequate

Adequate:

I've been working many hours and will be soon working many more hours. The money is great.

Inadequate:

It's on days off like today that I realize how much I miss when I am at work. Doing laundry so they don't have to, making their lunches, meeting them from the bus and walking lazily up the driveway chatting about their day.

Adequate:

I am absolutely adoring ball hockey and so far our hectic Thursday schedule hasn't stopped me from making it each week.  Outdoor soccer has started and I feel really proud about the new team we are becoming.  I am loving getting to play both sports this summer.

Inadequate:

I often wonder if I give up a part of my parenting and feel intense guilt for putting myself first. I wonder why I can't choose just one.  That the answer is "I just don't want to" either makes me feel very confident or very shitty.

Adequate:

My kids are happy, healthy and very unpicky eaters willing to try anything.  More often than not lately we are choosing whole, organic foods grown or raised right around us.  I'm being more conscious about not wasting - even composting!  I've recently discovered that farm fresh local eggs make the most amazing fried egg sandwiches ever!

Inadequate:

I've fallen off the wagon of meal planning and smart food shopping. I've spent too much money on food lately (that we don't necessarily have) because I'm flying by the seat of my pants.  When I do this I feel rushed and confused. I need plans people!

Adequate:

We are insanely busy and so far everyone is getting there. We are lucky to have the help of friends and between John and I we have managed to reciprocate as well. Everyone is enjoying their summer activities.

Inadequate:

I am so over-tired, over-committed and over-cranky that I sometimes yell and lash out when I shouldn't. I have spent a lot of time apologizing to my kids about my outbursts, which makes me feel like something you leave on a boot scraper.

Things I Need Right Now

• Laser hair removal.  Holy crap on a stick, waxing hurts.
• A yoga day with Moyra (and hopefully meet up with Karen too)
• The Beastie Boys to come back to town.
• For Tampax Pearl Lites to be available in Canada so John doesn't freak out when I ask him to get me some next time he is where they sell them.
• A new cell phone.  I'd like one in iPhone form, please.
• New t-shirts.
• For beer not to make me so gassy.
• For wine not to make me so barfy.
• For one more kid to be playing soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays. No wait. I don't need that, I need the exact opposite of that.
• To stop getting a hockey stick to the shin every single time I play. In the same spot. Opening up the same cut.
• Self-cleaning toilets.
• The perfect four bedroom house within walking distance of my kids school.
• On that note, someone to buy this perfect house, which is no longer perfect for me. 

What do you need right now?

Saviour

The paint disaster happened on Monday. It was about 6:04am on Tuesday that John and I realized there was no way we could paint this house ourselves. I'm a decent painter, but for the price we're asking for this house, it needs to be a bit more than decent.

Several painting companies were called to come in for quotes. The first one was last night. He's a friend of a friend and a great guy all around. He took a look around, wondered if we were sabotaged by an army of drunk circus folk and then let me know he wouldn't feel good about the job just patching things up. He wanted to paint the whole house.

I won't say what the quote was, but it was so much lower than I thought and I nearly cried. Maybe it's cause I look good in a t-shirt or because there is now a look in my eyes that lets you know I will cut someone if one more thing goes wrong this week. I don't know. What I know is that I gave him a very weird hug and asked him when he could start. He'll be hear next Wednesday.

I have to take a sec here to thank everyone who offered their time and help in the midst of this disaster. Some offered food. Some offered beer. One extra special, and unbelievably awesome chick even offered me her husband!

Why else do you share stories like mine yesterday but to whine, justify the amount of alcohol you've consumed the night before and to be reminded that people actually like you?

What? Two Toned Walls Don't Scream High-End Real Estate?

Forty-eight hours ago, we were all set and on track. John and I had really worked our asses off, with the help of many great friends who moved furniture and cleaned house.  The light at the end of the tunnel was there. We were two days away from the final staging by the professional stager and two and a half days away from professional photographs.

Only one thing was left from the stager's very detailed list of items to complete. Little paint touch ups on the walls. We had expected this since we have four kids and have lived here for almost four years. We still had paint leftover from when the house was built, so we had my father in law head to Home Hardware to get another gallon.  Very helpful of him.

I guess he decided to take it a step further and patch the walls with drywall compound. Okay. He was a little liberal, but I sanded it down and had planned on doing the small touch ups myself on Tuesday afternoon.

True to an ongoing history of taking things upon himself where this house is concerned, he did the touch ups on the walls on Monday. Problem is, he didn't just touch up like you and I would, he rolled it on in two foot to five foot sections!  Oh, and the kicker? He didn't stop to see if the paint matched.

Guess what?

The paint does not match.

If I back up this trainwreck, I can let you know that when this house was built, a professional decorator recommended this new phenom in decorating. 3-D walls. Have you heard of this?  There are three different shades of the same colour in this house. Some walls are darker and some are light. It's a very subtle effect that, in my opion, does jack shit of a difference!  That is, until my father in law, meaning well and all, decided to do massive touch ups with one colour on every wall.

This has not only set us back timewise, but financially. This house has high ceilings and several vaulted ceilings.  I can't paint this myself.

So, I'm sitting her waiting for a professional painter to come give us a quote. I hope he takes payment in hugs, kisses and good thoughts, cause that's all I have.

Bullety, Edition 44; Things That Don't Suck Edition

Cause tomorrow promises a post that will tell you all about something that sucks. Big time.

• My first post is up at the Canada Moms Blog! I'm not sure which of the awesome ladies behind this idea thought it a good idea to have me rant for them, but I'm thrilled. Go there to read more about my awful night at Ikea (and to check out some of the fabulous company I am in!).

• My kids. We went to their school Open House tonight and I have to say, they're doing so well. They're work is so well done, so thought out and <gasp> neat. They have bright ideas and happy pictures. I guess all of the stressing I've been doing hasn't affected them that much?

• The front of my house look awesome. I mean it. It's a nice house to begin, so I didn't have to work too hard, but this is the most flowers I've had by the door. I picked them out, all big girl like and actually spent a decent amount of money to make it look like folks with money should live here. I'll share some pics soon!  

I'm gonna leave it there for now. Cause tomorrow will knock your socks off! (Unless you've read about it on Facebook or Twitter, in which case, it will just explain things a bit more.)

You know me and change

I'm wallowing.

I know I'm doing it, but it's hard to stop when it can feel so oddly good.

It gives me a reason to eat chips for supper, like I did last night.  I can drink too much beer on a Tuesday night and tell myself it's because things suck right now and I deserve it.

I can stop running and working out and rationalize that my time and efforts are needed elsewhere.

Then one Saturday morning, I will wake up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see it. Not only do I feel the wallow in me, I can see it.

This just has to change.

Yes, things are hard in the Hubert household. John and I have been fighting like crazy about money, compromise and who has it worse right now.  Have you seen two grown ups argue over who had less toothpaste? It's pretty sad.

Our house is going up for sale and that has been a lot of work. When you're asking a certain amount for a property, it's gotta look like it's worth it. I can tell you that after four weeks, one staging expert and a whole lot of elbow grease, this house looks amazing. Not in a way that makes me want to stay, because the mortgage still gives me heart palpitations - in a way that reassures me this is the right decision.  It does not look like we live here anymore. It's a beautiful house, but it's not my home.

I'm feeling good about the whole thing and that's huge right now.

There have been small glimmers of stuff that makes me smile.

This week, we scraped up enough to purchase our first actual bed. Not just a mattress on a frame (cause we have a really great mattress), but a bed.  It's made of actual wood and rails and posts. Four posts!  I need a stool to get into it.

Meghan won third place at the Renfrew Rotary Music Festival. The adjudicator told her she had the best rhythm of the bunch. It didn't drown out the melody. She was thrilled.

Ball hockey has started again. How much I love this sport is impossible to describe. Soccer is my thing, but the pace and agility of ball hockey pumps me up for days.

I'm muddling through.  Hopefully soon, we'll have started another new chapter and I'll go back to regaling everyone with my filthy mouth and crazy ideas.

Inherent Jobs

It's a beautiful Easter Monday morning and with our house going up for sale soon, I am on a mission to get rid of stuff. I've got a massive pile by the front door just waiting to head either to the dump or the barn.

"So Babe, think you back up the truck and trailer to the front door so I can just start hauling shit into it?

"What kind of shit, my eloquent delicate flower?"  (Okay, he didn't say it quite like that, but he did make some remark at my language.)

"Stuff to take to the dump mostly. Trash that's too big and too costly to put out with our regular garbage. (We pay for our garbage here, people!)

I could see the wheels moving in his head. The blood boiling.

You see, he thinks his life is full of running little errands just like this one for me.  Pick up the pizza. Take this to the dump. Screw in this light bulb. Take out the garbage. Clear the driveway. Pressure wash the house. Clean the garage. Go see whose ass needs wiping I have my hands in a chicken. When you're in town getting gas for the plow/mower/chainsaw, can you get me some tampons. Cut the kids toenails, they look like Fritos. Return the beer empties and get a new case of beer, but make it PC Light just for me.

And on and on and on.

Most of these are jobs I not only am too busy to do, I just don't want to. There are certain things in any house that are just inherently male or female. They might vary from household to household, but we all have those little niggling things we refuse to do.  I rarely do any of the things I mentioned, but in my defence, John rarely empties the dishwasher, puts away groceries, plans our meals, barbecues, gets propane for the barbecue, pays the household bills, takes care of the pool or handles first aid.

This is how our marriage works. It works just fine.

Even still, I know he has a busy weekend coming up and the idea of taking our household castoffs to the dump just isn't something he's into.  So, because I'm either nice or horny or both, I thought; "Would it be so bad to take a load to the dump on Saturday?  I have four helpers and I've never been. Who knows? It might be fun. I might find a new hangout!"

So ...

"It's fine, Babe."  I said, batting my eyelashes. "Just pull it up to the house and I'll take it to the dump!"

"Awww... thanks!" he said, tilting his head to the side. "That would be awesome! Cause I'm headed down to Blahblahville that day and I don't know if I'll have time!"

"OH!" I squealed in delight!  "Blahblahville is the only place that sells Tampax Light Tampons! Can you grab me some at the Wal-Mart while you're there?!"

Bullety, Edition 43; Beep

• Are you ready for some serious adorableness? My incredibly well brought up six year old son absolutely loves the song "Gives You Hell" by the All-American Rejects.  He sings it constantly. But (big but) he thinks "hell" is a bad word so he just says "Hope it gives you *beep*!" instead. Insanely cute, right?

• Unless you live under a rock, or don't actually know me, or don't read Facebook or Twitter, we are selling our house. I had a long drawn out posted about it, but in the end, we just can't afford this house anymore.  The mortgage, the maintenace, the heat! It's a big house.  A perfect bed and breakfast or a house for some strange Canadian version of The Duggars. (Or, even the actual Duggars! Hey, Jim-Bob, call me!)

• Have you heard of Glasvegas? Find them now. I swear, I love them. I would follow them around Scotland and become a very annoying groupie. And it's not just because of the way he pronounces "Geraldine" in the song. (Well, maybe a little.)

• Oh and hey! Big news! Guess where I'll be writing with some AMAZING Canadian Moms? The newest sister site of the Silicon Valley Moms Blog - Canada Moms Blog. I'm pretty sure I'll be helping out with the Ottawa area moms beat and that will be soon. Like, as soon as I get the bio and headshot done. I promise it will be soon and not next year!

The Decision To Stay

A few days ago, during a Twitter call out for questions and blog post inspiration, Cristina over at Homeslice asked how I was liking my new job.

Um. Oops.

I guess in the kerfuffle I forgot to talk to you all about this. So let me tell you what happened.

About a week before I was due to start, I got my schedule for my first week. It was wildly erratic and insanely long. Including lunch breaks I was set to work forty-five hours. When you include travel time to and from, not account for traffic, I was setting myself up to be away from home more than fifty-five hours that week.

As I sat down to juggle rides here and there for the kids, prepping Kristyn to deal with getting off the bus and being home with her siblings on her own for a few hours a night and generally freaking out, I knew what had to be done. John knew it. The kids knew it. We all did. With this job, I would live in two places - work and home. There would be no soccer, there would be no ball hockey, there would be no gym. I couldn't commit to coaching or driving or even just sitting on the sidelines and watching my kids excel.

I wasn't ready to let it go yet and didn't want this to be my idea, so of course, I started a fight with John so that I could get him to tell me not to do it. That didn't happen, so it was a wasted fight, but it felt good to cry and yell at someone.

The job was right up my alley. I love people and I love clothes and I heart discounts with my whole body. It wasn't a dirty job that involved hauling bags of mail or getting paper-cuts and ruing any manicure I've ever had. It was all mine and I got it all on my own. I impressed this woman so much that she went to bat for me on so many things.  You can imagine how hard it was to call her and turn this opportunity down. But it was right.

I'm still working at the post office. You know what? It's not so bad now. I will never work past 6:00pm and rarely work past 5:PM. It takes seven minutes to get to work and my boss is incredibly understanding about the demands of working with young children. It's not glamourous work, but I get to see many of my friends in this small town on a daily basis. I might not be challenged intellectually, but I still get to freak many people out with my mad skills at remembering post office box numbers.

It's all good. I'm happy with this choice. If I've learned one thing it's that I'm still young and I can still impress. There will be time for the glamour eventually.

Just another example of how complicatedly boring my life can be, eh?