Here is my latest installment. DON'T MOVE. EVER. Don't do it. It's not worth it.
I spent yesterday, and I mean, yesterday, 8 hours, on the phone with utilities. Imagine explaining 30 times that yes, we are moving out on this date, and no, we are not moving in right away, we are moving in 30 days later, but yes, I just want to transfer service and not stop and start service and no you can't do that? Oh, your going to put me on hold? And transfer me?
Am I the only person on the planet who has ever done this? Rent back people, it's not that uncommon.
Verizon hung up on me. 4 times.
I know I really wanted this. I did, and I still do, and I love our new house. But huge giant pain in the ass this is.
And don't even get me started on the TV/cable/phone situation. Doug has to have DirectTV so he can watch the Steelers (Grrr....worst customer service known to man), DirectTV insists they need a phone line to install, we don't really want a phone because who needs a home phone anymore right? And the phone company doesn't do cable and it has to be a land line and not a voice over IP which leave us with.......
3 companies, 1 for phone, 1 for internet, and 1 for TV. To screw up and not show up. 10 bucks says I don't blog for two weeks because I don't have internet. Or phone. Or satellite.
The water company was lovely though. I should be able to shower.
Yes, it's a song from a Disney movie, and a bad Disney movie at that, but it is the first movie we ever took Michael to see and I cannot hear it without crying and thinking how hard everything has been for the past year and maybe, just maybe, the hardest part is over.
That's what the new house is for me, a new beginning. Starting over. Hope.
let it go,
let it roll right off your shoulder
don't you know
the hardest part is over
let it in,
let your clarity define you
in the end
we will only just remember how it feels
our lives are made
in these small hours
these little wonders,
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away,
but these small hours,
these small hours still remain
let it slide,
let your troubles fall behind you
let it shine
until you feel it all around you
and I don't mind
if it's me you need to turn to
we'll get by,
it's the heart that really matters in the end
-Rob Thomas
Today after camp I took Michael for ice cream. Not for any special reason, but because he has been having a rough time of it lately, and I thought some positive attention might do him some good. His behavior has gotten better at camp and I wanted to reward that. We didn't talk about moving, or time outs, or his bad behavior. We just ate ice cream and talked about his day.
We were sitting in silence eating, him picking his gummy bears out with his hands when he said, "Mommy, I have a secret." And he climbed off of his chair and walked over to me and he whispered "I love you and I like you."
That is the best secret anyone has ever told me.
and I don't mind
if it's me you need to turn to
we'll get by,
it's the heart that really matters in the end
(subtitle: I am remarkably un-photogenic, no one could take a good picture of me all weekend.)
The Good
Let me start off by saying I loved and adored BlogHer. I had a fabulous time. I hung out with old friends and made new friends. The writers on the internet are amazing, as evidenced by the community keynote. Anyone who thinks bloggers can't write should have been in that room Friday night. The emotion was palpable.
Some of my favorite memories include:
Flying out on Thursday with Amy and Ezra, who fell in love with my vitamin water. Has there ever been a more yummy baby?
Meeting and hugging some of my favorite rock stars from the internet: redneck mommy, motherhood uncencensored, miss grace, mrs flinger, and pretty much everyone who was there and on my blogroll. (This list is not exclusive, I met 8 hundred million people and my brain is fried!)
I had a 45 minute conversation with Jen Lancaster, who knew who I was (!) and could not have been more lovely.
I got to hang out with my favorite ladies, the DC Metro Moms.
I met some of the nicest, coolest women. I made sure to step out of my comfort zone and just walk up and introduce myself to people I did not know every day, at every session, and it was amazing.
A quote from me was scrolling on the big screen at the keynotes. Which was so awesome. I missed it the first time because I was in the registration line from hell. But I managed to catch it at the community keynote. I was so, so, honored. And floored.
And hanging out with the MamaPop writers and holding baby Ezra as he fell asleep in my arms during our panel.
The Bad
Before you read me, read this. My friend Vicki said it so much better that I can.
It is not okay to steal. And yes, if you took 2 swag bags, or lied about being on a list, you stole. How would you feel if your child behaved in the manner YOU OR SOMEONE ELSE behaved this weekend? Pushing, shoving, lying, stealing, FOR SWAG? For something you could buy at CVS? The behavior was deplorable and despicable and disgusting and I am ashamed for you.
If your child went to a birthday party and said, where is my goodie bag? What, there is no goodie bag? I'm blogging and twittering and TELLING EVERYONE I KNOW! You would put them in time out, right? Or at the very least you would give them a stern talking too. You are not entitled to FREE STUFF. You are not. You elbowed a baby. People have bruises. I did not get one swag bag from a party. And you know what, I DIDN'T COMPLAIN ABOUT IT. I survived. I'm even still breathing. It's possible.
(This is not directed at all of the Blog Her attendees. The people this is directed at know who they are.)
The Ugly
Just because I blog and are very open, does not give you full access to my life. It is not okay to ask me, or anyone else, if I am "an established blogger." Or what my stats are. Or complain that I think "I'm too big to talk to you." Trust me, I don't, I'm not, I just had to pee. I don't think I'm bigger than ANYONE. Don't start every conversation with who you are sponsored by, because I don't care. I really, really don't.
Some of the things that were said to me, and to me people I know, were ASTONISHING. I'm shell shocked by what came out of people's mouth. No, you cannot ask someone to introduce you to A DIFFERENT BLOGGER they do not know. No, it is not all-right to insult people TO THEIR FACE. And if you have been friends with someone for a year, it is not okay to suddenly ignore them because they are not as cool as the other people you know at Blog Her. That is just mean.
Okay, my little ranty tirade is over. I did honestly have a fantastic time. I just think that the next time, some manners might be nice. And also, some water. I have no idea why they could not serve water. And not flavored water, just plain, water.
Oh, and go say two words to Sarah. Money Lawyer. Ask her to tell you why.
I will end on a positive story, because I think it is important to to say that I truly did enjoy myself. Friday night before Sparklecorn, all the MamaPop writers met for a drink. And these where the people I have been writing with and conversing with and joking with and sharing stories with for years. And as I hugged each of them, it was like hugging family.
That's what the internet should be. We don't have to all get a long. We don't even have to all like each other. But we can all be nice.
***This is my opinion. I am sure there will be intelligent thoughtful discourse in the comments. But please be respectful.
I've been so wrapped up in house stuff, I've completely neglected BlogHer, which I leave for, tomorrow! Tomorrow! If I would have known what would happen since I decided to go, I probably wouldn't be going, but I am.
So, my obligatory, getting to know me, pre-BlogHer post.
1. I hate, hate, hate to fly. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous. I'm convinced I'm going to die in a plane crash. Luckily I'm flying with Amy and baby Ezra, and they are not going to die, so I'm good.
2. I am a big, huge, colossal, dork. So please say hi to me. I can't imagine ANYONE would be intimated by me. But it if you are, don't be. HUGE DORK.
3. I purposely didn't get a roommate and now I am totally regretting that decision. What if everyone forgets about me and no one tells me what parties they are going to and I'm sititng in my hotel room alone? (See dorkiness, above.)
4. I hate pictures and protest being in them. I also forget my camera all the time and forget to take pictures. I have no idea how I am a blogger.
6. My answer to "what do you want to drink?" will always be red wine if it is GOOD RED WINE. Otherwise, an extra spicy bloody mary. After that, water. I gave up diet coke and it was the hardest thing I ever did.
7. Do not ask me about moving unless you never want me to stop talking. Oh, I talk WAY TOO MUCH. Especially when I'm nervous. Or drunk. Which will be the whole weekend. (Hi mom.)
8. If you tell me your name and I say, "what's your twitter name or your blog name" that does not mean I don't know who you are. I know no one's real name. But I guarantee if I read you, or if you comment here, or if I follow you on twitter, I know your internet name.
9. I will forget your real name 5 seconds later.
10. There will be two places I will definitely be. The party of the century:
When I wrote this, three home buyer contracts and what feels like light years ago, I never thought we would be here, with another house we really love. That first house is like the first guy you ever loved. You know you never would have married him, but he will always hold a special place in your heart.
This house, our new house, is around the corner from that house. That house brought us to this house. I didn't know the neighborhood existed until that house. But we kept coming back to it.
But this house, onmyg-d this house, THIS HOUSE IS EVERYTHING we wanted. A gourmet kitchen. A master bedroom suite. A huge bay window. A backyard to die for.
See, this was all for Michael. I mean, it was for me too, because I hated the house I live in now from the day we moved in. But the whole moving bandwagon truly started when Doug and I were at my best friends house and watched him run through her backyard and I looked at Doug and said, "we can do this for him. Give him a backyard."
And Doug agreed. I had been working on him for 2 years nonstop, but it took watching his son run through a backyard to convince him.
And so started the honest to goodness worst three months of my life. And it is a little Kate Gosselin to say it was all for Michael. Because who really believes her 800 million dollar salary is "all for the kids." And my new house is not all for Michael. Of course not.
But I fell in love with this house the minute I saw this.
I wanted to do this for him. To give him a swing-set and a big backyard. (The trampoline, thank goodness, does not convey. You know how quickly we would be at the ER?)
When I wrote the post where we lost the first house I said, I "believe there is another house somewhere that is waiting for a little boy to run through it." And we found it.
And I can't believe in less than 60 days I get to call it home. For me. And for Doug. But most importantly, for Michael.
I spent the weekend wrapping crystal stemware in bubble-wrap and cursing my wedding registry. Formal serving for 12 is ridiculous. 12 crystal wine goblets. 12 crystal water goblets, 12 crystal iced beverage glasses, 12 crystal champagne flutes (yeah, I've totally used those), and 12 crystal dessert bowls. All which needs to be individually wrapped in bubble wrap to go into storage. By the time I wrap them in bubble wrap I get about 3 in a box. Lovely. My stemware is going to take up it's own truck.
And I haven't touched my everyday glassware. Where I have at least 24 wine glasses. I don't know either. I thought about paying the movers to pack me but then I remembered I was not a gazillionaire.
I called my mom and said, "how come no one told me when I registered for all of this crap that some day I would move it?" She said, "would you have listened?" She's a riot that one (Hi Mom!) And my dad said, "I'm pretty sure I told you." Now do you see where I get my my smart assness? No wonder Michael is what he is. He is a third generation smart ass.
So, take it from me all you late summer and early fall brides. Or anyone registering or thinking of registering. EVER. You will move. And you will have to move ALL OF YOUR CHINA AND CRYSTAL STEMWARE. Checks, cash, and a waffle maker. They move much easier.
This week's shoes come from Kelli who does her own version of Shoe Friday, Handbag Thursday. Kelli says:
I forgot to lose 20 lbs for my 20th high school reunion. Oops. I felt
that new shoes were more of an investment in my Fashion Future than a
pair of Spanx. Also, these shoes are particularly special to me
because they are the first pair my daughter helped me pick out. It
seems she is a "shoe girl" and as I am not, I suspect I will be getting
loads of opinions in the coming years.
(Anybody else think this week sounds like a Casey Casem long distance dedication? Dear Casey, my cat fluffy died and I miss her so, can you please play, Through the Years by Kenny Rogers.)
(Kelli I am so not making fun of you, but how I typed this. )
Michael changed schools last month, and it has not been the smoothest of transitions. He says he loves his new school/camp, and never asks about his old school, but he gets in trouble EVERY DAY. He was never a behavior problem at his old school. Now, he has also become a holy terror demon child at home as well. He spends more time in time out than not, and "go to your room" is uttered 100 times a day around here. I don't believe in hitting kids, but I'm beginning to understand it. A little.
Everything is a fight. Last night he screamed for 45 minutes after bedtime that he wanted DIFFERENT PAJAMAS. When I told him to go to bed or he would lose all of his privileges, no tv and I would throw all of his toys in the garbage, he told me "they wouldn't fit." Alrighty then.
It got to the point where everytime I picked him up at school I get a litany of everything he had done wrong that day. I finally told them that if they wanted to have a meeting with me we could do that, but there was nothing I could do about a daily report of time outs, and not listening, and not being quiet during quiet time. What did they want me to do?
I know that the stress level around these parts is really, really high. And he is reacting to the school change. And he is 4. And I have been trying to discipline him and remember all of this. Until I picked him up at school yesterday to be told he called one of the teacher's aides a Bitch. I didn't even know he knew that word. I very rarely swear. That is not a word we use in my house. I about fell over.
So, since beating the crap out of him is out, and I'm not washing his mouth out with soap, I sent him to his room. And made him apologize in the morning. And told him if ever, called anyone that word again, ever, he would lose all of his toys, forever.
