College was way more fun the first time around

I've got Mommy Guilt.

I've always hated that term.

I started my math adventure this morning. After a brief bout of nausea and some cold sweats I've decided that I am going to kick this class's ass. I have to just get over the fact that I haven't taken a math class since my sophomore year in college and I'm way out of practice. It probably doesn't help that that last math class was statistics and I was chemically altered for much of it.

I passed it though. I think I got a C. He must have been grading on one hell of a curve.

Because my class starts at 8am Mondays and Wednesdays, I cannot drive the girls to school those days.

It's not that Jim is incapable of covering that duty either. He pulls his weight around here in spades. I'm lucky that his work schedule allows him to do it too.

I just can't over the fact that I feel like I am shirking my responsibility as a Mom.

I quit my job to stay home with my girls almost 4 years ago. It's a decision I never saw myself making. However, though I want to hide in the bathroom with a bottle of bourbon some days, it's been one of the best choices I've ever made.

I know how lucky I am to have that choice in the first place. I know that going back to school is important and that, again, I am lucky to have the choice to do it. I know all this, but because it is something that is just for me, I feel guilty.

I guess in the big picture, this is not all for me. Once I am done with this degree then (hopefully) the next, I will be in position to have a new career to provide a future for my kids that doesn't include student loans and money worries.

My furthering my education is not only a benefit to me, but to my girls. Also, once I have a real live paycheck with health insurance benefits, I can lighten the load on my husband. I know it doesn't seem like a dude who runs a comic book store would work his ass off, but he does. He might have a great time doing it, but he pours a lot of himself into it.

He doesn't worry about money like I do which is good. He plays the straight man to my neurotic kookoopants around here. I know money shouldn't matter, but it sure seems to when you're not real sure if it's going to be there when you need it.

We have a home, food on the table and the utility bills paid so I shouldn't complain. And I'm not. I just get nervous about the state of the economy right now. People don't put comic books high up on their list of "needs", so I know the bottom could fall out at any moment.

And maybe that all ties with the guilt I am feeling. I'm spending money to go back to school when we should be saving as much as we can in case the well dries up. But I need to go back to school to get a job to have money to save.

Blabbity blah blah.

Just tell me to get over it already.

Maybe I just need a Valium?

I need a fucking vacation.

I feel like I have been in the house for months on end. Part of it is the weather I guess. Part of it is the fact that the girls never stop talking. There is a running commentary on EVERYTHING every second they are here and awake. It's usually them arguing over something really stupid too. I would never tell them that (mostly because "stupid" is a bad word around here...unless we are discussing the current administration), but I do try to explain that they can BOTH be the goddamned sparkly princess dragon fairy ferchrissakes.

I can't send them outside to run off some of this pent up energy either. It's just too damn cold. Even if I did bundle them up and send them out, there isn't even any snow to play in. They'd just want to come back inside after a few minutes anyway. And I wouldn't blame them.

Tomorrow is Sunday and the only day off Jim gets. Ever. I told him that I really need to leave the house BY MYSELF for a couple of hours. Seeing the crazed look in my eye, he wholeheartedly agreed.

Winter is really getting to me this year.

What I'd really really like to do is drop the kids off at Grandma's house and hop a plane to somewhere sunny and warm for a long weekend with Jim...but that costs money we don't have.

I just signed up for the Delta Skymiles American Express credit card. I got the offer in the mail and, even though I dropped a no credit card rule bomb 'round here before Xmas, I might need to use it at the dogs' vet appointment next month.

The bill usually hits around the $600 mark when it's all said and done. I don't have that kind of dough right now and I can't bring myself to skip their annual exams. If I don't get it done they won't get their shots and tags. I can't board them without that which means we can't go out of town overnight.

I got a free "companion ticket" for signing up for the card and I'll get enough miles for a free domestic round trip if I spend $500 on it in the first three months (or something like that).

I haven't read all the fine print on how exactly this deal works, but I'm thinking we might have a couple of plane tickets to burn here in the next couple of months.

Maybe I will actually get this vacation.

Where should we go?

Florida? Vegas? New Orleans? The Gulf Coast?

Brain Dump

I have a profile over on Facebook and I've been getting back into touch with all these people I hung out with in college. We're talking 12 to 16 years ago. Christ.


I ran with an insane crowd of people back then. I still hang out with some of them, but our insanity has settled into more of a simmering weirdness.


A lot of these old friends have been posting pictures from "back in the day". Some of them make me laugh my ass off and some of them make me have to catch my breath. I lived a lot of life in those few short years.


By looking at all those old pictures, mostly what I am reminded of is how much of a total dipshit I was.


I tried to explain this on the phone to an old friend the other day. He just laughed and told me that "we were ALL dipshits". I don't know though. That's not exactly how I remember it.


It doesn't help that I still live in the same town that I went to college in. Maybe if I didn't have to drive past the houses and apartments I partied in (or the spaces where the houses and apartments used to be) it wouldn't still be so fresh in my mind.


You'd think with all the mind-altering substances I put into my body during that time I wouldn't be able to remember much, but it's still there.


Don't get me wrong. I had A LOT of fun--probably too much fun. But somewhere in between all that "fun" were some not so pleasant memories. Part of getting older and having to become a "grownup" must be the lingering guilt of the past.



Or is that just me?


I don't think I was a mean person, just thoughtless. Selfish. Self-centered.


If I could go back in time and talk to my 20 year old self, I would tell that person to quit being such a dumb ass. I would tell her to try and think her decisions through to the end instead of demanding instant gratification.

"See that guy? You will come home from a party and find him bleeding in your bed."

"And that guy? He will dump you "to be alone", but introduce you to his new girlfriend about 12 hours later."

"That one? You'll catch him ogling another girl's tits at a party and he'll break up with you when you call him on it. (But he'll make a spectacular fool of himself trying to sleep with her, so it all evens out in the end. And then he'll ask you to take him back by biting the heads off roses and spitting them at your feet at a bar.)

Obviously what's done is done. And things turned out pretty peachy in the end.


I just can't help but think of how much time got wasted getting here.

Besides, I'm pretty sure my 20 year old self wouldn't have listened anyway.

If I knew you were comin' I'd a baked a cake

I'm having a bunch of friends over on Saturday for a party to celebrate the Mister and I's tenth annivesary.

I've been planning for a long time, and it's finally here.

I'm not worried about making food or having enough liquor. Anyone who's here can feel free to crash in any bed or open floor space they can find, so I'm not worried about anyone driving drunk.

No. My worry?

Cleaning my house.

I'm an OK housekeeper--meaning there isn't anything rotting underneath anyone's bed, the floors get vaccumed almost daily and I'm usually not worried about anyone seeing the state of my bathroom on most days.

Getting the house clean and keeping it clean are two completely different stories. I don't daydream about fancy vacations. No, my fantasies involve having a maid to follow my children around and clean up after them (and maybe some other stuff that has nothing to do with cleaning products...).

Honestly, I'm not usually this much of a freak when it comes to this stuff.

It's when I am having a gathering of people over that I panic.

Some of the friends coming to the party live far away and most of them haven't been to our house.

Considering the squalor we all lived in back during our college years, I really don't know why I have this obsession to get my house perfectly clean.

Why the fuck do I care if there are crumbs under the toaster?

But I do.

I'm really glad that I am back in school and working my brain a little. I'm a little bit scared of what I'm becoming.

Not that there's anything wrong with being home to cook and clean and all that shit. I actually enjoy it most of the time. It sounds weird, but I feel more sane when everything's picked up.

I know people that can live happily in chaos, but I can't even stand to wake up to dirty dishes from the night before.

I think part of it is that I finally live in the kind of house I've wanted to live in since I was a little kid growing up in tiny apartments. If I don't take care of it, it's almost as if I don't appreciate it.

Kind of like when people win the lottery and squander it all away in a matter of years. I don't get that at all. There's only so many lap dances one can get before it gets boring.

I plan on taking a million pictures on Saturday. Not only because so many old friends will be there but also to document how, for at least one day, my house was sparkling.

She acts all tough but...

Exactly one week from today I will be sitting at O'Hare waiting on the first leg of my fabulous Italian getaway.

Why am I so freaked out?

I took the girls to the library yesterday and picked up a bunch of travel books to try and do some research into public transport and hotels.

When I get to Malpensa Airport in Milan, I need to find my way to Stazione Centrale and find a place to stash my luggage while I see the sights for the day. Then I need to get back to the station and catch a train to Venice where my cousin is meeting up with me.

I tried to make reservations to see The Last Supper, but there aren't any slots left for the day I'll be in Milan. I did find a few guided tours that say they stop there, so I guess I'm going to try that out.

I will have a cell phone my cousin sent me that will work over there, so I won't be completely on my own, but...

I'm kind of lost as far as finding my way.

A book can only tell you so much. I know how to read a map, but how will I know one piazza from another?

After a few days with my cousin in Venice and maybe Florence/Tuscany, I will on my own once again in Rome.

I'm thinking of doing budget hotels while I have a travel companion, and maybe splurging in Rome. Then I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself.

I need to be talked off the ledge.

Who's been to Italy and can give me some real life advice?

Italy by way of Pooptown and Shitsburg

I spent the better (or rather worse) part of an hour on the phone to Delta airlines this afternoon.

My online itinerary stated I was still "waitlisted" a few days after I spoke with a skymiles representative, so I needed to find out what was up with that.

Also, when I told my brother how pleased I was to get a nonstop flight in business class, he got pissy. It seems he wasn't planning on giving up that many of his frequent flier miles and ordered me to downgrade to coach. Apparently he needs some left in his account for when he has to fly 22 hours straight for work, and needs that upgrade in order to be somewhat presentable to the client he is meeting with. Bastard!

So I had to change my whole plan. I'm leaving a week later than originally planned and now I have two stops. One is in Detroit and the other in Newark. It's like some sort of cosmic joke. No offense to anyone reading who might live there, but these are not two locations I have ever dreamed of visiting, even if only in the airport.

But hey, at least I still get to go.

I'm not looking forward to sitting in a cramped seat for hours upon hours, but what I'm really not looking forward to is not getting to smoke for pretty much a whole day. Unless one of the airports I have to stop in has one of those crazy smokeboxes (ever see them in the St. Louis airport? It's like a zoo exhibit.), I'm SOL in the nicotine fix department.

And don't tell me to quit before I go. Don't remind me how gross it is and bad for me. It's the last vice I have, and I'm not ready to let it go quite yet.

When I finally land in Milan, I should resemble a crazed and very tired junkie on a binge.

I should really get a picture of that hotness.

Tissues, please.

Mina started kindergarten today.

I walked her to school this morning and we talked about what the day might bring. She was so happy and excited. I was fighting back tears.

She was fine as we waited in her designated class lineup spot. I could tell she was listening in on the 5th grade girls' conversation next to us. She's always been enamoured of older girls. She just can't wait to grow up.

All was well until the first bell rang and her teacher came out to take them inside. She looked up at me and told me that she was scared.

"I won't know what to do. What if I make a mistake, Mama?"

As much as I wanted to scoop her up and run, I fought the urge with everything in me and told her that it was the first day and everyone was bound to be confused and a little scared. I told that it she was going to be just fine.

I sounded pretty convincing too.

Oh, it's not that I don't think everything will be fine. I just know that kindergarten is such a huge 180 from what she is used to. The two years of preschool under her belt may have prepared her for some things, but they were only a few hours a day. This is a full 8:15 to 3 o'clock deal.

She seemed satisfied with my answer, but I could still see the hesitation in her eyes. All I could do was give her a hug and a kiss and step away as a woman I met just yesterday led my first born off into the big world of public education.

I have no doubt Mina will come home full of chatter yet utterly exhausted. I know she'll love school.

Me? I could probably use a Valium right about now.

Weird

Tonight is the last night we will be sleeping in this house.

The movers are coming tomorrow to take all of our furniture, including our beds, to the new house. We'll be back through the next week or so to get the rest of the little stuff (that we probably don't even need at the new house, but have to get out of here anyway), but we won't be living here after tonight.

I've moved so many times in my life, but this time it's different. This was my first house. Literally my first as my parents didn't own a property until I moved away from home.

I was so excited to be a homeowner when we purchased this place. I had never lived anywhere that I could paint the walls any color I wanted to--that I had my own fenced yard, my own washer and dryer, my own garage.

My children were conceived, brought home from the hospital and raised all their short little lives in this place. Hell, even my dogs don't know any other place as home.

Am I crazy for feeling like I am betraying "old house"? I'm not completely loony. I know houses don't have feelings. It just seems like I've been in such a rush to get the hell out of here that I'm not appreciating what this house has meant to me--warts and all.

It's going to take me a while to get used to sleeping, showering, cooking and just living in a whole new set up. I think I'll feel like I am visiting for a while, or housesitting maybe, until it all really sinks in that the new house is home.

I was putting all our ktichen stuff away today and it felt so strange to see all this familiar stuff in such a foreign environment. I almost felt panicked--like I had to have it all "just so", as if I couldn't change it once it's been placed. I think I just need everything to be back to normal right this second, or I'm going to fall apart.

My inlaws were in town today and my Father in law helped my husband put up some new curtains in the living room. My Mother in law kept asking me to come in there to "tell them how I want them". Fuck, how about left to right? I don't care. Just hang 'em straight, ferchrissakes.

I don't want to make any more decisions. I don't want to paint anymore. I don't want to spend any more money at Lowes, Bed Bath and Beyond or Target.

I just want to move in, lay down on my same broken in, dog hair-covered couch and watch a rerun of a show I love.

Oh, fercryinoutloud

We dropped the asking price on Tuesday to try and spark some renewed interest, and it worked!

We had a showing Tuesday, Wednesday and THREE showings today.

Today was rough.

The first one was at 1:00 so I decided that after I picked the girls up from preschool I would take them out to lunch to kill some time. Then a woman called wanting to show the house between 2 and 3. OK, no problem. We just killed a little extra time. I had until 2:45 to pick the dogs up from the doggy daycare place anyway.

On my way to my home from picking up the dogs I got another call that someone wanted to see my house at 5:30.

That's when I started to get weary.

I left the house at 10:30 this morning to drop off the dogs and pick up the girls (who had left the house at 8:30 this morning. It was 3:00 at this point which meant I had at least another 3 hours to kill before I could take everyone home.

My kids were tired from the two hours we spent at the pizza place with a ball pit. (I know those things are gross, but it was in the 50's today, and too cold for the park). My dogs were tired from the four hours they spent sniffing butts and wrestling with other dogs. I was tired from shuttling to and fro all damn morning and afternoon with two kids and two dogs in the car.

We finally got to come home around 6:30. Poor Audrey was so tired that she passed out in the car on the way home and barely woke up while I changed her into pajamas. Mina made it through dinner and a bath, but was dead to the world after one short bedtime story.

I usually go out with a couple of friends for a drink on Thursday nights, but even that sounds like it would take too much effort. I don't know that I would be very good company tonight anyway.

I'm just bitchy and out of sorts so much of the time lately. I have to keep my house clean in case someone wants to see it. That part doesn't bother me so much as it is nice to have everything looking nice most of the time. I do hate having to scoop up the kids and the dogs at pretty much the drop of a hat. Audrey was in the process of giving up her nap anyway, but it didn't help that she keeps getting shuffled around town during her normal snooze time.

I know I should be excited that so many people are looking at the house, but I can't help but feel like I am being held hostage by this whole experience.

One time I was a giant crybaby

My house still hasn't sold, and the beginnings of panic are starting to set in.

I'm starting to see more and more SOLD signs around town and I can't help buy wonder why mine hasn't. I truly think we have done everything within our power (and budget) to make this home more than marketable. Aside from picking it up and putting it on a quieter street, there is nothing more to be done.

At Saturday's open house, a couple showed up and seemed to really like it. My real estate agent said the wife was "in love with the kitchen" and that they told her they had been checking the house out on the realty website. It's a good sign, but a even better sign would say "SOLD" and be parked on my front lawn.

I keep getting positive feedback from friends and even other realtors, and that does tend to boost morale, but it still doesn't change the fact that we haven't gotten a single offer in the 8 weeks we've been on the market.

I'm trying not to let this whole process completely take over my life, but that's hard to do when you are as compulsive and controlling as I am.

I want to start shopping for window treatments and paint and the washer and dryer we'll need in the new house. I want to start planting some flowers and playing in our new back yard. I want to pull into my new driveway and use the automatic garage door opener (never had one of those before!).

Do we need to advertise more? Do we need to offer more incentives? What are we not doing that we should be?

Any and all advice, back patting and handholding will be accepted.