Moving Mess

Well, the kids and I have relocated to Georgia, but my husband had to stay behind in Alaska and finish up with his job for a couple of months. This means that I dealt alone with all the things related to moving into the new house.

And there were plenty of things to deal with!

(Many times I looked around for the adult who was going to deal with this fresh bunch of trouble, and realized I AM THE ADULT. Ugh.)

First of all, we moved into the house  with it completely empty, without any of our furniture, and lived in it that way for weeks. This was because the moving company didn’t seem to be sure where exactly our furniture was

Not that they admitted it was lost. I just inferred that it might be from the amount of time I spent on the phone listening to their hold music while they periodically popped back on to ask, “What was the name again?” and “Do you have a shipping number?” and “Where was your shipment coming from?” and “Who is your carrier again?”

Finally the shipment was located in a rail yard somewhere in Atlanta, but it still took them over two weeks to get it moved less than a hundred miles east to the local warehouse so it could be delivered to our house.

In the meantime, I outfitted the house with air mattresses and a card table with folding chairs. We painted some walls. Things were going pretty well.

Then the toilet exploded.

I was washing out a paint roller in the kitchen sink (which, as you might guess, required a lot of running water) when all of the water began to come back up OUT OF THE GUEST TOILET! I didn’t notice it was happening until Little Girl said, “What’s that smell?” By that time, the whole bathroom was flooded with painted toilet water.

I had to call for help.

Fortunately, a very nice plumber called Larry arrived soon. (Unfortunately, however, he did not look like the hunk in the picture.) Also fortunately, the problem was NOT the septic tank, as Larry first feared. It took several hours, but the clog was cleared. Success!!

My next task was registering the kids for school, which was fraught with difficulty. Maybe I’ll blog about that later.

When our furniture shipment finally arrived at the house, it was a typical July day in Georgia, just right for lugging heavy things about outdoors.

Image result for 100 humidity meme

(gif from https://giphy.com/explore/humid)

I really shouldn’t complain, because all I had to do was stand outside and check things off a list while the poor moving guys did all the hard work of carrying everything.

But it was REALLY TERRIBLE standing there with that clipboard all day.

Plus the twins kept opening boxes and spreading things all over their floors so that the moving guys had to keep telling me, “Ma’am, I can’t put this here dresser in the little boy’s bedroom. There ain’t no room in there.”

Then I’d go in there and move everything off the floor and yell at them to keep the area clear for their furniture.

Five minutes later, a different guy would come up and say, “Ma’am, I can’t put this here desk in the little girl’s bedroom. There ain’t no room in there.” And I’d have to do the same thing again.

They were only able to put together one of the four beds in the house because of missing pieces, and the unloading and unwrapping lasted well past six p.m., but it finally got done.

THIS is the pile of packing trash accumulated JUST THAT DAY, which the moving company fortunately hauled away.

After that, I was still left with about a million boxes to unpack. Fortunately, my mother came to my rescue.

She spent four days hard at work with me, and we emptied EVERY BOX and set it out to be hauled off.

Finally! The moving mess was over! I could just relax until my husband returned. There would be no more problems!

Or would there be?…..

Goodbye Alaska

We are packing up and moving out of our Alaska house.

No, we have not sold it yet, but I am hopeful that we WILL.

(Is anyone in the market for a house in North Pole? Anyone?! It’s nice!!)

Sigh. It really IS nice. I’ll miss this house.

In any case, it’s time to go. The place doesn’t look so nice anymore anyways….

All of our things are being packed up and loaded into a shipping container. We’ll see them on the other side.

We hope…

The Mommy Medal– Birthday Edition

I have mentioned before that I think I deserve a mommy medal for some of the things I have done.

But the twins’ birthday party has really turned Mommy Medaling into an Olympic event.

Having a boy/girl twins who want to be able to have a sleepover party makes a huge logistical problem. This means TWO SEPARATE sleepovers.

I’ll just let that sink in.

Not ONE crowd of kids all hopped up on sugar in your house all night, but TWO!!

Last year I did it in one marathon weekend, but it almost killed me. This year we are spreading it out over two weekends. I’m not sure if this is better or just a way of prolonging the torture.

Anyways, we just had sleepover number one this past weekend.

In addition, remember the fact that we are trying to show our home to potential buyers right now. This makes the stress of birthday season double. Trying to keep the house clean while living in it with children is hard enough, but add a group of children at a sleepover party and the trouble really starts.

When I looked over at the living room during my little girl’s party and saw a puddle of slime putty on my carpet, I believe I showed admirable restraint.

I think I deserve an Olympic mommy medal for not freaking out. Out loud, I mean.

Of course, the fact that the child who had put the slime putty there was not mine is probably the reason she is still alive.

The good news is, it came out of the carpet. Not that I knew that was going to happen when I first saw that puddle.

But of course I am not a saint either. I have had my share of freak outs over messes. When I discovered spilled pasta with tomato sauce on my carpeted stairs just before a home showing, for example, my head may actually have exploded.

In any case, we have one more sleepover to get through this weekend. Let’s see if I can keep that mommy medal just a little longer. 

Alaska Problems Again

I went to the commissary to grocery-shop after a fresh dump of snow recently.

When I arrived, the path I usually take to the door had not been shoveled, but there was a set of footprints on it, going straight for the entrance.

I decided to go that way instead of walking all the way around to where the sidewalk was.

I realized my mistake very quickly, as my legs sank almost knee-deep and snow began to fill my boots. This was not a path! This was a trap!

I lost my footing in the soft snow and fell. I got up. I fell again. I got up and kept walking. There was nothing for it now.

I hoped very much that no one I knew could see me. I bitterly regretted leaving my coat and gloves in the car. The store entrance seemed miles away.

When I finally arrived at the door, which obligingly slid open automatically, just as it was supposed to, I was encrusted all over with a coating of snow. I looked like that kid I blogged about last year. (See “The Boy Who Was Covered in Snow“)

I tried to gather the shreds of my dignity as I brushed snow off my clothes and hair, and tried to scoop it out of my boots. I straightened up and headed into the store.

That’s when I realized I’d left my grocery list in the car.

Home Sale Photos

Our time in Alaska is coming to an end and we will be moving on soon.

We don’t have official orders from the military yet, but we are getting prepared to move, and that means…

listing the house for sale.

This is not my favorite thing to do, of course, since it involves a lot of  cleaning up. I want to give the impression that this house is easy to clean and maintain, making it more desirable to buyers.

Still, I have been decluttering and straightening and all of that, and recently the real state photographer came to take pictures of the house.

When she arrived I was still frantically hiding things and making beds in the kids’ rooms. (I’d allowed myself an hour to get this done and that was not enough time. Astonishingly enough.)

I answered the door looking like a crazy person, blurting, “I’m-not-quite-done-with-the-kids-rooms-I’m-really-sorry!!” It was like five degrees outside but I was sweating like a pig.

The photographer was very calm and said she’d start downstairs and give me time to finish upstairs. She has probably dealt with crazy homeowners before.

By the time she came upstairs, I had finished. Fortunately. She photographed the upstairs and I watched nervously.

Then, oddly, the cat come out to see her.

This is odd because our cat NEVER comes out when people are over. He hides because he hates people. Seriously, he hates everyone in the world except my husband, whom he allows to pet him.

But here was Kitty, meowing and rolling over adorably and clearly wanting to be petted by this complete stranger! I told her the cat never acts like this, and he must like her for some reason.

She said, “Yeah; I’m really allergic to cats. I think they can tell because they always try to get me to pet them.”

Oh. So Kitty was manifesting his hate THIS time by NOT hiding.

Clever move.

Anyways, she left rather quickly, and she must not hold a grudge because the pictures came out great!

The kids said, and I quote, “It looks so much better than our real house!”

That’s the point, folks!

Rude Awakenings

Here’s a news flash: I’m tired.

No, seriously. I am really, REALLY tired.

Maybe there is something wrong with me, or maybe all mothers feel like this, but, most days, all I really want is a nap.

That’s actually my entire goal for the day. A NAP.

My kids are not on board with this. They want me to be awake and doing mom stuff. You know, like serving them.

Still, whenever I can, I go to my room and try to take a nap. I do not need the house to be quiet for this. I can sleep through the noise. I don’t even have to close the bedroom door.

But unfortunately, the kids still want stuff.

Some of the things they want I can do without much trouble. You’d be surprised what I can accomplish while lying down with my eyes closed.

Sometimes they don’t really want me to do anything at all; they just want to pretend to have informed me of things they’re not too keen to talk about.

 

But sometimes, they simply WILL NOT be ignored.

 

 

Sigh. I guess I’ll get up and do some mom stuff.