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Things have got to change around here.
I love doing projects, don't get me wrong. I love the planning, and prepping, the doing, and especially, OH ESPECIALLY, the completion.
But I'm feeling like the projects are overtaking my life. I don't even mean the painting of rooms, although by gosh, I've been doing a lot of room painting lately. It is more the fact that I let those projects, big or small, get in the way of my treasuring every day with my children.
Since May of a year ago when we decided to sell our house, I spent that May and June prepping the house for sale and finishing the basement, then keeping the house neat and clean and organized for all of July and August and September (which nearly pushed me over the edge), and then the house hunting for September and October, and then the packing for October and November, and then the illnesses and unpacking and projects for December and January and February and March and April (and holy smokes, can you believe we haven't had an ear infection since APRIL?) and then the injuries this summer and the projects I've been working on, I have been letting life pass me by.
I adore my children, and I have no doubt that they know it. I shower them with hugs and kisses and take them to museums and zoos and parks and schedule playdates and all of that, but I think I'm missing the little things. I'm not sitting with them and watching them push the cars around. Or sitting at the table to color with them. Or relaxing on the bedroom floor while I hear the many, many, MANY details about Buzz Lightyear's life story (what did we do before Buzz Lightyear, I'd like to know).
I'm not soaking every moment in because I'm folding laundry and worrying about the paint colors or whether we should tile the basement floor or carpet it or staring around at the mess and thinking about who is stopping by later today. I have to stop. I don't want to look back on my Gabe and Josie's babyhoods and toddlerhoods and feel like I missed them. I don't want to look around at a beautiful and put together house, but then realize I didn't notice them getting so big.
Who needs a nice pretty clean house if you're missing out on life?
Showing posts with label real estate is a bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label real estate is a bitch. Show all posts
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
when it rains, it floods
Yes, that's right. Our basement "flooded". I say "flooded" because I think in comparison to lots of our neighbors, our measly inch of water was totally unimpressive. One of our neighbors got 3 feet of water in her totally finished basement, with flat panel televisions and couches and train tables and cabinets floating around.
On Monday, otherwise known as day 3 of nonstop record breaking rain, I came home from Gabe's school pickup to find a few puddles of water on the floor. I called Josh, who offered to leave work immediately to see where the leak was, and by the time he was home 45 minutes later, the puddles had spread to an allover low covering of water. I frantically began calling rental places and hardware stores looking for a pump or a wet vacuum and everywhere had sold out hours before. Everyone I called said the number of wet basements in our area was unprecedented, and I started to panic. I had no idea what we were going to do with all of this water, and I didn't know how bad it was going to get because it seemed to be rising fast.
I continued calling stores all across Massachusetts and eventually found a small hardware store who said they were just receiving a shipment of sump pumps and wet vacuums and there was a line of 80 people, but we were welcome to come stand in line and hope for the best. I begged them to put aside a vacuum, I even offered to pay in advance, and they refused, so I shoved Josh out the door and told him to break all speed limits and not to come back without a vacuum.
While he was driving, I called that same store back at 5 minute intervals (they must have loved me) and kept up a running status report on the remaining vacuums. Josh made it in time, returned home with our bounty, and spent the rest of the day and night- from 3pm to 11pm- filling and emptying the wet vacuum without any breaks. He estimated he must have been filling the vacuum about two times per minute (so every 30 seconds), without stopping. It was INSANE.
Thankfully, his hard work seemed to pay off, and he kept the water from rising beyond the one inch mark. At several points during the day, he was vacuuming the water and I was using cups and dust pans to scoop the water into buckets and then dump them into the downstairs sink. The water was coming in through the actual concrete, though, so there was no way to stop any leak or tell where it was coming from. The backyard and street were totally flooded, and any little crack in the foundation allowed water to pour in, and even areas where there was no visible crack had water seeping through the ground.
Josh fell asleep for a few hours before tackling the water again in the morning. Once the rain stopped sometime during the night, the water stopped rising and we were able to start the drying process.
Our basement is a semi-finished playroom (wall paneling and linoleum tiles) and almost all of our toys are downstairs, so as the water began to rise, it was a race to remove all unpacked boxes, toys, bins, etc. Thankfully, our favorite bookcases saved all the toys and I store most of the kid's clothing and our items in plastic bins. We still moved everything out, just in case, especially because I am beyond terrified of mold.
We're airing everything out, running fans and dehumidifiers like crazy, and hoping for the best. Most of the basement is the wood paneling and concrete walls, but there are a few spots where the drywall got wet, and I'm terrified mold might set in and we'd have to rip everything out. Besides seeing the actual mold spores, does anyone know how you can tell/make sure there is no mold? Will it be obvious? If the water was there for less than 24 hours and we've been running the fans and dehumidifier since, do you think we're safe?
Despite the inconvenience, I still consider us extremely lucky as I drive around our neighborhood and see the countless hoses leading out of basements and into the street with a steady stream of water pouring out. My neighbors say that in 26 years they've never seen anything like it, so here's hoping it'll be another 26 years before it happens again. I'm just thankful we hadn't installed carpeting yet! We almost did it a few weeks ago!
On Monday, otherwise known as day 3 of nonstop record breaking rain, I came home from Gabe's school pickup to find a few puddles of water on the floor. I called Josh, who offered to leave work immediately to see where the leak was, and by the time he was home 45 minutes later, the puddles had spread to an allover low covering of water. I frantically began calling rental places and hardware stores looking for a pump or a wet vacuum and everywhere had sold out hours before. Everyone I called said the number of wet basements in our area was unprecedented, and I started to panic. I had no idea what we were going to do with all of this water, and I didn't know how bad it was going to get because it seemed to be rising fast.
I continued calling stores all across Massachusetts and eventually found a small hardware store who said they were just receiving a shipment of sump pumps and wet vacuums and there was a line of 80 people, but we were welcome to come stand in line and hope for the best. I begged them to put aside a vacuum, I even offered to pay in advance, and they refused, so I shoved Josh out the door and told him to break all speed limits and not to come back without a vacuum.
While he was driving, I called that same store back at 5 minute intervals (they must have loved me) and kept up a running status report on the remaining vacuums. Josh made it in time, returned home with our bounty, and spent the rest of the day and night- from 3pm to 11pm- filling and emptying the wet vacuum without any breaks. He estimated he must have been filling the vacuum about two times per minute (so every 30 seconds), without stopping. It was INSANE.
Thankfully, his hard work seemed to pay off, and he kept the water from rising beyond the one inch mark. At several points during the day, he was vacuuming the water and I was using cups and dust pans to scoop the water into buckets and then dump them into the downstairs sink. The water was coming in through the actual concrete, though, so there was no way to stop any leak or tell where it was coming from. The backyard and street were totally flooded, and any little crack in the foundation allowed water to pour in, and even areas where there was no visible crack had water seeping through the ground.
Josh fell asleep for a few hours before tackling the water again in the morning. Once the rain stopped sometime during the night, the water stopped rising and we were able to start the drying process.
Our basement is a semi-finished playroom (wall paneling and linoleum tiles) and almost all of our toys are downstairs, so as the water began to rise, it was a race to remove all unpacked boxes, toys, bins, etc. Thankfully, our favorite bookcases saved all the toys and I store most of the kid's clothing and our items in plastic bins. We still moved everything out, just in case, especially because I am beyond terrified of mold.
We're airing everything out, running fans and dehumidifiers like crazy, and hoping for the best. Most of the basement is the wood paneling and concrete walls, but there are a few spots where the drywall got wet, and I'm terrified mold might set in and we'd have to rip everything out. Besides seeing the actual mold spores, does anyone know how you can tell/make sure there is no mold? Will it be obvious? If the water was there for less than 24 hours and we've been running the fans and dehumidifier since, do you think we're safe?
Despite the inconvenience, I still consider us extremely lucky as I drive around our neighborhood and see the countless hoses leading out of basements and into the street with a steady stream of water pouring out. My neighbors say that in 26 years they've never seen anything like it, so here's hoping it'll be another 26 years before it happens again. I'm just thankful we hadn't installed carpeting yet! We almost did it a few weeks ago!
Monday, March 15, 2010
no wonder my laundry pile is taller than Gabe
Our new town isn't that far from our old town, but it feels decidedly different. I joke that we are now in the middle of noooooowhere (picture me saying this in a pathetically moaning voice) because I can't walk to a mall, sushi, or an ice cream shop. The ice cream shop part was particularly devastating to me, but perhaps that'll be helpful to my waistline come summer.
The neighborhood definitely feels like the suburbs, with tons of kids playing hockey in the streets, moms out walking with strollers, and even sightings of random animals like rabbits, deer, and foxes. Josh left the garage door open to run to the grocery store and as he was pulling back in, a massive animal strolled out of the garage and he swears he initially thought it was a small bear but it turned out to be the mother of all raccoons! It caused so much excitement that Gabe hasn't stopped talking about animals in his garage for weeks. Any random noise in the house is cause for a resurgence of the talk about the gigantic raccoon.
Even though our move was just a few miles, my circle of stores has completely changed too. My old grocery store is too far away to be convenient, my old favorite mall is now farther away than another less liked mall, my coffee shops, drugstores, Target, well, you get the point. It all feels like a big change. And I'm farther away from some of my neighborhood friends. Not so far that we can't have lunch together, but too far to stop by within 5 minutes for a quick playdate.
All of this is to say, it has been a change. Far more of a change than I'd initially expected, that is for sure. After my initial freak out, things have been steadily improving. The folks at my local convenience store recognize me, which feels great, my neighbors say hello when I drive by, which feels even nicer, and I've decided that I won't sit and wallow in my unhappiness for one. more. minute.
I am a friendly person, but to tell you the truth, I also get very insecure about meeting new people. I don't seem to have a problem with the meeting part, but any subsequent get togethers or communications brings out the anxiety in me. If I call them and don't hear back quickly, I worry that maybe they've decided they don't like me anymore, or maybe I'm bothering them or whatever. It is totally annoying and sometimes ridiculously insane that I do this.
Take, for example, a newish friend I've made since moving. We have definitely clicked, and just a few days ago she asked whether I'd be interested in taking a girls trip together this summer. I take that to mean that (a) she likes me enough to want to spend a good amount of time together and (b) she plans to be friends at least until the summer. Well, yesterday I called her twice in a row, and then decided not to call even though I had something to tell her because I worried maybe she was starting to not want to be friends anymore. It's crazy, right?
I'm revealing all my neuroses now, hopefully you won't stop reading me because now you know the truth about the crazy.
Anyway, long story short, I've decided to move past the crazy and break out of my shell and try to make friends in the new neighborhood, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I've shown up to town events, I've been friendly, I've shared my phone number, been proactive about asking for playdates. As soon as we had a couple of good weather days, I've walked around my neighborhood to try to make friends with neighbors. I joined a playgroup. I asked around and started a book club, and our first meeting is this Sunday. This is our chosen book (love it love it love it), and I'm really excited and hopeful this will take off. I've gotten off the couch after Josh is home from work and the kids are in bed and gone to see a movie or grabbed coffee with a girlfriend.
For a homebody like me, this is seriously difficult, but I believe it will be worth it in the end. I have some really really REALLY fabulous friends, but most of my friends live far enough away that I can't see them on a regular basis, and I really need a few good local friends to spice up my life.
So do you have any tips? Have you had to break out of your shell and make friends too? Did anything bring you luck? I'll take all the advice I can get!
The neighborhood definitely feels like the suburbs, with tons of kids playing hockey in the streets, moms out walking with strollers, and even sightings of random animals like rabbits, deer, and foxes. Josh left the garage door open to run to the grocery store and as he was pulling back in, a massive animal strolled out of the garage and he swears he initially thought it was a small bear but it turned out to be the mother of all raccoons! It caused so much excitement that Gabe hasn't stopped talking about animals in his garage for weeks. Any random noise in the house is cause for a resurgence of the talk about the gigantic raccoon.
Even though our move was just a few miles, my circle of stores has completely changed too. My old grocery store is too far away to be convenient, my old favorite mall is now farther away than another less liked mall, my coffee shops, drugstores, Target, well, you get the point. It all feels like a big change. And I'm farther away from some of my neighborhood friends. Not so far that we can't have lunch together, but too far to stop by within 5 minutes for a quick playdate.
All of this is to say, it has been a change. Far more of a change than I'd initially expected, that is for sure. After my initial freak out, things have been steadily improving. The folks at my local convenience store recognize me, which feels great, my neighbors say hello when I drive by, which feels even nicer, and I've decided that I won't sit and wallow in my unhappiness for one. more. minute.
I am a friendly person, but to tell you the truth, I also get very insecure about meeting new people. I don't seem to have a problem with the meeting part, but any subsequent get togethers or communications brings out the anxiety in me. If I call them and don't hear back quickly, I worry that maybe they've decided they don't like me anymore, or maybe I'm bothering them or whatever. It is totally annoying and sometimes ridiculously insane that I do this.
Take, for example, a newish friend I've made since moving. We have definitely clicked, and just a few days ago she asked whether I'd be interested in taking a girls trip together this summer. I take that to mean that (a) she likes me enough to want to spend a good amount of time together and (b) she plans to be friends at least until the summer. Well, yesterday I called her twice in a row, and then decided not to call even though I had something to tell her because I worried maybe she was starting to not want to be friends anymore. It's crazy, right?
I'm revealing all my neuroses now, hopefully you won't stop reading me because now you know the truth about the crazy.
Anyway, long story short, I've decided to move past the crazy and break out of my shell and try to make friends in the new neighborhood, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I've shown up to town events, I've been friendly, I've shared my phone number, been proactive about asking for playdates. As soon as we had a couple of good weather days, I've walked around my neighborhood to try to make friends with neighbors. I joined a playgroup. I asked around and started a book club, and our first meeting is this Sunday. This is our chosen book (love it love it love it), and I'm really excited and hopeful this will take off. I've gotten off the couch after Josh is home from work and the kids are in bed and gone to see a movie or grabbed coffee with a girlfriend.
For a homebody like me, this is seriously difficult, but I believe it will be worth it in the end. I have some really really REALLY fabulous friends, but most of my friends live far enough away that I can't see them on a regular basis, and I really need a few good local friends to spice up my life.
So do you have any tips? Have you had to break out of your shell and make friends too? Did anything bring you luck? I'll take all the advice I can get!
Monday, March 01, 2010
is a nice tan color too much to ask for?
I'm trapped in paint selection hell. Ugh.
I'm reusing the dining room color and the living room color, so at least those are chosen and I'm praying the colors look good in the new house or we are totally screwed.
Our old bedroom color looks crazy different in our new bedroom, so just redoing that color won't work. I tried color matching my bedroom throw blanket color to the wall color, but it ended up looking brown. Brown, like poop colored brown, and after just painting a tiny strip of the wall, the bedroom started to look like a dirt colored cave. Another trip to the paint store, and I'm not any closer to selecting a color.
Plus, once I select all the colors, I'll be doing the vast majority of the painting on my own, and roping Josh in whenever I can convince him to help. I am not looking forward to all of this painting, but frankly, it's time. I have been resisting hanging up pictures or shelves or curtains because we are waiting for the walls to be painted, and these piles of pictures or boxes leaning against the walls really are not making this place feel like home. I need to bite the bullet and get it over with, and hopefully the painting process won't be as bad as I am anticipating it to be.
Any painting tips before I take the plunge?
I'm reusing the dining room color and the living room color, so at least those are chosen and I'm praying the colors look good in the new house or we are totally screwed.
Our old bedroom color looks crazy different in our new bedroom, so just redoing that color won't work. I tried color matching my bedroom throw blanket color to the wall color, but it ended up looking brown. Brown, like poop colored brown, and after just painting a tiny strip of the wall, the bedroom started to look like a dirt colored cave. Another trip to the paint store, and I'm not any closer to selecting a color.
Plus, once I select all the colors, I'll be doing the vast majority of the painting on my own, and roping Josh in whenever I can convince him to help. I am not looking forward to all of this painting, but frankly, it's time. I have been resisting hanging up pictures or shelves or curtains because we are waiting for the walls to be painted, and these piles of pictures or boxes leaning against the walls really are not making this place feel like home. I need to bite the bullet and get it over with, and hopefully the painting process won't be as bad as I am anticipating it to be.
Any painting tips before I take the plunge?
Monday, January 11, 2010
desperately random thoughts
1. Am sick. Again. Caught a nasty virus from the kiddos and have been gooping my way through the last couple days with tissues and a bad attitude. Gabe appears to be healthy, thankfully, and Josie is slowly recuperating, although we're still up a few times per night and she is still exceedingly cranky. You know what would help? If I went to bed before midnight once in a while.
2. Was invited to a weekend away to St. John (!!I KNOW!!) by my college roommate who would pay for the hotel room and I'd only have to pitch in for my ticket. The idea of lying on a warm beach with a pina colada is enough to bring tears to my eyes, but it won't be able to happen for a number of reasons including my daughter's reluctance to take a bottle and our lack of funds. Still, I selfishly explored the possibility because HELLO, I would love a few days of relaxation. Anyway, when I told my mom about the invitation, she rather vehemently responded that, "A mother does NOT leave her children. Don't be ridiculous. When Josie is 16 you'll be sorry you ever thought about leaving her." What? Am I the only one who thinks that is a crazy comment?
3. Have discovered the show Criminal Minds and now want to become a profiler for the FBI. I am totally convinced I'd be awesome at this job, and except for having no idea how one becomes a profiler and not wanting to put myself in danger on a daily basis, would totally do it.
4. When Josh came into this marriage he folded his shirts very narrow, maybe 5 inches wide or so. I came into this marriage folding shirts very wide, maybe 12 inches or so. I have slowly converted him to my folding method over the years, but this results in problems when our mothers offer to help us with laundry because his mother folds our shirts 4 inches wide and mine folds out shirts 16 inches wide. I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I don't correct anyone, but it is annoying. Are we the only ones who have this problem?
5. Speaking of mothers, I was complaining to a decidedly nunnish friend about an incident years ago wherein my mother in law insisted on opening Josh's top nightstand drawer in search of batteries. I kept yelling at her NOT to open the drawer because, well, we keep condoms and sex, um, paraphernalia, in there, but she did it anyway and then quickly shut it again when she realized there were, indeed, no batteries in there. My friend expressed appropriate outrage on my behalf and then said, "Doesn't she know you never look in someone's top nightstand drawer? I mean, everyone keeps their vibrator in there." And then I almost died because I could never, never, ever, ever, amen, imagine this friend to have a vibrator. If it weren't for the fact that she has a child, I'd swear she was a virgin.
6. Am feeling much better about the whole moving thing, probably because I visited our new library for the first time and it is Gorgeous, with a capital G, and I was remembered at our neighborhood convenience store and greeted by name. Also, a neighbor invited me over for coffee and chocolate croissants and another brought over a bottle of wine. I could get used to this, I think.
(I also am not underestimating the power of saying (or writing) my feelings out loud and addressing them. I greatly appreciate all your advice and sympathy. I know that these days, we are incredibly lucky and I should count myself blessed.)
7. Fought with dry cleaners today because they ruined my nursery rocking chair slipcover, and after a bit of arguing and standing my ground, convinced them to pay the $300 it would cost to replace the slipcover. My hands were actually shaking because I was so stressed that they would refuse to pay the money and I'd be left without a slipcover. It reminded me once again of the question of WHY I would have chosen to go to law school when I so adamantly hate confrontation. It may end up being the great question of my life. I'm feeling very proud of myself tonight, though.
8. Any great book recommendations? I finally (after being begged by Josh) read The Hobbit (from The Lord of the Rings series) and was pleasantly surprised, although I think I'll take a break before I continue the series. I just started Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and wow. Weird. Interesting, but very very weird.
2. Was invited to a weekend away to St. John (!!I KNOW!!) by my college roommate who would pay for the hotel room and I'd only have to pitch in for my ticket. The idea of lying on a warm beach with a pina colada is enough to bring tears to my eyes, but it won't be able to happen for a number of reasons including my daughter's reluctance to take a bottle and our lack of funds. Still, I selfishly explored the possibility because HELLO, I would love a few days of relaxation. Anyway, when I told my mom about the invitation, she rather vehemently responded that, "A mother does NOT leave her children. Don't be ridiculous. When Josie is 16 you'll be sorry you ever thought about leaving her." What? Am I the only one who thinks that is a crazy comment?
3. Have discovered the show Criminal Minds and now want to become a profiler for the FBI. I am totally convinced I'd be awesome at this job, and except for having no idea how one becomes a profiler and not wanting to put myself in danger on a daily basis, would totally do it.
4. When Josh came into this marriage he folded his shirts very narrow, maybe 5 inches wide or so. I came into this marriage folding shirts very wide, maybe 12 inches or so. I have slowly converted him to my folding method over the years, but this results in problems when our mothers offer to help us with laundry because his mother folds our shirts 4 inches wide and mine folds out shirts 16 inches wide. I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I don't correct anyone, but it is annoying. Are we the only ones who have this problem?
5. Speaking of mothers, I was complaining to a decidedly nunnish friend about an incident years ago wherein my mother in law insisted on opening Josh's top nightstand drawer in search of batteries. I kept yelling at her NOT to open the drawer because, well, we keep condoms and sex, um, paraphernalia, in there, but she did it anyway and then quickly shut it again when she realized there were, indeed, no batteries in there. My friend expressed appropriate outrage on my behalf and then said, "Doesn't she know you never look in someone's top nightstand drawer? I mean, everyone keeps their vibrator in there." And then I almost died because I could never, never, ever, ever, amen, imagine this friend to have a vibrator. If it weren't for the fact that she has a child, I'd swear she was a virgin.
6. Am feeling much better about the whole moving thing, probably because I visited our new library for the first time and it is Gorgeous, with a capital G, and I was remembered at our neighborhood convenience store and greeted by name. Also, a neighbor invited me over for coffee and chocolate croissants and another brought over a bottle of wine. I could get used to this, I think.
(I also am not underestimating the power of saying (or writing) my feelings out loud and addressing them. I greatly appreciate all your advice and sympathy. I know that these days, we are incredibly lucky and I should count myself blessed.)
7. Fought with dry cleaners today because they ruined my nursery rocking chair slipcover, and after a bit of arguing and standing my ground, convinced them to pay the $300 it would cost to replace the slipcover. My hands were actually shaking because I was so stressed that they would refuse to pay the money and I'd be left without a slipcover. It reminded me once again of the question of WHY I would have chosen to go to law school when I so adamantly hate confrontation. It may end up being the great question of my life. I'm feeling very proud of myself tonight, though.
8. Any great book recommendations? I finally (after being begged by Josh) read The Hobbit (from The Lord of the Rings series) and was pleasantly surprised, although I think I'll take a break before I continue the series. I just started Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and wow. Weird. Interesting, but very very weird.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
the good, the bad, and the WTF
Oh dear, where should I even start.
We left off last talking about how overwhelmed I was feeling because of the kids and the dog and the house. Little did I know, that was nothing compared to what has been going on the last 2 weeks. I'm starting to wonder what I might have done to piss someone off.
Exhibit A:
Josie had her regular 9 month checkup that same day (which by the way, how can she be 9 months old?), and she had a regular blood draw to check her blood count and do a lead test. And guess what? She tested with an elevated level of lead in her blood.
We rushed her to the hospital to have a repeat draw, this time a real one in her vein. The test itself was stressful enough, honestly. And guess what? It really was elevated! No false positive for us!
So we proceeded to rush Gabe to the hospital to have his blood checked for lead too, since it would stand to reason that if one child was positive the other would be too. While I was out of the house, my mother in law was staying at home with Josie. While she was at home with Josie, she answered the phone, spoke to my real estate broker and told her Josie's blood tested positive for lead.
Wait. Did you read that correctly? She told my REAL ESTATE BROKER my daughter tested positive for LEAD. Are you sensing a problem here?
I'm going to cut the story short here, because I cannot possibly rehash the nightmare that has been my life for the past week. A nightmare that included me hysterically sobbing on the phone several times, screaming matches with my broker, multiple attorneys, threats from my broker's firm against me about disclosing the information to our buyers, and finally a written disclosure we drafted (with the help of an attorney) and sent over to the buyers on Saturday.
And then we waited for a response. It never came, and Tuesday was the final date for our buyers to get their commitment from the bank (i.e. a mortgage), and they did. And that was that. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even think about anything but this for days, but it looks like in the end the buyers were okay with it, and trusted my pediatrician's assertions that such a low level of lead combined with Gabe's negative lead test, meant the source of the lead was from a toy or from some other random singular event. The pediatrician feels confident that this is not coming from the house.
I feel tremendously guilty about this whole Josie having lead in her blood thing, and every time I talk about it, I start crying all over again. I don't know what I could have done, but it feels like I should have been able to do something. It feels like I didn't protect my baby. I shouldn't have let this happen.
The good news is that it is a very low level, as my pediatrician calls it, "a very slightly elevated level" and that level doesn't even need to be treated, although we are proactively giving her iron supplements.
Exhibit B:
At the conclusion of the weekend, and while we were still waiting to hear from the buyers, Josie was a mess. At midnight on Monday night, she woke up screaming (SCREAMING) inconsolably at midnight, and would not calm down until 6am, at which point I called the pediatrician in hysterics, because Josh was insisting we needed to take her to the hospital to be checked out. The pediatrician sat on the phone with me for 20 minutes listening to her scream and suggesting various possibilities, and he finally told me to meet him at the office so he could check her out before we went to the ER. As we were getting ready to walk out the door, Josie starts projectile vomiting all over me, herself, and our bed.
I rush over to the office, and the doctor and nurses start examining her and running bloodwork to figure out what the problem is. She would scream any time they touched her stomach, and the possibility of an intestinal obstruction started floating around. I, meanwhile, was crying quietly in the corner, because OH MY GOD, seriously?
We sat in the office for 3 hours, me rocking her quietly while she lay limp, pale as a sheet in my arms, and feeding her teeny sips of pedialite and discussing whether we should go to the hospital. Finally, the pediatrician gets the results of the blood test indicating she has some sort of infection, and he says we should go in to the ER for some tests. I'm packing up her stuff, and turn to him to ask, "this couldn't be an ear infection, right?" He assured me it couldn't, but then decided to check her ears right as we're leaving, and guess what? RAGING ear infection. Raging.
The relief, I cannot even begin to tell you the relief. The guilt came later, but the relief was amazing. We had a terrible 24 hours, but she is a different baby today after 48 hours of antibiotic and food and SLEEP, glorious sleep.
Exhibit C:
Yesterday I went to pick Gabe up from school, and somehow, within the span of just a couple of hours, he has become goop city. He is drooping, feverish, snotty, and generally unwell. I had to do the walk of shame out of the preschool, while all the other mothers eyed me angrily, all but saying out loud that I sent a sick kid to school to infect their precious babies.
I swear, he wasn't sick! I'm super paranoid about sending sick kids to school! Alas, no one believes me anymore, and although he seems better today, I'm probably going to have to keep him home tomorrow just to prove a point. Damnit.
Honestly, though, if karma is a bitch, as I always like to remind rude people, what have we done to deserve all of this? And I know that sounds totally self-involved to say that all of this is falling on me, but that is how it feels! Many many times this week I have thought about crawling under a rock to cry. Or at least under the covers. At this point, I'm thinking we should call 2009 a wash and move onto 2010. It can't be any worse than this year.
We left off last talking about how overwhelmed I was feeling because of the kids and the dog and the house. Little did I know, that was nothing compared to what has been going on the last 2 weeks. I'm starting to wonder what I might have done to piss someone off.
Exhibit A:
Josie had her regular 9 month checkup that same day (which by the way, how can she be 9 months old?), and she had a regular blood draw to check her blood count and do a lead test. And guess what? She tested with an elevated level of lead in her blood.
We rushed her to the hospital to have a repeat draw, this time a real one in her vein. The test itself was stressful enough, honestly. And guess what? It really was elevated! No false positive for us!
So we proceeded to rush Gabe to the hospital to have his blood checked for lead too, since it would stand to reason that if one child was positive the other would be too. While I was out of the house, my mother in law was staying at home with Josie. While she was at home with Josie, she answered the phone, spoke to my real estate broker and told her Josie's blood tested positive for lead.
Wait. Did you read that correctly? She told my REAL ESTATE BROKER my daughter tested positive for LEAD. Are you sensing a problem here?
I'm going to cut the story short here, because I cannot possibly rehash the nightmare that has been my life for the past week. A nightmare that included me hysterically sobbing on the phone several times, screaming matches with my broker, multiple attorneys, threats from my broker's firm against me about disclosing the information to our buyers, and finally a written disclosure we drafted (with the help of an attorney) and sent over to the buyers on Saturday.
And then we waited for a response. It never came, and Tuesday was the final date for our buyers to get their commitment from the bank (i.e. a mortgage), and they did. And that was that. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even think about anything but this for days, but it looks like in the end the buyers were okay with it, and trusted my pediatrician's assertions that such a low level of lead combined with Gabe's negative lead test, meant the source of the lead was from a toy or from some other random singular event. The pediatrician feels confident that this is not coming from the house.
I feel tremendously guilty about this whole Josie having lead in her blood thing, and every time I talk about it, I start crying all over again. I don't know what I could have done, but it feels like I should have been able to do something. It feels like I didn't protect my baby. I shouldn't have let this happen.
The good news is that it is a very low level, as my pediatrician calls it, "a very slightly elevated level" and that level doesn't even need to be treated, although we are proactively giving her iron supplements.
Exhibit B:
At the conclusion of the weekend, and while we were still waiting to hear from the buyers, Josie was a mess. At midnight on Monday night, she woke up screaming (SCREAMING) inconsolably at midnight, and would not calm down until 6am, at which point I called the pediatrician in hysterics, because Josh was insisting we needed to take her to the hospital to be checked out. The pediatrician sat on the phone with me for 20 minutes listening to her scream and suggesting various possibilities, and he finally told me to meet him at the office so he could check her out before we went to the ER. As we were getting ready to walk out the door, Josie starts projectile vomiting all over me, herself, and our bed.
I rush over to the office, and the doctor and nurses start examining her and running bloodwork to figure out what the problem is. She would scream any time they touched her stomach, and the possibility of an intestinal obstruction started floating around. I, meanwhile, was crying quietly in the corner, because OH MY GOD, seriously?
We sat in the office for 3 hours, me rocking her quietly while she lay limp, pale as a sheet in my arms, and feeding her teeny sips of pedialite and discussing whether we should go to the hospital. Finally, the pediatrician gets the results of the blood test indicating she has some sort of infection, and he says we should go in to the ER for some tests. I'm packing up her stuff, and turn to him to ask, "this couldn't be an ear infection, right?" He assured me it couldn't, but then decided to check her ears right as we're leaving, and guess what? RAGING ear infection. Raging.
The relief, I cannot even begin to tell you the relief. The guilt came later, but the relief was amazing. We had a terrible 24 hours, but she is a different baby today after 48 hours of antibiotic and food and SLEEP, glorious sleep.
Exhibit C:
Yesterday I went to pick Gabe up from school, and somehow, within the span of just a couple of hours, he has become goop city. He is drooping, feverish, snotty, and generally unwell. I had to do the walk of shame out of the preschool, while all the other mothers eyed me angrily, all but saying out loud that I sent a sick kid to school to infect their precious babies.
I swear, he wasn't sick! I'm super paranoid about sending sick kids to school! Alas, no one believes me anymore, and although he seems better today, I'm probably going to have to keep him home tomorrow just to prove a point. Damnit.
Honestly, though, if karma is a bitch, as I always like to remind rude people, what have we done to deserve all of this? And I know that sounds totally self-involved to say that all of this is falling on me, but that is how it feels! Many many times this week I have thought about crawling under a rock to cry. Or at least under the covers. At this point, I'm thinking we should call 2009 a wash and move onto 2010. It can't be any worse than this year.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
short and not-so-sweet
The inspection on the pseudo-dream house was a @#*%& NIGHTMARE. A nightmare in which you have to jack up the house and rebuild the whole structure. A nightmare in which the sellers removed structural beams because they "thought it would look nicer" and so now it turns out the whole stairway is lilting to one side because it isn't being held up. A nightmare where there is rotting wood all over, and bathrooms not done to code, and wiring that is so freaking old, we can't even get a mortgage or home insurance.
In some ways, it was a blessing to have so many gigantic problems, because it didn't leave us in a gray area. We needed a huge number off the price of the house, and we needed the wiring throughout the house redone correctly in addition to that huge number.
I have no idea what kind of workers this seller has been hiring, but both the inspector and a contractor we asked to come give us some estimates, told us that every single thing he touched was done incorrectly. Electrical sockets were wired incorrectly, bathrooms were plumbed wrong, venting was incomplete or illegal. There were sump pumps tapped into the sewer line (not allowed) and drywall that was improperly attached.
By the time I'd visited the house with the inspector and then the contractor I was completely overwhelmed and Josh was beyond terrified. We loved the space in the house, but we couldn't imagine what we might end up uncovering if all of these problems were visible just on the surface!
We asked for tens of thousands of dollars off the price of the house, and the additional non-negotiable items like rewiring the house and bringing the bathrooms up to code, and weren't surprised when he said no. I think the seller was surprised, though, when we said thanks but no thanks, we're withdrawing our offer. In fact, he has since called us 4 times to ask why we aren't negotiating and to insist that he thought that was his starting offer.
It would be funny if I weren't so tired of this jerk.
So we're back to being homeless as of November 13th, and I've taken to looking up rental apartments rather dejectedly. I don't want to have to move twice, and I know I said I was okay with it, but now I'm fretting over the double moves, and the packing for storage and packing to live in a rental, and with the fear that we'll never find a home (irrational as I know that sounds).
I worry that we are in a precarious situation because we sold our house in a down market, with very low interest rates, but if home prices start to go up or mortgage rates start to go up, we'll be TOTALLY screwed. Screwed as in, won't be able to buy a home.
Sigh. If I let myself go down this road too long, I start panicking, which isn't like me, but we've never taken quite this big of a risk, and I've never sold a home. It is a lot of money, and the process is harder than I imagined. Everyone keeps saying that selling your home is the hardest part, and I hope they are right. Now we just need to find a house!
In some ways, it was a blessing to have so many gigantic problems, because it didn't leave us in a gray area. We needed a huge number off the price of the house, and we needed the wiring throughout the house redone correctly in addition to that huge number.
I have no idea what kind of workers this seller has been hiring, but both the inspector and a contractor we asked to come give us some estimates, told us that every single thing he touched was done incorrectly. Electrical sockets were wired incorrectly, bathrooms were plumbed wrong, venting was incomplete or illegal. There were sump pumps tapped into the sewer line (not allowed) and drywall that was improperly attached.
By the time I'd visited the house with the inspector and then the contractor I was completely overwhelmed and Josh was beyond terrified. We loved the space in the house, but we couldn't imagine what we might end up uncovering if all of these problems were visible just on the surface!
We asked for tens of thousands of dollars off the price of the house, and the additional non-negotiable items like rewiring the house and bringing the bathrooms up to code, and weren't surprised when he said no. I think the seller was surprised, though, when we said thanks but no thanks, we're withdrawing our offer. In fact, he has since called us 4 times to ask why we aren't negotiating and to insist that he thought that was his starting offer.
It would be funny if I weren't so tired of this jerk.
So we're back to being homeless as of November 13th, and I've taken to looking up rental apartments rather dejectedly. I don't want to have to move twice, and I know I said I was okay with it, but now I'm fretting over the double moves, and the packing for storage and packing to live in a rental, and with the fear that we'll never find a home (irrational as I know that sounds).
I worry that we are in a precarious situation because we sold our house in a down market, with very low interest rates, but if home prices start to go up or mortgage rates start to go up, we'll be TOTALLY screwed. Screwed as in, won't be able to buy a home.
Sigh. If I let myself go down this road too long, I start panicking, which isn't like me, but we've never taken quite this big of a risk, and I've never sold a home. It is a lot of money, and the process is harder than I imagined. Everyone keeps saying that selling your home is the hardest part, and I hope they are right. Now we just need to find a house!
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