2 Weeks

I don't think I've filled out as many forms, questionnaires, google map directions or applications as I have in the last week. 

Fielded calls, negotiated calls, forwarded calls and emails, copy/pasted pictures, info, info and more info for lawyers, insurance people, mortgage brokers, Realtors, inspectors, and parents. (Yes, they need all that info too!)

I've been on hold for a calculated 3.25 hours in 5 days. And I've had to re-iterate all the above stated daily to a doe-eyed, dumb-founded ( nearly gobsmacked and every other cliche phraze to expresses exasperation ) husband at the end of his long, tiring day - as he is the sole signer on this purchase. 

(That's what I get for not having a taxable income worthy of government note)

It really is no wonder the government has a three inch thick file on any given person by the time they are three. I'm sure by the time we move - this time - Byron and I will inhabit a full drawer in some paper pushers office or Indiana Jones-style warehouse. I know I have one! (And that's just the stuff I've not shredded)

Next it's getting in, getting down and dirty (literally, as we have to rip up flooring and wallpaper just to paint and lay it anew) and then making the physical move. 

Justin made the mental and emotional move the moment I told him our plans. He has been spending as much time, as my parents will allow, in their spare room in Didsbury, not even taking a second glance back at Airdrie. He'll miss his friends, but they can always come visit. 

Byron & I are another story, I think. It's going to take the full gambit of motions for us to get there completely - and for Byron it will take a bit more, as in doing the full commute rounds for a while before his 'hate-on' for it subsides.

I have a few "befores" of the house, the kitchen and bathroom only. I'll take a few more of the bedroom - because lordy - do you have to see the wallpaper in them to believe it! Whoo!

The dishwasher racks are actually crumbling inside that machine ... can we say dump? Oh yeah and ceiling fan - gone.

Yes, that is Pink and White. It will be white only, new fixtures.

Wall just to the left of the kitchen, the "dining room" ha! Leads to the living room.
Can we say Reconfigured Kitchen in a few years???

 

 

The bathroom(s) need to be done eventually too, aside from being a million years old (and retro fake marble and mottled browns/avocados) - the en-suite is directly behind the main bath. It is way too small and useless, not to mention cuts into the size of the main bath. We've already decided that in time the en-suite will go lending to a larger, more family friendly main bathroom .... maybe even two sinks!

Byron doesn't even want to hear about what I want to do - he's a Big Picture guy. He just wants the facts, how he will accomplish it and when it will be done. It stresses him to think about details, they need to be incorporated and all-encompassing - where I, on the other hand, am obsessed with the details. I cannot see the Big Picture if the details are omitted.

The lawyers booked up like a Hollywood stylist during Oscar week, so we won't be able to get into our house on the original possession date of the 13th. Latest; Aug 18th ... maybe earlier if the mortgage company has nothing better to do than hastily send back our financing.

 So, in a week or so when we get in there, I'll update and give more "before" pictures. 

When we're done with it, its gonna look bananas  - you'll die. I swear.

xoxo t.

Crossroads

So, in the midst of everything; everything being Justin being horribly defeated by this place we call a school, our lives being turned upside down by deciding to move back to Didsbury because of their school, we find out that we cannot sell our house but will have to rent it instead. (I know, holy run-on sentence Batman)

So here I am yesterday madly moving clutter from one room to another (clutter consisting mainly of a certain 2 years olds' toys) taking pictures of said room so I can post Renters listings.

I'm not sure how I feel about being a potential landlord, mostly alright I suppose. Mostly because I'm ok with being the 'bad cop'. (Parenting boys has a way of preparing you for these things)

I have mixed feelings about moving back to a small town. It is quiet, with the exception of the train that blows it's horn every four hours. However. considering Clayton's obvious fascination with trains, this is good. 

The school system is second to none. Justin thrived there, their care and respect for the student and the parent is like nothing I've encountered elsewhere - even in the high priced private Christian school he attended. And with Clayton scrambling towards school age, why would I gamble with his mental well being as well? 

The housing is marginally cheaper, we will likely be able to purchase a home for less but get more.

It's close to my parents and aging grandparents, of which my boys do not get to see often - this needs remedying.
The bad news is; Byron has to commute two hours daily - something he has been expressly worried about since we wanted to move out of this house to find a bigger one. He gets up so early and works 13 hours ... I am worried my husband will slowly disintegrate during the week.

We will have to pay insurance of two houses, and gas for 100 km a day commute which, really, will eat up whatever savings we will acquire by buying a cheaper home.

We have to also come up with a down payment since the mortgage laws have changed since the last purchase, as well as cash to renovate whatever home we buy. (there are very few, as in 1 in10, homes in our price range that do not need extensive reno's. Some are not livable until floors are ripped up and appliances changed)

We are further away from Byron's mom, whom he tries to see at least once a week.

I know. 

It is the sacrifice we have to make for our children.

I know.

It will work out in the end. But what of the now? (And just fyi, these are all rhetorical ... lol)

I know.

Having happy, healthy children will indeed enrich us as parents in the long run.

But I worry about my husband. That he may feel like the low man on the totem pole. That he may feel like everyone else comes before him. That he has no say.

If anyone wants to rent a house - you know where to find one! Available Aug 1st!

i know if i don't. i'll regret it ...

if i don't ... 'what?' ... you ask .....

write.

if i don't i'll feel it, it festers, like a sore that needs cleaning out.
i used to keep a journal, or - in those days we called it - a diary. i suppose diary is indicative of a young girl or pre-teen, which i am neither. 

no matter.

clayton has taken to not having his early afternoon naps. he sits in his high chair stuffing his mouth full of food until his little belly bulges with it's contents. then listlessly eyes the tv, some cartoon of canadian decent, yawning and rubbing his eyes, so i pick him up and cradle him to his crib, lay him down and close the door.

he's quite just long enough for me to feel the smallest twinge of relief when he begins his loud and obnoxious yelping and chattering.

he does this for the duration of 'nap time', one and a half hours or so, or until i free him.

no rest for the wicked, is that the phrase?

bald monkey

i woke up this morning to the regular quiet hum of the house. 

made myself some coffee, turned on the computer, checked my email and it was at that point i could hear my youngest happily chirping in his room.

i sighed and looked at the clock, and realized that my oldest was not stirring yet at 7 am. uh oh. no alarm set perhaps?

i opened his door; nope ... still silently snoring. 

i gently shook him while listening to my youngest getting more and more fervent in his calls to be lifted out of his 'sleeping-cage'. (or at least he seems to think of it that way by the way he tries to climb over you when he realizes that is where he's going at the end of the day)

when i was satisfied justin was awake, i moseyed on over to clayton's room - where much to my surprise he was dangling precariously over the rail of his crib. one leg over, one leg behind grunting like a little bald monkey trying to get out of his entrapment.

so with an "oh!" and a scramble i grabbed him and squeezed him in relief then i scolded him because he was ok ... you know, the old "if you poke your eye out, don't come looking for me" schpeal.

he was completely un-phased by the ordeal, but i'm thinking it may be time to convert the crib to the dreaded toddler bed.

... you know, just to see what other theatrics we can wake up to.

this was far too funny to dismiss ... and makes the point that if you censor anything it makes it more dirty and "taboo".

making you want more of it...

as most of you know - or perhaps you don't know and are about to find out - i love writing.

(btw - thanks jess for making it ok to not use capitals! you're my hero)

and now i'm thinking that if i can manage to write a bit down every day, it will help me work through my journey of life.

i promise to keep you all informed about our lives here in the 'leppy fammy'. i also promise to not get too deep .... well, ok, i'll try. but most of all i promise to be true to myself and to you, my friends and family - and make you giggle with me, not at me.

that said.

i am wondering, today, if i will ever have a career that i will do for the rest of my life? or will i always be that lady who has three or for pies with my fingers deeply poked into them?

it's a rhetorical question. i already know the answer ... but sometimes i get tired of the "look" i get when people ask me what i do and i have to answer them in point form.
maybe i should simply answer 'what would you like me to do?' that way the answer will always make them smile and not judge me.

however - there is the other side of me that wishes to jab a fork in their eye. ha.