Bad Medicine

My husband's last day at work in California is this Friday. For the past 2 weeks, his patients have been spoiling him with gifts. Gift certificates for fancy dinners at the beach. Steakhouse gift certificates. Heart-felt cards, a few tears.

Tonight, when he came home, he popped his trunk and unloaded a huge, gold box.

4lbs of Sees candy.

You could hear the squeals of delight down the block. And this was only me- I haven't shown it to the kids yet.

Good Times

I'm here. I just didn't want to write.

Our house in California, on day 40 of a 45 day escrow, fell through. The buyer "felt like he couldn't focus" so he cancelled. Um, thanks? Thanks for pulling our house off the market a week and half after we listed it. Thanks for wasting our time. Thanks for the two wasted trips to Houston, spent trying to buy a house. Thanks for the stress. The arguments. The sleepless nights. And lastly, thanks for your deposit. We'll enjoy that.

In other news, we are somehow incapable of renting a house in Texas. Not to sound like Goldilocks, but they are either too small, too expensive, too strict (we do have a dog), or in too sketchy an area.

We've had other stuff too, that I can't or won't write about. Other incidents that left me shaking me head in embarrassment and disbelief. I'm not good at asking for help. I don't like to. And after recent events, I'm reminded why. Good times, folks. Good, good times.

But looking at the bright side- because there always is one, and that's what I'm going to do..... we are excited about Texas. It will be GREAT to have my husband excited about work. We are thrilled to see our friends again. My kids are going to great schools.

But we've just pushed the move another ten days so we can find somewhere to hang our hat.

A House Is Not A Home

Last week, I flew to Texas for 48 hours to try and find a house. I felt like my own reality tv show. The pressure was ridiculous.

I've bought 2 houses in my life. Both very different. Atypical. Not your run of the mill tract house. I loved them both. My current house in California was built in 1964. Originally, it was supposed to be the first house of a nudist colony, but instead- real estate developers from Palm Springs took it over and imported tile from the Old Desert Inn in Palm Springs to outfit my roof. It's kooky. Unique. Different.

Our move to Texas is an investment in our future. I get this. But trying to buy a house there may just put me in the loony bin.

California is still in a depressed market. Apparently, Houston is not. One house we were considering, was on the market for one day. 24 hours. Before we could even get an appointment in to see it, they had 4 offers above the asking price.

There was another house my agent emailed to me before the trip. It looked lovely. It had all the right working parts, was in a pretty good area- right school district. I finally got inside, and got that feeling- that "Hey! I could see us living here!" My husband went outside to walk up and down the street, and I went upstairs to call the kids. While I was on the phone, someone faxed an offer and it was accepted.

We did find a house. It also had all of the right parts, but I didn't love it. We put a bid in. They countered. We countered. They kept pushing the closing date. Pushing on the price. Yesterday, we pulled our offer.

I give up. I'm going to rent. And find out where the nudists live, because I really like their way with houses.

Toddler Logic

Tonight, my four year old touched the necklace around her neck and said-

"Mommy? I love this necklace. Every time I wear it, it reminds me of the person who gave it to me."

"Who gave it to you, sweetheart?" I ask her.

She thinks for a minute and says, "Ummm... I don't remember."

Complaints

I'm starting to wonder if I was born with a magnetic ability to attract stress and chaos.

Literally.

Tragically, I currently have a family member that is critically ill. This is heart wrenching, and difficult, and upsetting to everyone- including my kids. It's hard to explain death to your child. I'm trying my best to be honest, but respect the innocence of their childhood.

We are moving. Which by itself, can be stressful. We do not have a house picked out in Texas, and we're still trying to decide whether to buy or rent.

We are maneuvering through a difficult real estate market in California- and not to poke fun, but it's a bit wild, wild, west.

I'm trying to get my kid in a private school that requires a bit of hoop jumping, magic tricks and professional head shots. (thank God I know a GREAT photographer).

I'm having trouble sleeping. My dog is acting up. My kids are a bit on the sensitive side. I'm craving a normal, ho hum day where we can all relax, make a mess and not worry about strangers coming in. No boxes to unpack. No repairmen all over the house.

We'll get there. But you'll probably have to listen to me whine a bit more before it happens.

Open Wide

These past two weeks have been a flurry of "getting stuff done." Pediatrician appointments. Termite inspections. Plumbers. Roofers. Bleh. Before we hightail it out of Cali, I thought it would be a good idea to sneak in another visit to our dentist.

My dentist is a unique guy. Quite frankly, until this encounter, I thought he played for the other team. He has always been friendly. But recently? More so. Uncomfortably so. With his hands in my mouth, he commented on my skin. I gurgled and mumbled thank you. Then he asked me if I knew what my first name meant. (It's hard to carry on a conversation while someone is scraping tartar, but I tried my best). He said he thought it meant (and I'm not making this up) angel. I started giggling (which caused me to drool on myself) and said, "Um, I don't think so." He insisted that "for you, it must mean angel." ????

Today, I was back in the office, taking my kids to get their teeth checked. (different dentist). He saw me in the hallway. He walked by me. Turned around .Took off his glasses, looked me up and down and said "How are you today, angel?" For the record, I'm a 37 year old Mom in yoga pants. With a bit of a tarnished halo. And I don't think I'll let this guy use anesthetic anytime soon.

Deep In The Heart

Whew. I can finally let this out.

So here's the deal: we're moving back to Texas.

I know! I know! We just got here, just got settled. But you should know by now that I have a unique ability to magnetically attract chaos, discord and emotional upheaval into my life.

A week AFTER we moved into our house in California, almost two years ago, the phone rang. It was my husband's old job in Texas, telling him that a position was opening up, and would he be interested? After getting some smelling salts, and remembering how much I love my friends in Houston, I told him to go for it.

Two years later- after endless phone calls, funding getting put on hold, it is finally official. We put our house on the market two weeks ago, flew out to Texas to look at schools and neighborhoods- it's really happening!

We are, of course, so sad to be moving (yet again) far from our family. Our kids will miss their schools and friends. But all of us are excited to see the friends we have left. We love Texas. Sure, it's humid. It's got tree roaches bigger than Thanksgiving turkeys. But it also has a blue sky like no other, the friendliest people on earth and something called queso that I could take a bath in.

So that's it. Secret's out. I apologize for not being around lately, but it's a bit hard for me to keep stuff in. Until my husband made it official at work, yours truly couldn't blab (unless you count twitter, which I really don't). Lots more to follow.