Never thought I would utter that word again in reference to something having to do with me.  Truly.  I figured every day would possess the same degree of insanity which every day has held for the past 6 or 7 (??) years.  Not so.  I am bored.  Honestly.  Earnestly.  Bored.  And I'm losing my mind.  I read a book--a piece of fiction--a novel, even--cover to cover today.  I started reading at 1:45, stopped reading to spend an hour in my bible/journal, once to talk to a customer about a cake, again to make a meal, eat it, and clean up, stopped once more to put the kids to bed (and oversee cleanup...), and to make a phone call to Seth.  It was over 250 pages.  Brainless.  Totally unnecessary.  Read the thing through.  It's 10:41, and I'm going to bed.  Are there things I could be doing?  Sure.  I could work on my nephew's blanket.  I could start the kids Halloween Costumes.  Come to think of it, these are things I should probably get started on, considering in two weeks, I'll need to pack the entire contents of my house into totes and boxes and I still don't even know where we're going to live.

Whatever.

In the meantime, I guess I'll just revel in the fact that I'm bored.  Just for a little while.  I'm sure it will be a very little while, but a little while...I'll take it.

Has your kid ever gotten whacked in the head with a golf club??  Yeah, my kid hadn't either...before today.

It was actually pretty adorable, before the whacking occurred.  Bryson has real golf clubs--6-year-old sized--a gift from my parents for Christmas two years ago.  There's a chipping wedge, an iron, and a putter.  They came with these wonderful nerf-type golf balls, which he promptly lost in the snow-covered back yard (and later became doggie chew toys...we forgot about them until they were soggy and dirt-covered...and no longer play-worthy, according to my very clean-oriented son).  He has, on and off, shown interest in playing with them, but honestly, he uses them more like hockey sticks in the family room with his soccer ball than golf clubs.  Which is fine.  He has developed quite a swing.  :)  So, he and his friend were running all over around the far side of the soccer fields hitting a (real) golf ball around...and they were having such a good time...and as I watched Reasa playing her little heart out (you should see this kid play this game she has never played before in her life), all of a sudden I heard that sound.  You know the sound:  the sound of your kid really, really hurt.  And the sound gets nearer to you as, in slow motion, you turn your head, and rise from your exceptionally uncomfortable camping chair to see him running (also in slow-motion) toward you, holding his head.  You look for gushing blood.  You expect oozing brains.  You can't believe he hasn't collapsed by the time you get to him with the volume of the screams coming from his mouth.  I looked at his head, and it was very apparent that he'd been hit in the head...but I didn't see the whole problem.  I saw a litle bruise right at his temple where he had definitely gotten it...and I pulled him toward me and tried to console him.  As the volume continued to climb.  Now, generally, when Bryson gets hurt, after some snuggling and reassurances, if he's really ok, things relax a bit.  Nope.  Not this time.  So, I bent down and really looked him in the face, and I suddenly noticed a purplish-blue knot forming on his left eyebrow.  I had missed the main injury...oh my goodness it looked bad--his friend had swung, and he had bent down right at the moment when the club came back.  But there was no blood, and though my mind raced directly to concussion, he hadn't started throwing up or passing out or anything, and the bump came out, not in, which is supposed to be a good sign.  My parents, who were both at Reasa's game, came rushing over as I scooped him up, and as I walked toward the car, told them I was taking him home (a 2-minute drive) to get him some ice--would they stay with Lainie and Reasa and make sure the cupcakes got handed out?  The ride was a long one...him crying harder and harder every moment...telling me he never wanted to go to the soccer field or play with his friend or the golf clubs or anything ever again.  :)  We got home and I gave him some ibuprofen and a bag of ice to hold on his further-swelling browbone, and we snuggled in the living room for a few minutes...and then agreed that starting Spy Kids was in order...along with a good long snuggle on the couch.  The ice stayed on his forehead for about an hour...and he's been fine ever since. Perfectly Fine.  Very Bumped and Bruised.  Tired.  And Fine.

Let this be a lesson to you, friends.  Don't give your children real golf clubs unless you're willing to accept potential black eyes.  Don't allow your children to play field hockey at soccer games with 5-year-old friends.  Don't figure everything is really ok when they scream louder and louder--look closely.  And do, by all means, snuggle for long periods of time when your kid asks for it.  That's something you'll never regret.  Giving them golf clubs...yeah...might regret that.

I bet he pulls them back out tomorrow.

When the girls were tiny, I was nearly sure I was going to lose it.  For lots of reasons, actually...I mean, they were 11 months apart...I bottle-fed two babies, often at the same time, for 3 months, for Pete's sake...but one thing in particular really pushed my limits--and it took me a while to figure out what was causing this one thing.  When it came right down to it, we finally got the girls to sleep each night by about 10, give or take, they would wake up at 8ish, sleep twice throughout the day, and start all over again.  Seth and I struggled to keep ourselves awake throughout the day, struggled to find any time of peace without children clamoring for my attention that didn't translate into staying up until 1 in the morning (which worked for me, but since he's out cold on the couch by 9 most nights...), struggled in general.  We actually talked to a counselor about the way things were going when Lainie was about 6 months old, and she looked at us like we were complete idiots (we were) and said, "Umm, put the girls to bed at 8.  Duh."  OK, she didn't say "duh," but she should have.  I moved quickly from semi-intelligent adult to stupid parent in some ways when my kids came along.  Frankly, I liked that they slept in when morning came.  I could get up at 7, shower, have a couple of cups of coffee and accomplish something before they awoke.  Putting them to bed earlier meant giving that up.  However, it also meant a bit more opportunity for adult sanity before we were both too tired to think.  If we planned to keep our sanity...bedtimes had to shift.  What a concept.

In the process of establishing new bedtimes, we quickly realized that part of the reason they were going to sleep so late was a lack of routines.  They didn't have any triggers to tell them, "This means it's time to settle down and get ready to sleep."  We had different things we did in various orders on different nights, but nothing they expected every night...and though "they" always tell you that children thrive on routines, well, we had to discover this ourselves.  So, we took all of the things we liked, and were willing to cram into 15-20 minutes, and put them in a recognizable order.  It took a couple of weeks to work ourselves--and them--into...but when we did, suddenly, we had kids who were going to sleep when we put them to bed.  Amazing.  When Bryson came along, he slid nicely into those routines, and added twists of his own.

Interestingly, eight years later, parts of that original routine still exist.  We've added elements.  We've tweaked them as they've grown up and grown out of some things.  Some nights we add elements, other nights--the late, late nights--we forgo others.  But for the most part, every night looks pretty much the same.  Long about 7:30, we start talking about bednight snack and jammies.  By 8, it's about time for tooth brushing, last minute runs to the potty, and the dash to pick out clothes for the next day (that can be a process).  Recently, when we're making good progress with the time schedule, we have added a tickling/wrestling match to the mix.  This has become one of my very favorite parts of the day (despite the fact that they have discovered that when they combine their efforts, they actually outweigh Mommy (and darn it, Reasa is strong!), which means they can hold her down.  They have also discovered that Mommy is more ticklish than the three of them put together...which they use to their advantage at the point when they are all sitting on my stomach...breathing, of course, is optional).  At 8:15, it's time for bed...where we snuggle...tell our favorite parts of the day...talk about one thing...pray together...and then (usually Bryson) picks a silly song.  A very silly song.  The sillier the better.  And mommy has to make up the words on the spot.  So, if Bryson asks for "The Very Dry Dessert Song," well, he gets a very dry dessert song.  Rhyming is not necessary, but appreciated.  Most nights, we sing "The Zoodle Song," complete with our own sound effects and verses.  (And if you haven't read the book I recommended a while back, you need to check out Sandra Boynton's Snoozers.  It's well-worth the $10.  Or come on over, and we'll share it with you.  For a little while.  Not long, though.  It's our favorite.) 

Some day, when they each have kids of their own, I hope they sing silly songs.  I hope they snuggle every night and have conversations that go longer than necessary just for the sake of keeping mommy or daddy close for a few minutes more.  I hope they don't rush through the routine so they can go watch tv or pay bills or answer emails.  I have done that at times...after long, alone-with-them-all-day days...and regretted it later.  Reasa comes downstairs every night, for one reason or another...it is her thing.  Who she is.  And my tradition...long after they have fallen asleep each night and I'm on my way to bed...I go into their rooms, re-tuck them under their covers, and kiss them goodnight.  I wouldn't miss that one last chance to tell them I loved them for anything.  The traditions I cherish...traditions I take for granted every day...the traditions I dread letting go...and I'm writing them down tonight so I never forget them. 

...is setting in.

Tomorrow morning is the home inspection (which begins at 8 and is slated to continue for 3 to 4 hours...please pray for my sanity as I school the cherubs and have a complete stranger in my house for the entire time).  Then there's something about 7 days that we have to fix whatever is wrong or make negotiations or they have the opportunity to make requests or back out.  I have no idea how the whole thing actually works...I just know that it's really happening.

We're praying that they don't find anything major, and that the people who want to buy the house don't try to milk us for all we're worth.  :)  Not that they can, but you understand what I'm saying.  We'll see.  We feel like we have some room to negotiate...but we don't want to negotiate too much...

Sigh.  So ready for this to be all over.  So nice to not have to show the house this week.  :) 

It suddenly struck me squarely in the face that this is really, truly happening.  It happened when our Pastor started his sermon this morning.  And it wasn't anything particularly deep or meaningful that prompted this response...he just said, "If you've chosen today to be your first Sunday at Victory, well, you've chosen a good day.  But then, every day is a good day to be your first Sunday at Victory..." and I melted into a puddle of tears.  Oh, they were quiet tears, with a very quivery chin...I was sitting in the third row, all the way on the far side of the sanctuary, in plain sight of the entire congregation to whom I just sang and spoke...and for Pete's sake, I've been asking people to pray that the house would sell quickly so we could just get moved and get it over with and be a family again...doesn't it seem a bit ungrateful to be crying over the fact that it actually is happening and we'll be moving, possibly within the next month and a half, and as a result of their many prayers?

I guess it's one thing to say it, and another thing altogether to actually do it.  When it was a happy dream...moving our family to a new place for a new job and new opportunities and new experiences...it was an adventure.  Something to run after.  Dive into.  And when the happy dream meant a matter of a couple of months of transition...well, that was different too.  Now I've had four months to get used to the idea.  And three weeks to stress over the house being on the market.  And many, many opportunities to see exactly what I'm going to be missing...and it's so much more than the house.  I will miss this house.  But I will desperately miss my parents.  I will miss my friends.  I will miss my church.  I will miss this town.  Our yard.  The library.  The parks.  The pools.  The fact that we're only an hour and a half away from the Strong Museum of Play.  And an hour away from the Ross Park Zoo.  And the Ithaca Science Center.  And the Binghamton Science Center.  And 20 minutes away from our favorite camping sites.  It's one thing to say, "Oh, but it's only an hour and a half away.  We'll be back here all the time."  It's another thing altogether to actually get in the car and make that trip and include seeing friends in the trip.  My goodness, I don't make the trip to my friend's house 10 minutes away right now, when we both homeschool our kids and have open schedules!!  What on earth makes me think I'm going to make the drive from Pennsylvania to here more than once a month??

A new home (if we ever find one), a new church, a new school district (Oh, nuts...which reminds me...I haven't turned in IHIPs yet.  Ugh!), new streets to learn, stores to find, issues to face...it all feels very, very big.  Extremely overwhelming.  And a scary reality.  A bit of a twist on the story I wrote in my head.   

A few weeks ago, Bryson saw a commercial on TV and was absolutely enthralled.  The stuff was called Martian Matter, and you can create tiny "martians" with this goo stuff and a space-ship looking unit, and they dry so that you can play with them or cut them up (nice) and let the stuff they're made of goo out of them.  While I thought it looked a bit silly, what kids' craft isn't?  And seriously, how many boy craft kits are out there, when it comes right down to it??  The poor kid has so many stickers and play doh toys and MOON SAND!!  AAAKKK!!!...he neeed something more interesting.

On Saturday, I bought a new wallet at a local shoe place, and since the wallets were crazy cheap (and nice wallets--an actual name brand!), the girls decided to spend some of their hard-earned allowance money and buy wallets of their own ("And we won't lose them this time, Mommy."  Sure.  Jury's still out on that one.  I think they still know where they are.).  Bryson really wanted something too (but not a purple leather wallet, for some reason).  So, later, on a trip to find sneakers for Daddy, Bryson wound up at the toy store on the mall...scavenging through everything in the entire store (this is not an exaggeration) to find something that only cost $5 and was still worthy of spending his allowance money to purchase.  We wound up, at the very last moment (Mommy was absolutely finished with this store), with a refill pack of Martian Matter.  It was actually $6, but it's amazing what you'll give in to when you're sick to death of looking for what you assumed you would find in a few brief moments.

I love this stuff.  It's virtually non-messy, it ends up really fun, and he can do it by himself.  He has created a ton of these little creatures, has made some of his own creative inventions with it, and he is now setting up a martian world in the living room.  And since we don't have to show the house tomorrow, I don't even care!!  We will be buying more of this stuff.  So worth the $6.  I highly recommend it. 

...full asking price. 

I know.  I'm in shock too.  Unreal, right?

Well, it's unreal if you don't understand what's actually happening here.  I mean, consider the fact that we have people praying, and all.  Praying to a God who routinely does things that are out of what we would consider the realm of possibility.  And I believe that in the case of selling a house in what could be called a poor market...God could probably do what we might think of as impossible.  Maybe. 

What's really funny?  Well, first, my aunt's reaction.  I'm pretty sure she's in shock.  I think she didn't expect the house to sell quickly at all (and three weeks??  Yeah.).  I think she figured it would sit on the market for five or six months, considering the price range we fall in, and the house and all it "still needs" and all of that.  Hee hee.  Second on the funny list, I have friends who are still praying for bigger things.  Bigger things than a full-price offer with the only contingencies being a home inspection, obtaining a mortgage (for which they are pre-approved) and closing by Oct. 24.  Two friends in the past hour have mentioned the desire for a bidding war. 

Hey, we won't argue.  Or complain.  We might just have to wait for the battle.  :)

Nah.  We'll take the offer...

...after we see what happens tomorrow morning, after showing number 19.  Maybe they'll offer something.  Maybe we'll get that bidding war after all. 

I'll keep you posted.

...of any of the houses I've listed."  Those were my aunt's words today.  My aunt is our realtor.  In three weeks, the house has shown 17 times.  We have three more showings this weekend (and Monday)...and from what we understand, we should see another offer tomorrow at some point.  Today, we left the house for a 1:00-1:30 showing, came home at 1:45, and saw that people were still in the house.  We drove to Joann's to look at fabric and patterns for Halloween costumes (I know...I can't believe it's time to think of that yet either), drove back at about 2:10, and they were still here.  Unfortunately, I didn't realize it until I had already pulled into the driveway and let the dog out of the car...argh!!!...I corralled her and drove down to the laundromat at the end of the street to wait for the cars to drive away.  They finally pulled away at 2:36...and we got to go home.  I'm really hoping they were here so long because they really, really want our house.  From what my aunt said later...it sounds pretty promising.  We'll see.  Because promising?  Yeah, "promising" does not equal $11,400 less than our asking price.  Again, we'll see.

So...back to the "most activity" comment...I know why we have so much activity.  No question about it.  You are praying.  So many people are praying.  Thank you, if you're one of them!  I am confident that this house will sell.  I have been confident of that since we decided to sell it.  It's just interesting how different the actual time frame looks from what my time frame looked like back at the beginning of this process--what my ideal time frame actually was.  I really, truly thought we would have moved and settled in by the beginning of the new school year.  I hoped we would...transition like that would have made for a good, clean start.  Shows you what I knew.  I didn't know, for example, just how long all of the projects around our house would actually take for me to do.  I didn't realize that I would do most of them alone.  I didn't realize we would take two weeks off when I thought we would finally get around to listing it to go camping, then on vacation, pushing our actual listing date back a full month, when it came right down to it.  And I completely convinced myself that we would sell the house within a couple of weeks of putting it on the market.  I mean, sure, it's still a couple of weeks, when it comes down to it...but not exactly what I had pictured.  I know it will sell...I had just hoped...well, I hoped we would have been done with this months ago.  And still...there must be some reason we're not.  I don't believe in coincidences.

In the meantime...I'm going to have the house ready to show at 10:30 tomorrow, get to Bryson's soccer game by 11:10, Reasa's game by 1:40, and then have it ready to show before I leave for church on Sunday morning (for a 9:30 showing)...and again on Monday evening at 6:30.  And what I'm really hoping for?  A great offer tomorrow.  A length of time on the offer such that the three people coming through by Monday (who will, of course, all be interested in buying the house...or at least one or two will be) would have an opportunity to bid the thing up a little bit...and maybe we could actually get our asking price for it.  :)  I'll keep you posted. 

Things heard around my house lately:

Bryson (my recently-obsessed-with-all-things-hotwheels child, holding his new 3-ring binder open in front of him):  "Mom!  Look!  Speedbumps!!"

...

Lainie:  "Mom, wouldn't it be so cool if somebody had the name 'Candy Hearts?'"
Me:  "Well, you know, Laine, your friend Becka?  Her Mommy's name is Candace.  Do you know what Becka's last name is?"
Lainie:  "Becka Hart?"
Me:  "Yep.  So what's her Mommy's name?"
Lainie:  "Candace Hart?"
Me:  "Yep.  So guess what they call her?"
Lainie:  "Do they seriously call her Candy Hart???"
Me:  "Yep."
Lainie:  "SWEET!!"

...

Reasa (after falling up the steps):  "I hate my life!  I hate this house!  I want to move RIGHT NOW!!"

(as if moving would eliminate the possibility of clumsiness and subsequent injury)(and she bruised the crap out of her shin, poor monkey).

...

Bryson:  "Mom?"
Me:  "Yes?"
Bryson: "Umm........yeah......ummm.......you know....."
Me:  "Yes?"
Bryson:  "Ne'ermind.  I forgot."

(I mention this one because it happens all the time.  I mean constantly.  It's adorable.  But sometimes, I wonder if he's a bit ADD)(and I'm kidding, really)(I think)

...

Reasa:  "No!  Laine!  Tony and Quackles aren't married yet!  We have to have the wedding!  I'll be the coordinator.  You be the decorator.  Bryson, you can make the cake."
Laine:  "Fine..."

(This is only funny because I have personally experienced the wedding of Tony (the Webkinz penguin) and Quackles (the Webkinz duck)(don't ask) TWICE.  This time I took pictures of the Webkinz-covered dance floor for future proof that the event took place.)

...

Bryson:  "Mommy, I have to take this grasshopper home for my Toady."  (we were at the soccer field)
Me:  "But Buddy, the grasshopper is too big for Toady to eat."
Bryson:  "Can't you just break him in half?"
Me:  "No.  Toads don't eat dead things.  Remember?  And how about you break it in half?"
Bryson:  "Oooh...that would be so mean."

Hmm.

...

So many more.  Can't think now.  Must sleep.

I did know this would happen.  Really.  And the kicker?  Two weeks ago, I made the comment that I couldn't believe that in all of the stress and insanity of this summer, I hadn't forgotten something important (well, that I know of)...a cake, a wedding, something.  Pride goes before...what was that again?

At 9:20 this morning (we slept until 8:15...unheard of...and planned to go to church third service rather than our normal second...)(getting two hours of sleep on Friday night and spending 8 hours helping a bride get through her wedding and reception on Saturday demanded this course of action), I noticed that I had a text message.  I saw the sender's name and looked forward to opening the message...and then stood with my mouth open, and my eyes wide in horror.  It read:  "Hey.  Hate to bother you.  Can I come pick up the cake?"

My mind began to whirl.  There it was, staring me in the face:  my first forgotten cake.  It had happened.  And somehow, I knew that despite the plans for the day, I had to get it done for her.  We im'd about this cake for her sister's engagement party a couple of weeks ago, and I figured that since I would be working on cakes anyway, why not just throw an extra couple of mixes in the oven, and use some of the frosting which would inevitably be left over?  No problem.  It would have helped to write any of this down.  Or put it in my calendar.  Or something intelligent which would not have led to me forgetting the darn thing completely.  Nope.  Nothing.  Completely didn't do anything to assist my non-functioning, overstuffed memory.  I called my sweet friend, who said, "Oh, Min, don't worry about it.  It was going to be a centerpiece more than something we depended upon to feed guests, so it isn't a big deal."  (I think she was trying to make me feel better--actually, it made it worse)  I told her that no, I would get it done...what flavors, colors, etc (we hadn't talked about that)?  So, she chose flavors, colors, flowers, we talked about when she would come pick it up, and I took a deep breath and looked at the clock.  Sure.  No problem.  I could do this.

It was 9:30.  Church is at 11:10.  I pulled all of my supplies for the cake and got things started...I mapped it all out.  Cake in the oven, finish getting ready for church, finish getting the kids through the shower, make frosting, make the gumpaste calla lilies, cake out of the oven to cool, flip cakes out of the pans just as we left for church, cakes cool while we're at church, home from church the moment the sermon ends (and boy, it helped that the girls have both reached the grade level to check themselves into Powerhouse now), frost, stack and decorate the cakes after calling my friend (she had a 35 minute drive to get here), and hand it off to her to head to my parents' for lunch, then Seth's parents' for his dad's birthday cake.  I can't tell you how many trips I made to up and down the steps to my cake supply stash.  I can tell you that I did my makeup on the way to church.

I can't believe I got it done.  That will NEVER happen again.  Never. 

Oh, that and I will never, ever tell a bride I can put custard fillings in the cake she requested which is also covered in fondant, and realize the day before her wedding that you can't do both of those things in the same cake and she'll have to choose different fillings for the top two tiers of her wedding cake (she took it very well, but still.  DUH!).

I learned a lot this weekend. 
1.  Write everything down.  If you talk about a cake with someone, put it in your CAKE NOTEBOOK.  You do have one, dummy, and this is why.
2.  Start a "tips and tricks" page in said notebook.  You might not forget about the custard/fondant thing.  Sheesh.
3.  Stop coordinating the weddings for which you agreed to make cakes. You stay up all night decorating when you should be sleeping so that you can "party" all day with the bride.  Oh, and you miss your kids' first soccer games.
4.  Charge more for your cakes.  If you spend 36 hours on a cake, you should make more than $6 an hour.

I guess as long as I learned something, it was all worth it.  And everyone was happy in the end.  And I made an extra twenty bucks on what will now forever be known as the 1 Hour Cake (between mixing and decorating...that was how long it took me, approximately.  Maybe an hour and 15 minutes).

Stay tuned for more mindless insanity.  You're all very patient with me (the 15 of you who bravely check back here with each new post).  Thanks for that.  :)

Offer countered, people decided not to continue to pursue it.  OK.  On we go.  There is a family who was supposed to come through last week who was supposedly very interested...we'll see.  No showings booked at this point.  Yesterday was officially two weeks from the first showing.  Sigh.

Sorry for lack of updates...it's insane here.  Will get back on track, but need to get back on track with school before my blog. :)  It's not that I don't like you all...it's just one of those things.  And if I ever find the cord for my camera, I'll get those pictures I promised (along with others) up. 

...it sucks, but it's an offer.  And we can counter...

It's funny how you internalize a crummy offer on your house.  Like $11,000 below our asking price, which isn't high to begin with.  Both realtors (ours and theirs) were not thrilled with their offer, which is good to hear.  Ah, well.  We're going to counter--pretty high--and we have two more showings tomorrow.  Just wanted to keep you all in the loop, because I said I would, and I so appreciate the prayers you've already offered.  Would appreciate your continued prayers.  The life of the offer goes through Wednesday at 6pm, which we have to extend, because Seth leaves for work tomorrow morning and won't be home until Wednesday evening...his signature has to be on whatever offer we accept, I guess, so 6 that evening won't work for us...and that could work out well, especially if somebody tomorrow (who will know there's an offer on the table) decides they want the house too.  Anything can happen.  I'm praying for a bidding war... :)  Maybe dreaming, but that's my nature. 

Just having an offer is kind of nice...motivates me to get the house back in shape after this crazy, crazy weekend.

And for those of you who don't know already, I have a beautiful, beautiful new nephew, Josiah Charles Mattison!  He was born on Saturday, Aug. 30 at 6 am, weighing in at 7 lb., 13 oz. and 20 1/4 inches long.  He's absolutely darling...and his big sister (along with the rest of us!) adores him.  Will post pictures when I feel like opening internet explorer and battling with that.  Mozilla's not so great for picture uploads.  :)