Black Belt Mama

Frustrations and All

Last week, I left the girls alone in the living room for exactly two minutes so I could transfer clothes to the dryer.  In that small period of time, they managed to spill my entire glass of iced tea all over my white carpet.  I had to climb into the crawl space to retrieve the carpet cleaner, not an easy feat when you have one knee that can't be crawled on. 

While I was frantically putting together my little green carpet cleaning machine so that I could get the tea up before it left a permanent stain, I jammed the tip of my finger on the machine and thought I would lose my entire finger nail because of it.  While I was cleaning the carpet, the girls fled to their rooms to escape the dreaded loud carpet cleaner and a very unhappy Mommy.  When I went upstairs to talk to them about not running around the living room like it's a track meet, I discovered that they had broken the mobile that was still hanging from Lil C's bed, the mobile that I happen to have an unhealthy emotional attachment to.  I quietly walked to my bathroom and locked myself in there.  I needed a minute.  I needed a minute badly.

A couple days ago, my Mom and I took Lil C shopping.  While in the store, she ripped about 15 pairs of shoes off the racks in an attempt to distract us from the fact that she was pulling the tags off a pair of sunglasses and fleeing the store with them.  She may be two, but the girl knows what she wants and is apparently prepared to shoplift in order to get it.  As we held up various pieces of clothing she repeated over and over again, "I don't YIKE that dress."  It was a frustrating shopping trip.  Enough said.

Today, the girls gave me my Mother's Day presents, complete with a coupon book for chores around the house (the best gift ever as far as I'm concerned) and cards that they made themselves.  Lil C drew a picture inside the card for me.  When I asked her what it was a picture of, she said "That's a bandaid for your knee Mommy." 

I love these shoplifting, mess-making girls more than anything in the world. 

Happy Mother's Day.   

Make It Happen

We have one week before we need to ask our builder for yet another contingency extension.  Although I swore I would leave it up to St. Joseph, I can't deny the stress I'm feeling right now.  It's time for this to happen.  If they don't break ground soon, then we won't be in our new home by the time the new school year starts.  With switching schools being traumatic enough, I really don't want to make Big I start school at her new place late.  There are other options here, like her staying with my Mom who lives in that school district, but the most desirable outcome is to be in our new house in August. 

I had a thought today.  I emailed my realtor and told him I'd like to make an offer on my own house.  I'd like to offer $1.  I'll even put 50% of that down in the form of hand money.  Does that count?  Can he now go tell the realtor with the very-interested-but-still-dragging-their-feet-people that there is another offer to make them move?  I'm tired of waiting; these people are killing me and if they think for one second that they're going to get our place at a bargain (which it already is) just because they made us wait, they can forget it.  I'm getting more annoyed with every day that passes and they continue to ask stupid questions that we've already answered previously instead of just putting it in writing.  An annoyed BBM is not likely to be kind with a counter-offer.  An annoyed BBM is not likely to be kind, period.

It baffles me that they won't put it on paper (It also baffles me as to why David Archuleta's ears always seem to be backlit during his performances on American Idol, but that's for another post). When we saw this house, we fell in love. We went one day, saw it for a second time the next day and put an offer in that night.  If they love it as much as they say they do, then put it in writing already!

We're not desperate to move.  In fact, Mr. BBM will tell you that he's quite content to just stay here now that we have a new kitchen floor, new carpet, and a freshly stained deck.  It feels and looks new, especially with the way I've been cleaning and organizing. I, however, don't want to lose my new house, which is right now a grassy lot, a grassy lot where I've already chosen my colors, built my house, moved in, take jacuzzi baths, and have hosted Christmas festivities.  I'm so attached to that lot and my imagined house that I think I will die of jealousy if someone else gets that lot and builds their house on it instead of me building mine.

Making Peace with the Morning

I don't do mornings.  I mean, if I have to, I will.  Three days a week, it's my responsibility to get Big I on the very early bus.  The days when it's not?  I'm praying that Lil C sleeps in until at least 9. 

So, when I was told last week that I had to schedule my physical therapy early in the morning since the office will be closing for the afternoon on one of my days, I begrudgingly made my appointment and told myself one day wouldn't kill me.  It's true.  One day wouldn't kill me, but one day quickly turned into two days when I showed up early today (not the day I was supposed to show up early).

My PT looked at me kind of funny when I walked in.  "What?" I asked him, "not used to seeing me in the morning or do I look that bad?" 

He laughed and said, "No, it's just that you're not supposed to be here until after 3 today." 

"But you have a half day today!" I said.

"That's Friday," he said and laughed some more.

I hate exercising in the morning and now I'm going to have to do it twice in one week.  Apparently I'm trying to kill myself. 

I spent the entire weekend slacking on my exercises.  I figured that my dancing to one Prince song and "In Da Club" was exercise enough.  I was sore after that, even though I mainly danced on one leg (Nothing can hold me back when Prince comes on). 

What I found out this morning is that morning exercise actually loosens the knee up a whole lot better than my normal daily routine of walking back and forth from the kitchen for more coffee.  In fact, I doubt I even needed more coffee when I got home because I'm wide awake.  There's nothing quite like a brisk walk on the treadmill to get you going. 

I'm not saying this is going to become a routine thing, and I definitely won't say I'm happy about having to wake up and go work out on Friday morning too.  I'm just saying that maybe mornings and I can agree to be friends.

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Blogebrities

Going to Tequila Con this past weekend was kind of like hanging out in Hollywood.  There were blogebrities everywhere you looked.  Some of them, you instantly recognized as in "OMG, that's Secondhand KARL!" or "There's Blogography and he looks just like he does on his blog!".  Then there were those times when you knew you should know someone but you just couldn't place the face or the blog.  It was kind of like when I went to England in high school and the little guy from Das Efx and RedMan were staying in our hotel for the entire week, yet I didn't figure out who they were until the day we were leaving, and only after our chaperones had explicitly warned us to stay away from those scary people.

Tequila Con, like the Cheers bar, was the place where everyone knew your name (You were wearing it like a billboard on a lanyard all night so it was fairly obvious).  There was no catty business like in usual social situations (at least none that I'm aware of) and everyone was super nice and complimentary. 

Karl told me he loved my shoes and won my heart.  Others asked me about things I had written about months ago, or checked in on the status of the knee.  There were people there that I was just getting to know, but many of these people knew me.  It was definitely a weird feeling.

I often talk to my college friends about how cool they are, and how no matter how much time passes or what's going on in our lives, when we get together we always have wine, I mean fun. Leaving Tequila Con on Saturday night was like leaving yet another very cool group of new friends who felt like old friends.

For years, I scolded my sister about meeting people online (In my defense, she only met losers online).  So, when I told my family I was going to meet a bunch of bloggers, I could see their hesitation and a flash of concern.  But meeting everyone that I met at Tequila Con showed me that there are some really incredible people out there, and a whole host of bloggers to fix my sister up with if things don't work out with her current guy. 

Up to the Saints

Although I spent a ridiculous amount of time at Tequila Con trying to convince Dustin to buy my house instead of searching on the west coast where things are overpriced, somehow I don't think he was buying.  At one point I'm fairly certain I even offered to shoot him the MLS listing for my house.  I may have even thrown out the words: "two gas fireplaces" and "hardwood floors" in between drinks and tater tots. I met lots of cool people at Tequila Con, but sadly, I could not sell my home while there.

So, I did what every desperate home seller does these days.  We loaded the entire BBM family into the van and headed to the Christian bookstore across town to buy a statue of Saint Joseph to bury him in our front yard (Don't believe it works? Click and learn).  The entire drive home, Big I kept telling us it wasn't going to work until I read her the instructions:

1.  Ask St. Joseph for help.

2.  Believe that he will help.

3.  Now place him on your property and stop stressing the hell out already.

(O.k., Step 3 is slightly embellished but you get the idea.)  As we drove up our street, she agreed to believe and we started chanting, "I do believe in St. Joseph, I do! I do!" Peter Pan style. We said our prayers out on the sidewalk and Big I even offered to help bury him out there.  Once the house sells, you're supposed to dig him up and place him inside the new home in a place of honor. 

If this works I will build that little guy a shrine, and I don't even know how to build.

Somehow I'm wondering if threatening to bury your realtor upside down on his head wouldn't have the same effect on getting your house sold?  I'm just wondering.

Meeting Real Live Bloggers: Tequila Con 2008

Last night, Mr. BBM and I met some real live bloggers face to face.  They did not disappoint.  This was my very first Tequila Con and it did not disappoint either.  I had plans to make a photo essay out of the whole night, but then I realized that we had over 40 pictures, and there was just no way I could upload them all here.  So, if you'd like to see the photographic evidence of our very good time, you can go here.  This is where everyone will be uploading their own pictures of Tequila Con.  I've added a few below, just for fun.

I spent the entire night laughing and smiling almost non-stop. My sides and face hurt by the time it was all over. It really was that much fun. The planning crew, Dave, Jenny, Dustin, Vahid (please forgive me if I'm missing someone) were so welcoming and sweet.  We got custom lanyards, pins to add some bling, and even a soundtrack that is just plain awesome (I thought I was the only person who liked S-S-S-S-Samantha Fox). 

Just a couple highlights from the night:

-Sneaking into the DJ booth ninja style armed with song requests and $10 along with the help and support of Jenny and Dee Dee.

-Adam teaching me about the joys of being able to bring Karl's posts to life even in a bowling alley.

-Hanging out with Hello Ha Ha Narf and Vahid.

-Meeting Karl which, well, words can't even begin to describe.

 

-Watching Dustin break out the Tequila costume and then work the room like a pro.

-Kicking Dave's butt, because he put in a special request.

 

-Meeting one of my favorite readers, Delmer and his friend with very cool shoes Donna!

-Meeting Lisa and her husband and Hilly.

-Being in the presence of Miss Britt doing just about anything, but especially dancing.

-Comparing PT notes with Rachel.

-Trying to make the case for Pete and Mike being serial killers.  They're so totally not.

-Saving Dan at Chucklehut for last, and even sharing a cab back to our respective hotels.

It was great to meet so many fantastic people.  Looking back over the list of attendees today, I can't believe all of the ones I didn't get to meet last night.  I guess there's always next year!

   

Back on the Floor

I drove Big I to karate tonight and I couldn't help but think that in just a few weeks, I could be training again.  I was daydreaming about what it will feel like to tell everyone "I'm back!"  I have not set foot on the training floor since my injury in October.  It's been a really long time.

As I entered the dojo tonight, my teacher commented about how well I was walking around.  I told him that I'm getting there and hoping to return (slowly) in June.  Somehow the conversation turned to Sanchin.  I said I didn't know it and he said he would teach me.  I thought it would be from the sidelines.

I was having a conversation with another Mom in the dojo when Hanshi summoned me from the upstairs training floor.  He told me take my shoes off and come out on the floor.  I took my shoes off, threw my jacket and purse on the bench and walked out.  It felt really strange being back on the floor, but even more so in jeans. 

Hanshi explained Sanchin and talked about the meaning of the number "three" within our system and how it relates to pretty much everything in our style.  And then we started.  In a casual stance, I stood there and worked on Sanchin breathing.  Then we added hand motions.  When it was time to get into the Sanchin stance, I just kept my feet facing forward and didn't worry about my stance.  I spent about 40 minutes out on the floor walking through Sanchin with the rest of the class, careful not to pivot on my knee or do anything that would cause a problem. 

I wanted to be completely immersed in learning Sanchin but I couldn't help but think about my knee almost constantly.  I tried to get into a good nai hanchi stance but it was really difficult to do.  Like squats, I continue to put more weight on my right leg, not yet trusting my left knee to keep up with the right.  I knew I was going to need some work on basics again but I had no idea how much.

I also tried to stand in cat stance with my weight on my left leg and that was nearly impossible and painful.  My knee cap area just started to ache and I backed off.  At one point while standing there, I started to think about how good it felt to be back out there again; but then I almost welled up with tears thinking about how difficult a journey it's going to be to get back to where I used to be. 

The reality that it is going to take me months just to get my body to do the basic things that it used to do without thinking is hitting me hard tonight.  After knocking out all the things I couldn't do at home, like carrying Lil C up and down the stairs and even something so simple as alternating steps when going up and down, I mistakenly believed I was almost there.

Going back to karate is going to pose an entirely different set of challenges.  Tomorrow, when I go to PT, I'm going to talk to my physical therapist about the stances I'll need to use and ask him to help me get there.  I realized tonight that the mental aspect of coming back is going to be the hardest part, but the physical part isn't going to be a cake walk either. 

Verdict

They love our house.  We're their favorite.  Are you sensing a "but"?  Because there is one. 

They are first time home-buyers and they want to see every other possibility in the whole wide world before they decide we are the right house for them.  This does not mean they don't want our house; they do.  They just want to be 100% sure and they can't be if they've only seen eight other properties.  While they continue to peruse the universe, they want to be notified immediately if another offer comes in on our house. 

I might be slightly exaggerating about the number of homes they intend to see; but I am a woman on the edge here.  I am a woman who is seriously sick and tired of vacuuming morning, noon and night and constantly putting dishes and clothes away.  I am a woman on official bed-making strike.  I am done. . .

. . .until we get another call for a showing and then I'll turn right back into Martha again, spelling out "buy me now" in the carpet with the vacuum and baking perfect chocolate chip cookies that the girls aren't even allowed to smell.

In the interest of completely changing the subject so that my breathing can return to normal once again, what does one wear to Tequila Con 2008?  Because I have no idea, and somehow I'm imagining that asking Karl might be a bad idea.

What's the what's the what's the scenario?

The agent who showed our home for the third time on Monday night has yet to make contact with our realtor.  Despite it being their third time here, and taking pictures galore, nothing, still.  My agent called today and he sounds as baffled and frustrated as we do.  So in the interest of keeping my sanity, I've come up with some possible scenarios:

1.  The buyers came and were disappointed by the brand new flooring in the kitchen and the new carpet.  Apparently they like the "rustic" look of faded linoleum and 16-year old worn pink carpet was just what they were looking for.  They also planned on making Lil C's blue ocean room into an in-house beach so they were disappointed to see it painted so neutral and non-ocean-like.  Because they must realize the work that we put into the place, they are trying to figure out a way they can ask us to retrieve the pink carpet from some landfill somewhere and put it back.  They're also trying to figure out how they can get us to repaint the ocean room. 

Scenario result: Mr. BBM and I will launch empty paint cans at them from afar and tell them to kiss it.

2.  The buyers are psychologists and/or have studied the psychology of buying a house.  They want our house badly but they are being careful not to appear too eager.  Instead they will wait and wait and wait to appear "neutral."  Their agent has asked our agent to call him if another offer might be forthcoming so they are going to just wait it out until that happens hoping we might drop our price and they might get our place for a steal (which it totally already is losers).

Scenario result:  This "psychology" is really starting to tick us off.  So much so, that any offer that's not full price and without contingencies will probably be scoffed at by the BBM family.  Psychology doesn't work on people like us.  In fact, no psychologist would even attempt to try to figure us out. We're just that weird. End result?  We will probably tell the buyers to kiss it.  Are you sensing a theme here?

3.  The buyers were on their way to the office to write up an offer when a gigantic T-rex came storming out of the forest and devoured them whole, agent and all.

Scenario result:  The BBM family will probably still talk badly about potential buyers because they should have written up an offer a long time ago, which would have helped them avoid the night of the dreaded T-rex.

4.  The buyers are working on getting a pre-approval and haven't had time to sit down and write up the offer because they are busy, busy people.

Scenario result: Waiting makes BBM's unhappy so we will probably counter offer 10K above asking, just for stressing us out.  Jerks.

5.  Like in "Lost", the buyers and their agent have been whisked away to some planet that looks like Earth and feels like Earth, but it's totally not.  Perhaps in that world, they've already made an offer and our alternate selves have accepted it and they're already moving in, so there's no need to come back to this Earth and go through the whole process.

Scenario result: Locke is totally going to take one of them out and the surviving one will come crawling back to this Earth to try to get our house. We'll be so sick of waiting that we'll probably tell them to kiss it anyway.

Why can't some other buyer come in and make us an offer we can't refuse?  I'm sick of dealing with these people and their lousy communication skills.  Please take the afternoon off from crossing everything for us.  At this point, I think it's more likely that a T-Rex will buy our house. 

No News is Good News?

No, not a question mark!  No news is good news.  Period. That's my mantra and I'm sticking to it. . .

Oh, who am I kidding? 

Today my stomach has been in knots for the entire day.  We've heard nothing yet.  Nothing.  These people are seriously killing me.  "Killing me softly with no word, killing my house hopes, with no word, killing me softly. . . make an of-of-of-offer."  Yes, I do believe I've lost it.  The cleaning chemical fumes, the stress of it all. . . I'd like to move into a new house at some point but I'll probably just need the crazy house by the time this all happens.  My family will need therapy too, from being yelled at one too many times for messing up my perfect vacuuming lines.

I know your muscles are all cramped up, but if you could just continue to keep crossing your arms, legs, eyes, eyelashes and private parts for luck, I'd really appreciate it.  If you do, I'll buy you a beer at Tequila Con this weekend. I'll need photographic proof of course, that you held up your end of the bargain (eyes, arms, legs and eyelashes only.  Please keep your private parts, well, um, private).  But yes, I'm going to Tequila Con to meet some real live bloggers and that is seriously the only thing that is getting me through this on-edge week.

No news is good news.  No news is good news.  No news is good news.

***To kill the waiting time, head over to The BBM Review to check out the latest reviews and find out how you could win an IPOD Nano!