Slowly but surely (or maybe...)

Unlocking the front door...

I'm falling behind.  (in everything.)  Everything that could go wrong with a house closing... went wrong.  Even the title company guy was shaking his head.  But we finally got the house.  Unfortunately, it was two weeks late, so we don't have the time to do the repairs (and beautification;) before we move in so...  its going to be a very interesting ride :)  Ever painted floors with kids in tow?

But at least we have the house.  An now that we have access, P wants to be there all. the. time.  He loves the top floor.  LOVES.  But every time we go over, about 7 more things shout (loudly), ahem,  I need attention!  The first few days, this excited me.  I love me a good house project.  Then I took a few wagon loads over with the kids, fell on the stairs moving shit.  Tried something simple, to change light bulbs, but they were too high, couldn't reach with Zia on me with the ladder, couldn't put Zia down...).  Tried to pull up carpet, needed different tools.  Tried to remove cabinet doors, couldn't reach with Zia on me, couldn't put Zia down...  Tried something super simple: to mop the top floor.  P turned this into "mop school" with BB, which, of course, made a mess and didn't clean anything.  And by then, of course, Zia only wanted to be D-o-w-n.  To crawl right through the thick of it.  All missions: aborted.

One afternoon and I already felt totally defeated.  What the h-e-double freaking toothpicks was I thinking???  Buying a fixer with a baby?  And a homeschooler?  Who would much prefer to have absolute and constant, non-stop attention?  (Cue mother saying "I told you so, dear...")

Kids relishing the top floor.

Then I spent the next morning attempting to call the plumbers, electricians, H-vac guys, painters and roofers to get bids.  Ha.  My family and friends know I don't make phone calls for a reason.  Epic failure on so many fronts.  "I'm sorry, could you excuse me for a second while I wrestle the construction paper from the baby's mouth?")

P and the moving wagon.

Aaaaand Zia has decided that waking every 45 minutes all night is most appropriate at this stage.  Because I deal with messes and messed up expectations and confusion much better when I'm exhausted.  (I actually sat down to pee with my pants still on today.  And it took me a second (fortunately, not too long of a second;) to figure out why this felt strange.  That's how tired I am.)  Last night she added in the extra delight of BITING ME each time she woke to nurse.  News alert: this HURTS.

P was not a biter.  He did it exactly twice.  Spread out by months.  End of story.  Zia has nipped for months.  I'm at a loss.  And now for the last 24 hours it is Constant.  She doesn't appear to be teething, but what do I know.  Well, what I know is the ta-ta's feel like a war zone and I'm starting to cringe when she comes at me.   Le sigh.

And E's back has given out.  It has an amazing way of doing this every time we get ready to move.  This is inconvenient...

And in case we weren't feeling a little unsure of our dive into home ownership...  I saw a black cat in the house a few weeks ago.  We were hanging in the backyard, still in the dreamy- we love this - stage, when a massive MEOW made me peer in the back window.  Just in time to see the cat dart up the stairs.  Realtors were informed.  They expressed doubt.  Process moved forward.

Innocently hanging in the backyard, making a catapult, pre-Meow.

Skip ahead TWO WEEKS and we are in the house.  The basement seems to strangely grow stinkier with every visit.  Granted, it is an ancient cavern down there, so at first this seemed par for the course... But yesterday the stench said CAT.  I had no more uttered the word than we heard a MEOW.  I kid you not.  Surely, surely it was from the  yard.  Up and down and around we went, all through the labyrinth, clicking our tongues and here- kitty-kittying.  Just as we gave up P announced he heard something upstairs... IN THE WALL.  After shushing everyone downstairs and creeping to the access point with the most coaxing voice I could muster, out comes, you guessed it, a freaking black cat.  And then it growled at me.  Great.  A RABID black cat.

Long story short, it was very sweet (after a little ice cream) and belongs to the family across the street.  Who had, of course, written it off as DEAD.  Since it had been trapped in our house for TWO weeks.  Yes, I've crafted a snarky email to the realtors in my head a few times by now.

It was at this point that I told E, were we Sicilian or something, we would take all of these omens and R-U-N.  But we're Kansans.  And those guys stick to shit like glue.  So, off to Home Depot we go today (or at least the boys, giving me this glorious moment of quiet while my little Vampire sleeps on my lap.  That she won't sleep out of.  Le Big sigh.)

What is the glowing gem at the end of this whiney pants page?  Well, we got ourselves a house.  And for that I feel, truly, infinitely lucky.  And it is a helluva house, or at least, it will be, someday :)  We'll soon be neighbors with some of our favorite people on the planet (assuming we can fix it enough that they'll live there;).  Phoenix wakes up every day elated (at least briefly, before whining that I'm too busy and he hates moving;) that he has a house to make a home.  And projects to dig into.  And Zia will get bigger so that I can dig into those projects too.  Until then, though, we're going to have to just Be Patient (not my strong suit), Make Do and Accept and Enjoy what we have, in all of its infinite wackiness.  Or it will Do. Me. In. :)

I have more pics and stories.  But I must Google "how to remove cat stench from 100 year old caverns" now before the boys come home and wake the Vampire...