the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker

I'm clearly not grown up yet. I've determined this because, with the exception of being a mom, I have no idea what I want to be or do . . . when I grow up. I thought this was something I would figure out in college as I diligently went to class (nearly each and every one) carrying with me the knowledge I was "undeclared." It's all good and fine to be undeclared but you still have to take classes and unless you want to stay all summer (each and every summer) or start tacking on a fifth or sixth year then these classes are determining your major. That's how I graduated as a biology major. Sometime in the next year as I crawled into a large steel cage to scrub the last remnants of dog feces off the back, I realized this wasn't for me. Animal rescue was where I could fulfill my desire to help animals. Veterinary school, I decided, was a way to get even farther into debt and a sure fire way to prevent myself from being able to become a stay-at-home parent.

I never applied to veterinary school, and I didn't even attempt to find a calling after that. I applied for a job I still feel I was totally unqualified to get (not unqualified to do), but I got it. I learned a ton and I loved it. I ended up leaving it about seven years later not because I wanted to but because I needed to grow; I was stagnant. I'll skip the next two positions I held at the company because really they just lead to my becoming a stay-at-home mom. They gave me the experience I needed to freelance and the 'I'm so over it' I needed to make the leap.

So here I am, and I have to say I'm heading down a path that in my mind ends in one of two places . . . I will either be wildly successful and you will see me tearing up as Oprah interviews me OR I will end up as the crazy, jumping from one thing to another mom who is exponentially more embarrassing than the already very embarrassing "normal" mom.

Ah, yes laugh.

Job one for me is "homemaker," and I gotta say, I hate that word! It's weird and old-fashioned to me. Let me re-start, job one for me is stay-at-home mom (which is longer to write but more appealing to me so I'll suffer with the extra keystrokes). Job two is the very limited amount of freelance work I do, and if I continue in this limited capacity I will not be able to call myself a freelancer for much longer. Job three is the apparel company I started. I need to devote a lot more time to this one. It's on the cusp of where I could grow it into something really good. If I leave it for too long, like a houseplant it'll shrivel and die. I recognize it needs tending, but I'm a terrible gardener and apparently I'm no Trump either.

I'm easily distracted. I feel like I should take this opportunity to try things out but then I have too many plates spinning. I also lose interest in things when they get confusing, not difficult but confusing. I can handle the stress of something difficult but I freeze up when I'm confused. I think I'm looking for something that will come somewhat naturally to me, like being at home with J.

Why am I confessing all of this? Because today I want to (again) become a baker. Seriously, you ask. Seriously!?!? Well, yeah why not. There are all these recipes that look so yummy and everyone loves sweets! I'm not talking about opening a storefront, just baking here for us (for starters). Of course, I have no need for sweets (see "blogcation" post), and I can think this through logically and tell myself to let this one go. I have enough going on and clearly this is a distraction from coming up with something to send as a query to my regional parenting publication. I can come back to baker when the kiddos are in school and I have a purpose for baking - after school snack anyone?

Up next - modern day Mrs. Ingalls right here in suburban Ohio! That's right. Landscapers are coming tomorrow to start our master plan. In it I will be sure they make room for my garden as well as raspberry, blackberry and elderberry plants along the back fence. I'll need all of this for canning (okay, and baking).

I'm really not sure what my deal is, but I can say after the cathartic experience of writing this blog I can see the battle lines are clearly drawn. This appears to be a struggle between modern, career mom and old-fashioned homemaker. I'm not sure there are enough hours in the day or enough energy in my body to accomplish both. Maybe I should consider starting to drink coffee (gag).

Adoption Makes 4

We've decided to adopt. I *think* I'm prepared for the roller coaster ride of our current adventure, but I have to admit I'm hoping it's like an old steel favorite, the Magnum, thrilling, smooth and relatively short.

We've decided to go the route of private domestic adoption. For those who don't know, here is some basic information on the types of adoption:

• Domestic Private - this is done through an agency and/or attorney and is usually associated with those who want to adopt an infant; this route can take a year or more and it can be very pricey.
• Domestic Public - in our area this would be an adoption (or foster-to-adopt) through our county; these children can range in age and often you may find sibling groups in need of a home.
• Inter-Country - this is an adoption of a child from another country; based on the length of time for a match and to finalize in that country adopting an infant is rare

I'm taking an adoption class through the Adoption Academy at Capital Universityy. I've learned quite a bit there in the CORE track, however, they are not able to give out specific contacts as that would be a conflict of interest. Researching agencies, lawyers and support groups has been tough. You would think in this age of Internet it would be easier. After researching what we could and talking to a few people we did find enough information to make a choice and to feel confident and happy with that choice.We opted to go with a lawyer and do private adoption strictly through him versus using an agency instead of or in addition to him.

Now we're working through an enormous stack of paperwork which includes getting our fingerprints and clearances, a fire inspection as well as a home study and safety inspection, copies of our driving records and last but not least medical exams. All of this must be done before we can be pre-approved by the court to adopt. Once we are pre-approved we can work on our profile or life book.

The profile is like a little magazine all about us. It's for a birth mother to view so she can get an idea of what our family, values, marriage, and day-to-day lives are like. It's extensive and surprisingly difficult to write. After the writing will come the re-writing and then the addition of photos. Once it's good to go we'll print it on some glossy paper and have it bound somehow (I've not researched this yet). This will sit at our attorney's office in a set of files deemed the "waiting to be active" group.

Our lawyer works with exactly 20 adoptive families at a time. As they successfully adopt their spots are filled by the likes of us, the waiting to be active set. We're in the middle, behind the actives but a step ahead of the call-in group. This group calls each month to see if there is room for them on the active list. When space is available the one calling the most and the longest gets in, aka the squeaky wheel. This group has not put the attorney on retainer yet and if they have a life book or home study completed most likely he does not have it yet. We chose our path because sometimes a birth mother does not like her 20 options and asks for additional options. When this occurs our attorney pulls out the profiles from our 'waiting to be active' group for her to read and sometimes she choose one of those families.

We're informed and realistic on the amount of time, money, energy and stress this process will likely take. However, with that said I'm remaining positive. I may even be going beyond that into confident that we will have a new little soul in our family sooner than later.

Stay tuned.

"Blogcation"

I had a really bad day on Friday but only a couple of hours of bad and it's the sort of bad that you look back on and laugh. In fact it's the sort of bad that you know in the moment isn't funny but is being handled in a ridiculously melodramatic fashion by none other than yourself. With that said, it's the type of melodramatic, soon-to-be-funny bad that will likely play out in exactly the same fashion in the future because it's driven completely by emotion . . . um, yeah I'll say it, teenage emotion that I am confident lives in us all not just in me. Maybe that's why I was so well-behaved and adult on Saturday? Anyway, I know I'm being cryptic so hopefully this helps. I'm not sure how far back to go. I'll just start at the end and work my way back until even I'm sick of it all.

I'm sitting here on Sunday in sweatpants. I see nothing wrong with this. I love it actually. What I don't love is the fact that I'm in said sweatpants for one, well okay two reasons. The first is that I'm behind on laundry. But anyone who knows me knows that I can be weeks behind on laundry and still have plenty of things to wear. So the second reason is that nothing really fits. I had to come to the realization my dryer was not to blame a few weeks ago. My holiday gift request was cash that I could use for sessions with my trainer, as if I could still call her that after not seeing her for months (years). I've started out with working out five days a week which was just unreasonable. Mainly I couldn't hog everyday for myself when D wanted to get to the gym and have his Loomsmen bookclub or whatever they call it. So I opted for fewer days but longer sessions. I've settled into 3-4 days a week with a mix of cardio, resistance and ab work.

I have to say it - I hate scales? This is why I do not use them and do not own one. I managed to lose, gain, lose in a seemingly normal though frustrating manner until the one week that I gained 8lbs in 36-hours. Really?!?! Considering I was not gorging on lard or bricks that's just stupid. So I only climb on a scale for my trainer and I hate it because, as I just said, it's stupid. I rely on my clothing to tell me what's working. I don't want to worry about fat weighing less than muscle. Do my clothes fit or not? That's it; end of story. Well, the answer is no, my clothes STILL do not fit.

And while I love D, I do not appreciate the male need to offer suggestions, fixes or ideas of any sort to me when I've tried on every pair of pants I own (with the exception of sweats pants, workout pants, and the one pair of maternity pants I still have). I will address these here as perhaps you too are wondering if perhaps the reason my clothing does not fit is because . . .

• my thyroid meds need adjusted - hmm, could be but the lovely docs don't feel a need to have me in the upper portion of the range apparently; regardless I will make an appointment to be poked and prodded and I'll leave the nurse a note for the doc that requests I be bumped. Nearly 15 years after diagnosis, I can tell you what I'll hear back is "you're within range; maintain current Rx" I will spare you the ensuing @$!*# I'll be thinking though politely not saying to Mr. Nurse.
• I'm not working out enough for me - insert @$!*# from above
• I've eaten pancakes three times in as many weeks - yes, this IS true but still, please see answer above plus "pancakes, really? it's not like I'm living off some sort of IHOP super stack bobbing around in syrup"

I think the top three will do it. You get the idea. For clarification though, I went to the gym Friday morning and did half an hour of cardio followed by an hour of my trainer's bootcamp. I showered there and was ready for the day but my shoes hurt. I was passing home on the way to the errands so I stopped to change shoes. That lead to me changing pants because honestly they were just too uncomfortably tight too. I ended up 1 hour later leaving the house in designer jeans and heels because I could not bring myself to hem the expensive jeans which thankfully still fit. That hour involved a good deal of stress though I'm happy to say no tears. I did try on 99% of the pants I own (yes that would be a large number of pants) and I will admit I did dump all my folded clean laundry into piles on the floor and then I dug around in them like an angry gopher looking for something - anything that would work.

Today everything is folded again though, ah-hem, still not put away. I'm still super frustrated that I'm working out like a fiend with no results. By the way, I'm not someone that enjoys working out. I've opted for classes that are more enjoyable than chaining myself to an elliptical for an hour, and you would need to chain me to get me to stay that long, but I'd still rather do something else. I'm trying to take a harder look at what I eat. I did Weight Watchers about eight years ago and lost a decent amount. So basically I know how to take a hard look at what I'm eating. I just don't want to be that harsh so for now I'm making a conscious effort to eat more salads and other veggies. It's pretty sad when the only green vegetable a vegetarian (or anybody) eats in a day are the green beans off their toddler's plate. J hates green beans. In defense of my diet though, I don't eat horribly by any means but I can do better. I will admit Friday's episode did lead me to seek solace in a box of Samoas. That implies I ate the whole box, c'mon I could not legitimately whine here for everyone to read if I ate an entire box of Samoas, I had three . . . cookies, not boxes. Geesh!

Anyway, no matter what size is written on the label in your clothes if they don't fit comfortably it's bad. If you're working hard to make them fit (or to lower the number there) and it's not happening then it's clearly worse. I think most everyone has been there, hence why I think looking back my behavior was comical, but I also know I would behave that way again. I mean, seriously I'm sure I've done that before and in the heat of moment I did it again two days ago. I'm also not letting the thyroid, pancakes or pansy workouts that are apparently to blame win. I'm just going to keep working out, eat better, and channel my inner Jenny (yeah, that's my feisty sister) when I talk to Mr. Nurse.

I'll keep you posted; spring shopping is right around the corner with bathing suit shopping hot in it's heels. I think I can skip that last one though.

Now I'd better go put my clothes away; maybe I can get that gorilla (let's call him "blogcation") in the corner to help me.

moved & settled but not unpacked

I should take a pic of my new view from here.  I used to have my computer in the 
living room looking out across my front porch onto the busy road.  It was nice to 
see the world whirling about.  Now though I look out onto a tree lined street that 
every now and then has a runner or walker or a car (a car not 20 cars).  I look 
forward to walking those sidewalks myself.  I hope it's soon.  Between the rain 
and the boxes, strewn throught the house, garage and basement, a family walk 
just hasn't happened yet.

We can still hear a train here too, but it's about 4 miles away I'd guess.  It's the 
nice haunting train sound that carries on still summer nights - wonderful.  No 
more blaring whistle, shaking windows, or revving cars stopped in front of the 
house.  It's so very quiet here.  I can hear the scrape of a shovel against concrete 
about half a block away, granted my windows are open.  

Yes - my windows are open!  I miss being able to have my windows open all day 
whenever the temperature outside permits.  The old house was too close to the 
road and way too much exhaust found it's way inside, not mention the noise issue.  
Here it's just air and quiet.  I really love it.

So I love the location, but I like the house too.  We're not in love yet.  It's like an 
arranged marriage I suppose.  We've accepted our relationship and look forward 
to growing closer throughout the years.  Of course it could turn out badly, but at 
least I plan to put quite a bit of effort into the relationship so hopefully love is 
where we end up much sooner than later.  There's just quite a bit of updating 
that needs done.  It seems like each day we realize the extent.  Yesterday while 
mowing the yard D discovered that back in the 6 feet of brush behind the house 
the cable & phone lines are balled up above ground.  I suppose I would not have 
wanted to dig around back there either.  So now D has to call them to come out 
once he has it all thinned out, or bury it himself.  Things like that pop up here 
and there but it's nothing major.  The only major issue may be the kitchen.  
We had planned to reface the cabinets at some point but we suspect they are a 
lesser quality than we first thought.  So we may have to replace them.  Besides, 
I hate corner cabinets!  HATE them.  What do you do with them?  I mean if you 
have stuff that is never used and is hidden back there shouldn't those items just 
be gone?  I don't want kitchen clutter hiding in the corners.

Alright, sorry, back to skipping and humming about the wonderfulness of this 
new place.  I'm not sure what else to coo about specifically.  I mean the layout is 
wonderful.  It's a sprawling (by our standards) ranch which allows J to run and 
run and run.   He seems to really enjoy that.  Even with all the boxes I've managed 
to baby proof a good bit and plan to have the entire house J-proof as I continue to 
unpack and de-clutter.  If my boxes of who knows what could read this would be 
their official warning . . . clutter be gone!  I plan to be ruthless with each and every box!  

There is a Season - Turn, Turn, Turn

I think we found our dream house.  Is it weird that I have a hard time saying that out loud in my current home?  It's treated us so well, I don't want it to feel bad.  Then I come to my senses.  Our house is over a 100 years old and has houses lots of families; our family is only one in a long string.  407 West Will is likely ready for us to move on too.  It has been a great home - and through baby J's eyes I see how cool it really is.  The traffic and train both irk me but his favorite word is "car" and he'll drop what he's doing to go watch the train come through.  What I'll miss most are my beautiful hardwood floors.  What I'll miss least is the neighborhood, or lack thereof.  

The new house is old - 1973 custom build.  Having had only one owner it's full of retro, ahem charm we'll call it.  Some of this charm will remain like tiled kitchen backsplash in a color that seems to be a mix of harvest gold and avocado green.  Some of the retro touches will be updated, two words:  wood paneling.  Lansdowne is bigger and quieter but I am concerned that J will have no action to watch considering there is little traffic and the windows though normal sized are tiny compared to our floor to ceiling windows here.  I'm so excited though.  I can't wait to walk the neighborhood, or access the city bike path nearly just outside our door.  I can't wait to be 10 minutes from everything instead of 30!  We're closer to D's work, and to my favorite local escape, Highbanks MetroPark.  

We close on both houses in just over two weeks.  All inspections and appraisals seem to be going smoothly.  We've moved on to getting quotes on painting and fencing.  We spent part of this past week appliance shopping and I have a stack of paint chips nearly as think as my copy of Twilight.  We haven't entered the period of stress yet.  Once the packing begins though - ugh, I'll keep that thought for another day.

I've been trying to write about this for some time but I can't quite get the feelings across and I'm quite tired of the lifeless postings here.  Below are some started and never finished posts on the same topic - each gives a few more details on the past month.

Summer Switch-up . . . 

The good news is that we got our wish - house sold within 30 days!  We weren't sure it was going to happen in fact we were pretty sure it wasn't.  We'd had only 4 showings in 30 days and were in the process of switching agents when it happened.  In fact, the evening we had our new agent over and were signing papers was the same evening our old agent stopped to pick-up his sign and key (awkward - they were there at the same time too).

Summer Saturday . . . 

It's a lovely rainy summer Saturday.  I only wish I could hear it - it being the rain of course.  Instead I'm hearing J squawk through his monitor as he keeps sleep at arm's length.  Once he quiets I'll still hear the blowing A/C right next to me.  One thing I hope to have in our new house is the ability to open all the windows and enjoy the outside air, even if it is warm enough to warrant using the A/C instead.  Here we live too close to the busy road and I'd rather have A/C than exhaust and soot which I find on my front porch so I know it would end up in my home if the windows were open.

We close on a new house in just a couple weeks.  It was the only stand-out of houses online that we knew we'd like.  We looked at it the first night of our four days of house hunting.  I loved it right away; it made me smile.  I could see us living there easily.  However, it was obviously out of our price range.  After getting a bit more information, including the fact the vacant house had been on the market all last year, we decided it didn't hurt to put in a low offer and have back-ups for the good possibility that we could not get into our price range.  Not only was our offer accepted (without a counter) but they've also agreed to all our conditions (including repair requests).  

We close at the end of July!