Having a great time, wish you were here. REALLY wish you were here. Whose idea was this move anyway?!
Anywho, this is the view from my kitchen door. Not too shabby, right?
Miss Ky is adjusting, although I didn't expect any less since she has been asking to move from the first week we settled into the old house. She flitted by me the first night, singsonging, "I LOVE this house--by the way, where's the toilet?"
But her quote for the week is, "According to my calculation, where are the brothers?"
The school has their work cut out for them in September.
I've emptied three boxes this morning. Nothing got put away, I just emptied the boxes. It's a start!
I have THE BEST BROADBAND EVER!! No more dial-up speed at broadband prices!
And,
just for the record, I really don't care if TV rots brains. Three viewings of Rio, one viewing of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Sponge Bob have allowed me to get my kitchen unpacked.
I spend a lot of time sitting on the edge of damp football pitches for training.
I used to take a book, but soon realized that there is no way Miss Ky is going to ever let me read while she's still breathing.
So I sit. For hours.
Sometimes other parents talk to me. fools
Recently a man asked how I like living here, which was a huge big mistake as I may have bored him professing my undying love for a country that will kick me out of it's company with no remorse in only two years and I may have mentioned I like the place.
He then asked me how I liked the schools.
This question was tougher.
The little guys had a rough year when a good portion of the staff was off sick for a major chunk of time; a head teacher was forced to retire early due to his illness and then there was the death of his replacement over the Christmas break. That school normally gets a glowing report from me, but there were some cracks that many kids understandably fell through.
So, instead, I expounded on how thrilled we were by the variety of options the high school offered (it's better than some colleges I've seen).
The downside, I mentioned, was how I found it odd that my child never came home with homework (he agreed). The man got the queerest look on his face when I said that I had never had any communication or reports except at the end of each term.
He confessed that as a teacher, he was shocked that any high school would not be sending home regular reports.
The next week, my second child going into that same school had his Welcome Tour.
His new Form Teacher (Form is like a Home Room) proudly told all of us bright-eyed parents that all communication with the school takes place in the homework diary...
hmmmmm.....
When I got home, a certain 12 year-old had his backpack searched and sure enough, there was his homework diary (which I DID know about, but had never communicated in). Every written page for every school day had MY signature on it.
Only, it looked nothing like MY signature and resembled something written by an adolescent.
Somebody has some eshplainin' to do...
...make that TWO somebodies since apparently I am going to have to recall my recent report on our high school.
My head has been freed from the sand pit I must have buried it in and with two kids at that school this year, I think I just found my reading material for this year's hours and hours of football training...
...with an unidentifiable substance on the bathroom floor.
I cleaned the bathroom, walls-to-floor and told the kids, "Off limits! Never enter this bathroom again for as long as we live here!"
SIX HOURS later, I could make the same demand for most rooms of the house.
Note to self:
If Estate Agent phones to say someone wants to come to look at your house, agree, but make sure they know that you are moving and the house reflects that.
(which I did) THEN, do NOT hang up the phone and clean places like behind dressers and underneath the beds
(also, which I did) because NO one looking for a house to rent cares if you vacuumed behind the fridge before they came over.
In my defense, I will be going to bed tonight less stressed than I have been in weeks. My house smells fantastic. The pool and garden look good, all of the kids' rooms are spotless and I have a book to read while listening to the rain fall outside my window.
The bad news is...
They're not coming until 4pm. The unidentifiable substance offender still lives here.
I switched back to aluminum. I don't care if my body can hold up artwork on my refrigerator like a magnet, I don't want to stink. Yesterday, when I went to hug a friend goodbye, there was a tiny voice in my head shouting, "And you know you smell good too!"
Priorities.
Tonight, between dish washing, vacuuming, taking out the garbage and the recycling, I slipped into the computer room...
to look at the Tim Holtz site which I try to do at least once a day.
My right arm, extended over the desk, is numb and tingly. So, I scoot the chair closer to the keyboard. No good. I draw my arm back, lift it over my head and wiggle my fingers. I try again to put my hand back on the keyboard, but OW! So I lift it up and do some shoulder rolls.
Now before you start planning my funeral, I have had this issue with my arm for some time. Sometimes I wake up in the night and think it's surely the moment when I go to the doctor and just ask them to remove this lump that I apparently sleep on regularly. The downside to a tempurpedic mattress? When you sleep heavy, parts of your body get squished.
After the shoulder rolls and an acknowledgement that maybe I've done too much today, I reach again for the keyboard... OW! Dont. care. must. see. new... Tim Holtz sizzix dies...
Priorities.
Today, we had a tea party. With real tea.*
The kids giggled, "It's water isn't it!"
"Nope, real tea".
"It's hot chocolate!"
"Nope, real tea".
Their little faces were billboards for confusion.
It was herb tea. THE BEST HERB TEA I HAVE EVER FOUND!! And if I was the type to regress, I would really expound on this incredibly yummy thing I have found...
Anyway, I made everyone come to the table dressed for tea. The result was interesting...
You would think I could have served scones with cream or cucumber sandwiches, but there's leftovers to be eaten and no Husband to take care of that department for us, so Sloppy Joe tea it was.
We also had grapes.
The kids like to stuff them up under their upper lip and entertain each other with their ape-like faces.
I am a firm believer in playing with your food at the table-- great conversations come from it.
The little guy shouts, "Look, J2 already has a mustache, you can see it!"
We all giggle and go on with our conversation and he adds,
"I'm going to have a mustache too. I want a French one".
We really laughed over that, until I googled it. I guess there is a French mustache:
Zazzle image
So, instead of packing...
or finishing the laundry...
or preparing for the day tomorrow,
I grant my little guy's wish.
Priorities.
*Mormon moms don't serve tea...
especially if there's Dr. Pepper in the house! Just joking!
Does going "natural" mean I have to stink?
Does the avoidance of aluminum (or aluminium for my British friends) under my arms mean that I am doomed to clear a room when I reach for something high?
I think this green/healthy thing is getting old. I mean really, who wants to live longer if we can't stand the smell of one another?
House update:
We submitted an offer, it was accepted. (yay)
We start our move in three weeks, will be out of this house in 5 weeks. (yikes)
The only hold up at the moment is trying to track down our current landlord so that he can verify that
we have paid in full and on time. He's changed his numbers and living address and didn't bother to tell us. (of course)
While trying to get the house ready for inspection, a large tree fell down in the back yard this morning. (I made the mistake of asking, "What else can happen today?")
*Speaking of great times to be had by all, yesterday, a rabbit committed suicide by throwing itself with extreme force into the grill of our 1-month old vehicle. It smashed through the plastic grill. I have spared you the photos of my hero 12-year old son/aka "man-of-the-house" trying to extract it. You're welcome.
*Our Norwich City season tickets came-- correction, two came, and the request to come in person to the ticketing office with proof of my children's ages came. The office is 35 minutes from here.
*There was a notice in my military post office box telling me to fill out a form and include a set of the Husband's military orders within a specific time or they will change the combination to the lock. The box is 45 minutes from here.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg called Murphy's Military Law (when the husband deploys, everything will break, or generally just go south).
School FINALLY let out today, so technically, summer has begun. I am wearing a jacket as I type, because I have been chilled all day. I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England...
6 Junvia web My stressed-out, naturally smelly arm pits and I will be gracing a son's football tournament tomorrow, what are you doing for your weekend?
