My Little Big Boy

Last night I tucked a 5-year-old into bed. A few minutes later I heard a little voice softly calling, "Mom... Mo---om." I came upstairs and asked, "What's going on?"

"I don't want to turn 6 tomorrow," he replied with big tears in his eyes.

"Oh, kiddo. But turning 6 is going to be fun. Why don't you want to be 6?"

"Because then I'll have to turn 7 and then 8. And then I won't be able to go on the slide at school anymore. And I won't get to play. I'll be just like Gabriella's brother who just has to sit in school and learn and he can't do anything else."

Wow. If he thinks being 8 years old is dreadful, I wonder what he thinks about my age!

I countered, "But when you get to 4th Grade, you get to play sports after school with the other big kids. And you get to do a lot of really fun clubs."

"But I won't be your little boy anymore."

"No matter how big you get, you'll always be my little boy."

He eventually fell asleep and awoke in a much happier mood this morning! He got his first birthday phone call from his Papa whom he shares a birthday with. (I overheard Little Dude telling Papa that he was glad they share a birthday.) And then he fielded several other calls from other family members in between bites of the surprise birthday donuts his Auntie and cousin brought over late last night.

We spent the morning reading cards and postcards. (Little Dude can even read most of Grandma's half-cursive handwriting!) While reading one postcard from Papa and Grandma, I apparently mispronounced "Alabama." I pronounced it Al-uh-bam-uh. But Little Dude schooled me by saying that it must always be pronounced Al-uh-BAM-uh "with a little sass in it." (No, I don't know where he learns these things from.) And I realized he is growing up with a great sense of humor.

I listened to him pepper his conversation with words like "literally," "age-appropriate," and "excellent" -- all used correctly. And I realized how smart and capable he has become.

I watched him tie his shoes with his long fingers and stretch his long legs. And I realized how big he is growing.

After loading his birthday cupcakes into the car to take to his day care, I told him what an awesome, charming, funny, smart, handsome and talented man he is. He told me I forgot to add "adorable" to the list. And I realized how confident he is.

So cheers to the birthday boy. These last 6 years have been amazing. I can't wait to see what's to come!

A Note About a Boy Who Gave Our Realtor a Tip

Apparently we were not the only ones excited to finally get the keys to our new home...

Little Dude has been part of this process since the beginning. He bravely packed his toys while we were prepping our old house to sell. He went with us several times to look at new houses.

During one extra long Saturday of looking at houses, our realtor made Little Dude her special helper. His job was to leave one of her business cards at each house we visited. And he did! She rewarded with him a $5 gift card to Dairy Queen. He was so proud when he got to buy his own Blizzard with money he earned!

Little Dude was with us when we first saw our new house. He picked out his room and called the spare bedroom "the party room." He found the closet beneath the stairs and dubbed it "the iPad room." He went with us several times to go back to see the house.

And he was with Big Dude when he picked up the keys.

Little Dude told his dad that he wanted to give our realtor money so that we (me and Big Dude) didn't have to pay her.

Then he pulled the coins out of his pocket and handed her $0.55.

She tried to refused, but Little Dude wouldn't hear of it. So he gave our realtor a "tip."

He's already learning pride of ownership!

A week later, Little Dude spotted some change sitting on the entryway table and told Big Dude he wanted our realtor to come over again so he could giver her another tip. Lo, and behold, the doorbell rang and there was our awesome realtor! She had brought over a housewarming gift.

Little Dude was so excited!

It's actually nice to be in our own home once again. Big Dude comes home every day and says, "I love this house." Even though we aren't fully unpacked (I seriously think it may take a whole year!), we've already had people - mostly family - over. Little Dude had a friend over already and wanted to have his birthday party here. And I'm excited to finally be able to unpack some things so that we're not pulling our clothes out of cardboard boxes every morning. 

Home, sweet home!

The Keys to Getting the Keys

Nothing is ever as easy as it seems. In fact, even when you know it's going to be hard, it's still even harder than you imagined. This is especially true when obtaining a mortgage.

Several months ago we decided to sell our house and buy a new one. Each step seemed to have its frustrations and successes. But as we neared the closing date, our excitement -- and impatience -- increased.

Of course, part of the impatience was due to the fact that we've been living in a retirement community and spending a lot more time driving and a lot less time with each other. So when our mortgage broker said we might get to close early (last Friday), we jumped for joy!

However, we should have really paid attention to the word might.

By Thursday we were told we'd be lucky to sign docs on Monday and maybe, best case, close on Wednesday. What?!?

But we did have a stroke of luck. Monday afternoon we signed our paperwork, handed over our cashier's check for the closing costs and down payment, and excitedly called the utility companies and moving truck rental. We quickly made our plans to move.

Do plans ever actually work? Really? Because I'd like to know someone who actually had a plan, any plan, work out for them.

Wednesday came and we anxiously awaited the keys. Instead, we got an email that morning asking for us to sign another form for the mortgage company ASAP. Um, OK. So my husband left work and met me to put his scrawl on the paper and I sent it in. 

A couple hours later we were told there was a mix up and we needed to get another cashier's check to them pronto. So my husband left work again to run to the bank and the title company. 

What was going on? We couldn't figure out if we just had some truly power-mad underwriter or a novice who didn't know the job. We had spent two months handing in information again and again. Twice we had supplied bank records and pay stubs. At one point I think we even had to fill out some sort of form asking us to list our hobbies, favorite recipes, and a history of our family tree.

I literally called the mortgage broker and asked him "are you certain this mortgage company isn't just some guy in a store front sitting on a folding chair and using a cardboard box for a desk?" Yes, those words exactly. He assured me that it's a company that has been around for a long time and that they were definitely making some unusual requests. (Google confirmed his story.) He had already been arguing with the underwriter about the demands and was trying to get to the bottom of it. I asked him to call me back at the end of the day and let me know what the status was.

But at the end of the day, he called to tell me that he had a feeling the underwriter was going to ask for an updated bank statement. So in the interest of not holding anything up, could I be proactive and go ahead and send it?

Oh, I sent it. And my email said (vital info being XX'd out):

Attached is one more checking statement for the mortgage company. And in case 
they do not have enough information, please let them know that [Big Dude] is 5' 8" and 
weighs about XXX. I'm 5' 8" and weigh about XXX. Our son is 5 years old, weighs 
55 lbs and is 46" inches tall. And our dog is under a foot tall and weighs only 
27 pounds. We can provide blood and urine samples upon request too. 

Our broker thought it was the funniest thing he'd seen all day.

By the time I got home, my husband was hanging up with our broker and informed me that the reason the mortgage company was acting all shifty and crazy was because they already planned to sell our loan and wanted to go ahead and get everything they possibly can to make the sale happen. They make plans... why can't we?!?

So this morning, my frustrated hubby and I waited. They had our signatures, our money, half a year's worth of bank statements and pay stubs, our credit history, every piece of vital information they could possibly want. It's the financial equivalent of strolling nude through a shopping mall.

But we had no keys.

Grrr!

Then, lo and behold, this afternoon a ray of light broke the gloomy skies above and... we were told the funding came through. Yee-haw! We would finally get our keys!!!

As the wise Hannibal Smith of the A-Team always said, "I love it when a plan comes together!"

My Evil Sister

On the phone with my mom today...

Mom: "Did you know your sister is evil?"

Me: "Yes, Mom! I've been trying to tell you this for years."

I'm not sure why no one really listens to me. For the last 30 years I have tried to convince my parents that my little sister is pure evil. And now they finally see it!

For decades, I've been awaiting justice. I could finally taste the sweet satisfaction of having my mom realize that all my past claims that my syrupy sweet little sister had falsely accused me of smacking her, had wrongly blamed me for various flagrant rule violations, and had often deceptively framed me for her misdeeds were true!

Don't let that innocent demeanor fool you...

Really, what older sibling does not happily await the day that their parents finally discover the younger sibling is devious, sinister, and deceitful?!?

And my mom's response to her sudden ascertainment?

"I should get her a t-shirt that says, 'Master Manipulator,'" she said with a laugh.

My hand smacked my forehead.

How did my mother finally stumble upon this revelation?

My sister was giving her advice on how to manipulate someone to get what she wants. She was divulging her secrets -- the tricks of her trade. And my mom realized that she had way too much knowledge for someone whom she had always believed was the model of innocence.

Actually, my sister was giving her good advice for the circumstance. A little manipulation comes in handy at times. For instance, it probably came in handy when my sister was a teacher. It would be a real survival tool when facing a classroom of 30+ sixth graders!

My mom pointed out that both she and my dad are firstborns. And I'm a first born. And we all tend to just get right down to brass tacks without beating around the bush. We tend to just point out things directly instead of persuading someone to see it. Although we're friendly and at times even outgoing, the three of us are actually introverts. And I swear we each have our own brand of OCD-ness!

Then we have my sister... who, now I realize, was left out of our own little "firstborn club." And if you believe all the "power of birth order" stuff, then you'd know how that story goes. She often found ways to get out of her chores and she totally knew (and still knows) how to steal all the attention.

I guess I can't be too hard on her, because it probably wasn't easy following me in everything. But we did eventually find different hobbies and sports to get involved in. We found our own spotlights to shine in so we weren't always competing with each other.

And if I'm totally honest, she wasn't the only manipulator in the family, because there was a time not long ago, that I finally revealed to my mom the truth about a certain childhood hair-trimming incident that was blamed on a totally defenseless 3-year-old sibling (a story to be shared at a later date).

OK, so maybe we're both a little evil. What can I say? We're sisters!

Strangers in a Foreign Land

Day 27: We have been stranded in this foreign land far too long. We are completely and utterly surrounded by desolate land, wild creatures and restless natives, and are unsure of how long they will continue to accept our presence. We pray that our rescue will come soon.

We are totally going bonkers at this point waiting for our new house to close while living in a retirement community. At first, it sounded like a great idea. We thought we'd enjoy the laid back pace, visit the multiple rec centers, and make friends with some eccentric lonely person with a vast fortune and no heirs.

But we haven't done any of those things because we have hour-long commutes and we're still playing the guess-which-box-holds-the-missing-_______ game. We wake up early and go to bed early. And while we may joke about the fact that it seems like every one here eats dinner at 4pm and all the stores and restaurants close by 8pm, the fact is, we're starting to acclimate. We are turning into one of them!

We're both cranky and tired. I've started taking daily vitamins. We think golf carts would be so much easier for trips to the store. We've both fallen asleep in front of the TV. I didn't even flinch the other day when I saw a Buick straddling the line and driving in both lanes. And I almost bought a pink flamingo for our new house!

It still feels really strange to be the only people younger than 55 everywhere we go. Last week, at the grocery store, it was quite surreal to wander the aisles and realize that the only child in the store was ours. I've never heard a grocery store so quiet. At first, we enjoyed the peace. But as we passed one quiet, elderly shopper after another, I started to get a little paranoid. It felt almost like a late sequel to Stepford Wives but with everyone turning into elderly people. Were they wondering why we were at this store? Did they feel like we were intruding in their private community?

I started to think that maybe I could carry around a jar of Olay and pretend that I just had blissfully youthful genes. But I didn't think that would fool them. Then I thought about making my husband pretend that we were shopping for a home-bound great aunt. But I realized that most elderly people probably don't buy Fruit Rollups and Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its for themselves.

As crazy as it sounds, I was afraid our youthful presence would offend them. They came to this community for a reason. And I didn't want to shatter their peaceful existence. We are simply visitors, and just like when camping, I'd like to leave the place without any trace that we had ever been there.

But to be honest, they don't seem to mind that we have turned a house on their block our summer home. They don't mind seeing us at the post office or gas station or grocery store. In fact, they seem to really enjoy having us here. The ladies at Dairy Queen absolutely love Little Dude and have made him special treats.

One of the neighbors across the street knocked on our door the other week. At first, Big Dude was worried that she was going to complain about us being there. But instead, she asked for his help. Her toilet was overflowing and she couldn't wait for the local handyman. So Hubby came to her rescue. He shut off the water, went to Ace Hardware for her, and replaced the broken part. I can guarantee there's at least one neighbor who's happy to have us around!

It shouldn't be too long now until we are able to move into our new house. And we are pretty thankful to have a place to stay in the meantime. We just have to make it through another week or two and then we can say farewell to this neighborhood... at least until we're ready to retire! ;-)