Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Goodbye, House! I don't hate you, really!

It's a funny thing when you put your house on the market during a recession.  The house that you used to love and cherish suddenly becomes a source of incredible stress!  It's not my house's fault that selling it was such a long and difficult process, but somehow the house bore the brunt of my frustration.  No house is perfect, but my expectations required it to be.  Each day the house was on the market, was a day that I wandered through it with a critical eye.  Everyday I wondered if people would come and see it that day, and at the beginning I wondered if those people would  fall in love with the beauty and wonderful function of the house.  As time wore on, though, I began criticizing my house for all its imperfections, and eventually, instead of wondering which particulars people would love about the house, I began thinking about whether people would look past its flaws and (please, please) buy it anyway.  The reasons we decided to move had very little to do with the house itself.  The house is beautiful and there is lots of space for living and playing.  This weekend when we hauled the last of the stuff out of the house, and cleaned up for the new owner, I was sad to realize that I had spent most of the last six months resenting this house -- this house that had been a wonderful home for my family and me.  When I walked through the house for the last time, by myself, I cried and I thanked the house for being our home -- for providing us shelter and a place to live and laugh and love!  I made peace with the house, because I wanted to leave with the good feelings that I felt in the house for 3 1/2 years, and forget the bad feelings of the last six months.  

Goodbye, House!  I'm so glad you sold, but I really will miss you!

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Wouldn't You Like to Be Two Again?

Don't you think it would be fun to go back to being a two year old? If you need convincing, I'll tell you what your life would be like if you were Mary!

If you were two, like Mary, you would enjoy your favorite TV show bright and early in the morning, while someone brought you milk and "mo miiiilk". You really wouldn't have to worry about getting much of anything for yourself, because, if you were Mary, you would have two parents and two siblings to pretty much cater to all your needs.

If you were two, like Mary, you would certainly understand where the potty was, and you would know its purpose, but there really wouldn't be any need for you to use it. I mean really, you wouldn't need to -- not with one, sometimes two, very capable adults willing to change you (even if they had to chase you down to do it).

If you were two, like Mary, you wouldn't have to worry about your singing voice, because the fact that you were singing the words to songs noone even knew you knew would be very sweet.  Your rendition of Dave Matthews' "You and Me"  and Train's "Soul Sister" would be unexpectedly accurate for your age, and people would never doubt your love for music.

If you were two, like Mary, the rules wouldn't really apply to you. You could obey your mom pretty much only when you felt like it. No street would be off limits to you, and if your mom got distracted at soccer practice, it wouldn't be a big deal for you to wander off to the nearest playground. Also, if you didn't really like the way things, in general, were going down, you could just lie on the floor face down and refuse to get up until everyone in the room wondered what was wrong with your mom. That would be a sure way to make the point of your displeasure, and probably convince your mom to do what you wanted after all.

If you were two, like Mary, you could pretty much eat whatever you wanted.  Vegetables would, of course, be optional.  If you didn't like what your mom served, you could just throw it on the ground.  That wouldn't be a big deal.  And every trip to Schnuck's grocery store would include a free kids' cookie (as it should), and it would be great if you started asking for that cookie the minute your mom pulled into the parking lot.

If you were two, like Mary, everyone would think you were cute and funny. I mean, how could they help it, when "yes" didn't really work for you, as an answer to a question, and instead you preferred to say, "Yeah, sure!" ( in your great Demi Moore voice)? And how could people not laugh when something made you really happy and you started chanting "Uh huh, oh yeah, boogie, boogie!"?  You would win everyone over, and certainly not be intimidated by the construction workers fixing (and blocking) your steps, because a simple, "Xcuse me, guys!" would make them clear a path for you.

If you were two, like Mary, you would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were truly loved! You would know that the parents and the big kids in your family would think that you hung the moon, no matter how many cups of milk they had to pour,  dirty diapers they had to change, embarrassing face-plants they had to endure, vegetables they had to scrape off the floor, or booty-shaking they got to enjoy!

Really, it would be great to be two again!  If you were two, like Mary, you would require a lot of patience, care and love, but everyone would be happy to accommodate, because you would be worth every minute of it!