Tomorrow is move day. How is it that a room can be packed and ready and then be revisited and be cluttered and needy?

The buyer of our Abell house is being kind of a dick. She put her foot down about getting the basement waterproofed, so we agreed. Now she wants a credit at settlement instead of us doing the work or crediting the basement guy. So, now I expect she can take a lovely trip to Hawaii. Nine thousand fucking dollars!

Can you believe that I am blogging at 10:10 pm the night before I am moving? I have five (5!) loads of laundry to put away. I have to shower so I look fresh for the movers. I have to pack the 25 rolls of toilet paper that I bought in a grocerygame.com shopping frenzy. I am so nervous about tomorrow. I am afraid the movers will look at all of our stuff and run away. I am afraid it will take 12 hours.

Jackie told me that Sammy’s new school is having a summer camp-type program for the kindergartners so they can meet each other and get used to the school. This move is so worth it.

I love my little nighttime computer ritual. After the kids go to bed, I first go immediately to People.com to see what fascinating news item might have come up. Then, I go over to the Baltimore Sun to catch up on the world. Then, I go to the Washington Post to get the real news. Next is blogs. Finally, I go to youtube.com or madonna.com for a small bedtime madonna moment.

I am missing out on other internet sites with my limited ritual, but I don’t know where else to look. I ask readers to share their computer rituals.

Great news! We found a buyer for the house! She put in her bid right away, the day after the house went on the market. And, she lives on Abell now, renting down the street. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to be selling the house to someone who loves Abell Avenue.

 Now we have to get through the inspection. The dreaded inspection. We might have to wait two weeks! That does give me time to run around and try to hide things.

It is so great to be able to relax in the house – we had to keep it spotless for one week, and anyone who knows me, knows how hard that was. Today I helped Peter unwrap a birthday present, and I just tossed the wrapping paper to the floor and laughed. Ha ha! I’ll pick you up later (maybe!) when I feel like it. I had plenty of time to do the dinner dishes, but I just turned my back and went into the living room to read People magazine. I feel so free and myself.

Still working on the house to get it ready to be sold. Could someone who is reading this blog please buy my house or find someone to buy it? The painting should be done this week, and then it goes on the market! I have been trying to visualize someone putting in a nice big bid, trying to make it happen with positive thinking. Everyone join in.

The painter left his notebook here over the weekend, and I snooped in it. Then I couldn’t remember what order the papers were in. I am so stupid. Do you think he’ll notice?  I thought about telling him that Peter was playing with it, but it don’t think that is plausible. I can’t say that it fell because it latches. Anyway, I can’t say anything because I am a terrible liar. I will just have to let him wonder and think less of me.

I am embarrased about the size of the new house. I didn’t go looking for a 7-bedroom house. It just happened to be in my price range and in the school district. It makes it look like we’re super richy rich, and we’re not. I am feeling intimidated by living in a house that big. I hate not being able to hear each other in the house. And I’ll have to walk a mile to get from one place to another. Is it ungrateful to complain about a big house? Our house now is so manageable. And we all now the kind of housekeeper I am. How’s that going to work? Ok, no more complaining – it really is a great house.

It is contractor Grand Central Station around here. Painter, electrican, carpenter, and next week, kitchen floor guy and hardwood floor guy. And mover guy. Man, I thought I would get all wistful about seeing my house shape up right before we sell it, but at this point I just want the hard work and big spruce-up bucks to pay off in a house sale. I. just. want. to. sell. this. house. I have cried many tears and felt broken by the loss of this house and neighborhood, and now I am over it. I need the fucking cash to pay for the new house!! The stress of the finances and the waiting and uncertainty are killing me. And, it’s been so long since I’ve been in the new house that I don’t really remember it. So, I don’t even know what I am working so hard for (well, I do, the school).

I have noticed something about myself. If I work really hard at something, give it more than my all, I expect a big payoff. If I diet perfectly and go to the gym 3-4 times a week, I expect to see 10-15 pounds fly off by the end of the month. If that doesn’t happen (of course not!), I give up. I see this now with the house. I worked my ass off for two weeks, tackling jobs I didn’t even think were remotely possible (e.g., cleaning out the basement (which, by the way, I had to finish when I had the stomach flu!)). Then Matt and I took a Fri, Sat, and Sun and threw out or stored more than half of our belongings. Then scoured the whole house. So, when a real estate agent came to see my house, I was shocked when she didn’t scoop it up! Where was my immediate reward? (I don’t know how I got through law school. I worked harder than I had on anything else and went home with my measly Bs. I am impressed that I didn’t quit. I just kept looking down and shouldering forward. This whole house thing reminds of  law school.) My real estate agent keeps talking about putting the house on the market in May. What!! I vacuumed and scrubbed and you’re making me wait until May? That means I will have to clean again! We packed away all but a month’s worth of books and toys. We better sell before the kids start throwing things.

 Please tell all of your friends that there is a house for sale on Abell Avenue.

Sorry I have been absent for so long. We all got the stomach flu – one after another. And, we are buying a house! I have been busy with basement cleaning and having frequent money nervous breakdowns. We have to sell this house to buy the new one, and I am on the edge with the uncertainty. And the capricious nature of closing costs. And M’s lack of emotions. And neglect of my children so I can pick porch colors. And the future much worse neglect when the packing and moving really start. And my outdated furnace and poor water pressure in upstairs bathroom. And trying to apply for a mortgage and watch over a 5 year old and a 2 year old. We close on May 1 on the new house. Do you think I’ll make it?

Anyone know someone who wants to buy a house in Charles Village?

My computer is on the blink. The keys are sticking. I think it’s because the stupid cat has been sleeping on it. So, I have been delayed in writing. I am now on M’s computer during one of the rare moments that he is not on it, but this post might be short because the kids are melting down upstairs.

We think that P might be dropping his nap. What?! He’s not even 2! What?!? I have to be with them NONSTOP?!? I knew this day would come, I knew it would come. At least he’ll go to bed earlier (but I’d rather have the friggin’ nap).

 LSAT training was cancelled again. I had booked the priceline hotel room, so I went to DC anyway. I had a fabulous vacation. I went to a play, I saw a movie, I went to dinner with a friend, I went to the gym, I slept until 11:45 (!!). I spent way, way too much money, but the Princeton Review guy said they would reimburse me for the room (and m says “they said they would have training that weekend, too” – good point).

I am so sad about Anna Nicole. I think she died of a broken heart, I really do. That poor little baby. It is so sad.

I almost got killed by a oil tank truck today. I was parked outside of Sam’s bagels on Coldspring Lane. I was putting Peter into his car seat, so I was leaning into the car. While I was doing that, the oil truck slammed into the car door (and kept driving, the shit – as if he didn’t notice that he hit another car!). It would have been very bad indeed if I had been stepping away from Peter at that moment. The car door metal is all torqued and twisted. It looks like a rumpled kleenex.

It didn’t help that M insisted that we speed off in pursuit of the truck that sped away 10 minutes ago. His idea was that we would speed off, catch up (never mind other cars or traffic lights), and force him to pull over. That would be done by pulling in front of him and driving so slowly he would be forced to pull over (I thought he would just pull around us, but I was shushed). I think at that point the man was supposed to cheerfully hand over his insurance info. And, of course, all of this would happen with two wee children in the car. The point was to make sure the guy didn’t get away with it. I really had to talk him down from this. Men.

 It hasn’t been my day. My favorite jeans that I love because I don’t feel fat in them ripped, and they ripped because I am too fat for them. And I forgot my best friend’s birthday – five days ago! And I fell on the ice (but points for me because I was holding Peter and was able, with quick reflexes and powerful maternal protection, to keep him from harm).

My LSAT training is supposed to start this weekend. I say supposed to because they are dicking around with me still. But it is fine if it’s not happening bc matt is taking the kids to PA and we already paid for the hotel. If the LSAT thing isn’t happening, I get three days by myself to wander around dc!

I am in trying-to-figure-out kindergarten HELL. I am working on seven schools, and they are all different, and they all would tax us in different ways (money, distance, conflicts in education philosphy, facilities, religion, dislike of principal or staff). And, now I have to figure out camp for S, which really isn’t that much different of an equation. This is harder than law school (well, actually, it’s not, but it is really hard!).

My first pick at this point is a tuition catholic school. I am feeling nervous about sending them to a paying school, especially since I am going to have to ask family for help to pay for it. But it is the school that fits in the most ways. I feel like I have to make it work, even if it means a little soul selling by taking money.

M really wants to move. He is interested in a neighborhood in Frederick called New Market. I looked it up. There are some reasonably priced houses, and the school’s scores are very good. But it is not Charles Village. Nothing can come close to the neighborhood I am in now. The architecture, the neighbors, the racial mix, the gay pride, walk to everywhere – when I walk the three blocks to the local little grocery store, I run into at least two people I know every time. We are a community, a village. There is always somebody walking by, even at 3 am. We are in the city. And, it is a blissful pocket of liberal democrats. I am living a secluded life, protected from people who think it is a good war, from people who don’t believe in evolution, from people who want to make a constitutional amendment banning gay marraige. And, I like living in that pocket! I like feeling at one with my neighbors and community, even if it gives me a warped perception of the  world at large. About twelve of my neighbors and I have hung gay pride peace banners on our porches. When you drive down Abell Ave, you see sign after sign, house after house of people who oppose war and believe in equality. How can I move away from that? Well, but, it’s not about me, it’s about what’s best for the kids, and I have to take into account what Matt wants, too (dammit). I am going next week to look at some of the New Market houses, but I am not liking it.

Ok, I have some of my fished-for support, so I will keep going.

I have been struggling with “am I a good mom?” lately. It’s tricky with me because it can be hard to tell the difference between genuine concern for my parenting and depressive thinking that isn’t grounded in anything but illness. I am so grateful for my still-meeting mommy group because I get some reference re: what other moms are doing. “Fuck” comes out of your mouth in moments of great frustration? Phew, I am not the only one.

The mommy meetings give me insight into what is normal and common. I am with the kids all morning, all afternoon, all evening by myself. How can I know the quality of my parenting if there is no one to give feedback, no one to share experiences,  or no one to give advice? Do they laugh enough? Should I be doing projects? Is it ok to show my irritation to them or will that scar them? Are all of these questions valid, or are they depression-related neurosis, insecurity, and obessesion? Maybe everything is really fine. Maybe things are great! There is no one here to tell me!