Rookies

I’ve been lacking in posts the past few weeks due to life dumping a truck load of lemons in my way. Since my cupboards lack the simple food staples to make a delicious lemon meringue pie, I have been forced to start squeezing them like crazy- only to make lemon juice (no sugar for the “aid” either, but have no fear, payday was just the other day)! Here’s what’s been going on:

I realized I have now come full circle in life. The other day I had the one childhood prank that I did, pulled on me. Yes, I am one of those adults that was targeted for the never boring “ring-and-run” prank (and yes, I was one of those kids that did that). Was it well deserved? I have no doubt, as Karma has a funny way of waiting until you reach “the other side.” So I am standing at my kitchen sink when I heard the door bell ring. I look up to see out my kitchen window a little tubby white kid waddling by with a Camel-Bak of water strapped to his back (talk about preparing for a hard days work!). Of course to amuse whoever was watching, I opened the front door, put on my Academy Award winning shocked face and then shut the door again. I was also looking out to make sure there wasn’t a flaming bag of you know what on the door step (and no, I was not one of those kids!). Not but five minutes later I see a group of three kids (tubby included) standing in the street just hanging out. While the thought crossed my mind to go out to them and point out their rookie mistakes:
1. don’t send your slowest guy to do it,
2. don’t stand out in front of the house that you just pranked five minutes ago,
3. don’t prank a house that has all their windows open

I refrained, smiled to myself, and secretly wished them "happy pranking."

I also took a moment to think back on the poor elderly neighbors that I used to prank. Ahhh, who am I kidding, I deserved a flaming bag of poop!

On another sour note, I locked myself out of the house the other day. Did I mention that Braden was inside? I came home from Walmart and put Braden in his highchair so I could go back out to the car and get the remainder of the groceries. I loaded up my arms with bags, got to the back door and... nothing, that was as far as I got. Luckily, after running around the house in my Sunday clothes (heels included), I called my mom to come over with my house key and let me in. What was ironic was the fact that I had a set of house keys hanging on the front door, I just couldn't break into the lock box to get to them. In only a slight panic (he was in his highchair after all), I found my Swiss army knife in my car, prayed to God to give me any James Bond lock picking abilities he could give me and pulled out the flimsy metal tweezers and went to town. Who was I kidding? After 20 minutes, I kissed my career as a locksmith goodbye. I was dripping with sweat in my 101 degree garage with the bottom of my feet throbbing from being rubbed raw because I was running around the outside of the house in my heels (it’s like they weren’t made for running). Never fear, Crazy Gran to the rescue. My mom got there and let me in. Braden was crying hysterically, but physically okay (the jury is still out on psychology). Is this a right of passage for the Rookie mother?

Our house now has a third contract on it. The first contract was a no go because the lady low-balled us so badly, we were going to have to pay her to buy it (we said no thank you). The second contract we can only chalk up to buyer’s remorse. The couple put a contract down, got the inspection and then proceeded to tell us that they didn’t want the house until we fixed/repaired/updated EVERYTHING the inspector listed (we said have a nice life). This third contract we are hoping is the “third times a charm” sort of deal. While it has truly been amazing that we have had three contracts with only about 15 walk-throughs, we are praying that this is it and we will close at the end of July. The search for our new house is still on.