A few more pictures of Casa Clem

We've had a few people ask to see more pics of the house, so here they are. Sadly, I didn't get any of the second floor bedrooms...but these are the more interesting ones. We took all of these pictures on the day of inspection, about a week ago - we're scheduled to close August 14.

This is the front entryway, just inside the front door.

Here's the living room and fireplace, taken from the front entry way.

Standing in the dining room, looking back toward the front door.

Another shot of the fireplace.

Not a great picture, but you can see the coffered ceiling in the dining room.

Our kitchen is the place that will need the most work.

This is a shot of the basement taken from the landing of the stairs.

Another area of the basement - play room! There's also a full bathroom down here.

And finally, the happy homeowners!!

Jersey Girl

After a year of online searches, open houses, and home tours
we have finally bought house!

This is our new home in Ridgewood, New Jersey. It's a lovely little 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath home with - believe it or not - a white picket fence. We are in the midst of all the home-buying "stuff"...Inspection, applying for financing, organizing a move, buying a car, etc. But we are scheduled to close on August 20. After 9 1/2 years of renting, we will FINALLY own a home. We are so excited. And Cameron, at long last and not a moment too soon, will have a backyard to run around in. Mommy is DEFINITELY grateful for that.

We're about 15 miles from New York City, so the commute will be pretty convenient for Kevin. And we have family in the same town - Kevin's first cousin Carrie and her family (husband, 4 kids and a dog), all live about 2 miles from us. So exciting! Cameron loves his cousins, and we're thrilled to have family close by.

So that's the scoop, friends! Come out and visit us! We're close enough to the city that you can pop in for the sightseeing, but now we have extra space and a bedroom or two to spare!

I promise...

Today I was the very person I was cursing a year ago. It's the second most heard new-parent cliche, right after "it goes by so fast!". Yes, it's "It gets better, I promise."

I can remember about this time last year (though I use the term "remember" loosely...more like vaguely recall in a kind of hazy, sleep-deprived, Tylenol-popping, caffeine-sucking fog), I couldn't walk out of the apartment without someone saying it, and usually both together. They would take one look at my tiny little bundle, all 6lbs, 2oz of him, wrapped in a sweet fuzzy sweater with an adorable little hat, and they'd ooh and aah and say, "Oh, enjoy this...it goes by so fast." Then they'd take one look at me - baggy sweats, red-rimmed, baggy eyes, who hadn't seen the inside of the shower in the better part of the week - and they'd smile encouragingly and say it..."It gets better, I promise." I can remember the pitying looks from other moms as I shuffled through the park, and knew exactly what they were thinking..."oh yes, I know exactly how you feel, and I am so sorry for you. Ecstatic it's not me, but so sorry for you."

And then today, a mere 16 months later, I ran into a mom in the wine store. I was picking up a bottle or two for the weekend...she was buying a half a dozen. Ah yes, I remember it well. She asked Cameron's age, and I did the same...her response, "3 months...and I'm exhausted." As we're checking out she said, "when did he start sleeping through the night?" I said, "Mmmm, about 5 1/2 months." (Brutal, right?) You should have seen the sheer panic on her face. When you haven't slept in 3 months and someone tells you there is another 2 to go, it might as well be eternity. Then again, if I had said 2 1/2 months, she might have stepped in front of a bus right there thinking she was NEVER going to sleep again.

We walked out of the wine store and headed down the block together. She asked a hundred questions that are impossible to answer in a few minutes on a busy Manhattan street with a complete stranger. "How often did he eat? How many times was he waking up at this age? Did you do Ferber? Cry it out? I don't think I can handle that. How did you handle that? Did he sleep in your room? How did you know for sure if he was hungry or not? Did you let him cry even in the middle of the night?" The one question under it all that is never asked, but is all you really want to know...will I ever sleep again?

I tried to answer as best I could, given the short amount of time and knowing nothing about her or her "baby politics" - and, trust me, baby politics are everything to some moms. I tried to offer hope, and any tip I could think of from my own experience. I wracked my brain trying to remember what exactly I did right or wrong when Cameron was 3 months old (again, using "remember" loosely). I wanted to say, "every child is different, so I can't really tell you exactly what will work for your son, when he'll start sleeping through the night, whether or not you'll scar him for life if you let him cry longer than 4 minutes, exactly what order the bedtime routine should be, or any one of a thousand other things you'd love to have an answer to." So, all I could say as we parted on the corner of Central Park West and 96th was, "I gets better, I promise."

Aaaaugh.

Is there any phrase that engenders more desperate hope and, simultaneously, more sheer loathing to an exhausted new mom? Half of you clings to that promise desperately with both hands and the last little bit of your sanity, while the other half of you grits your teeth, because clearly these well-meaning morons have no idea what the @#%$& they're talking about.

But as a slightly-less-new-mom on the corner of a busy street with my own sweet boy on the verge of his own sleep-deprived meltdown (short naps suck), all I could offer from my 16 month perspective was platitudes. And what I didn't have time to explain, but what she'll soon realize (though it will hardly seem soon enough), is that one day she'll wake up and realize she's getting quite a bit more sleep, all night in fact...who knew she'd ever get there again? And while the sleep is definitely better, in it's place she's struggling with naps. And then it's food issues. And then it's temper tantrums. And then it's "no!". And then it's potty training. And then it's...

And all you can do is look down at your latest challenge, your current struggle, take a deep breath and remind yourself...

...it gets better, I promise.

Hmmm...

Here I am again...sitting in front of my computer, staring at my blog, wondering what in the world to write. This is why my blog is so pathetically empty, so rarely updated, so - dare I say - lame. I can think of nothing worth writing. I have a friend who has asked me to help contribute to her webizine...I can think of nothing to write. I am hardly an "expert" at anything and feel I have nothing new, novel or innovative to bring to the party. My life is seriously un-blog-worthy.

I have a 16 month old who whirls around like the Tasmanian Devil, leaving destruction in his path, yet doesn't speak a word. Oh wait, he does say "uh oh". Take one look at my living room, and you'll see he says that a lot. He has also said "Da Da" on occasion, though not regularly...and not actually to Kevin. But if he sees a picture of Kevin he will point to Kev and say "DaDa...DaDa...DaDa...". Mama? Nope. Ah well.

We spend hours each day at the playground. They have now turned on the summer sprinklers in the playgrounds, which Cameron LOVES. We both came home from the playground yesterday soaking wet and covered in sand. The Mini was in heaven, and Mommy spent naptime sweeping all the sand up off the floor, though totally worth it. Do you guys know about the baby powder trick? It is the best way to get sand off of tiny hands and feet. Just sprinkle baby powder all over their sandy hands or feet, and then dust it off...all that stubborn sticky sand sweeps right off with it. Plus you have a sweet powdery smelling Mini.

We've done a bit a traveling...trips to Chicago, Dallas and Maine in the last 2 months. But mostly we're here. Like I said...not blog worthy. Frankly just writing about this makes me want to go take a nap out of sheer boredem. But there you have it...a little something to dust the cobwebs off. Hardly worth writing, certainly not worth reading. We are alive and well, and keeping our heads above water. And that's about as exciting as it gets...

Death and Taxes

We finished up our taxes at the end of last week like the good, responsible, morally-upstanding citizens that we are. Kevin single-handedly tackles the madness with TurboTax as his guide. The Night of the Taxes, was a roller coaster that went something like this...

1.) Kevin enters all of our information - income, charitable donations, other financial type stuff I don't understand - and from the living room I hear, "What?!?". This is never a good sound from a husband trying to file taxes. Our friends in the IRS were trying to tell us we owed $6000+ .

2.) Kevin grumbled and frowned at the computer, shuffled papers, and eventually upgraded to the "deluxe" version of TurboTax in order to enter more detailed information. Ah ha...this seemed to fix the problem! After 30 minutes of adding more details, surprise!! We were getting paid $16,000! You can imagine the happiness...we were dreaming of heading out and buying a house that weekend! Fantastic! All has been provided...God is so good! We were giddy.

3.) Then...Kevin notices that some things aren't adding up. He decides to go back and delete and re-enter some information. And we watch our little green number at the top of the screen...the one that tells us how much we're getting back, how much we get to pocket, how much more we have to put down on a house...slowly scroll down, getting smaller and smaller and smaller.

In the end, let's just say while the number never made it into the red, it is significantly less than the $16,000 lottery we thought we had won.

And while it isn't logical, I feel I should confess that I was a little irked with God. Here we were, $16,000 theoretically in our pocket, and we're talking about how faithful God is, how he has taken such providential care of us. After a discouraging conversation just the night before about down payments and when we'll be able to buy, this seemed like God's serendipitous way of making it all okay, showering blessings on his children. And then it was yanked from our pockets by the grasping hands of the blasted IRS. And I felt let down.

While I told God I was grateful he was taking care of us so that we were getting the right amount and wouldn't be audited later and have to cough up a huge chunk of cash, inside, in a very small, ugly part of me, I felt like God had given us a little gift, and then snatched it back. I felt disappointed.

He knew. He knew I was half-heartedly thanking him for "taking care of us", when in my heart I was mumbling, "if you really wanted to take care of us, you would give us that $16,000 back." He knows what kind of selfish, ungrateful person I am. Such a spoiled brat...turning my nose up at a wonderful gift because it's not the gift I really wanted. Ignoring the fact, that just 20 minutes before we were going to have to pay $6000. It is a wonder God puts up with me at all. I am like Cameron, laying on the ground crying and kicking my legs because I didn't get what I wanted. That doesn't work with me, and it certainly doesn't work with God. Like any parent of a toddler, I am sure he shakes his head at me a little sadly, and wonders when I'll ever learn. It's a miracle he doesn't give me a good swat and stick me in time out.

Yet in the meantime, he continues to love me and take care of me, he dumps bucketfulls of blessings on me, he gently (and sometimes not so gently) teaches me, and he hasn't given up on me...and promises that he won't. And that steadfast love and lesson re-learned is worth more than $16,000 that was never really mine in the first place.

Sigh of Relief

I hate to say anything and jinx it, but I think we may finally be done with winter. Shhh!!! I don't even want to type it, for fear it will come roaring back, holing us up in our little apartment again, virtually climbing the walls, desperate for some room to roam.

I have a friend who lives in Texas who is constantly singing the praises of the balmy Texas winter and beauty of the fresh early spring warmth. She waxes poetic about the glories of 70 degree days at the beginning of February, about throwing her windows open and soaking up the fresh air, about the lift to her spirits the spectacular weather brings, about her kids running willy-nilly through the backyard, reborn at the dawn of a new spring. I read all of this while sitting in my apartment, bundled up in a sweater, stuck inside for the (seemingly) 750th sub-freezing day, while Cameron pulls every bowl out of the cupboard, every book off the shelf, every toy out the box, desperate for a change of scenery...and knowing we have weeks, WEEKS left of winter.

And then, today...the birds began to sing, the light began to dawn, the heavens opened up, and upon us miserable Northeasterners a 65 degree day was bestowed. We saw the first tree in Central Park with buds on it...real, green buds that will some day soon (barring another freeze) turn into real, green leaves.

Cameron and I spent nearly 2 hours at the playground. He crawled and climbed all over the playground equipment, slid down the slide 37 times, ate handfuls of sand, and generally was blissfully happy. He probably would have run willy-nilly around the playground if he knew how to run. Let's just say he was crawling with enthusiasm.

I feel like a new person. Like we have survived the endless winter again, and spring is our reward.

I hear Cameron waking up from his nap (man, was that kid exhausted when we got home from the park!). Gotta get back outside and enjoy the rest of the afternoon...'cause who knows how long it will last.

If you don't have something nice to say...

And apparently I don't. I haven't so much as looked at this blog since the last post in November. It has fallen way down the list of things I find time to do...somewhere well behind re-roll the toilet paper roll that the Mini has unrolled...again, and empty the towering pile of recycling. I have an epic list of things to accomplish every day (I know...don't we all?), and putting "Update Blog" on the list merely sets me up for failure.

But here I am, with something like an update. And why do I find time now? Kevin is still at work, the Mini is fussing in his bed 30 minutes after bedtime, and I really don't want to do any work. Makes for an inspired writing session.

Cameron turned ONE in January. Though he has only aged one year, is it possible I have aged 3? I think it's gotta be something like dog years. But I will say, 14 months olds are WAY funner than 2 month olds. Yeah...funner. He is a sponge, picking things up at a terrifying rate. He is taking steps all over the place. I'm sure he will be climbing up the walls by next week. Currently, he is trying really hard to grow some more teeth, and teeth have been his nemesis since the first one started bothering him around 6 months (though didn't make an appearance until 8 months).

Please tell me someone else out there has a kid who had teeth struggles. All my mom friends around here say, "really? My kid never seemed to notice he was growing teeth." Is this one of those things moms conveniently forget about 3 weeks after it happens? The sweet Mini has cried, drooled, and painstakingly chewed his way to 5 teeth, with a 6th apparently on the way. They have been battles hard fought. And he has 15 more to go. We are living on Infant Motrin and Orajel (don't judge).

Kevin is still consulting. I am still full-time Momming, part-time assisting, though my boss says she may have to be my assistant before too long. As I'm sure you all know, the to-do list gets longer and longer, and the snippets of available time in which to do it get shorter and shorter. The Mini only slept for 30 minutes this afternoon. This is not enough time to do, well, anything. By the end of the day I am exhausted from entertaining a cranky tooth-growing Mini all day, and still have a dozen things that need to get done, yet inevitably don't.

So do I do them? Do I pour myself a fortifying glass of wine and tackle the pile on my dining room table? Nope...I blog.

On a fun note, we are also house hunting. We have been renters for 9 straight years. We have never owned a single piece of real estate. We are the only people for whom this current housing crisis is an absolute blessing! We will be buying our first home (God willing) without having to sell a home. For those of you who thought that someday we would be leaving this heathen land and returning to God's Country, all I can tell you is, we thought so too. But God, in all his infinite wisdom, gets a good chuckle at all our so-called plans. We are glad we're here to entertain Him.

Anyway, that's all the comings and goings in our lives. All of my nearest and dearest out there in blogland are so faithful to update me, I thought it was time I returned the favor. I make no promises about consistency...all I can say is, I'll do my best.