Flipping Out

9:00 a.m.
"I regret to inform you that the house you were interested in was leased over the weekend. Sorry."

This was how my Monday started. I'm blaming the lazy real estate agent for not getting our application in that we sent LAST TUESDAY. But I'm not really sure what happened. I don't think I've ever been turned down by a landlord and it felt worse than many near-engagement break-ups.

As with any break-up, hearing the news was followed by a breakdown of epic proportions--weeping, whaling, and nashing of teeth doesn't quite cut it. I had a pathetic moment. Real pathetic.

However, not completely unmerited. (There are NO OPTIONS in Visalia for rentals...there were a month ago when we were WAITING for confirmation about moving but now there are none. I was worried that all of our trips to visit family this summer would be cancelled because we would need to look for a house then move AND since we have to be out of our place at the end of June--landlord moving back in--we will be residing with a toddler in a hotel until who knows when)...Nightmare.

After getting a grip, I found myself staring face to face with 3:00. Does that happen to anyone else? You get some kind of bad news and then just reel out of control for what seems like 15 minutes but when you look at a clock you realize 8 hours has gone by?
My poor child. It dawns on me that he needs to get out of the house. Alright, I'll just take him to the park...

Well on our way to the park down the street, I did what any crazy person with a toddler at 4pm would do--I kept driving.
And driving.
And DRIVING.
Until we wound up in Santa Cruz.
And then I felt better.
Landon was happy to see the ocean. So was I.
We saw a few sea lions, and heard them barking.

Landon kept saying, "Puppy, scary" (pronounced SKAY-WEE) and wanted to get back in the stroller.
I kept thinking, "People, scary." There are some of the weirdest people you will ever see wandering around Santa Cruz. I had no idea.

The sunshine was lovely. I enjoyed the fresh air, and even some of the weirdos. Thank heavens for a change of scenery, even for just an hour, to gain a little greatly needed perspective.

My mental state...

I've been living in aneurysm territory lately. It happens to me every time I know we have to move but we haven't signed a lease on a new place yet. I turn into a literal lunatic and I think my brain might just explode. Ask my husband.

Oh yes, did you know? We're moving.

We've found a place, put in an application (LAST TUESDAY!), have an excellent rental history but we haven't heard back from the landlord. (The real estate agent's professional email moniker being "pismobeachbum....@---------.com" might have something to with it...). Which then makes scheduling movers, utilities, and all the other mind-numbing details associated with moving impossible. Compound that with having to be out of our current place by July 1 and you have my crazy, anxiety-ridden alter ego running the show.

So what would any slightly masochistic, I mean reasonable person do to try and feel better?

Why get a bikini wax, OF COURSE.

(Word to the wise: when you want to rip your hair out...don't literally rip your hair out...)

I should have just eaten some chocolate cake.

That's right I just said bikini wax on the blog...another indicator of where I'm operating from this week.

The Torture of Moving

A particularly lovely shot of me being alone in the Marriott parking lot trying to haul all of my crap into the hotel, alone, with a mini Dennis the Menace. Alone.*

I've had a "terrific" 2-day whirlwind trip to Visalia to try to find a place to live. Good news: We found a house. (Thanks to Rod scoping out the landscape for a few weeks on the hunch that we might be moving to said locale).

Before I do a victory dance, let's back up a bit.

Tuesday morning: After finding out at 9:00pm Monday night that we were moving, and that Rod started his job the next day at 8:00am, I decided that I would need to take a trip to Visalia to find a house. Also, a little less earth-shattering but worth mentioning-- my favorite trash TV show didn't record on my DVR so I had to watch the slow-loading ipad version to get my fix of hating the "Provo Belmont/Arlington scene" on for the day, (did you guys know a Provo all-star is on the Bachelorette this season bringing disgrace to every Mormon?...of course you did) while I packed up lunches etc for the 3 hour drive I had ahead of me. (ugh...how's that for a run-on sentence?)


Then I went in to wake up the boss.
Morning mom. Not a bad way to start the day, I have to say.

After getting all packed and ready, I loaded the buddy up for the drive. Neck pillow and all.
That is where the cuteness stops.

To avoid boring you with the details, I will just skip to the low points. (Mind you--3 hr car ride. No husband. Multiple housing appointments. No nap.) We arrive to meet up with Rod at his new facility around dinner time (first day as an administrator...boy, did that man have swagger in the nursing home) .

As we get out of the car, Landon decides to throw a tantrum that can only be described as body possession by an ungodly entity...for (not exaggerating) 30 solid minutes.

I didn't take my camera out for that.

Imagine: Rod's first day at a new building, wanting to make a nice "administrative" impression on all the staff, and his 18 month old is screaming bloody murder in the nursing home administrator office, lobby, and front lawn (it seriously sounded like we were torturing him). Then we try to move the "display" out to the car and he flails so much that I have to set him on the grass so that I don't drop him while he does "log rolls" across the grass and concrete path, kicking, screaming, and punching.

(a far cry from this precious angel...)
**He finally settled down when I think he had no more vocal chords or energy left.
That wasn't the low point...But I won't get into the rest because it will sound like I dislike my child, which is absolutely not the case.

Wednesday Morning: Ah, a new day. Landon was exhausted (because he didn't go to sleep in the hotel until 10:30) and slept through my morning shower and "ready" ritual. When he did wake up it was a much better experience...
Since Rod had to leave early, Landon was happy to "help" me load all the heavy suitcases and take a ride on the cart.
Not too sure about all the moving business...

There were cuteness moments caught on tape. 13 seconds worth watching.

*I know it sounds like Rod is a bad husband because I had to do everything *alone* but work has been unusually demanding lately. He's a great guy. Promise.
**Landon is the bomb. (as you can probably tell...) I think if I were 18 months, 3 hrs in the car (which probably seems like 3 weeks in 18 month old time) and having to live with me while I stress out would probably be enough to send me into a tantrum as well...

And we're moving to...

VISALIA!!!

Wha?!

I know. You might be asking me questions in your mind like, weren't you just there 5 months ago? Haven't you crazy folks moved 4 times in 10 months? Are you happy about this?

The answer to those questions would be yes. It was a little overwhelming to think about moving YET AGAIN, but the job is great and we have some good friends there so we are excited. Or at least that is my official stance. Now to find a house and move...

BTW this is what Landon looked like when we lived in Visalia last. Oh, I think I might have to cry.

Beyond Belief.

So did I mention we are moving? AGAIN!?!?! I know. It's BEYOND ridiculous. This will be the 4th move in 9 months. Visalia-Utah-Visalia-San Jose-?

I know it's excessive, especially because when I tell my friends, THEY get mad about it for me. (thanks guys). We still don't know where we are going yet and probably won't know until the end of the month. Most likely somewhere in northern California. But honestly, yeah--its stupid, and I'm sooooooo over it.

Apparently this will be the last move for a while and it should happen sometime in May-ish. (Although, I'm not getting my hopes up). I am sad to be leaving the Bay area, especially when we are just getting settled and I love my little house.

HOWEVER, there are always new adventures in store and we seem to be headed in the right direction. Every move, I have been pleasantly surprised at the friends I have made and the fun things to do in new areas. I am thinking I might have to open up a moving consultation business because I am getting to be such an expert at it. Except I would never do that.

Anyway...that is my scintillating info for the day. I am looking forward to being settled. Whenever that is. In the meantime, I am learning how to exist in the chaos and be okay about it. So that's something, right? Now comes the waiting...

Here's to new adventures, wherever they may be...

photo credit here.

It really sucked when this happened...

While my back was turned the little buddy decided to run his Tonka truck (see below) into the fence, flip it over, and smash his little face/eye (gasp!) into the corner of the metal edge.
He was just two weeks old here...
So of course he was screaming, I was hyperventilating, and thankfully Rod was home to be level-headed and orchestrate the ER trip we had to take because LZ's eyelid was gashed and bleeding.

I'm sure I brag about my kid, (probably more than most moms...) but I will say he was one tough cookie. After the initial scream that lasted about 2 minutes he was totally fine, smiling and once we got to the ER, was way more concerned about the bracelets the nurse put on his leg then the actual bloody gash over his eye.
Because of his pleasant state of mind, Rod and I were kind of embarrassed that we rushed him to the ER, making excuses to the different nurses and doctors like, "Oh he's the first kid," "Maybe it was just a surface scratch," "We just wanted to be safe than sorry."


Well, 2 stitches, a 3 inch needle, and papoose/straight-jacket thing later--we were glad we were "over-protective" parents.
After they took him out of the straight-jacket and removed the head mask that was on him so he wouldn't see the needle (it sounds really cruel but I was glad they did it, the last thing I would want is a suture headed for a toddlers eye without him fully restrained). He looked like he had gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson; hair all sweaty, eye puffy, and doing that little breath-catching thing babies do after they've had a good scream. Heart breaking.
The nurse gave him a little green puppy that he kissed and kissed in the ER, and he refused to go to bed tonight without it. I'm so proud of him. I can only imagine how scary and confusing a situation like that must be for a 14 month-old. I'm also grateful that it was only 2 stitches and no permanent eye damage. Phew. There must have been a few angels looking out for the buddy. As for Rod and I, we survived our first (of hopefully not too many) ER trips with our kid.