Feigning Interest

As we are in the process of *hopefully* buying a house, I am finding myself undernourished in the department of motherly love.  I expected my mom to be one of our biggest cheerleaders, someone who I could excitedly ramble on to about how amazingly new and awesome all of this is.  I don’t have that.  Not at all.

My mom doesn’t even ask me about the house we are interested in.  She brings up homes closer to her, but I feel my excitement drain away every time I talk to her, almost like a black hole for happiness.

Now, I will admit, right now, we only live about 2 minutes away from my parents house.  Very convenient for frequent visits, which she does.  We are hoping to move about 15 minutes away, hardly a huge distance, and certainly no reason to be completely unsupportive.

I decided to try and extend an olive branch yesterday, knowing that things have been tense since the silly argument with my dad last Mother’s Day.  My dad is a union carpenter and has specifically studied both online and through books, how to perform home inspections, planning for when we would be buying our new house.  My intent was to ask if he would like to come look at the house when we have the inspector come out, giving a chance to kind of glaze over what had happened in the past and attempt to move on.

To clarify, I wasn’t asking this to “get anything” out of it.  Yes, my dad is a carpenter and can do amazing work around the house, etc, but my only goal was to break the ice.  I have no interest in having him work on my house in any way.  I only tried to make things less uncomfortable for everyone.

So I mentioned to my mom yesterday the idea of having him come look at the house.  She had a completely blank look on her face when she shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know.”  Now, it wasn’t just an “I don’t know”, nothing can be that simple with my mother.  It was dripping with drama, eluding to us needing to beg for forgiveness, like she felt she suddenly had the upper hand.  That sounds crazy to say, but you don’t know my crazy family.

I instantly regretted my white flag and wanted to rip it off the field.

“He said he would like to look at it online though, so you can tell me how to do that since I don’t know how.”

I held back my frustrated sigh and changed the subject.  I won’t lie, it stung.  It was the salt in an already gaping wound from a week of my mom not showing an interest in our home search.   I vented to Abe, who didn’t seem surprised at all.  He is the pessimist, always assuming the worst of people and therefore never getting disappointed.  I envy that.  I see sunshine and rainbows in nearly every situation, giving people who don’t deserve it the benefit of the doubt.  Until they give me reason not to.  I think I have my reasons now.

It is very disappointing that I can’t count on my mom for the support that I need right now.  I was looking forward to showing off our new home, our projects, our accomplishments.  Luckily, I have amazing friends that have shown my far more love and support, even just in casual passing.

Chapter closed?  I think this book needs to be donated.  I keep picking it up and expecting a different story, forgetting that the characters never change.


Happy Spring!!



Several days into the beginning of spring, we woke up to snow!  And not just a little snow, we got over 12 inches of snow in less than 24 hours!

Of course the kids wanted to make a snow man, and with Daddy’s help, they made a pretty big one!  Mama decided it needed to be a snow bunny, since we are less than a week away from Easter.  Isn’t he cute?!

The kids are off school today, so I am off to make hot chocolate while they keep peeking out at their snow bunny and giggling.

Gotta love a late season snow day!



I was sitting outside in our back yard when I noticed something ever so gracefully falling from the sky and coming my way.  I watched, absolutely absorbed in the twirling dance of the object as it came closer and closer.  I held out my hand and it seemed to immediately know my desire to catch it.  I smiled as a tiny, delicate little feather landed oh so softly in my palm.

I love to be outside, I spend as much time as I can taking in the fresh air and the sights and sounds of nature around me.  For all of my 33 years, I have never witnessed a feather falling from the sky, no bird in sight, much less landing directly into my hand after putting on a lovely little show.

So what does it mean?

Maybe nothing.  It doesn’t feel like nothing though.  I can’t say for sure what it means, but a quick internet search seems to indicate that it can only be good.   Some say it is a sign that your guardian angels are around you, protecting you and letting you know they are there.  Some say it is a friendly hello from heaven, a sign that one of your loved ones is thinking of you and is with you.  Some say it is a sign of good luck to come.

I say it is wonderful.  I feel happy and blessed.  What a lovely little gift!  Perhaps it is a silly superstition, but if it makes me happy, well then, logic be damned!  🙂

Give me credit

An iconic statue of St. Joseph with the carpen...

I don’t know why, but the thought of checking our credit report/credit score always scares me.  I never pay any bills late, I am a responsible mama, but just the fear of the unknown, the fear of this silly little piece of paper that holds the power to give or deny us our dream….Oh yeah, that’s why it’s terrifying.

Being the annoyingly responsible people that we are, we decided that before we even call our lender, we should get our reports and go into the battle knowing our numbers.  Knowledge is power, right?  Through the government, we are entitled a free look at our reports every single year.  That gives us access to all three reports, which is cool and all, but you know what is not included in the free reports?  The actual credit score.

To get your big, fancy credit score number, you basically have to join one of a billion available sites that will give you your score, but only after entering your credit card information.  They usually give you a seven day “free trial” of their “awesome” site, and you have to cancel your account before the end of the trial period to avoid the ridiculous charges.  Of course, you have to call them in person, during business hours, and sit through all the annoying upsells before they will actually cancel your membership.  Dumb.

Shouldn’t the score be included in the once annually free report?  Yes.  The answer is yes.  Somebody make it be.

Anyway, we now have our credit reports and our credit score, which I am happy to say is pretty darn good.  We are “low risk”, so hopefully that translates into an amazing interest rate on our dream house.

Our current timeline is to start officially looking at houses first thing in April.  We already have a very cool realtor and we have been searching online to get an idea of what is out there right now.  We are hoping to move once school is out, as early as mid May.  Wow!  That is not far away!  I have a St Joseph statue to bury in our yard to help us sell our house.

What’s that?  You never heard of that voodoo magic?

Growing up, I can’t even count the number of times that we would drive around with my grandma, St Joseph statue in hand, stopping at friends and families homes to bury the statue, say a prayer and help them sell their house.  Now, I was just a kid, but when my grandma told me that burying the little plastic saint would magically sell the house, well, I believed her!  Not only that, but it proved to me that she was just as magical as I thought she was!

So yes, we will be burying St Joseph and he is gonna help us sell our home quickly because my grandma said he would!  Hey, you don’t question grandma!


Doubts of a 10 year old

I heard a knock on my door this morning while the kids were getting ready for school.  I expected it to be someone tattling, that is a favorite past time in our house right now.  I opened the door and Matthew came in, closing the door behind him and looking very serious.

“What is it?” I asked him, expecting to hear about Noah being mean to Sara or Bella not helping to straighten their room.

“Okay,” he started, and then took a deep breath as he studied my face and continued.  “I have been meaning to tell you this for a long time.  Like, a really long time.”

“How long?” I asked, trying to imagine what ridiculous thing was going to come out of his mouth next.  Did he lose a school paper I was supposed to sign?  Did he break something and hide it?  Did he find a cure for cancer?  The possibilities were endless and it was far too early for such hard thinking.

“Like, over a year,” he answered.  Over a year?  What on Earth could he need to tell me?  I instantly thought of my brother, the one who had severe abdominal pain for over ten years and never told anyone until he couldn’t stand it anymore.  He had a hernia, which was recently fixed through surgery, but holywhatareyouthinkingbatman, not telling anyone you were in pain for so long?  Being the worry wart anxiety stricken mami that I am, I started to panic, anticipating what he would say next.

“What is it?” I asked, praying that whatever horrific ailment he was about to share with me could be quickly and easily cured without surgery.

He took another deep breath and studied my face as the next sentence fell from his lips, “I know Santa isn’t real.”

I suddenly realized I had been uncomfortably holding my breath when I loudly exhaled, letting out a guttural sigh of relief.

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious to hear what he would say next.

“Mom.  I know Santa Claus is really you.  Like, I know.”  He emphasized that last word to let me know he meant business.  This was a very adult conversation he was having with his mother, he was getting older and felt he could have this mature discussion with me.  It’s like he doesn’t know me at all.

“You know what happens when you stop believing in Santa.  Socks and underwear for Christmas.”  I smiled, still utterly relieved that my son was perfectly healthy, despite my mind’s ability to instantly arrive at the worst case scenario and then multiply that tragedy by a million.

“Mom.  I’m serious.  I would never tell them or anything, but I know it’s you.”

“Okay.  Well, just remember that when you get lots of socks and underwear.”


“I’m serious.”

“Okay, well, I’m more serious, I know.”

“You’re gonna need a bigger underwear drawer.”

He rolled his eyes and left.

Hey, we have a rule in our house.  Stop believing, stop receiving.  Also, don’t try to have serious conversations with mom.  🙂

Woolzies Dryer Balls Review!

Today I have a super cool product to tell you about.  Not only is this product eco friendly and 100% natural, but it will save you time and money and it actually works!  Are you intrigued?  Then let me introduce you to Woolzies Dryer Balls!



Woolzies Dryer Balls are made out of 100% pure New Zealand wool.  Each ball is individually handmade and works very effectively to soften your laundry without any nasty chemicals at all whatsoever!  An added bonus to using Woolzies Dryer Balls, is that they can actually shorten your drying time by an average of 25% per load!  That is less time the dryer is on, sucking up electricity, heating up your home, and cooking your clothes!  The balls also work naturally to reduce static and wrinkles.



Each set of Woolzies Dryer Balls is guaranteed to last for 1,000 loads of laundry!  That’s a lot of laundry!  Using them is simple, just remove the balls from the package and throw them in your dryer.  No need for fabric softeners of any kind because remember, the Woolzies Dryer Balls will naturally soften your clothes.  Did you know that traditional fabric softeners are made from lard?  That’s why your washing machine gunks up and gets that funky, rancid smell every so often.  Not to mention all the added, nasty, unnecessary chemicals that you are coating your clothes with.  Having children with sensitive skin, I can certainly appreciate cutting more chemicals out of their daily life.



As a side note, my three year old and one year old thinks it is completely hilarious when the balls fall out of the dryer while emptying the clothes.  It then becomes a fun race to see if they can retrieve them for me before the dog does.  🙂

But what if you are allergic to wool?

Woolzies are hypoallergenic and completely safe for people with wool sensitivities!  The wool balls will not shed on your laundry.

After several loads of laundry, a common theme in this large family, I can tell you that Woolzies are completely awesome.  I absolutely notice that my clothes are much softer when using the dryer balls.  A lot softer.  And the clothes absolutely get dry much faster, meaning laundry day turns into laundry morning instead of an all day event.  Yay!

Woolzies Dryer Balls are a huge money saver, when you factor in how much money you normally spend on regular fabric softener, not to mention the electricity money saved.  And they are completely eco friendly, so you can genuinely feel good about using this product.



Not only will Woolzies save you money and reduce the chemicals in your life, but they are handmade in the democratic republic of Nepal, providing a steady source of income to the desperately needy women of that country.  Win/win.

Get your very own Woolzies Dryer Balls by clicking HERE and visiting their website.

“Like” Woolzies on Facebook by clicking HERE.

Follow Woolzies on Twitter by clicking HERE.

The awesome folks at Woolzies provided me with a sample for review purposes and to share their awesome product with my readers.  I was not compensated in any other way, and I really do think their product is amazing!

Snow Day!


Today, we were surprised with an unexpected snow day!  I have to admit, I think I may get more excited for snow days than even the kids do!  Something about not having to jump out of bed and rush around in the morning is just, well, awesome.

We don’t have buckets of snow or anything.  Just a dusting, really.  But it is enough to be pretty and certainly enough to enjoy some hot cocoa and board games with the babies!

Not the weather I think of for the first day of March, but I’m sure we’ll be spoiled with gorgeous weather soon enough.

Happy March 1st!