COMPRESSION

Monday, January 30, 2006

One of the many ways in which relocating is a really strange experience, is that life decisions that usually take months and are prompted by natural occurrences, happen all at one time in a big hurry. In many ways, this changes the very nature of these decisions.

Example. You become pregnant or enter the process of adopting a first child. Or your pediatrician announces he/she is retiring. You then go on the hunt for a new pediatrician. You ask around, check insurance, compile a list from ivillage posts on What To Look For In A Pediatrician, perhaps even conduct interviews. The process can take awhile. And usually, it's a high priority in your life for that period of time.

But in the relocation process, this same task is one of a long list of high priorities that you must take care of in short order. A coworker suggests someone, turns out they accept your insurance, and you think, well, if I have to pick a primary care doctor, what the heck! I can always change it! And just like that, you've picked a pediatrician. You probably won't even remember his/her name a day later.

I am not sure what I think of this decision compression. On the one hand, it leaves no room for obsession, which is very likely a good thing. On the other hand, if one can only count on one's gut for 80% of decisions in life, then there will be a painful getting-rid-of-the-kinks process. And if the gut is right more than 80%, this means that prior to this, the obsession-based method has wasted whole bunches of time.

I think I will do some research on ivillage re: How To Properly Obsess Over Snap Decisions...

GUESS WHAT?

Saturday, January 28, 2006

"Hey Mom! Guess what?"

Sarah begins anything she says to me in this fashion. Anything from "I love you" to "Becca just flooded the bathroom." Two things are sure about what comes next:

• If I don't say "What?", she will merely repeat Hey Mom Guess What until I do, even if I look at her in a way that should prompt her to speak her piece
• There is never any way of Guessing What; Sarah's brain is deep and completely random

"What?"

We're driving home in January rain from Sarah's dentist appointment. She got her first filling, which she thought was "fun".

"Every ant colony has a queen that has a huuuge butt full of babies! She gets her own room because she has babies all the time. And when she dies, they split her open to get out the rest of the babies! And then the colony has to, like, SNATCH a queen from another colony or wait till the babies grow up to get a new queen!"

It really is not clear what brought on this diatribe. I don't try to figure it out anymore, I just allow it to entertain me.

"And ALSO, Mom. Guess what?"

I look at her in the rearview mirror. Surely the Novacaine is wearing off by now? "What?"

"There are these plants called Cobra plants and they are sort of like Venus Fly Traps because they both eat flies. But the Cobra makes like, FLY SOUP in its mouth while it digests the fly and you can see the soup floating around in there."

Because I am only home two days a week, Sarah has to give me a concentrated knowledge transfer before I go back to San Diego for a week. I have been home only 1 day and so far, I have gotten several Wonders of Animalia stories, a couple playground dramas, 3 unrelated stories about kids (including Sarah) losing teeth at school, hints about how to keep straight which English words have double Ls (really) versus those with single (sadly), news of the dissection of owl pellets in 4th grade science, and a run-down of all of Becca's Crimes Against Sarah for the week.

And I will never Guess What tomorrow might bring.

ONE DOWN!

Monday, January 23, 2006

We sold the house! It took a whole weekend of negotiating, and it doesn't close till April, but it's sold! It doesn't change our plan; we'll still move into the apartment in February, but it will be a whole lot simpler monetarily starting in April.

The big stuff leaves IL on a truck on February 16... Don and the dogs leave via car on the 19th... and the girls and cats and I get on plane February 21. Don will return in March or April to move the stuff that won't fit in 1200 square feet, into storage, and of course, move the Vette.

It's finally happening!

IN ALL THE HUBUB

Saturday, January 21, 2006

With all the crazy transitions happening, we forgot... it's report card time again!

Unbelievably, Sarah improved on the last report card, even in the midst of all this craziness! What a trooper.

PS, still negotiating that offer...

IT FIGURES

Friday, January 20, 2006

Offer on the house. More later.

PLAN C

After my little episode of last Tuesday, it was clear that 3 months was about the limit of our family being apart. After figuring some rough numbers -- between the rent for my room at Carol's, the airfare back and forth to Chicago (cheap though it may be) every weekend, plus all the incidentals that come with traveling like that, and some other costs associated with our 2-state residency -- it was clear that we could build a small budget for the 4 of us to move to San Diego.

Renting a place for the family will be yet another sort of limbo state, but it won't be as taxing as the one we're currently experiencing. Sarah may have to change schools again when we buy a house. Don will be between jobs, so things will tighten up for awhile. But at this point, it seems a small price to pay.

I spent some lunch hours and evenings looking into places last week. At first, it was downright depressing. With 2 dogs, 2 cats, 2 kids, a tight budget, and the lack of willingness to commit to a year lease, we aren't exactly the ideal tenants. Add that to the need to be relatively close to work and in a good school district, and I had a real challenge on my hands!

I inquired into about 24 properties that seemed to fit the criteria, 6 of which would agree to take us given all our restrictions. One house looked like it needed to be knocked down. Perhaps if all 4 of us leaned against it, that could have done the trick. Another had a kitchen so old, it could have made it into a Kitchens History Museum, and the ceiling fixtures were bare lightbulbs. And so small, it reminded me of my sister's first place in Atlanta. In that apartment, Don bent down to gather the garbage and turned on the oven with his behind. Now THAT's a tight space.

One was cute, but way too far. One was tiny, but in a good school district. One was really okay, but so sterile.

Finally, I came upon Aron & Kristi's place. It's right in the part of town we were thinking of buying a home. Good school district, right off the highway, and a walk to a shopping plaza. The best part of all is that we are taking over Aron & Kristi's lease, so the rent is far below retail and only for a short time. We'll have to live in 1200 square feet, but there are fantastic common areas, like the pool and fitness center below, and the unit is very nice. I think we could live like this for awhile!

So now all we have left to do is pick a date, do about a million little things, pack up the house and the kids, and LEAVE. It is such a comforting feeling to know that in a couple weeks, I can go back to riding herd on the homework and doing other people's laundry again.

Come visit us!

DEEP THOUGHTS FROM JEN AND BRAD

Sunday, January 15, 2006

So, on Tuesday morning I was driving to work. I listen to an LA radio station in the car, and on this particular morning the deeply intellectually-stimulating topic was celebrity breakups. There have been so many this year -- Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt, the most talked-about -- and on this particular morning, some B-rate celebrities were talking about their own breakups and why this behavior is the norm in famous people.

Naturally, I was riveted (see December post The Most Boring Individual On The Face Of The Earth).

They didn't really have anything truly insightful to say (I know this is a shock)... the same old thing, that it's hard to sustain a Hollywood relationship, when both individuals travel all the time and are going in separate directions. They simply grow apart.

However, this brought on a full-blown panic attack. Suddenly my chest was too small and my eyeballs too large. I could only think that I could no longer live apart from my family anymore. And by the time I refocused, I had missed my work exit by 8 miles.

Everything changes. Now.

ODE TO O'SIDE

Friday, January 13, 2006

Here's a picture of Carol's Oceanside neighborhood. I thought I would photograph it on my morning walk. It's cute, isn't it!

REALTORSPEAK

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

After nearly 4 months, it is dawning on me that you cannot take a realtor at face value. They speak the English language completely differently than we do. Here are some examples of what they say, and what it means.

"There have been a ton of showings": There has been more than 1 showing per week.

"We expect an offer soon": Don't fire me.

"There hasn't been any negative feedback on your house": I haven't talked to the other realtors about your house yet.

"We are in good shape for the selling season": I don't want to do anything else for you.

"We are priced right": You are the cheapest house on the market.

"The buyer is qualified": The buyer is breathing and we know how to contact him.

"Your house shows well": You clean your house well before showings.

"We are getting a lot of interest": Don't fire me.

"Your dogs are adorable": Your dogs have not bitten anyone during showings.

"They want to make a contingent offer": They like your house.

I think sometimes they are pulling our legs about progress, but then other times I don't think they can help this communication style. Maybe they get molded by us anxious sellers, who, in the absence of a contract, need belief in something.

Or perhaps they are born this way. As children their parents told them to clean their rooms, and they shoved all their stuff in the closet, shut the door, and then told their parents it was covered. Or when asked what grade they got, they would say they passed, instead of saying "I got a C." Just skirting things for the looks of it. Not really lying, but just not exactly all true.

TRIAGE

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Here’s the new year… and on to Plan C. Plan A was to sell our property and buy a new one and relocate to San Diego before starting my job. That didn’t happen, so we’ve been on Plan B: start my job and commute to and fro until our property sells, then relocate the family. What is Plan C, you ask? I am not sure yet, but we’re on the hunt. (Feel free to post recommendations, if you have any good ones. We could use new brains on this.)

Don is showing signs of wear from the past 2 months of my commuting, and the past 4 months of marketing our property (aka cleaning the *&$@ing house every *&$@ing day). I recognize in him the pain of waiting. Having to live one way, knowing that another way is off in the distance “someplace”. I remember experiencing this same pain myself, during the six months between completing the adoption paperwork and getting notified that Becca was waiting for us in Siberia. The Dreaded Wait for a baby. It’s sort of a guilty pain, because you realize you have a life in the here and now, and it’s a pretty enviable life, but no longer the one you long for. It’s a lonely pain, because unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t relate, so there are very few people to confide in. People try to comfort you by reminding you this is only temporary, but yet, this is the kind of pain that seems to slow life down, because every day, every minute, you are simply waiting for The Thing To Happen that will get your life in motion. And the Thing is completely out of your control. It was the worst six months I have ever spent, and I can see it happening to Don this time.

So there will have to be a Plan C because I can’t stand the thought of what I know he is feeling. Besides, Plan B was never intended as a marathon, it was supposed to be a sprint.

These feelings loomed large over the weekend, except for the hour when Becca needed a little triage of her own. I think she must be doing field research for a book she plans to title Things You Know You Should Not Do, But Just Gotta Try. This from a kid who can sit enthralled through a 2-hour penguin documentary. She shows a sheer lack of common sense, even at age 3. I marvel that our species avoided predators long enough to reproduce and evolve, with thinking like this.

As we left breakfast for our errands, Becca asked for a tissue. She’s used tissues before so we assumed she was going to use it in a typical way (sneezing, wiping nose, wiping spill, wearing on her head). Instead she broke off pieces of the tissue and stuffed them irretrievably up her right nostril. By the time we had pulled over at Walgreens to buy tweezers, she had inhaled the tissue ball into sinus parts unknown and had an admirable nosebleed.

Poor hubby was about to keel over at that point from the accumulated stress, the stupidity of it all, and a long-held aversion to blood. I had flashes of spending the day at the ER, but then remembered my medical training and my own common sense. Sinuses connect with the throat. I took Becca home and flushed warm water through her nose and into her throat and told her to swallow every time she felt the water back there. Success. She swallowed the tissue wad. Gave her a little Benedryl for the histamine reaction and we were back on our way.

Becca, the crazy yet considerate, gave me a near heart failure but also a whole hour of not thinking about Plan C. Hopefully we won't have to resort to such drastic measures next weekend.