Closing time...

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As of 1pm this afternoon, I will no longer own the house I've been inhabiting for the last six years.  The house my children came home from this hospital to, the house they were raised in, the house they may have faint memories of in the years to come.  It's a small house, but it's cute and cozy and has done us well for the time we've spent here.  Today is Closing Day.  After 1pm, I will become a tenant in my own home as we rent our house back from the seller until we move to temporary housing on June 6th. Feels weird. 

Though we still have a month in this house, I can't help but feel nostalgic.  Those "this is the last time" thoughts keep creeping up in my head, along with "I'll miss this or that."  While there are plenty of advantages to our new home in Ohio, I will miss this house and all it's quirks.  Like the one about the back breakfast nook and it's slight slant down in the floor that makes all crayons roll to the back of the house.  Or our phantom doorbell that goes off occasionally for no reason.  The fact that our house is so small, I know where both kids are at all times.  Strangely, I will miss the fire truck screeching past my house at all hours of the day, because it means I won't have the kids running to the window to take a look (or if we're outside, the kids waving to the fireman) to enjoy.  I will miss the tiny 11-month old hand print and Mr. B's name on the concrete just outside our garage when we had our sidewalks replaced five years ago. Our new house will create new memories, for sure.  But nothing may seem as sweet as the ones created in our little cocoon here. 

This.  Is. Happening.

The Not-Its on Kid Tune Tuesday...

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Okay, I've fallen off the posting wagon again.  And even worse, I've let this Kid Tune Tuesday thing go in to the witness relocation program.  That list bit, though, isn't because I'm being lazy.  It appears that Mr. B has lost his interest in kid music.  He has found the light of house party and dance music, and doesn't want to turn back.  And Miss P has happily joined him in Tween Music Land.  I'm not really thrilled to come in here and post about their love for One Direction's What Makes You Beautiful, The Wanted's Glad You Came, or their new-found appreciation of anything by Rihanna (RiRi, you really should do a guest spot on Yo Gabba Gabba).  And there's not much of the kid-music stuff that my kids agree on.  If Mr. B thinks it too childish, he will vehemently put his foot down and request a station change.  And Miss P, by default of her age, can't get an argument in either way, and is resigned to listening to Kids Place Live when Mr. B is not in the car with us.  So this might be the last of these posts for a while. 

But today I bring to you one of my favorite songs that gets played on Kids Place Live.  The Not-Its are a great little band from Seattle.  Puppy Dog is by far my favorite song of theirs, though you really should check out their whole album.  And it's got the right mix of kindie rock whimsy and rockin' guitar riffs and drums to make it appealing to my little rock stars.  And the dog at the beginning and end?  Makes my kids long for a furry monster of their own.  Thankfully, we have Bubble Boy (a.k.a. a very allergic Daddy) to rule that out.

Unfortunately, I can't find video of this ditty, but I highly recommend clicking on the song title link and listening to it on iTunes.




And now for the results:
MR B:  I rock out to the rockin' part...   
MISS P:  Aw, that doggie is so cute!  I want one... 

Snip, snip...

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It was about time.  I needed a haircut depserately.  But I'd also been sporting the same haircut for a while now.  I was in that in-between stage of not being able to decide whether I should chop the whole head of hair off, or let it grow long.  And in that brief space of indecision, my hair stylist made a choice. 

Now, let me just say, I've been going to Roxy for over five years, and I think I maybe had a bad cut once.  And it wasn't even a bad cut, it just wasn't what I wanted.  Her cuts last a while, grow out tremendously well, and she gives me just a small enough nudge to try something new.  A few months ago when I suggested I start the painful process of growing my short hair out, she looked at me and with a straight face said "yeah, I don't think you're ready for long hair."  And I love that about her.  Surely, if I was adamant about growing my hair out, she would have supported me.  But she takes all of me in to consideration, not just the rash decision I might have to sheer my hair down to the length of a grain of rice, but the reason or energy behind it.  Which is why I put my trust in her suggestion on Friday to go a different route with my hair.

I believe she was going for Amelie.  And man, is it short in front.  I've never had bangs like this before.  And the sides are blunt, much more bold than I've ever sported. 

I know, I can hear you all saying it.  "Gina, just shut up and show us the haircut already!"  Fine.  You win.  To give you an idea of where I came from, here's a "Before" pic:

Keep in mind this is what we were going for:

And here's what I have now...

The bangs were a shock.  And I got it colored as well, a deep cherry reddish color.  In the chair, after Roxy was done, I loved it.  But once I got home?  My stupid superego went wild over this kind of thing.  It kept saying things to me like "You're too old for a cut like this" or "You've cut off all your womanly hair and now you look like a little girl" and "This cut makes your face look fat and your wrinkles stand out."  I'm trying to keep out of my own head, but at moments I fear I look like this:

or this bizarre chick from the 80's flick Real Genius:

or, God forbid, even this:

I'm still trying to get used to it, but I do have to admit that this haircut is the easiest one I've ever had.  I wake up in the morning and my hair looks normal.  No squirrel's nest or wall of hair sticking straight up.  Miss P's reaction was the best though.  As I met her at the stairs when I came home from my haircut appointment, she took my face in her hands, looked at my hair, and said "ooooohhh, Mommy!  It's beeee-uuuuuu-teeeeee-ful!"  I'm gonna keep her around...

Bought and sold...

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That big giant For Sale sign got staked in to our front yard a couple of Fridays ago.  Though the timing was an afterthought, we left for Ohio that Friday as well to look for a house to move in to.   What seemed to be a plan to buy us a few days of a clean and empty house for showings turned out to be a blessing.  By Sunday night, we had had 20 showings on our home in Denver, and six offers proposed.  In the end, our home was under contract in less than three days and sold over list price.  Can't beat that!

But, if you've ever sold a home, you know that the stress only begins with the first mention of an offer.  There's lots of negotiating back and forth about price, closing dates, stuff that stays with or leaves the home.  And then there's inspection.  Y'all, our house was built in 1908.  It's an old house.  And there were some problems with it that have to be remedied.  But I believe we finally got things settled on Friday afternoon, and now we're in the home stretch.  We close on our house in Denver on April 30th, and the buyer has graciously agreed to rent our home back to us until June 7th, at which time we'll need to move in to temporary housing.  Because....

In the week that we went to Columbus, we found a home that we fell in love with and put an offer on.  There was more haggling going back and forth than I would have liked, and I spent days wondering if the deal wasn't going to fall through.  The seller?  I don't think they were prepared to have their home sell so quickly and had no backup plan.  So, we don't close on that house until July 5th, taking occupancy on July 10th.  In the end, this will work out well, as Mr. B has school in Denver until June 6th, has a big camp lined up mid-June, and I'm scheduled for my last performance in Denver the last week of June.  Thankfully, we're working with a relocation company who will be finding temporary housing for us, and we've requested something furnished with three bedrooms.

Jon and I have been swamped with a to-do list as long as Santa's request log, and have spent a ton of time signing contracts and forms, making endless photocopies of reports and statements, and faxing things along.  I think the bulk of all of this is behind us, and now we can focus on fun things like scouring furniture sites for ideas, and not so fun things like figuring out what things need to be cancelled, forwarded, etc.

This whole experience?  I think Jon's found it fun and exhilarating.  Being that he's in sales, I can see why.  But me?  I found myself wanting to give in to every demand on both ends, not wanting to rock the boat or have a deal walk away.  I'd be a horrible salesman!  Let's just hope that I never, ever, have to do this again.  At least for 15 years or so.

Holding pattern...

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I know a post is long overdue.  And I promise to come back and post in the next few days, once I surface from the mountain of paperwork for house stuff, the kids return to their right and healthy state, and I get birthday party invitations printed and sent.  There's much to tell:  the impending sale of our home in Denver, the purchase of our home in Ohio, and my fear that I may have a new addiction.  To that tween Hunger Games triology.  Sad, but true, it's thing that's been eating away at my free time.  I believe my husband will be grateful when I'm done with the last book.