Holiday Crazy

I will preface this post with mentioning that I know the “reason for the season” and I hate the commercialism of what Christmas has become. However, I’m a cheap bitch and rarely buy piles or random stuff for people. Christmas is the one time of the year where I take money from savings and just go nuts. It makes me feel a little fuzzy when I see someone really like a gift I’ve given them. I’ll freely admit that I probably spend way too much, but right now I can. There may be times in the future when I am not able to be as generous.

I know myself well, and there’s a reason I wait until the last minute to shop for the girls. If I do my shopping too early, it gets out of control fast. For example, Sugar’s first Christmas was ridiculous. She was 7 ½ months old and didn’t know the difference. However, I bought her everything, piles and piles of crap. Then I wrapped every single gift in Classic Pooh wrapping paper… to match her nursery. Did I put the wrapped gifts in the nursery so we could see how cutesy matchy-matchy it was? No, I’m just a freak and it made me happy to be able to survey my hard work.

Fast forward ten years and we have double the fun. EN and I normally take the Friday before Christmas off and shop for everyone on our list. Since the “Friday before Christmas” is the day before, our schedule was off this year. We started last Saturday night. When we got home I was disappointed with the stuff that I had gotten them. So throughout the week I’ve gone shopping nearly every day. There are 15 people on our list, so it wasn’t just all about the girls.

Sugar didn’t have much on her list. One item is a surfboard and I refuse to buy her one because she will hardly use it. She’s at a weird age where she doesn’t really want a whole lot of toys (though she’ll play with her sister’s!) and she’s too young to really care about clothes.

Spice’s list is very long. She asked for a wide assortment of items, including a nightstand for her room (she asked my mother in law to give her a vase of flowers to put on that night stand as well), an iPad, DS, Barbie stuff, Build a Bear stuff, etc. She said she wanted to ask Santa for the night stand so I wouldn’t have to pay for it. Bless her little heart. Since I had been unsuccessful in finding a night stand to match her dresser, I resigned myself to buying one of those cheap round tables and a table cloth.

I had a stroke of brilliance today and decided to search ONE MORE TIME for the night stand. As luck would have it, they have some online. For a whopping $200, I could order it today and have it in time for Christmas. Because even I am not that fucking crazy, I have a choice, I can stick with the original plan and spend $9, or I can write a letter from Santa… This is how I roll:

My Dear Spice,

I am very sorry that I didn’t have this nightstand ready for you! One elf measured everything wrong and it came out looking like a dog cage! Then they built another one and Rudolph pooped in it! So we had to build a third one and the paint wasn’t dry when I left the North Pole last night. I promise you that you will get this nightstand within the next week.

I hope you are able to enjoy the rest of your toys in the meantime. Thank you for being such a good girl this year. Mrs. H has great things to say about you, and so do your mom and dad. Try not to fight with your sister so much!

Love,

Santa

And there you have it, folks. I’ve officially gone crazy. But not crazy enough to buy an iPad for a six year old. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Spice Girl is Six!

Spice Girl is six today. In honor of her birthday, I went back and read what I wrote about her last year. Mostly I talked about the day of her birth, which I still remember vividly. I simply cannot believe that was six years ago. Where has the time gone?

My baby is in kindergarten now. She’s learning to read, do basic math and most importantly, she’s learning how to act appropriately and follow rules. That was our biggest worry when she went off to kindergarten. We know that she’s headstrong and sassy. If something is going on that she doesn’t like, she’ll be sure to bitch. One on hand, I’m proud that she’s assertive enough to stand up for herself and anyone else she thinks has been wronged. On the other hand though, she lacks a filter and will just say things without taking another person’s feelings into consideration. I was told many stories when she was in preschool, about the times that someone would want to play with her and she had no interest, so she’d say so… and just walk away. It’s hard for a mama to teach kids how to stand up for themselves, yet at the same time, how to be aware of the impact of your words on other people.

Spice loves her new bedroom and playroom in the new house. She has arranged and rearranged things a thousand times. The playroom has been set up to resemble a doll/stuffed animal sleepover, a restaurant with tables with menus and place settings, an art studio, dollhouse village, etc. Her imagination knows no limit.

She’s just as obsessive compulsive about weird things as ever. She now needs to “organize her dinner” before she eats it. This basically means that she separates all the food into different piles and eats one type of food at a time. She separated a dinner of prosciutto, pasta and peas with freakish accuracy. I’m surprised the parmesan was allowed to mingle with the other items.

She asked Santa to bring her hangers from Build a Bear so she could hang up her animals’ clothes when they aren’t being worn. Given the expression on the sales clerks face, I believe that I am the first person in the history of that store to ask if I could buy just hangers. This after making that damn coyote wearing a tutu last year.  They really should start sending me Christmas cards.

I didn’t really pay attention to this until my mother said something over the weekend. Apparently there is an extreme level of organization in Spice’s closet. She took my niece on a tour over it this weekend and explained in great detail that “shirts go here, dresses here, tutus here…” Given that she refused to sleep under her sheet and comforter (because it will mess up her bed), I shouldn’t be surprised.

Tonight we will celebrate Spice’s birthday with a scavenger hunt. Last night, EN and I drew pictures of different things in our house to give her clues to where she needs to look next. The final clue will lead her to the Closet Hopper where she will find the gift that she wants most in this world… the Barbie Princess Dream Castle.

I’m amazed when I look back over the six years of her life… her funny habits, her ability to give “hairy eyeballs” even as an infant, the year of pictures that she refused to smile for, her silly jokes and wacky sense of humor. I love who she is right now, in this moment… And I think I’m going to love watching her take on the world… even if I am just a teensy bit scared-for the world.

Happy Birthday Princess Spice Girl!

xoxo

Ice Princess

An Update on Sugar's Smackdown...

As I have had multiple texts and emails asking what is going on with Sugar and her altercation last week, I thought I would post an update. Note, this is an ‘update’ and not a final answer. Why hasn’t this been wrapped up and put to rest yet? That’s an easy answer, because the individuals working at Sugar’s school seem to be unable to respond to emails and phone calls in a timely fashion.

Last Friday we had Parent-Teacher Conferences and sadly, much of my time with Sugar’s teachers was cluttered with this situation. I would much rather have spent my time discussing Sugar’s performance and behavior within the classroom. Instead, we had to discuss why her teacher never responded to the email I sent on Wednesday night.

As it turns out, she did respond. However, the district had some sort of virus and emails looked like they had gone out but really had not. She showed me the email with the time and date stamp and I believe her. This is what she tried to send to me:

Good Morning,
   Sugar did tell me what happened on the playground 
yesterday, however, I did not see what happened.  She 
pulled me aside and told me what happened, but she had a 
smile on her face.  I asked her if she was ok and she 
said, 'yes'.  I do know that sometimes children try to put 
on a brave face so I asked her again and she said, 'yes'. 
 I then asked Sugar if she knew the person and her reply 
was confusing because she told me she wasn't sure.
   Is Sophie ok?  I will speak with her today.
Warm regards,
L

I should mention here that my meeting with her was on Friday. She received my email Thursday morning. Despite saying that she would talk to Sugar again, she did not. I probably don’t need to mention that this teacher was made aware of the situation on Wednesday morning and did nothing about it… because Sugar had a smile on her face. Let's talk about that smile. That smile is called "Smile big or collapse into humongous gut-wrenching, nose running tears. 

Since last Thursday progressed with no response from the school, I finally called the Dean of Students around noon. I know that he went to Sugar’s classroom and spoke to her. He then called me and said that the teacher had emailed me back. We went over what he learned from Sugar. As I thought, either Sugar got confused or he did. That night when I got home, I had Sugar write down her account of what happened.

Well, first, Sam got off of her bus (bus13) and I said “Hi Sam!”. Then she started making these weird big growls like she was a dog that had rabies. After she did that she went and put her backpack where she would line up, then from where she was standing, she charged at me. (I was on the pavement at first just chatting with my friends). So then she chased me onto the rocks and grabbed my hands and squeezed my wrists until my hands turned white. Then she grabbed me by the neck and pushed me to the ground (into a position so I couldn’t move my arms and I also couldn’t stand up). Then she sat on my head and she also held my legs (so I actually couldn’t move at all). Sam was pulled off of me by Merideth, Serena, and Emma. They also helped me get up off of the rocks, while they helped me Ms. B saw Sam, so she called Sam over to her and they had a little talk. After Ms. B let her go and play again she started to charge back and forth (like she was pacing but she was running) maybe six or seven times into my friends, Victoria, Erin, Merideth, Ava, Emma, Tarren ,  and me. Then she started doing the weird big growls. She was doing both on purpose until morning recess was over. During Steffi’s first class she told her teacher Mrs. S. Sam was written up later in the day. 

I sent her account in an email so it would be on his desk first thing Monday morning. By the end of Monday, I still hadn’t heard a word back from the school. So I sent the following email to the Dean of Students and the Principal.

Mr. C: 

Although still unresolved, I would like to voice my concerns regarding the situation that occurred during morning drop-off on Wednesday, December 7.

It is my understanding that my daughter Sugar was physically pushed down and sat on by another child. This child was pulled off my daughter by some of her friends, but the other child continued to follow her around the playground before the bell rang.

When Sugar transitioned to middle school, I was under the impression that the 5^th graders would be separated from the other students. I completely understand that this is not always possible. However, I would assume then that when the 5^th graders are mingling with 6^th graders, there would be supervision by the multiple staff members. If that’s the case, where were the adults on duty that morning?

Once my daughter went into the school, she told Mrs. B what happened to her and another student, Steffi, told her own teacher, who then filed a report of some sort. My daughter came home from school that night and told me what happened. I then emailed Mrs. B to get a handle on what happened.

At this point, I’m both concerned and shocked that NO ONE thought to notify either me or my husband to let us know what had happened to our daughter while at school.

On Thursday, I left you a voice mail when I didn’t hear back from Mrs. B. I later found out that the district was experiencing technical difficulties, so I understand the disconnect there. However, it seems that from the time Sugar talked to her teacher and Mrs. S filed her report on Wednesday morning, there was no further mention of the incident to my child or to me until you received my voice mail Thursday afternoon. 

While I understand that this may not fall under the category of bullying, I would assume that physical altercations fall under the “Zero Tolerance Policy?” In that case, I have read that policy and understand that someone from the school had 48 hours to call me back about this issue.. I’m interested to know why a parent isn’t contacted immediately so that they are aware of the situation before the upset child arrives home from school?

I imagine that if I had not emailed and left two voice mail messages, nothing would have occurred with this situation. While I don’t expect her to be coddled and wrapped in bubble wrap, I certainly do expect to hear about things like this in a timely manner. My child should feel as safe at school as she does at home. I’m disappointed as to how this situation was handled.

I appreciate the time you spent on this situation and I look forward to hearing back from you.

All day yesterday I waited for his response. Finally, at 4:30, this is what I got:

Hello Ms. J,

I wanted to let you know the progress to date.  I have finished up a number of interviews with staff and students regarding last week’s incident.  I have a call in to the parent of the child involved and am awaiting a call back.

Out principal, has been apprised of the situation and we are coordinating our efforts at this end.

I trust this issue will be resolved shortly and will call you tomorrow.

And that my friends, is where we stand. The impatient side of me says, “Just drop it and you will be relieved of frustration.” However, I’m concerned about how incidents such as these are handled at my child’s school. Do I expect Sam to be tarred and feathered? Of course not. I just want to know that her behavior was dealt with timely and adequately, and I want to be sure that behavior such as this is not tolerated and reported to the parents a whole lot faster. But then I remember, schools are also government bureaucracies… I shouldn’t be surprised. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

How a Princess makes Lemonade

Since we moved I’ve really done nothing more than complain about the new house. Sure, I put up a post about the things I actually like, but we’ve also made great strides in setting things up so we are able to live comfortably. Granted, much that has been done is temporary fixes, but after this weekend I’m feeling so much better about where we are and what’s ahead of us. Yes, that means I might not complain about this house in the near future. But that’s not a promise. It also means that I’ve taken the lemon that we bought and started to make lemonade.

Today, I washed the dining room windows, both inside and out. This means that when I sit in the kitchen now, I can look out those windows and see all the pretty trees around us, rather than the schmutz that covered the windows.

Don't mind the box on the table... look at those
sparkly windows!!

I would never say that I’m a fanatic about cleaning or even a neat freak (stop by unannounced and that will be easy to prove!), but the sparkly windows gave me a feeling of accomplishment and made me feel that I did something to start this house on its way to looking better.

I’ve complained about all the lighting being replaced with cheap crap. You can see an example here…

You can see the light on the far right. 

This was the first fixture we replaced, and now it looks like this…

I’ve complained about the lack of cabinet and closet space, but over the last few weeks, we’ve set up a few areas in the house that will make living nearly “closet free” more convenient.

The make-shift kitchen in the basement. The stuff on the
shelves is not alphabetized... Yikes. 

The "linen closet" set up in the Boom Boom Room. 

EN and Little Joe have been working hard, removing the interior door to the outside and replacing with a glass door, that too is beautiful, but I’m too lazy to get up to take a picture right now!

And so… we moved in just a few weeks ago, and we are actually getting somewhere. I’ve tentatively chosen tile and have another meeting with some kitchen people this week. I won’t have a completed kitchen for Christmas, but I’m hopeful that the hard part will be done by then… making the decisions on cabinets, counters, paint… We all know I hate to make decisions.

I walk through the house and finally, I can see for myself that it really will be beautiful someday. I  knew this when we first looked at this beast, but it was easy to forget when I was so frustrated, trying to find new places for our stuff. When I get really down, I just pop into The Closet Hopper and check out the little bunny, dutifully holding the toilet paper. Who wouldn’t laugh at that? 

She's doing a great job!

What's next? Oh, Christmas is in two weeks?! SHIT!

xoxo

Ice Princess

It's Not Bullying Until It Happens More than Once, Right?

Bullying is a hot topic these days. We hear about it on the news on a regular basis and we can find it written about all over the Internet. Over the past several years, it’s become almost standard procedure to add a “Zero Tolerance” policy in very school district. Of course there are those that criticize these policies and say that one kid torturing another is standard adolescent behavior. They also say that anti-bullying programs cause children to grow up and be unprepared to deal with unpleasant social interactions.

I call bullshit.

As a grown up, our children will have jobs and live in a society where there are rules and laws. Most companies have policies that protect their employees from actions by another. In society there are laws protecting citizens from stalking and harassment. Therefore, I contend that these policies absolutely fit into our school system. They need to be there. Our babies need to be protected. They deserve to feel safe and secure in the environment that we send them off to every day.

Ask almost anyone and I’m sure they can share a story of their own childhood and being bullied, or seeing someone get kicked around. The girl that tormented me at Nathan Hale Junior High was Ann Epperson. Yes, that’s her real name. Maybe someday she’ll google herself to see what kind of lasting impact her behavior had on someone. She harassed me for nearly two years. She would walk behind me and make fun of the way I walked. She’d copy me walking with my back straight and head held high. When I noticed her doing this, I started to walk in a more slumpish fashion, and still walk this way some 25 years later. I was lucky enough to have Ann on my school bus as well, so I was got to deal with her from morning pick up to afternoon drop off. She got her friends in on the action too, and they’d gleefully spend their lunches making fun of everything I ate and did. I was lucky that it never escalated into anything physical, but the things they said and the way they mimicked me still makes me cringe. I look back now and wonder what ever happened to that merry band of losers, because that’s really what they were; pathetic mean people that had nothing better to do with their time.

Did I ever say or do anything to stop this behavior? No. While I was a “nice girl” and friendly with my teachers and classmates, I always knew that if I told on Ann, there would be hell to pay. She was already smart enough to figure out where all my classes were and stand outside them and taunt me from the hallways. I was never as happy as I was to see her move on to high school.

I am thankful today that my daughter’s school district has a zero tolerance policy. I am glad that there are counselors on hand to help them if they need it. I am glad that the students are well-versed in the steps to take if they feel they are being targeted by a bully. So I was horrified to come home last night and be part of this conversation:

Sugar: Next time Little Joe comes over, he should bring Cam.

Spice: Why would you want Cam to come over?

Sugar: Because Cam is nice.

Spice: But Cam sat on your head today.

Sugar: No, that wasn’t Cam, that was Sam.

Me: What on earth are you talking about?

As it turns out, a girl from our former neighborhood came up to Sugar in the playground while she was waiting for school to start. They have always been friendly so Sugar wasn’t concerned. Then Sam wrapped her arm around Sugar’s neck and put her in a headlock, which dropped her to her knees. Sam then pushed her down, sat on her head and held her legs down so she couldn’t move. This 6^th grade girl sat on my child while making animal noises.

As is typical when trying to get details out of Sugar, she gets confused and upset and the details start to change. Between last night and this morning, I was able to ascertain that Sam sat on her until Sugar’s homeroom teacher saw it and came and pulled her off. She had a private conversation with Sam, but Sam was allowed to stay on the playground. She then proceeded to follow Sugar and her friends around, while continuing to make animal noises. BFFL’s twin was part of this group, and immediately told her teacher what happened when the school day started. The teacher assured her that Sam would be “written up,” whatever that means. BFFL's twin deserves a prize for protecting the sisterhood. 

I am at a loss. I don’t know exactly what happened, as seen through the eyes of the adult in charge because I was never notified. My daughter was physically assaulted on the playground, which was witnessed by a teacher, and no one thought to call EN or me? Why was Sam allowed to stay on the playground after behaving like that? Why did she continue to follow my kid and her friends around? Is it over the top to think that the adults in charge might have been watching Sam a little closer, to ensure that she behaved-and stayed away from my kid-for the rest of the time on the playground?

And now, we circle back to policy. What exactly is the policy for dealing with situations like this? The policy is easy enough to find online and I know now that the incident should have been reported to the principal and that they are required to notify me of the incident within 48 hours.

Tick tock.

It’s easy for me to call this bullying because that’s the hot topic today, as was the “Just Say No” program when I was young. But is it? Or is it an isolated incident of a creepy kid being mean to my kid? In that case, should the Anti-Bullying Procedures set forth by the school board in my town be followed?

Last night I sent an email to the teacher that took Sam aside in the playground. I also emailed BFFL’s mother to see if her daughter told her what happened. This morning, I left a message on the same teacher’s voice mail. I’ve yet to hear anything back from anyone.

Tick tock.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Unsettled

Given that I lived in my last house nine years, it shouldn’t surprise anyone to learn that I’m having a difficult time settling in to the new place. The fact is, that surprises me. I thought that after moving multiple times through my life, I’d be able to just pick up and move on. That hasn’t been the case at all.

Despite my comfy new bed, I’ve yet to sleep through the night. I love to sleep and I adore my new bed, so I am infuriated when I wake up at 3 am for no good reason. Once I wake up, I rarely get to fall right back to sleep… sometimes I stay awake for hours. Couple this with the not having time to nap since we moved there and I’m severely sleep deprived.

There are many reasons why I could be unsettled… We live in a new house with new noises, windows and layout. It’s weird for me to sleep on the first floor of a house, street level in fact. I haven’t done that since the mid 90’s. I really shouldn’t say street level though because it’s not like anyone EVER drives by our house. In the 2+ weeks we’ve been living there, I think one car has driven past after we’ve been in bed. I didn’t think it was possible for a house to be quieter than our last one.

We also still have shit everywhere. It’s impossible to put anything away. We have six cabinets in the kitchen, which aren’t even attached to the wall, so they are mostly empty. Instead, there is a temporary kitchen set up in the basement. It’s actually kind of cute and I can set it up like a store, because I am OCD like that. On the other hand, there’s a shitload of stuff that one keeps in the kitchen that doesn’t get used very often, so that’s all still in boxes. I hate being surrounded by boxes.

We have very limited closet space. Yet the closets in the girls’ rooms are ridiculous and Spice even uses hers as a dressing room (yes, really). However, mine sucks, the coat closet sucks and I’ve already discussed the linen closet situation. However, I did notice that there’s a nice sized closet in the Boom Boom Room. Since we’ve been using that bathroom to shower in, I’ve asked EN to get some shelves to install there, so at least my towels and toiletries can get unpacked. He’s only been to Depot once and forgot the shelves… maybe next time. Or better yet, maybe Santa will bring them for me. He better not, that’s right up there with appliances!

I still can’t do laundry at my own house. The former owners took all the plumbing, drains, electrical wiring, so that all needed to be redone. EN promises I’ll be able to do laundry this week. I need to. It’s making me crazy.

I can’t bathe the girls yet and they have to shower. This is fabulous seeing as Spice has hair down to her ass. Twenty minutes to brush through that shit WITH detangler. Just shoot me now. And another question, she has been wearing socks and shoes every day, how did her feet get so dirty? I swear she has dirty toenails, which makes me gag. How does that happen?

To top it all off, the house is filthy. I’m already sucking it in to get through the pathways of boxes and STUFF, so I don’t even know how I’d get anything clean. Since I can access all the toilets, I clean those. As soon as I notice that I can’t smell toilet bowl cleaner any more, I clean one. That’s what Germans do. Swear.

And the most definite indicator that this isn’t home yet? None of us race to pee. Every night when the girls and I get home, we would bolt into our old house because we all had to pee. We’d run screaming for the bathroom closest to the door and the losers would run upstairs. Even if we had only been at the neighbors and peed right before leaving their house, we all had to pee when we got home. Is this a form of marking our territory or what?

We do have progress though… I found my lesbian clogs that I searched everywhere for. I found a little basket that I can keep my brushes and makeup bag in. It gives me a sense of order. I already said it, I’m German… something somewhere needs to be in its proper place. We have a new wall light installed in the dining room. In fact, EN did this while I was at work and was kind enough to leave it on so I’d notice and bow to the fixture-changing god. The glass door that’s been reordered three times should be installed today. One kitchen place came up and took measurements yesterday and we’ve yet to hear back from Vinnie Bagadonuts at the other place. People keep bitching about the fucking economy, but then when you try and throw money at them they aren’t interested.

Yes, someday this house will be beautiful, but I’ll consider myself settled before that. Like when I can go through an entire day without searching through boxes for one thing or another. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Willful Destruction

It’s not often that I use my blog space to jump on my soapbox to tout my views on things that impact the country (or world). It’s ok for me to do that here, it’s my space. You can agree or disagree, but remember, it’s my space and you can move along if I offend you.

After a late night exchange with the biggest idiot I know, I’m fired up over the foreclosure problem in this country. Now I realize that there are particular circumstances in which foreclosure is the only option. I get it, shit happens and there comes a point where you have no other choice. However, we seem to be living in a society in which it’s ok to want the world and not have to work for it. We live beyond our means and spend more than we make. We are a spoiled society and we want it all, and we want it now. We live in a society where others tell us it’s ok to just walk away from your obligations and if you’re pissed off at the bank for coming after you to pay your debt, well, just fuck up the property you hold the mortgage on. Revenge is sweet.

So we closed on the foreclosed property we wanted to buy earlier this week. EN put up a picture of it and called it the “money pit.” A Facebook friend, we’ll call her ;/, in keeping with the secret names, asked if this was the unfinished house that we bought. I tried to clarify for her itty bitty brain that no, it’s not unfinished. It was once a gorgeous home that was foreclosed on and raped by the owner. They took central air systems, the cabinetry and appliances, copper piping from the propane tank to the house, exhaust fans from the bathrooms, toilets, gas fireplaces, doors to the house, lighting… I could go on and on. Part of me says, “Thank you for making this property affordable for EN and me” and the other part of me wants to know what kind of immature freak does this to a house?

So I start to go back and forth with my friend ;/ because she starts defending the actions of the people that do these things to their homes when they leave. She shares the story that she and her boyfriend’s home was foreclosed on and the realtor gave them money to leave the house alone. What she neglects to say is that she and her boyfriend share the same itty bitty brain and they signed an ARM mortgage and bought more than they could afford. Instead of sucking up and paying the higher payments when their mortgage went up, they got mad and just stopped paying altogether. They said they couldn’t afford the payments, yet they continued buying jet skis, a Mercedes SUV, a corvette, a motorcycle. Shall I go on?

Let’s get a few things clear here folks. No one forces you to buy a property or take out a mortgage. You alone make that decision. An educated consumer walks into making a huge decision like a home purchase with open eyes. Know what you can afford and learn about loans. It’s not that hard. The internet is full of helpful information and calculators. Also know that the loan officer working with you on your mortgage application EARNS COMMISSION on their loan. Therefore, the bigger the loan, the bigger the commission. Be comfortable with the amount of your monthly payment. If you take an adjustable rate mortgage, educate yourself on what your payments could end up being in the future.

Let’s go back to the home that I just bought to understand why I am so upset by this issue. The home was owned by someone I have met. In fact, she lives right up the street. She sells real estate and her husband is in construction. The amount that they foreclosed on is small. Had they listed the home when they were in trouble-even in this terrible market, they easily could have sold it and had a shitload of money left over after paying off the mortgage. Instead, they trashed the house and took everything they could. I firmly believe that banks should punish the consumers who behave in this fashion. Trashing a house that you refuse to pay for is simply NOT ok.

I wrote this post several weeks ago, before we even moved into the house. As I look around my new home, I’m even more disgusted by the behavior of these people. There are sinks we can’t use because they cut the plumbing. I am unable to do laundry because they took all the electrical and water hook-ups. My girls are unable to take baths because the original tubs were taken and the new ones aren’t even plumbed in.

Yes, we were fully aware of most of this and bought this house with our eyes wide open. I just can’t wrap my brain around willfully destructing property that is no longer your own. This morning, the former owner’s daughter chatted me up at the bus stop and told me her Mimi and Papa used to live in that house. Sugar was shooting me “keep your mouth shut” glares, but you all know it was killing me not to say, “Your Mimi and Papa and Mama and Daddy all deserve bitch slaps.”

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Things I Like

I’ve been in such a bad mood all week and so focused on the negative and on how much I despise certain people that I either need to vent about them on my own blog, where I can say whatever I want, or I need to focus on something positive and hope that helps alter my mood.

I thought I would take the high road and try to be positive. I am going to try to list ten things I like about the new house without letting any negativity creep in.

• I love all the windows. Unless it’s raining or super dreary outside, there’s loads of light coming in all the time.
• The master bath. Granted, it’s nothing now, but y’all, that bathroom is 10 x 13, bigger than some bedrooms! I imagine the finished product to look something like this: 

I don't know how much this gorgeous bathroom 

costs, but a girl can dream... 

• There’s loads of extra space. In fact, there’s so much room it looks like we hardly have any junk. Spice recently told me that Santa better bring her a lot because their play room looks empty!
• The girls’ rooms are freshly painted and so pretty. They are in love with their bedrooms. This helped them adjust so much easier.
• The Closet Hopper. When we moved in, Killjoy commented to Skinny Bitch that there wasn't a hopper in the master bath. Little Joe said, “Oh, you haven’t seen the closet hopper?!” Then Joe brought Killjoy to see the potty in its own separate room. This little separate room is not included in the square footage mentioned above.
• I've found homes for some useless garbage that I should have thrown away years ago. I jokingly put the tacky bunny I got for Christmas from Bug in the Closet Hopper (bunny, hop, get it?). EN stuck the roll of toilet paper on her ear. She fits nicely and serves a purpose. The black velvet painting of Snoopy and the Penis on the Shelf now reside in the Boom Boom Room in those creepy little niches.
•  The non-functional kitchen means I haven’t been able to cook much. I've rediscovered the joys of microwave cooking and cinnamon toast. Cinnamon toast must be covered under at least three food groups: dairy, grain and cinnamon is a spice which must somehow be a fruit or vegetable.  Argue my logic. I fucking dare you.
• My new bed. It’s taken some time to get used to it, but I think I will like it. The bedding is super soft and the mattress just kind of hugs me and all my fat and makes me feel loved. Plus it’s spacious so I don’t have anyone breathing on me.
• One almost completely functioning bathroom. Tiny Mike sold us a toilet, so the toiletless bathroom is now the most usable. Once I get a mirror hung up above the sink there will be no holding me back
• The kitchen dream is closer to becoming a reality. We closed on the other house this week and walked away with a check. Now we have the funds to pay for counters, cabinets and appliances. I've met with one designer already and due to meet with another tomorrow. I don’t look forward to making decisions about all this shit, but I can’t help but envision how pretty it will be when it’s done. 

There you have it. And FYI, the mood is not better. I attempted to number this list to show that I did in fact come up with ten things I liked but when I inserted the picture, the count messed up. Bullets points, it is. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Goodbye, House...

Today is the day that we close on the house that we have called home for over nine years. I’ve never lived anywhere longer and the process of moving out and moving on has been as painful as a divorce. I am absolutely devastated when I sit still long enough to think about it.

I spent much of Friday and Saturday cleaning her up for her new people. I’d hate to have them move in and be frustrated by a mess left behind. I went so far as to scrub the corner of a kitchen window with a toothbrush… I cleaned the oven and washed and dusted every surface. Aside from a few disaster areas (behind the fridge and stove) the house was in pretty good shape to start with. As it happens when you move, things are left behind so there were little piles that ended up equaling multiple carloads by the time all was said and done.

While I scrubbed and cleaned, I cried. Every place I looked held a memory… I was here when I told EN once, twice, three times that we would be parents again. I was here when I lost the first one, then the second… It was here that Sugar tumbled down the stairs, and here that we brought Spice home after she was born. It was here that both Sugar and Spice woke up on their respective first days of kindergarten and waited anxiously for a new adventure to begin.

We’ve celebrated many holidays, finally being the only people in our families with a house big enough to hold us all. We’ve decorated for Christmas, Halloween, even Easter and Thanksgiving on occasion. We planted flowers, bushes and trees and put up a pool.

We bought this home as a family of three. Two parents in their early 30’s with a daughter that was barely a year old. Through the years as our family changed, so did our house. We added color and Sugar’s bedroom moved across the hall, then we lost the office and created a bedroom for a second baby. We moved in with our dogs and cats, and now only have one of the original four left. We left our beloved Tammy buried in the backyard, but Brigette and Dusty were carefully transported to the new house in their urns.

This was a house that we built. We carefully chose every carpet, cabinet, countertop and paint color. Our home was a reflection of who we were. We lived there, and laughed and cried there. We hung our girls’ portraits and artwork on the walls, and carefully removed all the bits and piece of our lives when it was time to go.

I cleaned and scrubbed and tried to remove all evidence that our family had ever been there. But there are some things that we couldn’t take: the bits of chewed up wall trim that the puppies we brought home inflicted on the woodwork, the gouge in the wall left when Spice careened through the kitchen in her walker, the stain in the bathroom cabinet left behind by me leaving the water running for the cat.

As I write this blog, I realize there was one thing I forgot to go back and do. While I was cleaning the upstairs hallway, I noticed handprints going up the wall next to the stairs. I meant to go back and wash the wall, but I’m secretly glad I didn’t. Those little girl handprints were what we left behind to prove that we were there once and we loved being there. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

The Big Move

It’s been more than a week since I’ve blogged and life has gone from busy to flat-out fucking insane. I look back at the last post and laugh about how tired I was then. That tired ain’t got nothin’ on this tired. Holy hell.

Last weekend was Moving Weekend. I thought I had a great handle on things, with all my packing and moving things over in the evening. I was so neat and organized about everything. I should have known it would all fly out the window. Things began to fall apart when I looked in Sugar’s room and came to the realization that she hadn’t packed a damn thing. I spent much of Friday night and Saturday morning getting her room together.

On Friday night, Tiny Mike came over and we made the second trip to the new house together. I gave him a tour of the house and he actually dared to lie down on the red carpeted bench. I told him he must disinfect immediately. As per usual when we hang out, we had a blast. We were smart enough this time to go to bed at a reasonable hour.

We woke up early and got right to work. EN was sick as a dog, but there really wasn’t time to stop and take a moment to relax. People were due to come help us move at 10 am. By 10:30 only Killjoy had joined us and EN was giving me grief about where all my volunteers were. I returned the favor and asked where the hell his people were. People started showing up shortly thereafter. The boys were tearing down the furniture and Skinny Bitch and Snorting Girl joined me in packing up the rest of our stuff. I’m embarrassed at the amount of crap we own.

While I was amazed at the number of people that showed up, I was even more shocked at the good time everyone seemed to be having. Yes, it sucked dragging out dryers and refrigerators and all our “real” furniture (Killjoy told me that from now on I am only to buy press board furniture from Walmart and Target!)… But everyone got along so well and laughed and joked through the day. We really were blessed with the good people who showed up to help, expecting nothing more than beer and pizza in return.

By 2:30, everything in the house (besides small stuff) was loaded into the truck and ready to go to the new house. The girls stayed back to load up the vehicles we were driving and took care of ordering lunch dinner. More on that in a bit. We arrived at the new house and the truck was half empty already.

As Skinny had already seen the house, I quickly gave Snorting Girl a tour and she was so delighted to meet Peg that she took pictures of her. Then she rested her beer on Peg and just had to take more pictures of “Peg holding a beer.” It’s good to have friends that can make you laugh in the face of insanity.This is Peg, for those of you that have forgotten: 

Furniture was placed in the correct rooms and the refrigerator was already plugged in and running. Everyone was slowing down and I assured them that we had pizza coming. I started to look around the new house and just lost it… nothing looked right, nothing felt right. The furniture that looked so good in the old house looked dumb here and didn’t fit right, despite my drawings and careful planning… Even my new bed didn’t seem right.

All the furniture was moved into the house, yet there was still no pizza. I called for an ETA and was told it would be there shortly. More time passed, still no pizza… EN made the second call and was told they were enroute. Two hours after ordering, the ten pizzas he told me to order had arrived. I should have used my own math and catering experience to place the order. We had about four pizzas too many.

It started to get cold and dark. What would you expect a group of tired, hungry, beer drinking people to do? Build a bonfire, of course. There were tables in the driveway and furniture on the front porch, but we all migrated to the backyard and hung around the fire. We tried to figure out what time it was, thinking it must be close to midnight and shocked to learn it was 6:30. Everyone continued to get their drink on outdo each other with story after story.

The last guest left and we came into the disaster zone that is now our home. Tiny Mike started moving furniture around and commenting on colors and arrangement. I left them to arrange more rooms and set up the shower curtain and dumped a mess of toiletries into the shower. We bedded down and woke up the next day for another round of moving small shit and laughing our heads off. As we woke, we found that the girls kitchen playset was still on the front porch. I said, “Boy, I bet the neighbors are impressed with the trash that moved into the ‘hood! The appliances we leave on the porch aren’t even real!”

For the most part, the move went smoothly. A few tables have scratches and the dryer has a great battle scar. My only piece of “fake” furniture lost a door… Snorting Girl carried a basket of clothes from a car to the basement and proceeded to drop a bra in the driveway for all to see. A proud moment for me. Did I mention that I snapped EVERY SINGLE underwire in every bra I own packing and moving? Life doesn’t get any better than that.

And now, we attempt to adjust. We live in a great big house where we have multiple bathrooms yet each has something wrong with it… We shower in one, use the toilets in others… some sinks are not usable and in none of them is there enough space to store what we have. In fact the teensy linen closet in the girls bathroom is so small that every time I put something in there, I have to pry my boob out of the closet when I’m done. Skinny Bitch, I have a job for you!!

The rooms are set up generally, but we are surrounded by boxes. In this much bigger house, there is no closet space anywhere, except in the girls bedrooms.  The wall oven sits on the floor and is not usable. If there is too much on the kitchen counter, the plywood bends and the drawers underneath won’t open. EN keeps telling me this house will be beautiful someday but the only thought running through my head is, “What the fuck have we done?”

xoxo

Ice Princess

Tatas and Dingles

Ice Princess is bone tired. In fact, her bones are jello and muscles shriek at the mere suggestion of bending or squatting. I had to sit on a foot stool last night to pack up part of the kitchen. As always, when I’m this kind of tired, completely inappropriate things make me howl with delight. Prepared to be horrified.

I know I’ve mentioned toilet talk at the table on several occasions. Despite the fact that I can remain on my fat ass while looking, I’m too tired to search the blog. Again, where are those fancy tags all the other bloggers use… sigh… Back on topic, certain behaviors are ok at our table when we are in the privacy of our own home. The girls are taught to behave with company or out somewhere, but we can let fly when it’s just us.

Normally it’s just the girls for dinner so we talk about all kinds of crazy things. One night last week, EN happened to be home with us and for some crazy reason the term “bodacious tatas” popped out of my mouth. Sugar and Spice were delighted with this gem. It has a nice ring to it, yes? So we discussed bodacious tatas while EN quickly left the table with a full plate of food, which he hurriedly shoveled into his mouth before escaping to the basement. Before long, I’d say “bodacious” and the girls would say “tatas” in sing-songy voices, without rehearsal!

A few days later, tensions are high and we all need to be a thousand places at once. Everyone was fighting with everyone else and it wasn’t pretty. We were driving warp speed down a dirt road to get to Home Depot and I said, “This road is so crazy my bodacious tata’s are bouncing all over.” As you might guess, the tension was broken and we all laughed hysterically. Then it was time for another round of me saying “bodacious” and the girls singing “tatas.” We’re totally trying out for American Idol this year.

On Sunday, the girls and I headed off to my parents’ house in the invisible Jeep and I got cut off. Again. Because I’m such a good mother and conscious of my potty mouth, I called the other driver a “dingle dork.” Another gem apparently. The rest of the ride was filled with the girls calling each other the name and then it seemed to be forgotten.

Last night I was putting the girls to bed when Spice made some weird wavy movement with her hand in the area of her crotch.

Spice: Hey Mama, see my dingle?

Me: Your what?

Spice: I’m a boy and I have a dingle. See it?

Sweet Jesus.

Me: They aren’t called dingles. They’re called penises, remember?

Spice: Oh yeah.

I thought that conversation was over and moved onto Sugar’s room after tucking my sweet angel in. I was with Sugar for only a moment before Spice came racing in doing her Penis Dingle paso doble. She was anxious to show her sister her “dingle dance.” I reminded her again that there’s a proper name, just like girl parts have a proper name.

Spice: Yeah it’s called “your privates.”

Me: No, it’s called a vagina.

The dance screeched to a stop.

Sugar: Yeah, it’s a vagina and it’s gonna start bleeding and not stop until you’re really old. Like 50.

My little dancer bolted back to her room like her fake dingle was on fire. I shushed Sugar and told her to stop scaring her sister.

And there you have it. Toilet talk at the table and at bedtime. Only at my house.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

The New Normal

Months ago I predicted there were crazy times ahead and now I find myself in the throes of said times. Can you tell by my lack of blogging? The Big Move is this weekend. We have friends coming out to help us move all our furniture and a few appliances (washer, dryer and refrigerator). In the meantime, we are doing our best to empty the house of stuff.

Of course this process began quite a while ago when I packed up the absolutely non-essential stuff. I’m proud to say that I’ve packed up most everything already. In the kitchen, I’m getting down to the nitty gritty: pots, pans, bake ware and food. I’m terrified of packing up something I’ll suddenly need. To combat that, I’ve simply stopped cooking. It’s not like we’ve got time to enjoy a meal anyway. The dining room is empty but for furniture… as is the family room. The master bedroom is looking bare and two downstairs closets are empty.

Every night this week I load up the back of my car with stuff so I’m fully loaded for the next day. After work I pick Sugar up from Skinny Bitch’s, we stop at the new house and drop off the stuff in my car. We get Spice, we go home and eat a nutritious dinner of ravioli or peanut butter sandwiches (tonight we might get fancy and stop at the market for a rotisserie chicken). Then we run through the house and gather up stuff to move that doesn’t really need to be packed up to go across town: contents of closets, large toys, etc.

We’ve become masters at packing up the car. We gather everything up first and then load the trunk. We’ve figured out that there’s room between the two girls, why not fill that space too? And the empty passenger seat? Bring on more stuff. It’s almost become a challenge to see how much we can stuff into that car.

Then we drive back to the new house and unload the car again. Thus far, we’ve been able to do this in an organized and mannerly fashion. We unload stuff and put it in the proper closet or room. Each room has a neat pile of boxes in it. And all these boxes are carefully labeled (some with crayon) so I should be able to tell exactly what is in each box. Remind me of this later when we’re looking for stuff. I’ll never be able to send EN on a “seeking” mission in the near future. The box labeled “Top Shelf-Kitchen” will leave him confused and he’ll try to move the “Spice Cabinet-Kitchen” box to the bedroom.  

I’ve got to say, the girls have been amazing this week. They’ve run up and down stairs, packed boxes, gathered up their prized possessions and done what I’ve asked of them. We don’t have time to goof off, dinner is on the run and snack is eaten with one hand while teeth are being brushed with the other.  They have been wonderful about helping and not complaining. I’m guessing they’re really excited about this move. I can’t even remember the last time they took time out to fight.

All the while I still attempt to keep up with homework and spelling quizzes… For the record, I don’t think Spice will ever need to spell desperadoes or armadillos, but I’m not the one who decides these things. I managed last night to wash the new bedding and the stuff for the futon as Tiny Mike will be sleeping over on Saturday.

I know you’re all dying to ask, “Where’s EN in all this?” My helpful little man has been so busy moving the contents of the basement and garage from one house to another that before today, he didn’t have a spare moment to pack a single item in the house. My hairy eyeballs got his ass out of bed this morning and he claims that the office is entirely packed.

And now you’re dying to find out, “What does EN have in the basement and garage that would take three weekends with a U-Haul or trailers to move?” Tools, y’all. And motorcycles. And Important Things That He Cannot Live Without. He said he went through stuff, at least he spent oodles of time in the basement and I did see him once throw away a department-store bag full of empty envelopes. Progress.

Someone, call that hoarders show. Stat. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Mad Shop for Bedding

EN and I have slept in the same crappy bed for nine years. I don’t remember it being crappy when we bought it. In fact, I thought it was pretty comfortable. Fast forward to now and every morning we wake up in agony. If I make the mistake of sleeping on my stomach, I nearly cry when I try to move. Thankfully no one else is awake to watch that show. I simply thought we were getting old.

Last December when I visited Shannon she and I slept in her king-sized bed and I woke up every morning feeling fabulous. Perhaps EN was right and we do need another mattress. We also considered upgrading from queen-sized to king, but our bedroom was really too narrow to accommodate it.

Now that we’re moving, it seems like the perfect time to buy a bed. After comparing prices, I figured out that prices are pretty much the same from place to place. I bought it at the shop offering great financing. They even let me pick out my own delivery date and time. No more being at the mercy of the store. I liked that. We also have a 21-day warranty, so if EN decides this bed isn’t right for him, they’ll come back and take it away. Perhaps I’ll just have him taken away instead. We’ll see.

This means I have to shop for new bedding now too, because nothing will fit. Since I am OCD and hate change, it’s been years since I bought bedding even. I have one favorite set of sheets, blanket and quilt. I wash them regularly and put them back on the bed. I believe we bought all of that three or so years ago. Yes, it’s looking a little shabby.

I thought this would be a simple procedure: enter store, make selection, pay for selection. I figured I’d go right to the store that I shopped at three years ago and have similar luck. Unfortunately, they had nothing plus I had a husband and children with me so that added to the stress level. It’s only proper to mention here that when buying bedding, EN turns back into Feminine JJ and likes to be in on the decision. Therefore, I let him come along to feel whether the stuff is soft enough for his royalness.

I really didn’t think I was too picky. I wanted something that was soft but not silky (don’t want to fall out of bed). I wanted something pretty, but not too printy. It could be light, but not too white. It couldn’t be too green and it couldn’t be ugly. Somehow I managed to make it through six stores and a gazillion websites and only found a down thingie, which needs a cover, and a mattress pad. Go me.

So today I’m in a terrible mood about stuff that is a blog post in itself. I’m also feeling that last minute fire. We are moving to the new house this weekend, bed being delivered Friday. If I don’t get sheets soon, I won’t have time to wash them first and my German mother says you have to wash sheets before using them. And the former owners stole the dryer plug and laundry pump from the basement, so I won’t be able to do laundry at the new house for a while. Do y’all see why I’m crazy now?

I ran out during lunch today to the last store I could think of that would have a decent selection. They had loads and loads of bedding, and still nothing. I found a few comforter sets that I could have bought, but then would have to return the down thing… who needs another errand?

Finally, I find a set of sheets that is a nice blue color. I stomped back over to the section that had all the duvet covers (if these damn things go over a down thingie, why don’t they just call the down thingies “duvets”?) to see if I could find something that matched. I came across a set that I hadn’t noticed in the store before but had seen online. I scooped up the duvet cover and a set of sheets and tried to open them to make sure they would pass EN’s “feel test.” This should have been my first clue that something was amiss. Why would they lock up bedding? Because that’s the good shit, that’s why.

Pretty, soft, not to printy or too plain.

Still not paying attention, I brought my goods to the Customer Service Desk and asked for the pretty packages to be unlocked and felt up the sheets and the duvet cover. Heavenly…. I’ll take them! The girl rang them up, I swiped my card and I was out of there… without looking at prices of anything.

It wasn’t until I emailed Fly Girl a picture of the bedding that I realized what I had done. Scratch that, Fly Girl said, “Oh, the price of those sheets made my stomach hurt a little.” Huh? Oh holy SHIT! This is what I get for shopping at the last minute and shopping while pissed. After all that work, I’m NOT bringing that stuff back, I don’t care how much it cost.

At least I remembered to use the fucking coupon. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Fifth Grade Sweet Talk

I can think back over Sugar’s school career and tie every year to a boy she’s had a mad crush on. Of course she’s still little so the crush was more like, “I think Cameron is super cute.” Sometimes the crush would be reciprocated and I would see funny interactions, like phone calls to the house so they could link up on some game website and play together via computer. Another time we were at a school event and the previously mentioned Cameron came up to Sugar, called her Miss Giggles, pushed her and ran away. His horrified father chased after him yelling at him to not push girls. Miss Giggles and I just stood there… giggling.

In second grade, a new boy started in Sugar’s class and she was instantly smitten. She always talked about how nice Curtis was. This cute little crush went bad when another girl got involved and wanted him for her very own. There was a big Dancing with the Stars competition and Anna asked Curtis to be her partner. I guess Curtis wasn’t overly interested, because he asked Sugar to be his partner and she said yes. Fast forward to the Brownie meeting when Anna finds out that Sugar will be dancing with Curtis and it all goes to hell in a hand basket. This would be the first (yes, there have been more) Brownie meeting where I’ve arrived to pick her up and found her in tears. Apparently, Anna was ready to fight to see who would dance with Curtis. Curtis however, had decided he wanted to dance with Sugar and that was that.

I haven’t heard much about Curtis over the last few years, but he has suddenly resurfaced. Our conversation went something like this:

Sugar: I think Curtis likes me.

Me: Curtis M?!?! From second grade?

Sugar: Yeah, him. He’s in my class this year.

Me: Well maybe he remembers that you liked him in second grade.

Sugar: What took him so long?

Me: Some boys are slow to catch up.

We laughed and I asked her exactly what happened at school. She told me that he talks to her all the time and said, “Can you tell me when you go skating next? I would love to come see you.” Also last week he told her that he heard she was moving and was really glad she’d still be in the same school because he’d miss her if she wasn’t.

My cold mean heart melted just a teensy bit over these comments. I am teary-eyed at the innocence and sweetness of their exchanges. I asked her yesterday if he had talked to her this week and she said, “No but he still likes me.” I asked how she knew and she said that he looks at her when they’re in class. I wanted to say, “Well you must be looking at him then too” but every once in a while I know when to shut up.

We talked a little about boyfriends and girlfriends and whether boys and girls ever even talk to each other in school. I asked mostly because every time I ask who she has lunch with, she lists off a bunch of girls’ names. I asked if girls ever sat with boys and she said, “When they’re boyfriend/girlfriend.” I am not sure what exactly happens to make that Official.

Believe me, I’m not in any rush to see my baby girl “have a steady boyfriend.” I simply think it’s cute that they notice each other and now instead of pushing and name calling, actually do things like compliment the person they like.

I’m also glad that this is happening now, while my girl still speaks to me. I’m positive that in about a year and a half, she’ll wake up one morning believing I’m the stupidest person she’s ever met… and will continue to believe that for the next ten years. 

xoxo

Ice Princess