Really? REALLY?!?

We closed  the sale on our forever home on Thursday, July 19th, after 3 grueling hours in which they slaughtered my name in every way possible.   We didn't get possession that day because the sellers needed more time (they had a lot, A LOT of junk in the house).  We gave them until the 29th at 5:00pm.

But, at first, we were told we'd have the house on the 20th. Then we were told it would be later, but they weren't sure when. Then we were told the 29th.  All the while, we couldn't make plans to move ourselves.

Finally, last Thursday, the 26th, we were told we'd have the house on Saturday, the 28th. We planned our lives around this. We told the kids when we were getting the keys.

Yet, on the morning on the 28th, the seller called (the seller we were told has been in Hong Kong all summer!).  He told us he'd not be out of the house until the 29th, but gave us no time. So, we drove by to ask WHEN. We were told 5:00pm on Sunday. (And I noticed they hadn't cut the grass once in the 10 days after closing, despite the days and days of rain.)

At 11:00 am Sunday morning, the seller call me again and said 5:00 was not going to happen. That he needed another week. Another week! This upcoming weekend is the ONLY weekend we have left to move this summer. He couldn't have another week! If he did, the Mad Scientist and I would both have to take time off of work to move. We can't afford that!!! And besides, the escrow only lasted until Sunday night at 5:00pm!!!! I was furious and scared and sad and furious!!

I called my realtor. I was told my only option was to call a lawyer. Really????

I spent the next several hours researching my choices, calculating damages, and drafting eviction papers. I was prepared to go to the  house at 5:00pm, the first set of eviction papers in hand to serve him.  But, at 2:00pm, as TRex and I entered the grocery store, my realtor called, asking if I'd be willing to do a final deal, whereby the sellers got an additional 2 days. I said okay as long as I got $175 for each day past the escrow. (The utilities were already in our name!!!!)

So, we made deal between the parking lot and TRex's bathroom break after aisle 5.

Then, as I was literally paying for my groceries, the seller called me again, asking if we'd let him give us the keys at 9:00pm that night. He had called all of his friends and begged them to help him. I said yes!

During dinner, he called again, saying his friends had come he would be done by 9:30pm. He also asked if he could leave the pool table in the basement. (Score one for MS! He wanted that table.)

It seemed as if the house was finally going to be ours 10:00pm Sunday night.

Then, at 9:26pm, the seller called again. He had run out of space in his second storage unit and nothing was open any longer for him to rent. He wasn't going to be out Sunday night.

Luckily, MS was on the phone with him. I was screaming in the background. Yelling that he had better be out by 5:00pm Tuesday night with the money he owes us! But, I could tell from the Mad Scientist's end of the conversation that he had NO INTENTION of finishing. He didn't want to take a day off of work. BUT I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE TIME OFF OF WORK?!?

Finally, MS handed me the phone. I heard the seller say he needed to rent another storage unit; that he needed another truck. I didn't care. I told him he had until 5:00pm Tuesday to get out with $350 to cover my damages or I would start the eviction process and file a lawsuit for damages (I had calculated at least $3200 in damages if he still wasn't out by next Sunday.) I pulled the lawyer card (which I try never to do). He said he couldn't miss work. I told him I COULDN'T MISS WORK. I told him that I have a house that needs to be empties. That he was messing with my children because they keep thinking their getting a new house and then they don't. I went all crazy on him. But, I left the conversation with the impression that he really didn't care about us and had no intention to pay the money he owes and wasn't going to leave the house by 5:00pm Tuesday.

I sent a long email to my realtor, asking her to impose on the seller's agent how serious I was and that I would feel cheated by everyone involved if the agreement  causes me to lose two days in which I could have started the eviction process.

This morning, my realtor took care of business. She and the seller's realtor worked it out to make sure the deal we made on Sunday would go through. I wasn't believing anyone any more, so I spent a lot of time doing legal research, talking to colleagues, and formulating a plan. This seller is a lawyer himself!

I was told not to speak with the seller; that the agents would handle it. I was grateful, ready to be done with it.

Then, about 7:45pm, as MS and I were plating our dinner, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, so I didn't pick up. Then MS's phone rang from the same number. It went to voicemail. Sure 'nough. It was the seller. He was going to be out by 9:00pm. Could we come pick up the keys?  And we thought "Again! Really? REALLY!?!"

In total, he called us 5 times before we called him back and said MS would be there at 9:30pm to get the keys.

I started writing this post about 45 minutes ago, when MS left the "old" house to get the keys to our forever. I asked my brother-in-law, the Car Guy, to go with him so I could feel safer. And now that the Car Guy lives very close (as of last week), he could do it for me.

Since then, MS has called me. The seller is still packing up the last of the junk and MS is making sure to dot all of the I's and cross all of the T's for his lawyer wife. The sellers are leaving many things more than we planned: a trampoline, a backyard kid's play set, benches. We want to be sure we're not accused of stealing the items.

We still need to get our money for his holding over. We need him to sign the release of escrow funds.
But even after all of that done, after I know my sweet husband is safe and that I have the keys to forever, I don't know if I'll believe it's all true. So much has happened. We've lost this house and got it back again over and over and over. Will life ever feel normal again?

Barely Holding On

I have been so crazy, so overwhelmed recently, that I think its safe to say I'm on the tightrope, but just barely. I'm only holding on by a couple of fingers while a tiny bird pecks at them, in the rain, with the wind blowing, and a giant gorilla is jumping down the line.

Lucky for me, that damn gorilla should wander away this afternoon after he realizes we held on and close on our forever home.  The trick will be to stop the rain and get our current house rented out and fully move.

I'm learning to work with the wind. I'm taking over the practice area of a colleague moving on to bigger and better things. It is exciting and scary all at once and a career move I relish.

I'm never going to get back on the line though and feel safe until that little bird stops pecking at my fingers. DQ has not been improving since my last post and her episode. I've watched her start to look worse and worse. She is showing more and concerning symptoms daily. Tomorrow, we see the cardiologist; the bird will fly away or start pecking harder.

I guess I'll just have to find a way to put on gloves.

Slumber Parties & Parks

Last night, the Mad Scientist and Papa drove to New York to help the Editor and Car Guy pack up their house for good and move to Michigan. That left Ma and I with all four kids. So, we had an experiment. The first of what we hope will be many, many slumber parties with all four kids. The night was filled with pizza, popcorn, movies, and lots of fun. The kids did really well. When the last movie ended and lights were out, they all fell asleep without trouble.

This morning, they played together, ate well, and just had fun. It was so wonderful to watch. My heart swelled with love for all of them and how good they are with each other (even if there was some bickering).  Little Car Guy, who should really be called the Screen Bandit, was very good about helping the younger kids. And the younger kids look up to him with so much awe and love. My heart was melting, watching it all.

Before it got oppressive outside, we headed to the park. After half an hour/forty-five minutes, Ma was pushing DQ in the swing and the boys were climbing climby things, so I had a couple of minutes to sit and watch some more. I was in my glory and decided to check my email. The one I was waiting for was there: "Yay!  They will vacate on July 29." Our realtor was letting me know that our new house will be completely ours on July 29th! I was ecstatic. My world was complete--my sister and her family are moving close to us so our kids can become best friends, the kids were getting along,  and our new house was becoming real! I, of course, called the Mad Scientist to share.

As I talked with him, reveling in the news that we will be moving the first weekend of August, I looked at Ma & DQ.  They had stopped swinging and were heading to the shade. I hung up with MS and asked what was going on. Ma brought DQ to me.  She had a nose bleed, was complaining of stomach pain, and was obviously in distress. She just wanted me to hold her and I did. Her heart was beating so hard. I tried to round up the boys, but they didn't want to leave. I was hanging on by a thread. DQ had only been swinging. She wasn't running! She had been regularly drinking! SHE WAS JUST SWINGING! My emotions were a roller coaster as my baby was turning limp in my arms.

Ma rounded the boys up and explained why we had to leave. The boys started joking that DQ was dieing. And I broke. I knew she wasn't dieing, but hearing out loud the fear that is always lurking in the far reaches of my mind took me over the edge. I sobbed. I tried not to let the boys see me and DQ was so out of it she didn't really know I was doing anything, but I couldn't hold back the tears. I took DQ in my arms, racing toward the car as Ma continued to talk with the boys, tears streaming down my face.

We got to a picnic table next to the car and sat. DQ with her head on my shoulder and tears flowing like a faucet by then. Luckily, by the time the boys got to us, I had calmed down. I got DQ in the car and we decided to go to one of DQ's favorites--Olive Garden--the one restaurant with gluten free food (for me), vegatarian fair (for Screen Bandit and Chef), and stuff everybody likes.  Except DQ didn't want to go. She wanted to go home. My baby was passing up basgetti!

Ma took the boys out to eat and I brought DQ in. She just wanted to sleep, but only after trying to vomit.  She is now napping, but not well. She cries out in pain every couple of minutes. I'm sure it was the heat, but it was only about 80. And she was just swinging.

Swinging.

I can't stop thinking that she was just swinging.

I hate this. I hate that my daughter can be so happy, doing the thing she loves most in the world one second, and a puddle in my arms the next. I hate that she continues to have nosebleeds for no apparent reason. I hate that she has so little reserves. I hate that life is so unfair to her. I hate that everyone's day gets turned upside down because DQ's body can't handle life.  I hate that I can be riding a huge high and that I let DQ's normal life take me down so low. I want to be able to rejoice in the happy that we have and not let the sad parts get me down, but I don't know how. I want my baby to have one day where she can play with the kids and not worry that she could die if we let her play with the kids.

Moving On

After last night's meltdown on here, I went to bed without dinner. I had cried myself out during the day and collapsed on the bed. Of course, sleep did not find me (until about 3:00am, right when the power came back on and the monitor in the kid's room was beeping me awake).  I tossed and turned most of the night and when the alarm went off at 5:30, I promptly ignored it.

When I got up at 6:15, I felt better. I came to decision that since I couldn't do anything about losing the new house and we will be left where we are, I will make the best of it. As I showered, I started thinking about how we could move our washer and dryer so that the laundry room/pantry could be turned into a bedroom for TRex. Is it feasible to turn our half attic into a laundry room? Would there be room for a pantry as well? Would that be a problem when the attic gets 120 degrees or 20?

As the kids ate their breakfast and I finished up packing their schools bags, I noticed a space we usually have full of stuff. That space could be emptied and a small desk would fit so TRex would have a place to do homework. Yes, we'd have a lot of fears to overcome because TRex won't walk there on his own because there are monsters, but we could make it work.

The kids and I discussed how they would continue to share a room, but that I would get the wall decals they had wanted (R2D2 and Mickey Mouse) for their bedroom upstairs instead of their new rooms. That appeased and they started discussing the possibilities that DQ may actually end up with TRex's kindergarten teacher in a year a half.  And all seemed okay in their world.

By the time I was driving to work, I was better. I talked to the Mad Scientist. He was on the same page, except he hadn't thought about putting the laundry in the attic.  We were moving on.

Then, as MS tried to call our realtor to tell her what had happened, he accidentally dialed the seller's agent. Figuring we had nothing to lose, MS explained the situation.  The seller's agent managed to get through to our agent before MS could. From there, negotiations have taken off again, seeing if this can still go through. And just like that, I'm back on my head again, not knowing what is going on.

Thank you all for your kind comments. They have helped so much.

I am shattered.

We were pre-approved for a mortgage with the understanding that we would rent our home. We were told it would be easy.

We found a home. Fell in love. Put an offer and an earnest money deposit.

The offer was accepted.

We paid for a home inspection. That came back not good.

We searched our sole and decided to go forward with the deal when the sellers wouldn't budge on their requests. We had enough money readily available to cover the down payment and closing costs.

We learned that the problems our inspector found with the house were not what was expected and things could be remedied fairly easily. We were elated, ready to move forward.


We learned that the closing costs were much higher than we had planned. But that was okay. We were willing to pull money out of our 401(k), pay the huge penalty and taxes, because this would allow us time together as a family. This home would allow me to come home at night BEFORE the kids go to bed. I could tuck them in. I could be a mom. Then, I could retire to my office and work a couple more hours each night. Having time with my family was worth possibly having to work years longer. We know there are no guarantees in life. My daughter will probably not be around when I'm 59.5. I want to be with her now. I want to know my son and help him become a good man. I want to see him grow, not just hear about it over the phone. Being with my family while they are here was more important than the money that would be lost in the retirement account.

We decided to move forward with the sale yesterday. We've incurred all kinds of costs for the house.

Today, I learned that I didn't read enough of the information on the 401(k).  While there is plenty of money in the account (well more than we need) and it is 100% vested, completely mine, I can't touch it. That money is so well hidden that should the Mad Scientist die tomorrow, leaving me alone with two children, I couldn't pull any of that money out to support us.

All of the money we have paid toward this new house is now gone. Lost to my stupidity. And because of that, we will not be able to get another house. We cannot expand our current house. We are stuck.

Our dream has died. We will stay in this tiny house (another HUGE mistake of mine) for the foreseeable future. My son and my daughter will share a bedroom for who knows how long. I will continue to stay at work past bedtime, only hearing about their day over the phone. We will live amongst piles for want of room to put things away. And the only way to buy a new house? I have to stop investing in my retirement account to save "quickly" for a down payment for a future house and make up for the losses I caused now (a result of student loans--another big mistake).

So, in the end, my retirement account will be smaller anyway. We will lose the money we've put toward the lost house. And I will lose several more years of good nights with my children.

Lesson learned: Never let me deal with money.
 ____________________________________________

Caveat: I do know that many people would be happy to still be able to own their own home and would be grateful to have all of the opportunities we have, but it doesn't change the fact that this hurts me and has left me an emotional wreck.

Am I Bad?

Is it wrong that in looking for a new home to buy, our forever home, I am consciously considering how the home will work when the Dancing Queen's health deteriorates? Is there a bedroom on the first floor for when she can't climb the stairs and is too big to carry (after all, she is 29 pounds now!)?

And should I be condemned because while she is busy planning how her new bedroom will look (pink and purple with butterflies), in the back of my mind, I wonder how much medical equipment will we have to fit? What would you think of me if you knew that I worry if we have steam heat that could pose a problem for an oxygen concentrator?

I love the look of hardwood floors in a home. But, now, as I look for our new home, I see hardwood floors as an added bonus because they will help keep down infections should the doctors decide DQ may qualify for a transplant (which is really the only option she will be left with someday, should someone decide she is deserving enough). Does that make me bad?

The Dancing Queen is doing pretty darn well these days. Since we set a new baseline, DQ is not showing signs of worsening. I feel like we are living a "normal" life, even if it is just normal for us. But I know we are on borrowed time (or is it just time?). Will it be tomorrow? A year from tomorrow? Five years?  Twenty? I'm planning for forever. And in the back of my mind, I'm haunted that we're going to build this new home and it will be home from which we tell our daughter goodbye. I can't help it. I want to believe that DQ will be here for much longer than me, but I simply can't believe it. I want to ignore that DQ has ever been sick at all, but that is not possible. I want to embrace that is doing better than ever before, but I know that will not always be the case.

I'm not planning on bringing in the medical bed when we move. But I also can't ignore the fact that we may have to do that in the future. And having these conflicting feelings is really hard. I don't want to plan for a future where my daughter is sick, but I nobody has EVER promised me that won't be her future. They've never even told me it is likely that it won't be her future (like is told to most of the parents of children with tetralogy of fallot). And believe me, I've asked.

Yet, I feel guilty thinking about the practicalities of a DQ's precarious future while buying a new house.

And now that I've said it, hopefully, I can leave the guilt behind?

Bucket List

Last summer, the Mad Scientist and I had a long weekend without the kids. I reveled in the luxury of extra time to myself. I vowed in this here spot on the web to take more time to myself. Shortly thereafter, DQ got sick and I remembered why I didn't schedule in time for myself. The problem with all of that is both were right. I deserve to do things for myself, yet I still have to take care of my family.  So, for a while now, I've been trying to figure out how to accomplish that goal.

Then one of my circle of pulmonary hypertension friend's daughter was placed on hospice. They created a bucket list for Molly. When it became evident that Molly wasn't going to live long enough to accomplish the vast majority of things on her bucket list, people from across the country and the globe printed off Molly's picture and took her places and gave her experiences so her bucket list could be completed. In Molly's final days, she laid in her bed with her mom, looking at her picture traveling the world. She did so many things. And she continues to do so.

Molly's story made me think. I can't continue to put off my life until tomorrow. While I spend so much time trying to give DQ a wonderful life, I've ignored that for myself. And even though I tell the kids all of the time that nobody knows when they are going to die, something in me keeps saying "wait until tomorrow." So, I decided to start my own bucket list.


The problem is . . . I don't know what things I want to accomplish. I don't want to run a marathon or climb Mt. Everest. If I never swim with the dolphins or learn to play the violin, I'm okay with that.  So, when I started this blog post last week, all I could think of was one thing--visit Iceland.  But, really, I'd rather sit on a beach closer to home, than jump on a plane for a really long flight. So I took Iceland off my list.  After all, a bucket list should be full of things you feel compelled to do and would regret not doing. While I think it would be fabulous to see Iceland, I'd rather be home relaxing with my family.

And so I continued to ponder what would be on my bucket list. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that there isn't any single thing I must do or I will regret not doing it . . . except spend time with my loved ones. I want time to enjoy my family. I want to be with them and see them enjoying life. I want to entertain in my home, inviting friends over, and make them lavish meals that I can watch them enjoy. Or even have a house that is convenient for just stopping by for coffee in the evening to chat. 

I don't want to miss my kids going to bed every night. I want to hug them and kiss them and tell them stories. But, I still want to get them off to school in the morning and kiss them goodbye.

All of these things are very difficult right now because our house is so small. In order for me to be home at night when the kids go to bed, I have to pack up my work for the night, bring it home and clean off the dining room table just to set my computer down. While it only takes about 15 minutes before and after I work, it is a hassle that I just don't want to deal with for an hour's worth of work, so I kiss my babies over the phone and then again when they are asleep. But, if I had an office at home dedicated to my work, it wouldn't take that long. We don't currently have the space for me to have my own office (my kids share a bedroom!).

If I want to cook for friends, we have to squeeze into my dining room/office. Six people fit, sometimes eight, but that requires some people sitting in the other room! This is not conducive to entertaining.

So, in order to make my "bucket list" a reality, the Mad Scientist and I are looking for a new house--our forever home. I am excited and petrified all at that same time. Please wish me luck and when we have some space, you'll all be invited over for coffee or a gluten free lasagna extravaganza! (Yes, I am feeling better gluten free. Can't imagine going back!)