Just believe

I have never put too much stock in "the power of positive thinking." In fact, I remember that in high school I was certain that if I thought I was going to get an A I would curse myself into getting a C but if I thought I had screwed up I would definitely get an A. It sure seemed like my grades had little to do with my effort or self evaluation, so it made sense to come up with a superstition to get me through the anxiety of waiting to see what random grade would be assigned to my work this time.

I took that superstition with me in life and felt that if I ever got too excited about something or started to get my hopes up I would definitely trash any chance of it happening. I know a lot of people have small superstitions about saying things out loud and jinxing their luck but I took it further and recited the negative in my head in order to appease the gods and have a small chance of getting what I wanted. This all convinced me and others that I was a pessimist.

The truth is I'm an optimist. A brilliant therapist once said that what I was actually doing was thinking positively because I was thinking negatively in order to achieve a positive outcome. Well that blew my mind. I started to reconsider my personality type which had been sporting that pessimist label since high school.

When that whole "The Secret" thing came out and got on Oprah and everywhere I took a chance on it. Maybe I could change my life with the power of belief. Maybe I was dooming myself by thinking about what I didn't want to have happen instead of what I did. After all, hadn't I created the triplet pregnancy merely by stating to anyone who would listen in the 4 months preceding my fertility treatment that I was going to have them? Like hell I was going to go through fertility treatment twice people, so I declared to the world that my one time was going to pay off. And what do you know? So I knew it seemed to work.

And so I tried, I really tried. I created one of those dream boards. I went out and purchased poster board and magazines and cut out pictures of what I wanted and what I hoped to achieve. I meditated on it daily. And, while I haven't looked at it in a while, I'm relatively certain I did not lose weight, start exercising, or become the highest earner in my Partylite region. Hmmm.

It just felt uncomfortable, all that positive thinking. I kept worrying that I was ruining things by getting my hopes up. I kept wondering if every stray negative thought had ruined the whole set up. I eventually hid the stupid board so I'd stop looking at it. And I stopped trying so hard.

But when we got the offer on the house and the quick close was part of the package, meaning we would be free to write offers on our own future home immediately, I got excited. I declared to the world that I was moving in January. Be it January 31st at midnight or not, I didn't care. I was not staying in this apartment a minute longer. So then the anxiety set in. Was I setting myself up for disappointment if January came and went without a house? We aren't buying an 'ok' house, this is going to the The One. How can I find that in a month? Then there started to be problems with our own home, the inspection, and now the appraisal fell far short of the value of our contract. What was happening here?

Was I experiencing a comeuppance? Was this my punishment for getting my hopes up? Should I stop stating that I was moving in January? Did I need to make it more clear that I was not just moving but moving into my new house in January in case the wicked fates decided to throw an earthquake to make me move out of the apartment and into some kind of gymnasium shelter somewhere just to make a point? What am I supposed to do?

I am holding fast to the belief that I am going to find my dream home in time to move Jan 31, but it terrifies me. I know our home has been just waiting for us to be free to make an offer on it and I believe things happen the way they're supposed to but what if I'm supposed to spend 6 more months in this apartment? Good lord. That just can't be right. So, Universe?

I AM MOVING INTO MY NEW HOME IN JANUARY.

Prove me wrong.

Trapped.

Today I feel trapped. Trapped in this house for one. It seems that the idea I had to blow this town for a bigger better but cheaper house is at a stalling point. To get out of this dreary foggy city for some suburbs with more sun and the critical part, a house where the kids can play in and outside all at once instead of having to make a decision to either play in the back yard or inside because we all have to relocate in order for it to happen.

I'm mad. I suppose I'm mad at the economy. First, finding a house in a price range that matches our borrowing ability? And let's talk about that borrowing ability. We could borrow fully 1/3 more 3 years ago. 3 years ago! Thanks market. So now we need more house for waaaay less money, because we happen to live in the kind of place where a 4 br house is a million dollars. Were we still living in Maryland? I could get a house for 400k. Back in Illinois where we grew up? 100k, maybe 200k. This sucks. And naturally, since we're mortgaged up to our eyeballs currently, we need this house to sell to get the downpayment. Only selling it at what we paid for it? Unlikely. Have we managed to pay down the principal even a wee bit? No.

So mad. So trapped. All I wanted was a house more functional for 4 kids and me to survive in. And being a little closer to the grandparents would be nice. And, all the things I dreamed about while sitting in their house where the weather is warmer and the outside is right outside instead of down a steep set of stairs that the kids can't be trusted on alone.

I also sometimes feel trapped in this life. I wake up and the reality of having 3 kids and being pregnant with another? Overwhelming. It's not like I can give them back. I'm going to be tired for YEARS. I think about the nice condo downtown that we used to rent, the freedom, the views, the ease of life, walking to the farmer's market and walking to any of a dozen restaurants in the area. Ugh. I know I didn't appreciate it at the time because there were no trees, no grass, no kids laughing in the next room. But sometimes I really do wish I could ditch it all and go back to then. When I could have a full uninterrupted day of peace, reading or doing whatever. Unless the husband wanted attention. Which was usual, so let's say a half day of uninterrupted peace at least. But so little to do! So much me time!

Hard to not wish one's self back there sometimes. I know it wasn't necessarily a happier time, but its almost like now I'd appreciate it more. Kind of like your teen years, or maybe even college years. Oh how we didn't appreciate the freedom, the fun, the closeness, the lack of responsibilities, until it was all over.

So, today the word is trapped. Not happy obviously. But not morbidly depressed. Just bleah. Someone win the lottery dammit. In my family that is. Me in particular. I want a new home!

Movin' movin' movin'

Trying to conceive of getting my house ready for sale while there are still three toddlers running around is complicated. I will not make my life 10 times harder on a daily basis for the sake of 1 or 2 open houses a week which may or may not bring customers rather than 'lookie-loos' from the neighborhood. I am aware that I have to de-clutter, which will be nice regardless for all of us. It is amazing how you can live in a place and not notice how much crap you've accumulated that doesn't need to be there.

After getting in the habit of dumping stuff on the front hall bench you forget that it all belongs elsewhere. It's surprising also to find that most of it is garbage or could be gotten rid of. And God bless the inventor of 'totes' or the big old tupperware tubs you can store things in because I am going to need a lot of them. But to find old coats from the nanny that quit suddenly 3 months ago on it? Makes you wonder why they weren't burnt in the bonfire exorcism I performed after she left.

But there are many things that just can't get put away. The changing table, for example, has to have lotions and creams and medications and wipes and sanitizer and so on. Do I put it all in tubs and stuff them under the table just before open houses? Exactly how many boxes of crap am I going to have to relocate to the basement every time we have an open house? I suppose I'm lucky I live in a city where they only show houses by open house rather than lockboxes that mean people could look at my house any old day. But I suspect I am going to be doing a lot of carrying up and down stairs (kinda the point of moving was avoiding that?) And a lot of driving the kids up to Petaluma for the day to get them out of the house.

The other trick is how to not lose money. We have not lived here long enough, or rather in the right economy to sell for more than we bought it for. We have lived here long enough to create permanent damage and wear and tear on the place. Meanwhile we have installed miles of baby proof gates in all doorways and stair entrances. I know that makes for an attractive house showing. I'll have to be careful that the house doesn't smell like poop, sleepy children, diaper pails of urine soaked diapers or recently cooked broccoli. I need to find me one of those candles that smells like freshly baked cookies. No really.

I am getting excited about a new house though, because so far almost every one I've seen online has a much nicer mommy bathroom. Mommy likes this. A bathtub that would fit all of my appendages? Heaven. A house with enough rooms to have a scrapbooking room for me? Delightful! This one has a laundry room bigger than my current kitchen. Sad, I know, but that excites me like nothing else. Laundry being done in the hallway? Bites.

So, I will return some day to topics other than this, but for now I'm trying to wrap my brain around all the stuff I have to do in the next month just in case I find my dream house tomorrow. Anyone know a good organizer?