Someone said something to me yesterday that was hilarious.....I will have to paraphrase it due to my menopausal memory....it went something like this PLLLEEEAASSE (dramatic please) post more often because when I read your daily life it makes me more grateful for my own! WHAT??!!?? Doesn't everyone who is honest REALLY have a life like mine?
So the house deal rocks on. Yesterday I fretted over what to do all the while Rob and Stephen started filling up the drive way pod with all of the things from our house. We are renting the pod because I insisted although Rob said "we can just stack everything in the "fireplace room" and cover it all with blankets".....
I try my best to explain to him that A) most of what we have should be hauled off in the middle of the night B)the anxiety that I feel during times like this is in direct proportion to the height of the stacked junk in my house C) I am finally going to put my foot down and not allow junk to be everywhere. Wishful thinking.
We have named the two living areas in our house....others call them living room and den and we call them fire place room (because that is where the fireplace is) and the big screen room (because that is where the big screen television is). I am thinking that Jeff Foxworthy would have a ball with a "you might be a redneck if you call your den a fireplace room" or "you might be a redneck if you rent a pod and before they install it you fastwalk a bunch of people out to your "garage" (think junk container....not car storage) to push the "green machine" (early 60's truck that now does not run) out in case you decide the get it fixed during the time that the pod is trapping it in the garage. So for months on end it has not run but now we might get it fixed while our entire house is topsy turvy? What the heck ever. EVERYONE but me loves that truck. However, everyone would feel the way I do if it was in their garage/driveway instead of mine. Since relationships are all about give and take, I give and the green machine now sits in my driveway beside the pod.
I digress. The big screen room is now just about empty. Most of what was in there will be leaving us. Half will make its way back to college with Stephen and the other half will make its way to Nates next home. The piano and drum set will return.
SO, tomorrow the painter guy will show up to refloat, texture and paint the big screen room and guest room. When the boys saw this house for the first time, they said "wow....this room looks like a cave with Stalactites in it!" It seems that the previous owners did an unprofessional job of texturing the sheetrock and we are now FINALLY going to get it done right. For us, the only way to get anything done right is to find the check book PAY PEOPLE. So the check book is ready. This is to be Rob's room. I will have very little input because I have total control over the kitchen and fireplace room. Give and take, that is what I am good at. However, my control does extend to a couple of things.....A) There will be no cooler in the sofa in the big screen room and B) cup holders are most probably going to be shot down, too.
I hate to shop. Boy of boy do I hate to shop. I especially hate to shop in any BIG BOX store. The worst for me is Home Depot. Oh my goodness is that place just totally overwhelming. So much stuff that we have no way of installing unless we PAY PEOPLE. I start to Hyperventilate before I even get past the light bulbs and lawn furniture at the front of the store. People are everywhere and the stuff is ten miles high. Yesterday we went to H.D. and spent an hour looking at flooring. So I picked some out and got home and hated it. Of course I did.....because I hate to pick things out and I hate to be in there. I called darling Kim next door to tell her that my colorblind husband does not like the color for the big screen room so she needs to go back to the drawing board and, oh by the way, could you please go bring some samples of flooring home for us to choose from? Of course she will she says. She does not hate to shop. We are a perfect pair.
At the beginning of this a few weeks ago, Kim and Lenny were over here and they were talking through a bazillion ideas for what we could do in our breakfast area. So I am wondering, "why can't we just have a table in the break fast area?....like normal people do .........and Rob the redneck latches on to Kim's idea of having a love seat in there......and I just "can't get there from here" in my mind and IT HAPPENED. My forehead started itching like crazy. I racewalk out of the kitchen and think" I am going to die of an itchy forehead before this is over"!!! that it the sign total overload for me. Rob quickly alerts Kim and Lenny to that condition so now every time they think that I might be overdoing the decision making they ask " does your forehead itch"?
In the midst of all of this yesterday, we have to go downtown to watch the Rock Star Michael performs at a club at the end of Rock Camp. Various of our children have gone to Rock Camp at the Austin School of Music for years. We are professionals. We were told to have him there at 11AM. Rob drops him off at the curb nd goes to the capitol to work for an hour. I leave the house with Stephen, Jim, Carol, and cousins at 11:45AM. I KNEW there was no way that he would be playing at noon but what could be worse for a rock star than to have his FAMILY not show up? So we pile in to Antone's and find out that there are like five bands ahead of his. Three or four songs each. Stephen and I promptly hit the door and go around the corner for a sandwich. Rob agrees to text me when there is one band left. That is important because neither stephen nor I want to endure the "first act" bands. Only grandparents and parents should be asked to listen to that (and people they are paying). Michael has graduated up to a Headliner band. For the past two weeks Michael has been complaining about Rock Camp.....with words like "stupid" and "gay" (that does not transalate to "happy")....he has described the band. I assume they must be pretty bad. That was not the case at all. All of the guys tell us quickly that Michael picked the name of the band "Family Jewels". I am so old that I did not even know why that was bad. Poor Rob. He has to explain that kind of thing to me all of the time. The band only played three songs because Michael the rock start drummer put his foot down and would only learn three "gay" songs. I bet those other kids were ready to kill him and his little smart aleck attitude.... I actually kind of liked the songs because I understood words in the lyrics. The songs Michael likes are simply a lot of screaming that turns into about a five minute moan.....but VERY loud. So I have my "spot" and can see Michael through the entire first song. He is having a little fun. THEN the singer calls all of these other kids on stage and they (who are not even IN THE BAND) are up there screaming, etc and I can't see Michael. They get down and this larger than life guy gets in front of me. Thankfully Stephen gave up his spot for me so I saw some of the last song and my precious baby playing. I put a couple of pictures on here. In one, you can see Michaels head about one inch from the drum set and in the next you can see the base guitarist watching Michael play but you can't see Michael. I am not a good enough mother to be at the front to get a good picture because I am too old and it is too loud.
There is no way that I will ever be able to call all of that loud screaiming music. It has happened, I have become my dad. Next year (if there is a next year), I will take ear plugs.
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