Okay. So, I know it’s been a day or two since my last post 😉 and I wasn’t actually planning a post today ‘cuz it’s crazy busy for us right now, but…who the hell could resist?
Not I.
You all know how much I like a good ‘saga’ 😂 😭 😓
Especially about cars. Or moving. Or houses. Or other Shit-N-Stuff.
Right?
So…after all the blood, sweat, and tears, we shed before, during, and after, moving into our current home, we are considering selling.
Yup…2 years, 6 months in, picking up and moving again is actually being considered.
Nutz! 😵 Looney! 😱 Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs! 🐒
Why?
Two reasons really.
The first, to be closer to my recently transplanted Mom, who is, apparently, one of those lucky people I’ve heard about when it comes to adventures in moving. Her pack and move went smoothly. Her house behaved when she moved in and didn’t reach out and break her leg or rain down through her light fixtures from the floor above.
Remember my crying lights?
She has made a beautiful home for herself…and is quite content to remain where she is. But, we are finding that even a mere 20 minute/10 mile distance, is 15 minutes too far!
{Hmmm, note to self…A Drive Too Far…Book? Movie? Copyright infringement? Carry on self…}
The second, as important as the first, is because our beautiful Ms. Sadie needs a place to safely run and play in her own backyard, and we cannot give that to her.
Why?
Because we cannot fence it in 😲
Why?
Bureaucratic Bullshit 🚧
We have a gorgeous back yard…
What…don’t believe that’s mine?
What—everrrrrrrrrrrr 👀
Forget the mountains then.
Oh for Pete’s sake…take out the barn if it bothers ya!
Okay Okay (ya picky bitches), take out the fence, the trees, the other barn, and the rolling field in the background and you’ve got my yard.
Happy?
Anyhoo….because Virginia’s disclosure laws are a j o k e, not one of the half dozen professionals involved in buying real estate, not to mention the previous owner, felt it necessary to inform us that this lot is one of the highest impacted lots in the neighborhood, rendering our little slice of Eden…all but USELESS.
Why?
There is a 60′ (yes, that is SIXTY) gas company easement from the back of the property towards the house and runs the entire width of the tad over a 1/3 acre lot. From our way of thinking, that should have been mentioned by SOMEONE in the 2 month buying/closing process yeah?
Yeah……….No!
Add to that 60′ another 20′ for the build line which runs from the structure towards the back of the yard, making the total depth/width of what we cannot add to, plant on, or change in a way that would impede….a whopping 80′.
EIGHTY #$#$%#$ FEET 😖 😭 😕
Even though the gas company could work with us on a fee based waiver, they won’t.
But Wait! There’s More (oh goody)
There are also easements from the county that cannot be waivered.
One is a 16′ drainage easement, running back to front, the entire length of the property, but it’s on the side property line, so we didn’t give that one much thought. At the time. Not until we had to. And we had to when we wanted to put a storage shed out there. On the side. Away from the gas easement. Ya know, close to the garage and stuff.
Ummmm….Not gonna happen 🚫
Then {and I chuckle here} there is that all too common, everybody else must have one…FLOOD DAM FAULT LINE! OR FAULT DAM FLOOD LINE! OR DAM FLOOD FAULT LINE! OR SOME DAMNED LINE GOING DIAGONALLY THROUGH THE ENTIRE BACK YARD!!
You got one, right? And you? And you, and you? And you over there? Everybody? ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s so damned prolific as to be down right common-place. Like we all got grass so why point out the grass? Ain’t that why I’ve never heard of this effin’ thing? Ain’t it?
What the hell is happening????????????? 😱
The only friggin floods that I have ever heard of around here….were inside my damned house and that fault line didn’t help one daggone bit!! (el squat-o)
Did I say this made me chuckle?
I lied 😫
Of course, we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think we’d get a decent enough return to buy another. The market is good right now, the rates are still low, people may be looking to get into a place before the next school year….all good things right?
So I ask you…
🎶 Should we stay or should we go 🎶
(sorry, I can’t help singing it…lol)
Oh geez…after all that, I forgot to mention why I even began this post. While we muse over the possibility of listing (we’re about 98% there to be honest), we figured we’d do what we always do in this situation…invest more blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention 💰, into getting our imperfect 🏠 perfect so the next 👸 of the newly perfected 🏰 won’t have to lift a friggin’ finger or spend an effn’ dime!
‘Cause that’s how we role…we Hernandezeseses (Hernadezi?)
We buy, we fix, we do……..and we move. So we can then…buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty, sell to others who don’t have to do a damned thing…just so we can buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty….blah de blah de blah!
In that vein… We have had the fireplace that hasn’t worked since the day after we moved in, fixed. We had the Jacuzzi tub’s leaky-ass faucets that we haven’t touched since the first time we went to use it and didn’t because it leaked, repaired. We’re giving our wood floors a facelift so they don’t offend the next matriarch with their little Sadie scratches. We’re resurfacing our pinkish, post-form, laminate countertops that somehow were good enough for me, but certainly will put off today’s savvy buyers looking for the trendier granite because ‘It’s so shiiiiny’.
And I’ve saved the best for last…
and the hardest for me…
the die-hard DIY’er:
Hiring someone to do what I do, and do well is tough. But time, old shoulders, bad, up close & personal, eyesight, added to my increased lack o’ patience, has dictated that this time around…we must bite the proverbial and hire a pro.
You all know me and my history with hiring professionals.
Though you know I pride myself in doing my due diligence, you also know it has gotten my leg broken, my house flooded, my toothbrush packed with the toilet brush, and my car dying at 70 MPH on Interstate 91 in New Haven.
Shall we agree that you know this Wonder Woman of Wacky Workmen?
Okay then…we’re off.
We hired a ‘Pro” to paint the interior of our 4BR, 3BA home, top to bottom, head to toe, and everything in between. The references were stellar. The estimate reasonable. The time frame – 7 days. Perfect.
That should have been my first clue!
When. Will. I. Learn?
Nothing is perfect, nor apparently, what it seems!
I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s see. To be pro-active, we removed all wall décor, switch plates, outlet covers, electronics, all items in/on/around furniture, packed everything in boxes, moved all furniture to middle of rooms to be covered, placed all non-necessary furnishings, boxes, small items, etc., in the garage, took up all rugs, and basically had the house ‘paint-ready’ for the start date. Oh, and we moved into my mother’s to give them free reign to only have to cover stuff once and not worry about finishing one room at a time. The house was theirs. They had to do nothing but cover, patch, sand, and paint.
Two painters began on Monday the 6th. The owner’s son who is taking over the business, and his side kick with 25 years under his belt, cut-in and first coat, guy.
Come Saturday, the 11th, one was left and the other one gone. I fired the side-kick for lack of production and sloppy work. His smoke breaks alone used half his hours and all of his work needed to be re-done.
He blamed the paint. I blamed the painter. I win.
Boom! You’re outta here!
I was told he would be replaced with a more professional side kick, but as of today, the 17th, there is still but one.
Mr Painter Man
Who I call IMA
IMA fix it – IMA gonna do it – IMA be here late tomorra – IMA sorry – IMA IMA IMA
By end of business today, there will have been a total of 11 painting days.
Know what’s done? Hah…stop that laughing. Wanna know?
Upstairs.
This is still my downstairs…11 days later
My living room pile
my kitchen eat in area
my dining room pile
my 2-story foyer ceiling
Know what else?
There are 3 walls upstairs that need to be redone. But I told IMA to save that for dessert cause I needed his ass downstairs in the kitchen! I’ve got a counter top being redone on MONDAY!!
I even returned the remaining 6 gallons of my accent color, a beautiful Crushed Oregano green, for IMA because he keeps blaming the paint…I changed my design for him!
Does this color scare you? It’s on my front door, which I painted, without trouble What the hell is wrong with me??? IMA STUPID!
Know what I’m doing right now?
😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 etc etc etc
Why bother going through all of this some might ask. Especially when my house always looks good whether trendy or not. Always up to date, clean, and comfy. Homey!
Because Lord knows, today’s modern and discerning buyer would no doubt, walk into a home with red in the kitchen and yellow in the living room; green in the bathroom and a cloud painted blue sky ceiling in the bonus room, would run screaming into the street for the horror!
None of which I put on the walls but was perfectly fine with it until the day I decided to change it.
Boy oh Boy…we can’t expect someone else to think that way now can we?
Or so the real estate professionals tell me. After all, this is only the 6th house we will have sold, so how would I know anything about what sells and what doesn’t?
So…next week, it’ll be Mr. Painter-man who best have my kitchen done by tomorrow (or else ) and the counter-top crew. That, should be an interesting day 😂
Last post was a week until… This post is a week gone since… In the blink of an eye it’s over * Last post I showed you where… This post I’m showing you why… In the click of a button it’s forever
*
1.) Human Fun & Games
(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)
His and Hers
*
2.) Nature Au Naturale
“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’“STOP THAT I SAID!!!”“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”“Ma? Where ya going Ma?”“Louise, get back here!”“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”Random man / bird fly byRandom man caused fly away“I AM…’nuff said”“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”One…Two…Three…Dinner!”“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner! The bird brain!!”heeheeheeHeeeeey……..…that tickled ma belly!“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”
*
3.) Art…Is Where You Feel It
(click on a circle for captions)
Fa Dayz
The Serenade
Dune Seating
Local art by Man
Lone Daff
It doesn’t just collect dust!
Doo Dads
Art of a different hue
Whatchamacallits
Plucked from the OK Coral
It tries
A Tree with a Yeow
Lap of Lux
Local art by Arachnid
The famous Yellow Rope Fish
Sea for Two
Lost in the Sand
The Shell Game
I’ll leave the light on for ya
Sharp Dresser
Sun Kissed
Picnic Poles
Hammock Prone
Sea for Two
Pole Dancing
Center Stage
Could he – Wood he?
Shellmates
50 Shades of Grey
Crabby
Brushed Off
I don’t give a Twig
Mission Scrubbed
Stark Contrast
Like I said…Art is where you feel it
* Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.
Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens
You hope and pray you’ll do it well – But only God and time will tell
their first breath – that moment when
your life begins all over again
completely blind and ignorant of
what lay in store – except the love
such love not imagined – all encompassing
one day you’re you – now they’re the thing
that wakes you, feeds you, and fills your dreams
the good ones, great ones – in others you scream
you give them all you have to give
and though you know better – for them you live
the minutes to hours to days just fly
they coo and giggle and laugh and cry
the months and years show on your face
“please don’t go” – now – “give me my space”
you gently fade from their day to day
you open the door – you show the way
for them to taste and see anew
the world once filtered – made safe by you
you know it’s time – they feel it too
to let go of the strings – the both of you
and as they pushed and pulled away
your heart wished, once, for yesterday
when you helped them climb – watched them fall
saw them rise and push through it all
you’d let their lives envelope yours
you were the keeper – you kept the scores
of their battles won – challenges met
their struggles to come – those not met yet
you know it’s perspective and balance you need
to nourish the tree – not just the seed
you understand and search for the middle
the line that answers motherhood’s riddle
but the balance you missed – was in not knowing
it was your duty too – to keep on growing
into the woman – not just the mother
you could be both – not one or t’other
you were just a girl when they came to be
but womanhood stalled for the mother, you see
the trusses you built from that balance not found
kept the woman at bay – shadow bound
so focused were you on their little lives
you forgot to sing – to keep alive
that woman in you you’d set aside
so mother shined while the woman tried
to remake the bed already laid
the woman you could be – the mother you made
in the wings she’ll stay – that much is clear
the woman’s hidden for the mother’s fear
that this bed of weeks – without a word
is that woman’s fault – their wants unheard
but it’s mother who pays this price so daunting
you’ve been weighed and measured – and found wanting
now silent tears drop to mommy’s breast
’cause good’s not enough – your best not best
your youth – a down payment – not the sum
and that number will rise for years to come
the life you gave matters not on the whole
now’s what’s important – their happiness you stole
by not staying that mother to them and to theirs
trying to figure it out – but no one cares
You’ve seen women do it – be both – not just one
that mom of the year – and – that woman so fun
but you are found wanting – and that must be the truth
for you allowed her to die – that woman of your youth
in favor of the mother you thought you should be
now the mom-ster you created shall not be free
to live the life that you once placed on hold
so that others could flourish – in happiness you molded
so – woman repent – to the shadows you go
and the mother you are must pay penance to show
that as long as you live – as long as you breathe
your life is for them – it’s what they believe
You hoped and prayed you did it well – but only God and time will tell
On this, the one year anniversary of the loss of my father, my Superman, I cannot help but reflect on the relationships I have and have had, in my life.
As humans, we embody the word dichotomy in so many ways….but the number one in my book is…we are as simple as we are complicated.
We all begin the same way…simply…we are born. Yet the simplicity ends there and the complications begin.
Our relationships. Simple yet complicated.
We love simply, yet that same love, complicates everything.
This post: A simple plea for an end to the silence…and a look at the complicated life of a woman as mother and mother as woman, and where you go from here…
If you don’t know…you’re in good company, for I don’t either.
To be a mother is a lifelong commitment, of this I have no doubt. But at what point can the woman come out from behind the curtain with the expectation that the child will see her, know her, for the woman she could be underneath the mother she is?
At what point in her life of being daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother…can a woman who mistakenly set herself aside, reasonably expect to fix that mistake of self-denial, with their blessing instead of their resentment for putting herself first?
My guess would be…not today.
At what point in a child’s life did they forget all she did…so as to remind her of what she’s not doing now?
My guess would be…today
So…it is time to say what I want to say and hope it’s heard and felt:
They say there is a reason
They say that time will heal
But neither time nor reason
Will change the way I feel
For no one knows the heartache
That lies behind my smiles
No one knows how many times
I’ve broken down and cried
I want to tell you something
So there won’t be any doubt
You’re so wonderful to think of
But so hard to be without
Simon says…
No I would not give you false hope On this strange and mournful day But the mother and child reunion Is only a motion away…
I’ll go out on a limb here and say for most of us, being a parent is, quite literally, the hardest job we’ve ever had or ever will. And, at the same time, it’s the richest, most fulfilling, most rewarding contribution to our own lives and always will be.
One of the most surprising aspects of parenthood’s lifelong journey is finding out that one split second is all it takes for you to come to know the best and worst of being a parent…the span of that second is the distance between loving another being so much it hurts, to wishing you’d gotten a dog instead! True dat 🙂
But in looking at this most difficult / most rewarding dichotomy, it’s not so hard to understand when you consider first, our tendency to place the highest value on that which was hardest won, and second, our amazing capacity for forgiveness (as parents at least).
But what is it that takes parents to the depths of the difficult to the heights of reward when it comes to loving our children? How do we survive the splintering of our brains in a thousand directions trying to figure them out, yet tarnishes the love in our hearts never?
I don’t question the reward; I think it’s obvious. I do, however, ponder the difficult. Is it because we love too much? Is it that even possible?
I don’t believe so…
However, could it be that we love too much for too long? Is that it? Does parental love need to be doled out in stages or degrees? Or fit into categories in order to not overload these little overlords once they come into their own?
So what (you ask) are these stages/degrees/categories you ask?
I’m a little cuss who can’t (and don’t want to) function without you so love me, love me more, love me most!
I’m a teenager so love me lots, and with patience, but for God’s sake, don’t let my friends see it!
I’m a young adult now so love me from a distance, but not too far ’cause I may need the car!
I’ve met someone and we’re going to get married. Can ya help, can ya pay, can we have it there? (ps Mom and Dad…you’re gonna love him/her!)
I’m going to have a baby so love me, love me most, and love me now ’cause we’re going to need babysitters! (ps Mom and Dad…you’re gonna love it!)
Mom? Dad? I’ve never felt this way before…I love this kid so much my heart hurts!
(ps honey…we know!)
And so on…..
The short answer to the too much / too long question is…yes, okay, maybe, a little bit. But we parents come to this conclusion naturally I think. We instinctively know (or learn soon enough if our instincts are not as honed as they will be), which stage or category we’re dealing with or which degree of parental love to douse them with, simply by living it. Organic knowledge. We just have to choose to go with it.
Does that stop us from loving the same soul-deep way we did when they were newborn?
No. Perhaps it does in theirs though. For a time.
I know that they love us the same way we do them…in the beginning. Outside of themselves, we are their world. Their universe. Their moon and their stars, and they are ours.
Parents and kids grow up together. That’s a given. No matter if you’re 18 or 45 when you have your children, you have to grow up with them to be able to give and receive all that these little selves need, and later, need to share.
We may grow up more with our first. Then again, it may just be that we grow up differently with the next one or two or three.
But…if we’ve played our hands well, we are love. All of it. Every stage, every degree, every category is of the love, by the love, for the love. And they are right there with us.
Completely (in the beginning)
Mostly (in the middle)
Until (still in the middle but getting further towards the…the…well shit…not the end, but you know what I mean right?)
Until…they find out there are more people to love and to be loved by; more stars to shine the light of love on their heads and in their hearts; more room in their world for other loves.
As it has always been. As it was with our own parents to be sure. Just another way of experiencing the circle of life.
Consider…
Our children are loved as only a child can be loved and they in turn, love as only a child can love. The universe is secure.
As time goes on, they thrive and grow in that forever, universe-spanning, parental love and love them right back. But as they continue to grow, they s l o w l y recognize that their world is expanding to include the many, many different kinds of love; each addition a glimmering star to their universe thus far.
But their recognition is as single-minded as their love for us was in the beginning. When they venture out from underneath the love-cloaked expanse of their parental universe, they don’t at once realize that their hearts are big enough to add new loves without setting aside old ones.
Our time will come again (usually around the time the grand-kids show up!), but as parents, it’s only natural that we do feel the initial loss of that connection when our love is no longer the moon and the stars in our child’s heart.
BUT…
Facing this fact head-on is hard, but absolutely necessary.
For our own well-being as well as theirs.
If we don’t, we run the risk of pushing them further out into the expanse by clinging too close, depending too much on their always being there, pining away for their childhood days when they aren’t there, regretting what we didn’t do, or forgetting what we did. Even romanticizing the harder times and not counting our blessings.
We all can probably think of a parent in our experience who has done, or does, this. Think back to the last time you witnessed a parent who cannot let go and re-live what you felt. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling.
I’m certainly not completely innocent of it still. I sometimes catch myself feeling guilty for not being ‘that mother’. The one who always can, always will, never says no, never says can’t. Who wouldn’t want to be considered ‘the perfect mom’? But that’s not perfection. It’s limiting to both your life and those of your children.
However, even knowing I am not (and never could be) that mother…(nor is their Dad ‘that guy’) it nevertheless hurts (and in the dark of night, makes me wonder if they’ll still love me enough to ask again- I know, just silly ) to know that we are the ones disappointing our children.
But we get over it because we know we are good parents who have raised good people. We all deal with disappointments in our relationships. We have difficult conversations followed by deafening silences. But we’ve loved each other long enough and well enough to know what’s really important.
So there is hope. Once we’ve matured enough in our parenthood to realize this fact of life, we can recapture that sense of oneness, specialness, absolute love not felt anywhere but in your parents’ heart of hearts. It is, after all, our hearts that need to make preparations for the day when our children learn there is a love flow-chart. This will fluctuate during their life spans, but it will always show a solid heart-red line for us. Mom and Dad. Steady as she goes. What more could we hope for?
And an added benefit to this stage of parental maturity is…we can (and hopefully do) look back at our own parents with a new appreciation for all they’ve done, all they’ve been through, and all we’ve learned from them without even knowing it. Score!
Cheers and happy parenting (and I mean that!)
Dearest Mommy
Dedicated to my Mother and Father and to my Sons
I’m proud to be one of your stars
As you know, Superman passed away Sunday, February 15. I am re-posting what I wrote for him back in July because, though I thought I understood the emotions of what was looming…I couldn’t have known how I’d feel at this moment.
But, this comes as close to my feelings now as anything I’ve ever written about my father. About how it was more about how we live than how, or when, we die.
I love this man even more for leaving me with a deeper appreciation of the life he lived, than fear for the sorrow at the loss of his life.
I love you Superman and I thank you with all my heart.
You truly were…
My First Love ♥ My Only Hero
Today’s forecast
Pain with a chance of happiness
Life – It hurts
Our first breath
Born in and out of Pain
Our last breath
Born in and out of the fear of Death
Beginning to end
The human struggle to keep moving
Beyond the current pain so we may endure the next
To begin again
The circle, the cycle of life, of pain
To reach our destination – Death
So what is the point?
When one ends where one begins?
What is the point?
The middle is the point
To feel the heart beat
Of a lover
To hear the laughter
Of a child
To know the touch of another
The touch that completes our circle
Ones who will rejoice with us
And for us
And those who will mourn us
But more – Remember
That we were here
That we mattered
That we made the difference
That we closed a part of their circle
As they too, closed a part of ours
To gather at the end of the day
To hear the sounds of silence
The human sounds we make without knowing
The sounds of love
And life
The middle
Those sounds our ears miss
But that our hearts hear
These are the sounds of silence
So loud we are compelled – T0 listen
Struggle to keep moving
From one pain to another
For in the end It is not the pain
We Remember – It is
Love
Our circles have no true beginning
They meld with our ending
We only have what is in
The middle
Today’s forecast
Pain with a chance of happiness
Take an umbrella if you must
Wear your raincoat and galoshes if you have to
But
Prepare more for getting swept into the middle
‘Cause that’s where life happens
In the middle
Never be afraid to get wet
Put the fear aside
Go beyond the tropical storm of prologue
Fear not the hurricane of the epilogue
Walk into the wind
Get pummeled by the rain
Get to the eye
The middle
Where the calm allows us to hear
The human sounds of silence
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die.
by Mary Elizabeth Frye
For my father, who is all things. You are here and not there.
In the simple things I love so much…thanks to you.
(But hey…do you think you could tone down the northeast wind a knot or two? And while you’re at it, this shiny diamond, snowy goodness thing you got going on is pretty and all…but could you ratchet back the swirling white stuff too…it is freaking CoLd!)
![IMG_20160616_101407_640[1]](https://helpmerhondadotcom1.files.wordpress.com/2016/06/img_20160616_101407_6401.jpg?w=563&h=1000)
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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