#IDonut Care Today

Today has been a doozy of a day.  James had a rough day at school yesterday (he had previously had a nearly perfect day, so the roller coaster is quite unpredictable), and whenever he has a rough day I hate to leave him there any longer than necessary-- for their benefit and his.  We discuss the issue together during the long ride home, and sometimes he is adamant that he was good, other days he confesses his transgressions.  Yesterday he confessed.  I skipped boot camp in order to have a heart-to-heart with him, and hoping that I would be able to sneak in a run before the kiddos had to get into the bath.  Chris was on the phone for 20-30 minutes when I got home, talking work with some associates, so needless to say my plans were pushed to the back burner.  "They're on California time." Yeah, and I'm pretty much always on "About To Lose It Time."

This morning I got up at 5:30 to go for a quick jog.  I wasn't necessarily running quickly, rather I was going out and back for only the short period of time I have before the rush begins.  Today was the last chance to turn in the fundraiser stuff for the kids' school, and I forgot it in the office.  So, I had to run by work on my way to their school, only to realize I forgot my checkbook in my "summer" purse.  I looked for a Bank of America on my way to their school, but didn't see one, so decided an Advance Financial would have to be able to help me.  Unfortunately their system was experiencing a glitch, so I had to go next door to get cash from a gas station, then go back to Advance Financial.  After it was all said and done, I was an hour late to work. 

James's teacher absolutely rocks.  She communicates really well with me, and she is very candid.  When I checked in on his progress today, I saw that he had two points taken away-- one for "Unkind Words," and another for "Lunchroom Behavior."  His teacher took the liberty to explain.

Suffice it to say, it's just one of those days where I have to throw my hands up and lower my care factor.  Sometimes I wonder if the general population of men even have a clue what mothers do.  Yes, Chris is juggling electricians, brick layers, plumbers, and inspectors at the house.  No doubt his plate is full, and even though I might not know all the details, I do have a pretty good picture of what is going on.  But he didn't have to touch the fundraiser (didn't even know it was going on), and I picked out all the outfits for Wacky Week.  I also am on the front lines of discipline when James has a rough day.  Some day the house will be done.  But a mother's work is never done.

Building Christmas

“Big boy fireplace.  :)  Crackling fire, hot chocolate, and Christmas music…”  That was Chris’s caption along with the image he texted above.

“Oh no!  I’m going to miss that fireplace channel.”  That was my mom’s response to the picture.  It’s a Christmas tradition at our house to have the “fireplace channel” on in the background as we wrap Christmas presents.  While we have a beautiful wood burning stove that Chris refinished, we haven’t lit it as much as we would have liked because the kiddos have notoriously been impulsive, and it just seemed like a liability.

“Nope… We will have that playing in the Noni Guest suite…”  Chris replied to my mom.  So, the tradition will live on in the new house!  

I know it’s too early to talk to most people about Christmas (it’s not even officially fall yet!), but I can’t help it.  I love the holidays.  It has nothing to do with gifts.  In fact, I am terrible at picking out gifts for people.  No, really, I am.  Just ask my sister, who unwrapped hermit crabs from me one year.  She lives in Iowa, so needless to say they had a short, cold life.  Or the year I bought Chris protein powder from GNC.  (Hey, he had mentioned that he wanted to start working out again!  I thought I was jump-starting his motivation.)  When my mom and sister saw what I had picked out for him, they promptly sent me to the mall so that my sister could help me pick out something better.  “Something he would actually like,” they said.  It was Christmas Eve, and the mall wasn’t crowded.  My sister and I got a little slap-happy, and the guy in Sunglass Hut watched us for a while, then said, “I like ya’ll’s relationship.”  Of course that made us laugh even harder!  All this to say, my love of the holidays really has nothing to do with gifts, and everything to do with the joy and hope that comes along with the season.  It’s difficult for me to read the Nativity story to my children without crying.  Or to sing “When Christmas Comes to Town” from Polar Express, like I did in the car this morning (my voice totally cracked at the line, “All the dreams of children, what’s lost will all be found”).  To me, it’s the start of everything that is good on this Earth.  It’s where it all began.  That’s not to discount all the events leading up to the birth of Christ, because I know that they carry their own importance, and all events tie into each other.  But the birth of Christ was the arrival of the One True Love on Earth.

Anyway, I’m thankful for the little texts like the ones Chris just sent.  Others might quickly dismiss them, annoyed, flipping back to Instagram or Facebook.  Not me (or apparently my mom!).  They fill me with joy and hope in anticipation of all things to come.  Sometimes just having a text with a hint of these two things that can change the trajectory of my day. 

So, for anyone who is offended that I’ve discussed Christmas in September, I’m not sorry.  I’M NOT SORRY!  Not even remotely.  And I’m not offended that you are offended.  J And if I call you Scrooge or Grinch, consider it a compliment, because there was hope for them, and eventually their cold hearts changed. 

Ho ho ho!

The Struggle Is Real

Despite having worked at the same company for over six years, not a day goes by that I don't feel challenged or learn something new.  Due to this, I feel like I make a lot of errors, and I have to apologize often.  Regardless of how or why things fall through the cracks, with errors come criticism and blame, naturally.  One of the biggest challenges on a daily basis for me is to not let the negativity of others get me down.  Although I work hard to not take things personally, often I do feel affected by tone and/or words, and it makes me feel like I'm about to implode.  I will be the first to admit that I'm sensitive, and I wish I could do a better job of allowing things to roll off me.  Sometimes I wish I simply didn't care so much.  After all, isn't this just a job?

On the other hand, I believe my sensitivity can be an asset where life is concerned.  The reason I'm sensitive is because I care.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  When I stop caring, that's when we really have a problem. 

Understanding my own passion for the things I do in life, and my desire to do good things correctly, I don't find it difficult to see why Chris takes everything with the build so personally.  Part of me wants to say, "It's just a house!"  The bigger part of me hushes that part, saying, "Right now, this is his life." 

I know that is a strange thing to say, because the kids and I are supposed to be his life, right?  Don't get me wrong-- I know he loves us more than anything, and that he'd do anything for us.  But at this point in time, I know he feels like so much rides on how well he can manage this build.  The reason I say this is because of all that has happened to get him to this point.  In a nutshell, because of the loss of Granddad, he gained experience through his own home renovation.  He was laid off when the housing market crashed, then again two weeks before we were married.  He wanted to throw in the towel... but he didn't.  He still worked for those companies, among others, on a freelance basis, and eventually he knew he was truly in a position to have his own gig.  Fast-forward to a little over a year ago, and he asked if he could buy a lot, even though it seemed unlikely.  They said yes.  He wanted to find financing which would allow us to live in our house while he was building the house, and was rejected over and over again.  Finally, a bank said yes.  Each struggle lead to a question or a path to chose, and then came the answers-- one yes lead to another, and eventually launched us into a very intense and stressful experience in our lives, with many delays and setbacks and question marks.  But here we are.  Knowing all that I know about, how far Chris has come, and knowing the grandeur of his dreams, why wouldn't I want to accept that this is his life?  Really, isn't this my life, too?

All this to say, while I might be a more peaceful person if I could be more laid-back, I also might lose a part of myself and my ability to empathize with my husband if my personality was to change in that way.  I think this is yet another example of a yes in our lives.  God put Chris and me together, not because we are so alike and we have such similar personalities (we don't!), but because we understand one another.  We don't always agree, heaven knows, but we do try to find a way to see from one another's perspective. 

At the moment, the house has most of the windows in, and the front frame is on the door. Supposedly the brick guys will be working this week, as well as the electricians.  Fingers crossed!  We had a pretty big storm roll through on Saturday afternoon, so Chris and I stopped by the house on the way to our sushi date.  Chris ran in, and when he came out he told me that rain was still coming in in some places.  I asked what could be done, and he said that they need to reinforce the valleys.  Ok then! 

So, the kiddos and I continue to drive by the house each day to say our prayers for it, and blow our prayers from our palms toward heaven.  They don't let me miss a day, in fact.  The faith of Children.  Wow. 

Feeding My Face NYC Style

"I'm doing a really good job of holding it together... but I'm so mad," Chris vents through the phone. "We were supposed to be in by Halloween, but now it looks like we won't even be in by Christmas.  It's causing me to lose sleep, and take it out on everyone else."  Chris asked the framers to fix some mistakes, but unfortunately they only ended up making the mistakes worse.  He is interviewing a new framer on site tomorrow.




I had to call Chris earliear this afternoon to let him know that my 3 day trip to NYC would be extended over another night. Delta cancelled my flight this evening, and I'm on the first available flight tomorrow morning. I miss my babies, but I must admit that I forgot how much of a loner I can be at times, so I've resolved to embrace the freedom while I have it.



The trip started beyond easy-- My first Uber ride experience (the driver had a giant tattoo of baby Simba from The Lion King), the TSA guy told me my Spanish is 99% perfect and that I look like an actress (he forgot to tell me how amazing my morning breath smelled), and they even called my name over the intercom while I was meandering through the gift shop in Nashville's airport-- a courtesy call to make sure I didn't miss my flight. I was fashionably the latest person to board the plane, and I could tell everyone was happy to see me.  That, or they were all smiling their cordial Southern smiles and thinking, "Bless her heart."  I prefer to continue to believe that smiles equal friendliness.  There was no one to talk to next to me... my row and the two behind me were entirely empty.  The only person anywhere near was a girl in the row ahead of me, so I picked up a great book I had pressed pause on 5 years ago (The Passage by Justin Cronin), started reading where I left off, became confused, then started the book over at the beginning.  It was a good decision.


When I landed, I taught two early-twenty-somethings from small town Kentucky about the Uber app (because I was an Uber pro after having ridden once), and basically rocked their world.  Whodathunk an old lady could teach those youngersters something?  Yep, I'm going to make a great teacher, once I complete this Master's program.  Then I opted for an Uberpool (carpool), and ended up with a great driver from Morrocco, and fellow rider from Chicago.  We spent a long time in the car due to traffic, but I feel like I learned a lot about life from both Youssef and Bill during the ride.  I will always believe in divine encounters, and the conversations in the black Highlander certainly seemed divine.




My hotel was in Soho, and I had to hike about a mile in the sweltering heat.  I'm used to the heat in Nashville, but truth be told, I'm not used to exerting energy in it anymore.  It made me realize that I've become a bit of a whimp these days.  After grinding out a little work with my NYC counterpart, Max, the team took me to Cookshop for dinner.  I opted for two snacks for dinner.  The devilled eggs with the roe on top made me feel like I was a barracuda eating Nemo's baby brothers and sisters, but the wagyu skewers were tasty.  After dinner, my other co-worker, Keith, gave me an abbreviated tour of the area, and I had the pleasure of visiting the Highline.  Remarkable.  I slept like a baby (not one of my babies, but maybe one of my friend Katie's babies) after that eventful day.




When I woke up, I felt so refreshed, I hopped out to the muggy streets and grabbed some pasteries (for my co-workers) from the Eric Kayser Boulangerie a few blocks away.  I decided it would have to do, since I didn't have time to grab any Nashville items from the gift shop on my way out of town.  For lunch we went to an Israeli restaurant called Taim, and I had my first falafel experience.  Um, yum.  After work, I took Keith's advice and headed to Joe's famous pizza joint for dinner.  On the way, a super-sweet clerk at O&Co. had me tasting expensive olive oil.  Don't get me wrong-- I love olive oil.  On things.  And by "things" I mean food, not spoons or mini cups.  I really don't like guzzling shots of it, but if it ain't going to hurt me or someone else, often I'll just gag it down so I don't offend someone.  I left there with a sample of the truffle oil and truffle salt, which she told me to use to dip my pizza at Joe's.  Holy moly, Spiderman, I'm glad I stopped in her shop.  Delicious doesn't describe how good it was.  I offered some of my salt and oil to the lady beside me, and surprisingly she accepted.  Her name was Ohli.  We chatted for a bit, and she gave me pointers for other places to visit.  After that I grabbed some chocolate chip mint gelato from Grom, then headed back to the hotel to unwind and call it a day.




It was bagel day in the office today, and I realized that in this short trip it looks like someone took a Cutco spreader and dipped out a glob of cream cheese, smeared it on my abdomen, and adhered a bagel to it.  Then pulled a flap of skin over it, and sewed it right above my pubic bone.  TMI?  Never!  I told myself I would be leaving this evening, so no big deal.  Well, after I received the text about my cancelled flight, I decided to extend my eating exhibitions through tomorrow morning.  So, once Max and I wrapped up a few tasks, we headed out for a late lunch at Coppelia-- a cuban restaurant nearby.  I had an avocado salad to save room for dinner.  I visited Union Square and saw one of the most impressive buildings I've ever seen--Barnes & Noble-- before hunger began to set in.  I made a beeline for my new hotel (the hotel where Keith stays whenver he's in town) to drop off my things before I stopped for a bite.  The buildings looked like how I always imagine NYC.  Whenever I see these townhomes I think I could live here.

Once my arms were free of my shopping bags, I ducked into Corner Bistro, which was highly recommended by Keith (in case you can't tell by now, I basically outsourced my NYC tour to Keith).  The bar tender and the customer lady next to me got into a verbal altercation before I could place my order.  For the first time in my life I seriously thought I was on the show What Would You Do?  So, what did I do?  Nothing!  I was flabberghasted and confused and unsure of what I'd just witnessed, and man I wanted to try a freaking burger.  So, I just sat there and looked shocked, and maybe a little afraid and hesitant to order because finally the bar tender said, "You're safe now.  What can I get you?" 




The giant, medium-rare, dripping with blood and grease hunk of cow was without a doubt the best burger I've ever had in my life.  Period.  I chatted it up with the guys on either side of me until I felt like the right thing to do was to let some other patron have my seat at the bar and get ruined by a grilled pile of ground chuck.  I had no regrets.




To burn off those calories, I decided to hike west toward the river in search of Bubby's where there was supposed to be a great ice cream joint inside.  And guess what?  True to form for my trip, the Ample Hills Creamery was incredible.  I don't think I ever knew ice cream could be so smooth.  I thought if I took the ice cream for a walk to the pier it would keep me cool, but the heat won the battle against the ice cream and I basically drank it from the cup after I reached the street corner outside the restaurant.  I walked to the river, but the clouds were so ominous, that I decided to use my better judgement and start tracing back to the hotel.

First thing on the agenda tomorrow morning:  Donut Pub.  Don't judge.  There's no point in trying to stop the bleeding until I'm out of this city.




I'm showered and tucked into bed, enjoying the glow of the lamp, instead of the harsh can lights Chris knows I hate at our house.  There is a fireplace in this room.  A working fireplace.  It was the thing that impressed Chris the most when I gave him the virtual tour.  I know I love my family when I've stopped watching the men's open 400 meter dash to answer their Facetime call.  All the burgers and ice cream and culture in the world wouldn't make me prefer this over them.  I look forward to getting this house done so that we can plan a trip like this-- all of us together.  As I always say, "You enjoy ice cream more when you have someone to eat it with."  Yep, I just quoted myself.  Lovely.

Delays

Our town has been booming lately.  Corporate headquarters of various large companies moving to the area have greatly increased the need for housing.  Chris has mentioned that we currently have more cranes in our city than in any other city.  I believe it as I drive through the city, and the suburbs, and see their looming presence.  James always asks me to drive slower or "turn around" so that he can study them at length.  GiGi gets impatient.  "Go!" she squeals through her pacifier (which obviously isn't doing its job).

Considering the growth, it's no surprise that it's been a bit of a challenge finding good contractors in a timely manner.  We are doing our best to work on referral, because we believe in the word-of-mouth reputation-- especially from people who have good reputations themselves.

Besides the challenge of growth, the weather has also been a roadblock often.  I don't know if it's just because the rain inhibits progress lately, but it seems like it's been rainier than normal this year.  One day, while my parents were in town, I spent over an hour sweeping (yes, sweeping) water out of GiGi's bedroom because of the holes in the roof.  I couldn't stand the thought of the water lingering there overnight and through Sunday until the workers could hopefully arrive on Monday.

Yesterday Chris called me to let me know that there were some issues with the framing that were going to prevent us from having the roof installed on Tuesday this week, as had originally been projected.  He was worried about approaching the framers about this, because the issues had been items he had previously mentioned needing to be fixed, but apparently his requests had been overlooked.  The trim guy was the one who had confirmed his suspicions-- that these issues could cause major problems down the line, if they weren't to be corrected.  The trim guy explained that the issues were amateur mistakes-- as if the framers were still in the learning process.  I could understand that, considering our framers are really quite young.  They are clearly hard workers, but there is definitely something to be said for the experience that comes with years on the job.  Needless to say, I had a pit in my stomach for the rest of the day, after hearing this news.  It was more for the stress I knew Chris was enduring, than for my own worry.

On the way home, the kids and I stopped by the house, said our prayers for the house out loud, and then blew them from our palms up toward the naked frame.  Crazy as it sounds, I felt lighter as I drove away.

As soon as I got home from work last night, Chris rushed out the door to meet a buddy who was bringing an associate of his over to the lot.  When Chris returned almost two hours later, he said, "I just met the nicest Hispanic guy.  Seriously, I think he was a Godsend."  I instantly thought of our little prayers we blew up to the house.

I just heard that familiar sound of rain on the roof of our office building.  It starts off soft... almost like the HVAC kicking on.  Then the rush gets louder.  I used to love the rain.  "I'm only happy when it rains," was Garbage's mantra that I could empathize with.  Now the rain changes things.  The next line of the song chants, "I'm only happy when it's complicated."  Complicated is an understatement to describe the effect of rain on this build.  Heck, complicated is an understatement to describe my life.  But then again, I do still love the rain, and I am a sucker for complication, I suppose. 

Pre-Build

My children, James and GiGi, are the fourth generation in our house.  My husband's grandfather (Granddad, as everyone calls him) was the first owner of the house after it was built in the late 1950s (Zillow says 1960, but I'm going according to family tales here), and he raised his lovely twin daughters in the home.  When my husband (Chris) was born, Granddad became his father figure, and Chris ended up living in the house throughout his life at various points.  In February of 2014, Granddad passed away suddenly.  Chris was utterly heartbroken.  Granddad was his person, and I'm not too proud to say he probably will always be.  So, Chris decided to buy the house as-is from the estate, with the intention to keep Granddad in his life.  In 2006, Chris began renovating the house.  I remembered the first time we talked and he told me about the project.  He was so excited as he spoke about his plans!  We weren't dating at the time, but fast-forward eight months to when he asked me on our first date.  He told me all about what he had been doing at the house, and that I should stop by and see it sometime.  I politely agreed, but in my mind I thought I might just wait for the finished product.  You know, a grand reveal like they do on HGTV. 


Here we are nine years later, and our house still isn't completely finished.  While it's close, there still remains a punch list of things to do.  Trim in the utility room, frost the glass doors, repair some tile defects, etc.  All that to say, if I had waited for the "grand reveal", we probably wouldn't be married with two children right now, AND in the middle of building a brand new house!


So, how did we get in the middle of building a brand new house before our existing house is even finished?  Well, it seems to be a simple case of, "Ask and ye shall receive."  (Matthew's words, not mine.  Actually, I think those are the words of Jesus. Either way, I didn't make this stuff up.)  That's literally what we did.  Chris had been talking about this "lot on Baxter" for months.  He explained how it was one of the few remaining lots in our area of town-- the neighborhood was basically fully developed, and had been for decades.  The trees were seasoned, and the residents stuck around.  We loved living in the area, but Chris's dream as an architect was to design and build his own home.  He hated the thought of leaving, but he was burning to build.  So he asked me what I thought about him knocking on the owner's door and asking if he could buy the lot.  Being the sales person I am, I replied, "The only sale you don't get is the one you don't ask for!"  Ok, maybe I didn't say those exact words, but that's when I meant when I said, "Sure! Why not?"


Again, weeks or months went by, because truthfully I didn't actually think he'd do it.  Chris has a tendency to drag his feet when it comes to buying things. He is painfully slow on the trigger... unlike me.  I've accepted this about him, so it doesn't bother me anymore.  (I'm pretty sure my trigger-happy finger still bothers him, though!)  Finally one day we were on a little walk around the neighborhood, and he suggested we walk by to inquire about the lot.  I agreed, but mostly because it would get me a little more exercise (Chris has bad knees, so usually our walks are cut shorter than I'd like). 


The kids and I stood at the end of the drive as Chris rang the doorbell.  When the door opened, there was a tall, willowy woman who appeared to be around our parents' age.  She was darling.  Scurrying around her were two little girls, around our kids' ages, and their mother appeared to be my age.  I instantly liked them.  As it turns out, they must have liked us enough to sell the lot to us.  And now we are future neighbors!

It sounds like that all happened very quickly, but we inquired about the lot in the spring of 2015, and didn't sign closing documents until the end of January of 2016.  Long story short, it was quite challenging to find a bank that was willing to give a loan to someone without selling the existing home for collateral.  Anyway, after being turned down many times, we finally found a banker who saw Chris's vision.  Despite signing the closing docs, I didn't believe it was all real until I saw the foundation had been poured.

Foundation

Hardly a day goes by that people don't ask me, "How do you do it?"


My reply, "Which part?  The full-time job, Master's degree, 2.5 hour daily commute, two kids in day care, building a house, happy marriage, maintaining friendships..."


Really, I'd like to know which aspect of my life appears as though I'm doing something right, because at any given moment I fear that all the nails are going to pop out at once and the whole house is going to come crashing down.  That's how "not together" I imagine myself to be.  I can't speak for my husband, but judging by his worry lines in his forehead, I'd say he imagines our life the same way!


One of my best friends and I always joke that we pretty much feel like in The School of Life, we are teetering around a D/D- for a grade on a daily basis.  Managing to keep everyone alive is sometimes the only thing that keeps us above an F.


So, the purpose of this blog is to give myself an outlet to vent... and to remind myself that this journey is not just a series of random events.  We are building our lives on a foundation that our parents have created for us, and hoping to make as many right--and GOOD-- decisions as possible along the way.  My hope is that eventually my life's report card won't seem like a cumulative D/D-, rather an array of grades by subject area, with my higher grades manifesting in the areas that are not material.


Additionally, I'd like to share our building process.  The process actually began more than a year ago, but I'll get you up to speed.


Consider this your "Welcome" mat in front of my life's doorstep!