CityMama™

Shiver in my bones just thinking about the weather

I swear it was like summer time in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. I think I even turned the AC on in the car at one point.

Now, though, it's rainy and cold. Yesterday it was hard to know where the fog ended and rain clouds began. The weather has turned and I know this because my lips are horribly chapped. This happens to me everytime the weather changes from Indian summer to full on winter.

Today I was looking in the girls' closet at all the myriad puffy jackets, thick sweaters, rain boots, scarves, mittens, and knit hats, such practical reminders that we once lived in a city where temperatures dip below 40º.  We have no need for them here anymore.

Sure the rain gear will come in handy every once in awhile, but parkas and gloves look out of place here in San Francisco. And, we don't ski, so.

When we lived in Portland, I would bundle the girls up warmly before we headed out on our daily walks. Coats went over sweaters, hats and scarves were a must. Mittens didn't always take. Sometimes, a wool "Ugly Betty-style" turtleneck poncho would go over everything for extra warmth.  Bunny's preschool teacher actually teased me for my bundling overkill, but hey, it's a lot colder there than it is here. The Pacific Northwest has that bone-chilling damp cold.

Wallie would go out in the stroller swaddled in two cashmere blankets and then placed in a fleece and sheepskin bunting. Then more blankets would be piled on top of her.

I'm such a wimp. I'd never survive living in a snowy climate. I'd never leave the house. My kids would have to be unschooled. I'd order all my groceries from Amazon. We'd never eat a fresh vegetable for the duration of the winter.

Everyone here always jokes that the weather report here is always the same, day in, day out:

We'll have patchy morning fog clearing by noon. 70's inland, 60's at the coast.

But I like me a mild winter day. Heck, if it dips below 60º today maybe I'll even wear a scarf.

It's over and I'm not looking back

Whereby I get a little bitter, but then am fine...

Bunny and Wallie were both sick for Halloween so we stayed in and celebrated at home.  We ate a haunted dinner by candlelight.  We had a family dance party.  We made popcorn.

J. took them down the block for a quick look at a house which had really cool carved pumpkins.  They knocked on the door but the woman inside had no candy for the two little coughing trick-or-treaters. She just wasn't expecting any trick-or-treaters despite having decked out her front stoop. They came back and knocked on our door and I filled their baskets with peanut M&Ms. We shut the door and they knocked again, and this time they each got a mini Snickers bar.

We had not one trick-or-treater knock on our door.

That's San Francisco for you.

The whole experience made me miss Portland a little bit.  Our first Halloween in Portland, when Wallie was just a month old was...cute. J. took two-year-old Bunny around our neighborhood, and she came home with a basket full of treats. I worried because they were taking a long time, then J. came back and said he had been invited in by a neighbor for a glass of wine while Bunny played with the neighbor girls.

Last year, we spent Halloween at a party with friends. Bunny remembers it and talked a lot about it today. My heart broke when I saw my poor littles return home with no candy, so disappointed that their pseudo-Halloween was a bust. I ran to the kitchen and had a quick, quiet cry while J. got the girls undressed and they ate their peanut M&Ms. I thought, "In Portland they could have visited any number of houses on our street and come home with candy. I hate this mean, child-unfriendly city."

Figuring out Plan B

A "brain dump" post to sort out the chatter inside my head.

Lately I've been trying to figure out the track that my family's life is on and where we want to be headed going forward. This past year has been tumultuous to say the least and, as a family, we've been very unsettled. This has contributed to me feeling really stressed and depressed, but we're clawing our way to the end of the tunnel where there is a tiny flicker of light. We're also facing some big changes, but these are mostly good things.

Within a week, the sale of our Portland house will close and I will turn 37.

Within three months we will have need to have chosen a school for Bunny.

A year from now she will be in kindergarten and her sister will be in preschool.

But where will we be?

A thing of beauty

In two weeks, I will have my life back.

[photo credit: Mamaloo (who has her own Portland real estate issues...)]

Cross your fingers: update!

Weird, karmic things are happening in Portland. Maybe it's because today I finally put an ad up on Craigslist to rent our house (and got three respondants within an hour!), but...

Tonight we got an offer. We counter tomorrow.

Please take a moment and send all the positive energy out into the universe that you can muster.  We need to sell this house.

Update: Hooray! We have a verbal written acceptance of our counter offer (and a note saying how much the buyer loves the house and "what a great job" we've done with it. They are moving for a quick close.) Continue keeping those fingers and toes crossed! (New buyer—you're going to love the house!)

Universe, our house is yours

Earlier this summer, our Portland house went on the market.  It's now September and it still hasn't sold. The resulting stress is eating me alive.

When we put the house on the market, we knew that it wasn't going to be cakewalk. Listings tend to sit for 40 or more days (on average) before being sold in Portland.  The real estate market is schlumpy all over, but by all indications it's especially schlumpy in Portland. Our last house sold in a week. We didn't expect it to sell in a week or even a month knowing Portland, but we sure weren't prepared for this.

We've reduced the price many times trying to match what the market is telling us, but still—no dice. Shittier houses in way shittier neighborhoods are selling for what our house is on the market for. I'm perplexed.

My mom says I need to give the house over the universe.  That when I emotionally detach it will sell. I've been trying to do that for months now. 

I need to get this out of me and then I am letting go of the house so it can sell.

Dear House,

It's not your fault that you haven't sold. You are an adorable house in an extremely desirable neighborhood with the best schools on the eastside.  You have everything going for you: plenty of space, a private yard, a brand new kitchen. By all accounts you are a smashing house.

Yes, you are on a busier street and some people might not like that, but it's not the busiest street in Portland, not by a long shot. Once inside the house that's a non issue.  You have new windows both on your second story and in the basement family room.  Inside, it's quiet.

A huge plus is the fact that you are so close to so many cute shops, cafes, and restaurants.  Somewhere in Portland or beyond there has to be a family with small children that loves to walk and explore.  That's why we chose you: so we'd never have to rely on a car to get a coffee, grab a bite, or do our shopping.

Perhaps the lawn could be better attended, but had we stayed, that was our next project. Yard, we had such nice things planned for you.  As it stands we can't be there to check that the gardener is doing what he is supposed to be doing. I'm not there to say, "Trim that more, pull those weeds."

I think you aren't selling because Bunny still talks about you all the time.  She remembers every nook and cranny. Everything about you in the way only four-year-olds can. She still tells me about her red room and how she could look down on the back yard and see the flowers. She tells me about the family room where she used to play with Wallie. She is still clinging to you and I don't know how to tell her to let you go.

[the day we moved in, Bunny's room was set up first.]

J. and I are ready for you to sell so we can get on with our lives in San Francisco. Keeping up two houses is expensive and we can't afford to do it anymore. (We couldn't afford to do it two months ago, but I have the best mother in the entire world.)

House, you will always have a treasured place in our heart.  You are the first house that Wallie ever knew.  You kept yourself so warm and cozy for her the night we brought her home. You are the place where Wallie said her first words, learned to crawl, and took her first steps. You are where Bunny and Wallie had birthday parties.  You are where we entertained friends.  We never expected to leave you so soon.

But we need you to put your best foot forward now and make another family want you just as much as we wanted you. I'm not sleeping well. My body is tight with tension and stress. I haven't been able to be wholly present in all aspects of my life because I am so worried about you.

Bunny isn't old enough to cut her attachment to you so you are going to have to do it for her.  Please.We had a great 16 months together.  We loved you and always will. But we have to let you go.

Universe, meet cute yellow house.

Cute yellow house, meet universe.

HOUSING BRAIN DUMP

You know when you read people's blogs and you think, "Man, that person is neurotic. How can anybody be so crazy?" This is one of those posts that should make everyone reading it feel a little bit better about themselves.

I'm not exactly sure why I am so..."waffle-y," for lack of a better term.  I can never be happy with status quo. I'm fickle, finicky, and get bored easily. I am also the queen of second-guessing myself and almost every decision in my life. I'm a workshopper. I workshop the horse until it's dead. Then I beat it just to be sure.

So, with that in mind, let's talk about our housing situation for a sec.

CUTTING THE PORTLAND CORD

Our Portland house goes on the market Monday.  Could we all collectively pray for a nice family from L.A. to buy it for top dollar?

I admit I'm a little wistful. Especially since all this week I have been going nuts coordinating window cleaners and carpet cleaners and pressure washers and gardeners to come spruce the place up. That's more than we ever did when we lived there.

TRAVELLING WITH KIDS: IT'S NOT THE TRAVELLING THAT'S HARD

Our kids don't travel well. Everytime we travel, they get sick.  Case in point: we just travelled, they're both sick. Bunny is has a cold and has been complaining of a sore tummy since we got back. Today, she threw up twice. One of those times was in the car. In a word? Gross. In another? Febreze.

Wallie's nose has been running like a faucet since we hit our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet.

It's enough to make you never want to leave the house.

It's frustrating, though because this last trip I feel like we finally got our travel plan honed so that form finally follows function, if you will. Thank goodness Wallie is old enough not to need so much crap. Travelling for me is a battle. It's me vs. The Shit. All that fucking shit you have to carry everywhere.

What makes our plan so workable?  Here's what I've learned over the years:

• Buy your over-six-month-old-but-under-two-year-old a seat if you can. You don't have to, but if you can, do it. They will be more comfortable and so will you.
• Don't bring a carseat (if your child is old enough to sit in an airline seat without one) if you can rent one (or borrow one) at your destination. It's what we do with Bunny. We bring Wallie's seat so she has a place to sit on the plane, but we always rent one for Bun whenever we rent a car. I can't wait until Wallie is old enough not to need a carseat on the plane.  And, despite what everybody and their mother loves to whine about: 1) we've never been given a gross car seat, and 2) we've never not been given one.
• Minimize the carry-ons. If your preschooler does the "carry his/her own backpack thing" make sure it's not so weighed down with toys and crap that you'll end up carrying it after 10 minutes. I carry a big tote bag into which I throw: my purse, my laptop in a zippered sleeve (if I'm bringing it), a couple of diapers, and some portable, non-messy snacks (an apple, some pretzels. I wish my kids would eat bars but they no likee). I don't bring sippies anymore. (Thank god. It's one less thing to keep track of.) My kids drink water at the airport or on the plane. (Teach your babies how to use a straw when you introduce a sippy cup and then teach them to sip from a regular cup soon after.) I don't bring changes of clothes anymore either. If disaster strikes on the plane, my kid can enjoy wearing an airplane blanket until we hit baggage claim.
• Minimize the luggage. My girls share a backpack. The only shoes we bring are the ones we wear on the plane.
• Board first.
• Bring an umbrella stroller and gate-check it.
• Travel at naptimes or natural sleep times. But don't ever take a red-eye. That's a seemingly-brilliant plan just waiting to backfire on you.  The moment you spread an airplane blanket down on the floor beneath your feet then tell your three-year-old to sleep on it you'll realize your mistake.

What else?

PORTLAND STILL FEELS LIKE HOME

We arrived in Portland Friday evening and driving the 15 minutes from the airport to our Northeast neighborhood I felt myself relax for the first time in four months. It felt so good to be on Fremont Street to see families out for an after dinner stroll. I miss doing that.

As I looked down neighborhood side streets, I saw what looked like snowflakes floating down from the sky and covering the sidewalks, but no, it was just cherry blossom petals blowing in the breeze.

As we turned on our street, there was our yellow house looking down at us from the top of its little hill. The lawn that was brown when we left is now green. Bulbs are blooming, the magnolia tree is full of pale pink blossoms, and the wisteria over the front porch is starting to bud. As we pointed out our house to Bunny (who hasn't seen it in four months) she asked, "Are we staying there?"

"No, we can't, " I responded, "The little girls who live there now are still there."  Bunny thought for a moment and then replied, "That's okay. We can just go to the hotel."  And that's when I knew we were going to be okay.

Our plan was to paint the trim in the basement and kitchen, but we didnt realize how hard that was going to be with two kids in tow. For those that don't know, last fall we remodeled our kitchen and replaced windows and added decorative trim to our basement family room, but we didn't have a chance to finish the little details before we had to move.

Bunny went off to a friend's for most of Saturday. Wallie wouldn't nap so that rendered 3-4 hours that I could have been helping J. totally useless while I tried to get Wallie to sleep.  A bomb was thrown into my Saturday evening plans to see friends because J. need to finish as much painting as he could while I stayed with the girls in the hotel. I did manage to sneak out for two hours to visit my pal Mamaloo and her new baby boy (the cutest!) in the hospital, but that's about it. It's okay, I was tired. And even though J. painted until 4:00AM, we're still not done. He'll have to go back in a couple of weeks.

It was fantastic to be back in our house, though. I miss it so much. I miss being able to relax among my own things. Our Portland house isn't a perfect house by any means, but (gonna brag a little) it's a damn nice house. It's home. We put so much work into it during the 16 months we lived there from the new double-paned windows upstairs to make our 1927-built house a little warmer to the new kitchen to the comfortable family room. We had more planned: landscaping in the front, a backyard deck, a Japanese soaking tub, finishing out the attic into a playroom for the girls, more painting...

Now we'll never get to do those projects. We'll never get to watch our house evolve into our idea of a perfect house. Even though it was so wonderful to be there, it's sad to see our house in as much of a state of transition as we are.

We walked into the house and J. and I looked at each other and could instantly read each other's minds. "What a great house," he kept saying. "How can we sell it."

"I don't know. How can we?"

We got back to San Francisco yesterday afternoon. The girls were totally wrecked so we fed them dinner, got them into the tub, and then it was straight to bed. J. and I spent a few hours online looking for rentals. Seems like all the good-sounding places held open houses over the weekend and are probably rented by now.

In June we'll be in a new house, but this time we'll have our own furniture, our own cooking utensils, our own pictures on the walls.  Hopefully then, we'll be one step closer to home.