Opening a can of beans

So I have been online in my very limited spare time obsessing over houses in the Boston metro area.

Wow. It's not looking pretty.

We have limited our search to several towns that are around 20 minutes (on a good day, no accidents and traffic is moving thankyajesus) from Hubs office. From that area we've tossed out the ones with bad schools and the ones more than 30 minutes from Boston by train - because if I'm embracing the fact that the winters are a wee bit nippy, then I'd actually like to live close enough to enjoy what Beantown has to offer. Otherwise we might as well live in Rhode Island. Seriously.

So, yeah, it's a little expensive. As in all of the houses in our price range probably need a little work expensive. There is the I have blue carpet and 60's wallpaper expensive or the cute but overlooking the highway expensive. Or the condo with the postage stamp property and fees expensive, not to be outdone by the the nicely renovated 1100 square foot colonial with potential for adding on expensive.

You get me snowed in an 1100 square foot house with two children and it's going to get ugly.

So it looks like we're going with the blue carpet. No we're nowhere near making an offer on a house yet. But I know what's coming. We're probably going to have to buy a fixer upper.

Brown appliances, shag carpet, and brass light fixtures in a split level ranch. Yee haw.

Down but not out (yet)

My life has taken such a crazy tilt lately that I have had to shelve all non-necessities, including blogging. My father is very close to passing away now. My house is on the market. My husband is traveling all but four days this month. I am moving in a few months and I have no idea where we're going to land.

And in the midst of all this are haircuts for the kids, Girl Scout cookies to deliver, Girlie's eighth birthday to plan, school plays to prepare for and on and on.

And me?

Just hanging on by the tips of my fingernails at this point.

Happy hour

So we all have these rules about parenting. One of mine is that I can pour a cocktail when Hubs calls to say he is on his way home. Now I could easily do so beforehand, but then it might be too early and then I might have another. This times the drink to occur right before dinner and helps me chill ever so slightly as the kids are kicking it into high gear aggravation mode. It is a silly little thing I do, something to look forward to when I know my load is about to get lifted. My own little happy hour.

When Hubs is out of town, I usually wait until after the kids are in bed. Not on principle really, it is just that I am usually too busy single parenting to enjoy the imbibing, so I'm better off waiting.

So it is Friday and Hubs has been gone all week. He texts me from the airport, his plane has landed, and whew - my drink is poured. He'll be home soon and I might even crack open another one before he gets here. It has been a really really long week. Really.

We're lucky here in Phoenix because the airport is close by, the traffic is relatively light, and Hub's office is just two miles away. My "rule" works really well, half a cocktail down, and I have a second pair of hands in record time. However in Boston, with the traffic and such, I just might have to alter the rules a little. Otherwise I could knock back an entire bottle before he even steps foot in the house.

Not that I would do that of course.

Having my cake and eating it too

Last night one of my dear girlfriends surprised me with a homemade organic lavender chocolate cake.

Yes, I said a homemade organic lavender chocolate cake.

Just as I was finishing putting the kids to bed, she popped in with the cake, some wine, tea, candles and flowers and we had a little pajama party. She has offered to help out a million times before, but she is also a mother and is pregnant with her second, and it just never felt right to take her up on it. So she decided to surprise me. And Lordy, did I ever need it.

I feel like I have been suffering from nurture deprivation. As a mother you spend so much time making things happen for everyone else. And even with a very supportive husband, there is always a trade-off. He might bike for a few hours and then take the kids so I can write. A give and take yes, and one that I am grateful for, but rarely just a straight give.

And last night was a give. No return favor required, just a chocolate cake and a chance to feel loved.

The cake was perfect. I ate two pieces.

Boston

So it looks official, we're moving to Boston this summer. Hubs has been offered a new position with his company and we'll be packing up the wagon to head back east.

I have such mixed feelings about it. I have loved living out west and I don't feel like we've done everything we wanted to do out here. We have some amazing friends and though it took a little getting used to, I have fully embraced the cactus.

I like to call Phoenix my "hot boyfriend" and while we are occasionally on the outs, the relationship is usually more on than off. I have a feeling that Boston is probably that guy I shouldn't get involved with. You know the one - aloof, unattainable, but so damn cool you can't help following him around like a lost puppy. We'll see.