Well we were waiting on the house valuation for the bank on order to get our final loan approval. We got word yesterday that the house valuation was “in line with the purchase price”, which I assume means we weren’t stupidly paying too much. Yay! Woohoo!……………

……”Oh, um, hang on there. The valuer did say that he recommends a structural inspection before we can proceed. If you have one can you send it to us”.

We have owned a few houses. We have owned older houses in need of major renovations. We know what’s what. Beefcake went around to the house during cooling off and spent a couple of hours going over it himself. He had a long list of things to check and he was pretty thorough. This is useless for the bank, of course. They require a proper paid-for stuructural inspection. I could punch the house valuer in the throat. We know that the structural inspection will come back fine but it is $400 we didn’t want to spend. It is probably just because the house was built in 1895. Frustrating.

Anyway, it takes place tomorrow morning  and so we are once again waiting and hoping that all will be well. I had a nightmare last night that the vendor decided to put it back on the market and not sell to us because we were “stuffing them around”. This is not possible but it is obviously fucking with my mind. I will be relieved when we can get the report to the bank and receive our final approval. Until then I will just go about grumbling and muttering to myself about stabbing the house valuer in the ear*.

I am still totally foul and grumpy, for all of the reasons I have previously mentioned. I will not whine about it again. I may however take a couple of days off from the blogging. I am sure there are many funny and entertaining things that I could write about but I have no inclination. It feels like a chore at the moment, instead of the joy that it usually is.

I’m sure I’ll be all better next week.

*All of these references to throat punching and ear stabbing make me sound a violent and volatile creature. I am not, I am a delicate petal and I am all about the nonviolence. Really. I just use those words to channel my frustration. In real life I am playing the harp and tending my pots of delicate indoor plants as I float serenely around my house, dressed in  a perfect, neat, clean, floaty white dress. I am not crouched in the corner, clutching my laptop, wearing a cruddy, stained tracksuit, rocking back and forth and  muttering to myself.

Well, it was back to school for the big kids today.

Beefcake woke them both at the usual time and soon Poss was out in the kitchen,  feeling very chuffed in all new school uniform, which we purchased for her on Friday.  I felt very organised and superior in my housewifely skills as I had remembered to do the children’s washing and they both had clean socks and undies. Poss quickly made her breakfast and we expected Rhubarb to follow soon after.

It took us a few minutes to realise that he must have gone back to sleep. I marched in and clapped my hands and put the light on, telling him to hurry and wake up. It was a sterling mothering moment for me as he leapt out of bed, stood swaying unsteadily and burst into tears. Poor baby. He’s not  a morning person. I felt guilty enough to insist that he sit down and wake up a bit while I laid out his clothes. I was particularly pleased to find that there were two splodges of green paint on his almost new (clean) school jumper. Apparently none of the cool kids wear a smock. He could barely contain his scorn for our suggestion that he should buck the trend. He kept repeating “It’s fine Mum” with a sigh and the tone of someone who is explaining a very simple concept to a very stupid person. I assured him that green paint staining his new school jumper was most definitely NOT FINE.

I am a bit sad that the holidays are over, I will miss the kids being around the house, I have enjoyed their company and they have bee a great help with the small children lately as my pelvis has been a bit crud. I said as much to Rhubarb as he inhaled a microwave defrosted hot cross bun. He snorted and muttered something under his breath so I assume that he feels I haven’t been appreciative enough of his presence over the holidays.He arrived home from school this afternoon in an absolutely foul mood and did not speak to me at all for nearly two hours.

Based on the above behaviour I think it is safe to assume that the TAAM is a direct reaction to contact with his school uniform (perhaps the trigger is somehow absorbed through the skin when he puts it on) and is most active during term time.

Bah.

He is fine now, cavorting about the house with the others and has even managed to have a laugh about this morning’s episode although there was some significant whingeing about homework. Ah the trials and tribulations of being a teenager.

I am attempting to rest up big as I have an outing to the hairdresser’s tomorrow. Whoopee! Well, strictly speaking it is my friends house, where we will luncheon and a mutual friend will do both of our new do’s. I’m just having a trim really but if I am to be functional and able to sit in a chair, stand up AND walk then I must rest like a good girl now.  The house is falling down around my ears, there is crapulence at every turn but I must lie here and wallow in it.

Double bah.

I am foul.

I am beastly.

I am a bitch.

I am experiencing some sort of hormonal surge. I believe it may be due to the impending return of my period. My boobs are killing me, in fact I believe something has caused blocked ducts in one as it is agony. I hate everyone. I mean loathe. I have yelled at every member of our family today, including the dog (except for the Grub of course because I am not some sort of inhuman monster* who goes around yelling at babies).

I had an argument with Beefcake while we were cooking dinner tonight. I knew I was being insane and he should have known that I am hormonal and if I am insane he should be agreeable and sweet and not arc up in response to my craziness. So really, it’s his fault and I am blameless. It was just an annoying bickering session about chilli and fat and nothing of consequence but I did have a little weep over placemats so emotions were running high.

I’m sure that this whole post is waaay too much information for most of you, which is fine, but I just need to come to grips with it a bit. Whilst there are positives. I don’t want my period back. It has been around 20 months since I last had one. This will likely be the last break I have from the relentless monthly hormonal roller coaster for DECADES!!! Waaaaahhh!

Beefcake has helpfully chimed in with the suggestion that I may be pregnant. He actually came home yesterday and said that while he was out he had been thinking about my moodiness etc and decided that was the logical conclusion. He then proceeded to tell me how nice he thought it might be to have five children. He is lucky to have made it out alive. I am not pregnant (or at least I bloody well hope not!)

So.

I am making a list of things that are good about being all fertile and menstrually again. Raging hippy that I am. Here goes:

• I lose weight more easily and my weight is easier to maintain when I have periods – don’t know why, just is.
• We are not good with contraception. A menstrual cycle that I can track makes everything sooooo much easier until Beefy goes for the old “snip snip” (mwahahahaha), which should be really soon.
• Sometimes it’s fun to buy tampons. In the UK they only sell them in jumbo size, enough to last you for six months boxes but in Oz they come in an array of pretty little tins and packages that I think are fun to buy (small things, small minds).
• I have an excuse for being bitchy – that probably won’t work too well but I can try.
• I have at least one guaranteed day of being able to be looked after and have Beefcake feel sorry for me. One day of hot water bottles and pampering.

Okay, that’s it. I was really stretching it with those last two. Can anyone else think of any positives? From where I am sitting it’s all bad really.

Bah and humbug.

*This is a word, right? Wordpress believes that it is not a word today. It is freaking me out because what if it really isn’t and I write a blog post including an imaginary word, the meaning of which only I grasp, and everyone thinks I’m a bit stupid??

See???

You like??

If you are in a reader then you will just have to click through (or use your imagination). It’s pretty and has things and it’s nightimey and there are trees. Wow, I should be a writer or something because the way I conjure up an image with my words is something quite special.

I have a very short attention span. It is a miracle that the previous theme lasted as long as it did. I love this one now. It is my new special, precious favourite, for the next couple of months at least. I am a fickle, fickle creature.

It will have another sidebar at some point and I am moving things about and changing things but I think it’s real purdy.

I am on pelvis rest (because, you know, I am able to be so active normally and rest to spare my pelvis is so unusual) and I am bored and thus we have new blog theme.

I wish I were more exciting.

We met with the bank this morning and they told us that they couldn’t tell us if we would get approval but what did we think? We said that we thought we probably would and they said that although they were not allowed to say so they thought that we were right. I think it was nice of them to give us the secret “not really telling you because I don’t want to get into trouble” reassurance. If they are wrong I fully intend to sue or something.

We feel very much better. We will be moving into our new house on the 29th or 30th of May. I will have to wait to post pictures because I want to take them myself rather than refer people to the real estate site, which gives the full address of the house. You know, because naturally there are all sorts of people out there who would be interested in stalking myself and my family in little old Adelaide. You can never be too paranoid, I say.

Well, I have certainly stretched a post that essentially existed just to say “Look, I have a new theme” to it’s absolute limits so I shall be off. I must try and plan how we will afford to put a new  kitchen in the new house asap. It is possible I will be crotcheting all the cupboards or something, which would be fine if I crotched but could prove quite difficult since I do not.

Oh dear. I have been a bad blogger lately. In my defense, life has been very busy and tirey in recent days.

Beefcake’s father and his partner arrived from London on Staurday. We have spent the entire weekend (including today) enjoying gorgeous meals in restaurants paid for by them! Yay! The children were also thrilled to see them as the older two were gifted with foreign currency and Pudding recieved a spider which drops dramatcially from it’s string, like a web, when you shriek in it’s vicinity. Just ideal for him really. Grub recieved friggin’ DKNY baby clothes which are stunningly beautiful but I will be too afraid to ever put on her.

I can’t quite believe that I am tired of eating out but it really is an exhausting business. On the first day I was fine, merrily tucking in to posh fish and chips and oysters and things. Yesterday we visited another family member’s beautiful property in the Adelaide hills we ate way too much gorogeous food, we fed their horse and donkey, there was a tractor ride (rather ill-fated for the more “happy” of the adult partygoers) and we picked about six kilograms of crisp, juicy red apples from the trees that grow there (strictly on the neighbouring property but we needn’t yell too loudly about that). Today we had breakfast, lunch and dinner in different restaurants. All of our meals were excellent. I had scrambled eggs, bacon and mushrooms for breakfast (note to self: You don’t drink coffee, two cups in quick succession, no matter how delicious, will give you the shakes), all sorts of Greek dips and calamari and fried cheese for lunch and then a way too large portion of divine seafood pasta for dinner. I am slightly ashamed to say that I capped off dinner with a slice of toblerone mousse tart because OMFG toblerone mousse tart! Anyway, with each meal I have had a little bit more trouble heaving myself off of the chair. I have established a sizeable paunch in just these three days. It is very lucky that they live so far away these days. I had forgotten how they enjoy their food. Crazy.

I had one of those surreal parenting moments in the carpark when we arrived for dinner tonight, one of our favourite restaurants by the sea. It is a little pricey and we never get to go any more because we can never justify it and it is not really a family type restaurant. I was giving Grub a quick feed in the car before we went in and the kids were cavorting in amongst the parked cars and dodging the  moving cars singing “Can we do and Irish jig? Irish jig, Irish jig”. Beefcake and I were chatting away about the mortgage or kitchen cupboards or something. It occurred to me then that we have become so tolerant of the crazy, we don’t even notice it. A survival mechanism of some sort I suppose. I guess I would rather be desensitised than be the parent that is bright red in the face trying to control the unruly brood.  The next thing you know, Beefcake’s Dad turns up with a large cowboy style rifle, complete with targets etc for Pudding. Pudding spent the rest of the evening walking around saying “I have a really big gun!” to anyone who he could pin down for a moment. My children are not the loud and horrible children by any means but they certainly are free-spirited and independent minded.

In the wake of all of that eating I am now retiring to my bed with a book. Oh the exciting life I lead.

My life lately is made up of all the highest highs and the lowest lows.

The morning after I told the internets that we had bought a house our mortgage broker told us that he could not find us a loan. We were crestfallen.

Not to be defeated, Beefcake called around himself and (surprise!) was able to find a very normal and mainstream lender who will give us our crippling long-term debt. It took him an hour. We no longer have the greatest confidence in the mortgage broker.

It was wonderful to be able to re-sign contracts at that final price. We spent most of yesterday numb, we had been through so many moments where we were certain we could not buy this house that our brains just refused to accept the reality of finally having it.

Today we went for a long walk around our neighbourhood. We have bought only a few minutes away from where we have been renting. It is a dream come true to be able to buy in this area. Even though we have been living here for more than a year I don’t think we have allowed ourselves to feel that it was our home and our community – we weren’t here legitimately, we didn’t belong.

Today we walked the streets and whispered to each other – “look at where we get to live!”. I kept nudging Beefcake and saying “We bought a house – here!”. We have felt almost homeless all of this time. Our rental is fine but there is something to be said for having a house we can claim as our own again. I didn’t realise just how much the lack of that had been getting me down. I really didn’t.

We have so many plans for this house, I have so much planning to entertain me. Beefcake says he has never seen me so excited about a house before and this is the third house we have purchased together. It is true, I can see us staying in this new house for a long, long time.

The children are so excited but can’t understand why we must wait to move in.

The school holidays are in full swing now. The novelty of being at home with all this free time has worn off and they are starting to become agitated. When I told Rhubarb tonight that we were not moving until the end of May he moaned and rolled his eyes. I predict that I will have this conversation with one of the children at least 432 times before we actually move. They will ask me each day “how many more days is it now?” and you know what?

I am that overjoyed that I might just answer cheerfully. Every. Single. Time (actually, I guarantee that I will not but I like to imagine that I am the nice calm mother instead of the shrieking banshee woman- sometimes).

P.S. Long walks of suburban admiration are not good for dodgy pelvises (should that be pelvii or something, it feels as though it should have a snazzier plural but I don’t suppose people need to use a plural form of the word pelvis all that often). I still hadn’t recovered from the sugar rush the other day and now I am walking as though I am heavily pregnant again (think limping and leaning on every available surface but as though your ankles are tied together because if you move your feet apart it feels as though you have been kicked in the vagina). I never learn.

So, um, we agreed on a price with the vendors.

The house is ours.

This is fantastic, fantastic news except that the banks are all very brow furrowy and head shakey when it comes to considering Beefcake’s foreign income.

We are pushing ahead regardless. We have  a three week finance clause in our contract. We are convinced that if we wish hard enough our mortgage broker will be able to pull it off. The reality is that he may be able to pull it off with a few tweaks here and there that will leave us utterly poverty stricken for the next 35 years.

I’m sure it will work out, right?

Yes.

Look.

A baby.

A baby who can now walk quite well by the way. She’ll be ten months old next week and she is scarily mobile. Also falls over a lot. She got her last central incisor on Easter Sunday. She now has six toothy teeth. And a cute topknot tuft of hair at her crown. Such a big girl. Beefcake tells me several times a day that she is actually a toddler now but he is a moron. She is a baby.

At least, no matter what happens with the house, we have her*.

*And the others of course, I wasn’t meaning to discount them but you know, the photo is of her – and mmmmmm babies.