I have internet connection. Oh the joy!

It is a touch worrying that my feed reader says 1000+ items as opposed to giving an actual number. I have some significant catching up to do so I will be around peoples blogs trying to do just that. I suspect I will be doing nothing but reading blogs for the next few days, but that’s okay with me.

We are having trouble getting the plumber to come. I have an oven, rangehood and dishwasher in my lounge room and an entire kitchen’s worth of packages on the back veranda. It is a touch frustrating but as it has only been a week I should count my blessings, I think. We have a lovely new home and I am very lucky to be getting a pretty new kitchen. I feel a  bit wrong to complain about the unreliable plumber.

So, look for me in your comments, people. I can’t wait to read what you people have been doing.

P.S. I think I may have a slight dependance on the internets. I have been feeling mighty low without my blog to write and other blogs to read. Is it wrong to need the internet so?

Without jinxing things, I would like to say that we are reasonably organised.

There are teetering towers of boxes lined up against every available wall, shoved under tables and behind doors.

We have ebayed and organised and made a large pile to go to the tip and some for charity.

I have been cleaning. I clean a bit, some muscle group or other spasms, I rest for a bit and then try again.

We are our own worst enemies. We have confidently assured our landlord that he can have the keys back on Friday night. This means the house must be cleaned before we actually move the furniture out of it so that it requires only a cursory sweep and mop here and there once it is empty.

Now our house is not completely filthy, despite what certain dishwasher repairmen* might think. Messy sometimes, yes, but reasonably cleanish usually**,  nevertheless I am sure Friday will be hellish. I have plans within plans. I have it all neatly aligned in my mind. How each phase of the move will go. It will all go to shit on the day but what matters is that I feel serene and organised about the move now.

We drove past the new house today and it looks as though the current owners are nearly moved out. The “for sale” sign has come down. I am so extremely happy with this house. It felt like home from the moment we walked in at the first viewing. To be honest, we had discussed how much to offer before we even saw it in the flesh (should that be brick?). It was always meant to be ours.

The last of the money we had to put towards the purchase came out of our account today. It seems unlikely that it will go wrong now. We both keep grinning and elbowing one another in the ribs. It is a hilarious joke that we have been able to pull this off. We both feel that together we have a rare kind of luck.

Maybe our aspirations are more modest than some but we feel pretty extraordinarily lucky to have our wonderful family and now to have been able to buy a home that we just adore. I feel more calm and settled and right than I have in years.

I didn’t know that I was lacking that but it feels very nice to have found it.

* Dishwasher is completely shafted by the way. Apparently there is some sort of unfixable leak that shorts the machine out every time it runs and then dries out, hence his being able to get it to run yesterday. I almost forgave him his ‘tude, only making gestures and faces behind his back  once or twice (alright, possibly three five times).

**Could I possibly be more non-comittal about the cleanliness of my house than that – “reasonably cleanish usually”- go me!

So it was playgroup again today.  Pudding and I took Beefcake and Grub with us as the cuteness known as Grub was feeling better.

It was a lovely sunny day of about 20 degrees here today, which felt positively balmy compared to the freezy, frozenness we have been enduring in the last little bit. I am exaggerating of course. We have no real frozenness in Adelaide, sometimes in the hills but not actually in Adelaide. I am just a wuss. I am not a fan of the wintery coldness and do not cope well with the cooler weather over Autumn and Winter. I had to force myself not to hide inside for our entire time in the UK. I would have liked to stay inside wearing a hot water bottle suit, huddling under a doona/radiator tent arrangement. Anyway, I prefer the warmth.

Where was I? Ah yes, playgroup.

Playgroup was lovely today. I chatted to the other mothers. I would have made you all proud. Interestingly, Beefcake had an idea as to why I feel so very uncomfortable amongst other mothers. He thinks that my experiences as a very young mother to Rhubarb (I was only 18) have made me anxious around other Mums even though I am now a similar age to many of the Mums that I meet. I feel like a misfit still, despite no longer being one. I think he may be right, at least it’s an alternative theory to the one I’ve been running with -  “all other mothers are nasty moles”. Right, distracted from my point again, this is becoming a terrible habit.

Foot in mouth prompting Mummy – hmmm, FIMPM, that’s not a very good blog-name for someone, I will have to rethink that moniker. Anyway, FIMPM was there and she was very nice and we chatted and she didn’t appear to think I was horrible and boring at all. I am all chest puffy outy and air punchy that I have made a new friend. Yes, I am five.

It’s not just the making a new friend thing. I love that we have found a playgroup we love. We all love it, so much that I wish we had thought of going there earlier. I feel a bit ashamed to say that my own experiences of playgroups and things with the older children made me wary of trying this playgroup sooner. It is just nice to have a kid related activity that I won’t have to force myself to attend each week. I actually enjoy it and that’s pretty cool.

After 13 years, maybe I am beginning to get the hang of  at least this  aspect of the Mummy thing, hey? Yeah, probably not.

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.

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.

I often spend time looking at real estate ads. I quite enjoy looking at houses and fantasising about what we might be able to buy eventually. I look at fanciful dream houses that we could never afford. I look at derelict wrecks that could be transformed into the house of our dreams. I look at houses that we just might be able to live in and be able to afford.

Back in February I bookmarked a sweet little house in an nearby area that we love. It seemed to be priced a bit highly and the ad informed me that it required a lot of work. That wouldn’t put us off, we’ve renovated a few houses, but we never bothered to look at it because it just wasn’t the right time for us to buy. On Friday we noticed that it was still on the market and so we decided to call the agent and ask to have a look through it. We arranged an inspection for late Saturday afternoon.

We were excited but realistic about the fact that there had to be some reason the house had not sold up to this point. We thought perhaps it was in pretty bad condition and the vendor was refusing to come down in price. This particular part of Adelaide sits on clay soil and as the soil dries over our long, dry summer, the clay dries out and walls crack causing pretty bad sturctural damage. It is managable if kept under control but it can get pretty bad in a house where no one is taking notice.

When we arrived at the inspection there were two or three other couples who had come to inspect as well. As we all waited on the footpath, the owner put leads on his two dogs and went off walking so that we could inspect. The place looked a little bit scary but from the front it was nothing like the worst we had ever seen. Not even close. We were opitimistic.

We went in.

Oh, how I wish we had not.

The house had been tidied, the bed had been made in the sole occupied bedroom. As I walked into the room, however, I was nearly overcome by the smell. There were large brown stains on the pillows. The stench of human and animal living side by side in that room was almost overwhelming. I can’t describe it and I don’t care to think too carefully about what had produced it. Let’s just say that I was thankful that Grub had fallen asleep in the car and we had Rhubarb with us to stay with her. We only had Pudding in the house and I could steer him and make sure that he didn’t touch any of the surfaces.

It only got worse. In the second (unoccupied) bedroom the cracks were so large that you could see through to the next room and the ceiling was falling down. The lounge room was covered in a visible layer of thick black sludge, about a centimetere thick. The smell and the grime and the structural defects continued. I was nearly overcome in the kitchen and actually dry-wretched. I grabbed Pudding and tried to use my best ‘nothing’s wrong, let’s be lighthearted’ tone to suggest we look at the back yard.

There was an outhouse toilet and shower that were so encrusted in filth I couldn’t do more than glance at them without nearly being sick. On the plans it stated that there was an inside bathroom, however the door was closed and no one dared open it. All of us stood out in the yard for a few minutes to collect ourselves for the trip back throught the house in order to leave. It was unanimous, we were all utterly shocked by the state of the place. One brave soul looked down the side of the house but suggested it might be best if I did not.

I have never seen or smelled anything like it in my life. It would have been a nice house only a decade or so ago. It had been renovated at some point but clearly the man with the dogs is unable or unwilling to clean and maintain it now. The agent is adamant that the asking price is just the land value but I don’t think they’ll be selling it any time soon.

After we left the smell and the grime and the feeling of darkness and despair that hung around that place clung to me. Beefcake tried to make a joke about my new bag having brushed against the walls and I just lost it. We were in the car driving with all the kids and I became hysterical, sobbing and hyperventilating. There are few things that can trigger an outright panic attack in me but apparently densest filth in combination with my new and most precious handbag is one of them.

I feel quite guilty about it now. Rhubarb was shocked. He had never seen me be upset like that before. Beefcake had only ever seen it once or twice. My precious Rhubarb gave me a big hug when we came home (after I had come inside and changed my clothes). He said “Oh Mum, I love you, it’s been a while since I’ve given you a hug”. That kind of made it all better, really. I steal a hug or a kiss on the cheek here and there but he never volunteers a big long cuddle like that these days. I haven’t had a hug like that for weeks. I still can’t think about the house without a shudder but at least I got the hug from ma boy.

P.S. Also found the house of  our dreams in the newspaper (gorgeous area, gorgeous, very doable house with just enough work to do, a price we can afford) and we made an offer today. Now we must sit and bite our fingernails while they decide if they’ll accept our offer. Wish us luck!!!

After all of that annoyance with Rhubarb the other day, he seems to have settled back into his usual muttering, grumbling but generally cooperative self. That episode seems to have been but a brief spike in TAAM activity. I am a little bit annoyed, however because it turns out that meeting that he missed would have been beneficial to attend. It was to select three Year Eights who would be allowed to row in the “very big regatta”, which is being held in a couple of weeks. The manager of the team told Rhubarb that he may have been selected if he had attended the meeting. They chose him to be cox for the Year Nine boys in the end, which was actually quite an honour but suggests that they thought he possessed the skill to participate. Anyway, there’s always next time and it will be fun just to see him out there on the water joining in with his team.

Not content to leave me harassment free (because they are the minions of Beelzebub) Rhubarb has passed the torch to Pudding. The difference is that Pudding can be as annoying as you please and he still has the cuteness to temper it. You can never be truly annoyed by Pudding because he is three. While he is still three (in fact I believe the official cut-off age for overarching cuteness is seven), most of the things that he does are funny or  endearing in some way. You may have to cover your face when you laugh so that he doesn’t know he was being funny and takes your stern rebuke seriously but he is still amusing. Pudding has reached some sort of developmental turning point and has enter the “questions phase”. Consider the following examples of Pudding’s questioning prowess:

• “Mummy, how does my body move?” – he is insistent that, as your brain has no mouth, your brain can not be telling your legs and arms what to do. His answer : “Your bones have magic”, um, yes, far more plausible.
• “Mummy, what’s inside my tummy?” – after explaining basic anatomy and physiology of digestive tract I was thoroughly overruled. It is preposterous to suggest that your food makes it’s way through your digestive tract and ends up as poo, it somehow becomes invisible and makes it’s escape via the mouth, perhaps while you are sleeping.
• “Mummy where do boogers come from?” – I tried to be vague but he would not be fobbed off with anything less than a full description of  glandular epithelial cells. He nodded sagely and seemed well satisfied with this.
• “Daddy, why do my pants fall down?” – Beefcake* tried explaining the concept of objects being attracted to one another – gravity. I argued that it may not be appropriate for a three-year-old.

There are more but I won’t bore you.

As a side note, the handbag arrived this morning. I am overjoyed. I haven’t taken it on an outing yet but I will tomorrow and I will post pictures of handbag’s first trip out. I know, you’re excited!

* I nearly hit publish with Beefcake’s REAL name typed into this post. I have never done that before. I am not on the ball.