A whole lot of nothing?

I feel like I've been doing nothing lately.  At least, nothing worth blogging about.  The snow has driving my mind into a freeze - I guess that's what four years in the tropics will do.  In fact, as I type this, my fingers are so freezing to the touch that I know in a few minutes, when I put Patch & Wm to bed, Patch will invariably complain again about how cold they are and how I shouldn't touch him.  *sigh*

But really, we've been extremely busy getting our condo ready for - and placed on - the market.  We debated keeping it as a rental investment (after all, we really like the place and I think harbored secret dreams that we could move back in in 15 years when we only had Ian living at home).  But, in reality, neither of us actually enjoy being landlords - and certainly not from 10,000 miles overseas and the extra headache that imposes.  So, after we got past the emotional reaction of not wanting to leave the District,  it made the most sense to sell it after the tenants moved out.  Which they decided to do in December.

As it is, I'm now quite pleased we decided to sell it while we're here and I could say a proper good bye.  I'm happy I could spiff it up myself (with help from Greg, Beth and Lea!) to make sure it was in the best shape possible.  Somehow, being able to do those things in person - rather than making decisions over the phone or email or via a power of attorney - puts me more at ease with selling it.

Our realtor is expecting an offer tomorrow morning - shocking, given we just put it on the market on Wednesday.  So, I guess you could be reading my post of happy memories in the condo as soon as the end of February (closings are usually the end of the month), if we're lucky.

While changing electrical plugs, touching up paint, switching out degenerate ceiling fans for lights, deep cleaning tile grout, getting quotes for a broken window pane, etc aren't really blog worthy, this month hasn't been filled with nothing.  Just the technical parts of saying goodbye to our first home.   

In case you had any doubt

Wm is definitely Greg's son.  Breakfast conversation this morning:

G: Wm, if you finish up breakfast by 7:45, you can watch Manchester City

[aside: Wm has decided Manchester City is his team]

W: Really? I can do it! it's only 7:05! Who are they playing?

G: I don't know - Crystal Palace?

W: NO. They already played Crystal Palace and won 1-0

[impressed look from Greg to Pam]

G: Maybe Cardiff. 

[Wm's proceeds to look up Cardiff's stats on the iPad Fifa Soccer game]

G: Actually, I don't think it's Cardiff.

W: Well, it can't be Arsenal. Manchester City beat them 6-3. 

[at this point, Greg is beaming with pride…]

[for those wondering - it's vs. Swansea.  We'll see who wins]

Observations on America: Excess

Christmas season is a time for excess - but that's not what has me thinking about how much "stuff" is available in America.  After all, Christmas / New Year's / pick your major local holiday is generally a time for excess no mater what country one is in.  

This month, two things made me realize just how wealthy my own country is.  First, NPR aired ads from the PajamaGram company - matching p.j.s for the whole family, and pets, too!  Yes, Americans can apparently afford "lounge wear" for their dogs and cats at $20 (monogramming extra).  Now, I suppose I shouldn't mock this so much, considering I just purchased a monogramed rain coat for my sister's moisture-averse dog for Christmas.  But, all the same, the ads on such a mainstream radio station - emphasizing the pet aspect - caught my attention.  

Next, we're considering adding a patio in our back yard.  My idea is simply that: a patio with pervious flooring so we can enjoy the great weather this spring/summer/fall.  I've been searching and searching online for some good ideas so I can speak knowledgeably with whoever comes to lay the stone, to no avail.  All the sites I can find talk about "outdoor rooms" - full kitchens, water features, dining grottos, cantilevered benches, etc etc and so on.  Whatever has happened to the normal American back yard patio?

Christmas Song

From Wm, in anticipation for tomorrow:

Crimis day is hear
Now we com to sher
Ol or veree gifs
That meen somthing
Thay meen love
Saym with brithays
Alelooya olellooya
Now we open with love

Translation:
Christmas day is here
Now we come to share
All our very gifts
That meen something
They mean love
Same with our birthdays
Alleluia alleluia
Now we open with love

Taking responsibility seriously

Yesterday, I was teeing up with the boys the fact that (a) I had a particular outfit I wanted them to wear for Xmas eve and (b) a photo to the boys in said outfit was non-negotiable. Wm generally does spectacularly if we set up rules and expectations accordingly - no surprises allowed for that kid.

Patch was a bit upset that his sweater was more black than Wm's and threatened not to wear it. But, then the big bro came to the rescue: patch, it doesn't matter, it's just a sweater. You should wear it because it will make Mama really happy.

Then to me: don't worry, Mama. I'm the big brother. I can make sure Ian stays still for your picture. I'll make sure and it will be ok. 

No more babies in this house

Ian has been wrestling his brothers since he could crawl over them at five months. Running after them and trying to steal their toys since 10 months. Gave up baby food to eat real food like them right about one year, and didn't look back when his bottle disappeared one day in favor of sippy and staw cups.

Now he has  the beginnings of pretty consistent words: mama and dada interchangeably for me or Greg; "uya" (kuya) and "bubba" for his brothers; "bawa" for Bagwelle; "EE-YA!" For Lea; "la-na" for "no more?" (corruption of Tagalog walang-na); "MMM!" combined with knocking on the fridge for either milk or yogurt.  Lea says he has some other Tagalog words, but not understanding Tagalog myself, it's hard for me to know :)

My last baby seems to be in a hurry to not be a baby and to catch up with his kuyas.  In fact, I really shouldn't be calling him baby-ko ("my baby") any more.

According to Christmas cards, 2013 is the year of the baby - about 3/4 of the cards we received either have a new baby pic or announcement of one (or two!) on the way.  Two years ago, while we were still debating a #3, this would have made me a bit sad (growing up, I'd always pictured having four children - well, honestly, four daughters - and I was having a hard time convincing Greg that more really is better when it comes to kids).  But, after Ian's surprise arrival, and finding myself not feeling nostalgic at all about his brazen rush to become a little boy, my thought looking at all the photos is: don't worry, friends, your life will be upside down for the next two years (or maybe longer, depending for how long you keep having kids), but it only gets more fun as they get bigger and can talk and think abstractly. 

America's parent code

Today was Patch's Christmas program.  His preschool is at a local church, so, yes, it really was a Christmas program and not a "holiday" event.  Greg represented the parental unit, and his glowing report was that: "patch did an excellent job not singing at the program, but he participated nicely in the clapping, jumping, and stomping."  

One parent shared photos from the event, which I eagerly looked through for pictures of smiling Patch.  Surely enough, as Greg described, he was tight lipped in the back row, hiding.  Oh well.  (sorry I can't post on the public blog - his school has very strict photo-sharing rules!)

In the photo, Patch is wearing his nice blue and orange stripe henley shirt with matching blue pants with an orange stripe down the side.  Actually one of my favorite outfits for him.  Except every other child is wearing black and red.  When I came home, I searched the flier and emails and found no mention of a dress code for the program.  

I have come to the conclusion that this is part of the American parent code that I haven't learned, having not really been a parent in America yet.  We might look like normal, dual working American parents on the outside, but underneath the normal patina we have very little idea what we're supposed to do in this country as a parent, and no one explains the expectations because no one realizes we're just masquerading.  Apparently,  I should have known that "Christmas program" means "dress your child in red and/or black" and if you have a son, this means "dress your child in plaid shirt or cute sweater with corduroys."  

Now, it so happens that this year for Christmas eve, I did purchase similar red and black Hanna Anderson sweaters for the boys and a matching sweater dress for me.  (Nothing for Greg; he refuses to take part in such shenanigans).  Obviously, I should have broken out his Christmas eve outfit early!