Random Cuteness and A Stupid Pie

Spencer with his hair "done" is cute. 

Well, I think so.  He hates it.  Too bad, Spencer.  I'm your mother and I'm pretty sure all moms know everything there is to know about being cool.

A baby sitting in a rocker reading his favorite book is cute.

Babies apparently read with their feet.

Little boys on a big pillow are cute.

Especially when they have their daddy's curly hair.  (I have a thing for guys with curly hair!)

Babies looking at themselves in the mirror are always cute.

But you know what's not cute?  Stupid blueberry pies that turn into blueberry soup with crust.

In these last few weeks before we move I've been trying to empty out our freezer, hence the pie.  (Made with frozen crusts, thank you very much.)  It's also in a deep dish casserole because I had already packed the pie pans, in case you're wondering.

Stupid pie.  Why do you mock me?!  I guess I just have to come to terms with the fact that pie will always be my baking Kryptonite.

House Drama - And Conclusion (Kind of Mostly, But Not Really Because We Still Have to Move)

For those of you who I haven't seen at church or talked to on the phone or who aren't on Facebook or are living under a rock...

WE GOT OUR HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE house.  The one that started it all.  The one that we wanted to raise our expanding family (but not expanding right now, rumor mongers!) for the next 25 years.

Yes.  That one.

Where to begin?  Well, how 'bout with this post?  (In case you missed it.)

So there we were.  No house.  No real prospects.  Total frustration.

We looked and looked and looked at even more homes.  We drove all over this dang county.  We found a house we thought we really liked.  We went back for a second showing - not so much.  Then we looked some more.  (All the while I would be fine in the morning, a bit stressed in the afternoon, and then almost panicked by evening.  I think I do worse the more tired I get.)  

Then we found another home.  And this one we actually both liked.  I mean, it wasn't total love like the first one, but we could imagine ourselves being very happy there.  (After we tore down a wall or two, did some painting, and put in new fixtures, but I digress.)  So we prayed about it and decided to put an offer on the home Tuesday evening.

Wednesday morning I was sitting at the computer and thinking about both properties.  And then it hit me: an overwhelming, consuming knowledge that we should wait.  Wait for that first, perfect house.  

It was crazy.  This meant we would have to wait until the 15th to see if the deal would fall through with the first buyers.  And we didn't think it would fall through at that point.  And if we waited until the 15th and we did not get the house, then we would most definitely have to be in temporary housing, because there's no way we'd be able to find a home and close on it that fast.

But I knew it.  I had an excited, tingling feeling.  And the more I thought about it, the more excited and happy and peaceful I felt.  I just knew this was right.  I knew that it was spirit telling me that we should wait.  For what, I didn't know.  But I knew that we needed to wait.

So I emailed Lance.  Something along the lines of "I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, but I really feel like we need to wait on that first house.  Work with me here..."

To his credit, Lance didn't call me crazy.  But he wasn't so sure about my idea.  He had some questions he wanted answered first.

Less than an hour after I emailed him I got a call from our realtor telling me that that the original house would probably be ours.  The next day.

WOOOOOOOHHOOOOOOOOO!!!  So happy!  So impatient to find out!  So blessed!  Ecstatic ecstatic!!

Wait.  We had an offer on another house.

NOOOOOOO!  Oh no!  What if they accepted it and then we also got the other house?  We'd have to somehow break the contract!  What if they didn't accept it and we didn't get the other house and then we'd be homeless all over again?!  (I don't know if I could have withstood that.)

We decided to wait it out.  We had kind of low-balled the offer, just to see what they would counter with.  That's how you play the real estate game, right?  So we didn't think they would accept the offer right away.

It was the right move.  Because the owners of that house were C.R.A.Z.Y.

They countered with a price of just $500 below list price.

Plus we'd have to increase our earnest money from $1000 to $2500.

Plus we'd have to pay $3500 of their moving expenses since we wanted to close in less than a month.

Plus, if the appraisal of the home was at a certain amount, then they wanted to be able to raise the selling price.

Plus, our real estate agent would only get a percentage of $X amount of dollars, not the full sale price.

Plus, the refrigerator and the water softener would not be included in the sale of the home.  (Which would add at least $2000 more in upfront expenses when we moved in.)

Okay, seriously?  I mean, really?  I'm not quite sure they really wanted to sell their home... because what person in their right mind would agree to those demands?!  At least their agent had the courtesy to be embarrassed when sending the counter-offer to our agent.

But by the time we got their counter offer it didn't matter. 

I was at the library when my agent called with the good news that we were getting our dream house.  I wanted to cheer and yell and clap my hands, but I couldn't.  I was very restrained, given the circumstances.  The boys and I left and got celebratory milk shakes.

That evening, Lance and I happily wrote a rather large REJECTED across the counter offer and emailed it back to our agent.  

And then we did the happy dance of joy with the boys all evening.

Not really.  But we sure were happy.  And grateful.

I'm not absolutely sure why we had to go through all that we did to get our home.  But I have a few theories.  The major one being that I really needed to learn some patience.  And how to have a bit more faith.  And that I need to learn to let go a little - I can't always be 100% in control of my life.  Man... these theories are all about me.  Maybe it was Lance's fault; maybe he needed to have that experience.  Nope, it was probably me.

Whatever the reason, I'm not going to lie - it was hard.  

But.

I'm still grateful for it all.  It sounds trite, but I learned a lot.  About myself, about personal revelation, about following the promptings of the spirit.

So now?  Now it's time to really get down to work.  I've spent the last few days packing, changing addresses, transferring utility accounts, securing our mortgage, packing, renting a moving truck, changing plane tickets (we're going to a family reunion at the beginning of August), packing, trying to get the kids excited and accustomed to the idea of moving, and generally wearing myself out.

I love it.

Well, that's a lie.  I actually really hate moving.  Seriously, I just hate it.  But, the end result will absolutely be worth it.

Thank you all for your support, kind wishes, and prayers.  I was actually kind of surprised at how many people were concerned about our situation.  I mean, yeah, I expected family support.  But all of my friends really pulled through, too.  Thanks, you guys; I truly appreciated it.  I hope I can return the favor in some way some day.

The home inspection is on Thursday, and I hope to get lots of pictures that I will also post.  Until then, if you need me, I'll be the one in the middle of a huge pile of moving boxes, packing away... and smiling.

Summer Means...

Summer means...

Blueberry pancakes for breakfast.

(Clothing apparently optional.)

Fudgesicles while playing in the sprinklers.

Stained white shirts. (Which is okay!)

Awesome fudgesicle beards.

Three baths a day because you get so dang dirty.

(We either need a bigger sink or a smaller baby...)

Popcorn and chocolate milk after playing in the sprinklers for two hours.

Why Having A Baby is Often Like Having A Puppy

This is what we caught Cole doing yesterday.

Yep, he's chewing on the drawers.

I think he likes the feel on his fangs teeth and the sound it makes.

Good grief.

Happy 3rd of July!

Since the 4th was on a Sunday this year we celebrated a day early.  Our good friends, the Souths, came over for a barbecue and fireworks.  Even though we each had some very grouchy kids, and poor Misty is something like 17 months pregnant, I think we still had a pretty good time. 

After dinner we waited as long as we could for our very own "Driveway of Fire".  We didn't start until 8:30pm or so, so it was still pretty light.  (It doesn't get dark around here until 10pm.)  But we had no choice, as it was either that or face the wrath of several grumpy, overly-excited children.

The boys (both old and young) had been waiting for this all day.  The dads were in charge of the show. The moms were in charge of making sure no one blew themselves up.  It was a good (and appropriate) division of labor.

Poor Josh had had a fever most of the day and wasn't feeling too great.  Nothing, however, could keep him away from the promise of fireworks!  (Seriously, is there anything as sad as a child sick on a major holiday?  I remember my youngest brother being sick on Halloween once.  Talk about disappointment.)

Cole was also sick, but he was put to bed.  No fireworks for the poor, picked on third child!

Spencer, however, was excited beyond words.  He was right in his element and could barely contain himself.  I can only imagine the how much of a pyro he'll be at Scout camp when he grows up.

As I mentioned, Spencer was so happy.  He just couldn't hold still.

We had to remind him - several times - not to go out and get the used fireworks while they were still smoking.  It's a constant battle to keep my children alive.

Here's a video of Spencer's exploits.  He was soooo proud to be able to light one of the fireworks this year!

Here's the whole crew watching one of the fireworks.  If that's not a picture of classic suburbia, I don't know what is.

As you can see, Josh was not a fan of the noise.

And here's just a random picture of the SOLD sign for our home!  It would be a lot more exciting if we weren't all homeless and junk. *sigh*  (Make that *hopeful*sigh*.)

More sparklers interspersed between the 'big' fireworks.

Some of them were quite smokey.

Joshie's blankey helped him feel a little better.

Can you just see the longing in Spencer's posture.  He luvved those fireworks!  What is it about boys and their love affair with fireworks?  It's a mystery I hope to never understand.

Finally, my favorite fireworks warning this year.

It's like, yeah, you should probably get away.  Period.  Not exclamation point.  Period.  Oh well, it tickled me last night.

So we decided with the Souths that next year's festivities should include more people, more food, and - most importantly - more fireworks.  As in the $400 pack at Sam's Club.  Because how AWESOME would it be to buy that?!  (Answer: very.)  Seriously, I've always wondered who spends that much on fireworks, and now I know: people who are having a Fireworks Festival! Or... Fireworks Extravaganza!  Or... 4th of July of Splendidness. 

Okay, the name really needs to be worked on.  But if you'd like to join us (and pitch in on buying the fireworks) let me know.  Because nothing celebrates our independence (and the glory that is capitalism) like literally burning through $400 of entertainment in an hour.

Our Story So Far

So much has happened lately, but until today I haven't been really comfortable with writing about it.  Here we go:

Our house was put on the market.  I had to keep it clean.  All. The. Time.  Nearly impossible with three little boys at home, but I did it!  Stress stress stress.  Worry worry worry.  And then, exactly two weeks later, we got an offer!  An excellent offer!  And we accepted it!

And then we learned that the house of our dreams already had an offer.  Oh the agony!  The confusion!  Why why WHY??!?  (No, seriously, I'm still wondering why we felt so strongly to sell our home, only to have all of this happen.)  But... a glimmer of hope: they were accepting back-up offers because the first offer's financing was iffy.  It was a Saturday.  We wrote up an offer.  We got financing (on a Saturday!).  We prayed and stressed and hoped.

And then we got to work looking for another house.

Because while we were very hopeful that we'd get the home, we aren't stupid.  We needed a back up plan.  Especially because our close date is July 30th.

And that's what we've been doing since then.  Looking at house after house after house.  There have been a few that have been promising.  But in the end we've always felt that we shouldn't buy any of them.  (One of the basic principles of our faith is that we, as children of our Heavenly Father, can receive personal revelation and guidance.  I know this to be true, and am so grateful for it.)

You can imagine the frustration.  Egads, the frustration!!

Especially this week.  On Monday the other realtor (for the house we want) let our realtor know that we would all know within 48 hours whether or not the financing for the first offer would go through.  It didn't look good for the original offer.  (Is it bad to feel happy about their misfortune? I can't help it.) 

But 48 hours came and went.  And we still don't have any answers.  A million questions, but NO answers, which drives me absolutely batty.  I just wish the sellers could cut ties with the original buyers, because I'm sure our offer is higher and more stable.  But stupid purchase agreements won't allow that to happen. (You can't force someone to buy your home, but you can force someone to sell their home to you!)

So once again we're off to look at more homes tomorrow.  Maybe we'll find the home we're supposed to buy.  Maybe not.  Maybe we'll get the original home we wanted.  Maybe not.  (Their close date is the 15th; we'll know by then!)  All I know is that it will all work out in the end, because as hard as it is, I know we're doing what we're supposed to.

I just have to have faith.  A LOT of faith.  Because I like to always have a plan and know what I'm doing.  And I certainly don't right now.

And I need to have patience.  A WHOLE lot of patience.  Lots of patience.  A mountain of patience.

This is hard for me.  Very hard. 

To keep from going crazy while learning this patience I have started to pack. In the midst of doing so I saw this and it made me laugh:

Yeah, that's my bookshelf, full of boxes from the liquor store.  Don't judge - they were free and they're excellent for packing kitchen glassware and stuff.  But not exactly expected in the Madsen home, you know?  (I just hope the bishop doesn't make any unexpected visits!)

Oh mercy.  This is hard.

Cutest. One-year-old. EVER.

I finally picked up Cole's one year portraits today. 

Here is my most favorite of the bunch:

Oh. My. Stars.  The curls... the teeth... the eyes... the open-mouthed grin... That boy is CUTE!!!

Crawling.  If you know Cole at all, then you'll understand my amazement that he actually stood still for this pose!

I just love his stubby little legs standing up!

And did you get a load of those blue eyes with that blond hair?!  This kid is gonna be a heartbreaker.  (Gonna?  He already is!)