Update:  We have a house, a good one, no furniture and no internet.  I will be back soon.  I have much to say.

Engineer lately has been a little confused about what it means to do things "on purpose."  As we were signing the five million papers so we can have a home, yesterday, he demonstrated this lack of understanding.  I looked over at him and watched him deliberately push the baby down.  It took me a second to react (I guess I am desensitized to children hurting children) and then I said, "Hey!  I saw what you did!"  And in true Engineer fashion he cried, "Sorry, Mommy!  I didn’t do it on purpose!"  LIES!  He totally did it intentionally, but adamantly denied it.

Later that day we went to Charming’s company picnic.  Engineer got a fabulous balloon sword (with holster) and he was very happy about this.  The happiness ended when he hit another sensitive child with his inflated latex.  TEARS. EVERYWHERE.  The other kid was crying. Engineer was crying and insisting he didn’t do it on purpose, even though he did. Kids are weird.

In the meantime, Sugar decides she no longer wants her snow cone.  Engineer had been holding it for her previously and then Charming took it and tried to give it back to Sugar.  Sugar didn’t want it, so Charming dumped it on the ground, (’it’s just ice,’ he said, ‘there’s a trash can,’ I said.)  When Engineer in his teary state discovered the snow cone on the ground, he cried more.  "Oh Sugar!  Your snow cone!" he cried as he went to embrace and comfort his unaffected little sister. 

I tried hard not to laugh.  And I am going to have to try harder to explain criminal intent to my almost five-year old. 

I guess I never realized it before now, but I need stability like I need AIR.

I was driving to my grandma’s house yesterday when I realized it.  And why was I going to grandma’s house?  Because all growing up, grandma’s house was the one constant.  The one always safe and secure place.  We never had our own house growing up, and my parents were divorced.  We moved a bit, I guess, but grandma and grandpa’s house was always there.  I needed a little of that yesterday.  A little bit of memory to make me feel a little more stable and secure.

Hopefully we will be in our new Rainy Place house by the weekend.  It will be so good to get some routine and stability going.  I imagine I am going to be blogging A LOT more since I am feeling the need for connection.  Anyway. 

Some people can tell that a storm is coming by the aching in their bones.  Others have burning ears that indicate they are being gosspied about.  Me?  I have psychic bosoms.

You laugh.  But I am telling you, I KNEW I was pregnant with Engineer when my normally A-cup sized sisters doubled in size and grew stripes.  Okay, so maybe the bosoms aren’t pyschic, but they do help me in making MY predictions.

Right now, they are telling me that Spider will be weaned soon.  It is their.. errr… deflated state that indicates this to me.  You know that song, "Do your ears hang low?"  Can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow?  Can you throw ‘em over your shoulder? 

Yes.  I can answer those questions in the affirmative for the aformentioned appendages.  So gross.

It’s a time of mixed emotion, this weaning process.  My baby’s growing up.  She’s getting more independent.  Soon I will be able to touch my toes with more than just my hands. 

I don’t really know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  What do you think?

To top it all off, I am ill.  Stomach…errr.. issues.

So last night my mom tried to get me to take Pepto-Bismol to help me feel better.  I guess the idea behind the chalky pink goo, is that you ingest it, and it coats your stomach and makes you feel better.

I didn’t make it that far.  Two (no don’t make me) sips and I gagged so hard I puked. 

So I guess the product works.  My stomach was much more settled after that.

I’m such a whiner.  There are so many good things I could be blogging about and I keep on complaining.  I am at my mom’s right now.  I drove over on Sunday and since we "moved" to the Rainy Place, Mom’s house is only a FIVE hour drive instead of the old TWELVE.  I am glad for that.  But on the way over I listened to some Christian radio programming and one fellow was talking about Abraham and how he was asked to sacrifice Isaac.  It made me really ponder some things.  I realized that I don’t think God will ever ask me to make such extreme sacrifices or go through hardhsips like Job, but that those stories are in the scriptures so I can see how small my hardships are.

I’m not having any sort of picnic right now.  But I am not having a Job-like or and Abraham-like situation.  And if they continued to have faith, and if they managed to get through their garbage, than why shouldn’t I? 

And there are good things I can focus on.  Spider is walking!  She has another new tooth!  I was able to make a five hour drive with three kids and no adult driving companion!  We have food, shelter, clothing, my hub’s got an awesome job, I get to "restart" my Mary Kay business and I have friends and family who love me. 

Now, if I could just quit crying about everything, it just might be all right.

You know, my attitude is you need to be as nice and accomadating as possible to everyone, because you never know what kind of crapfest is going on in their universe.

And because I realize that not everyone has that same attitude, and because I realize we don’t all wear signs displaying our current drama or our fragile emotional state, I am able to forgive.  And so to the few who have made my currently difficult situation, that much harder, I extend my hand of forgiveness to you.

To the lady at the Children’s Museum in Everett who wouldn’t let me take my stroller in, I forgive you.  It is clear to me that neither you nor your manager (whom I also forgive) has any children.  Because if you did, you wouldn’t try to convince me that taking my 18 pound sleeping child  out of her stroller and putting her in a backpack would not waker her, and would not be a burden to me. You would not have gone on and on about how everything was a hands on exhibit and then saying a snugli was a good idea, since those things are a pain to get kids in and out of to use such "hands on stuff" every ten feet.  Plus, it really wouldn’t be safe for my kids to get lost in your gigantic facility while I was farting around with a baby wrap.  If you had ever been in my shoes, you would not have tried to convince me that hauling around my clunky carseat (where I might have to set it down somewhere, where it would be more likely to be tripped on by someone) was safer  than pushing my stroller around.   But whatever, you didn’t know about my fragile little world, and so hey, I forgive you.

To the Bank of America man, I forgive you for not giving me the letter I needed for my mortgage lady.  You don’t know how homeless I am, and how desperate I am to get my loan approved.  If you did, you would have been able to "make up a letter" not in your arsenal of currently approved forms.  You did sound like an idiot and I wanted to ask you how much you got paid, since they don’t allow you to create documents.  But I forgive you, and I hope you get a better job soon.

To the credit union lady who said I couldn’t make a deposit at your facility, and then told me that there wasn’t enough money in my account to close it, I forgive you too.  It was the computer’s fault.  I asked it to direct me to a place with actual tellers.   And to your credit, you at least got nicer after I started to cry.

And to the man who with your car backed into my shopping cart with my sleeping child in it, and nearly hit my free roaming son as I left my disappointing credit union visit, I forgive you too.  None of us were seriously hurt because you backed out so far and weren’t looking in your mirror and since I’ve backed into my fair share of automobiles, I kind of understand.  Just next time will you please, please look where you are going?  But honestly, I forgive you.  If I didn’t this whole post would be about you.  Stuff like this sometimes happens.

I just wish it hadn’t happened to me today. 

And I hope I can forgive myself for all the stress-related eating I’ve been doing lately. 

And that is what I am trying to do.  I’ve only been in the Rainy Place now for a week and a half, but it feels like WAAAYYYY more than that.  We are bouncing from generous friend or relative to generous friend of friend or relative every three or four days or so.  And I must say I am grateful for EVERYONE’s hospitality, but I don’t really wanna be homeless anymore.  I just want to cry everytime my kids ask me, "is this gonna be our new house?"  "Are we living here now?"  And I found out today that the soonest we could possibly get into our new house is NEXT WEEKEND.

I don’t think I can make it that long.

I don’t even know where we are going to sleep come Sunday night.

And on a lighter note, I bought a new hairbrush a week ago.  Mine had been AWOL for several days and I decided it best to buy one.  The first store we tried did not appear to carry haribrushes, but they did carry cutlery.  Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed some silverware and for a good ten seconds, I seriously considered making the purchase– so I could brush my hair with a dinglehopper fork.  And then of course, the more rational thought came to me that I needn’t buy the forks, we already had some at the apartment where we were staying. 

Yeah.

Needless to say, I did get a new hairbrush that night.  And found my old one the next morning.

I know this is all gonna turn out good soon.  And I hope really soon.  My knuckles are turning white and my fingers are starting to slip. 

Sorry I haven’t blogged for awhile.  It’s a little hard to blog when you are umm.. sort of homeless.

Yep, we left our sweet little house in Utah and have come to the Rainy Place again. This is a good thing.  I love the Rainy Place.  But you’d think with all the rain it would be a little easier to put out a fire.

And that’s what I feel like I have been doing since I got here.  Putting out the fire.  I have been staying with my sister (who’s roommates, somewhat understandably, don’t want us here) and tonight we are going to stay somewhere else, and then in a few days we’ll be staying with someone else….  And I need to figure out a place to live so my kids have some stability… And on and on….

I don’t think I can even begin to explain what we are trying to do.  Our house in Utah still has not sold, so we can’t just buy a house and move in.  But I refuse to pay rent that is higher than my current mortgage (for my four bedroom house) on a dingy two bedroom apartment with no furniture. 

So what’s a mom to do?  It’s tough to be a homemaker without a home!

Pray.  Pray a lot.  And ask my bloggy friends to do the same. 

Oh yeah, and we found a house we like up here.  More on that later…