Photo: The chickens were out of the coop at the Farm on Friday! We spotted them right away and looked at them through the fence. I also learned that the farm sells the eggs from the chickens! WHAAAAA?? Delicious!! There is nothing better than a poached super-crazy-fresh egg. Yummy yum yummers.
So much happening. So much. I thought I didn’t know where to begin, but then I remembered that my dumbass inlaws were dumbasses this weekend. Let’s dish, shall we?
My in-laws asked me what i wanted for my birthday last week. Last year, they sent me $50 bucks and were basically like “we don’t really know you, so we thought you’d like this. Tell us how you spent it!” I was like, cool, thanks for being honest. I spent it on sushi. Cheers. Supposedly this made my father-in-law angry–not my actions with the money, but the fact that money was sent and that I was asked to report back on my expenditures. I’m down with that, I mean, it was a little strange. But like I said, I like truthiness.
But I guess there was an executive decision made that I was to be explicitly asked what I wanted and then I would be given it. Seeing as i really, really don’t want to be beholden to my in-laws in any way, I decided just to ask for stuff for the boys. Everybody is happy: They feel like they are spoiling their grandsons, I don’t have to make a purchase for the boys, and I don’t have to look at something and remember that they got it for me. Boom.
So the boys have absolutely adorable fireman rainboots. That don’t fit. Oh well, they’ll grow into them, or something.
but that isn’t the bad part. Here is the bad part.
My mother-in-law’s birthday is today. We sent her flowers, which arrived on Friday. I always sent a quick thank you email with pictures of the boys at the farm.
Of course, she needed to send an e-mail back with pictures of the flowers. And this:
“We might be up in the area for Columbus Day. [Asshole brother-in-law] asked me to look around for a used chest of drawers as his birthday present. The one they bought for the boys at Target or wherever is falling apart. So if I can find one for $50, that will be his birthday present and we will drive it up then. Possibly we could come up to see you all on one of the days?
We’ll only be 3 1/2 hours away. Assuming of course that [Asshole brother-in-law] doesn’t make other plans for the weekend.”
My brother-in-law is a business school graduate who now supposedly has a cushy job at a hedge fund (or something of that ilk) in Connecticut. You can’t afford to get yourself a dresser? Let’s talk about that. Also, Mother-in-Law, you are aren’t going to find any better of a used dresser for $50, so i don’t know what that is all about. Furthermore, you are then going to drive upwards of 6 hours to drag that dresser up from Maryland to Connecticut…for what?? Why not just give him the money? Also, I like how he asked you to make this extraordinary effort and then can’t seem to guarantee that he’ll even make the time to receive these this thing. Like he simply can’t be bothered, though he is asking for this extraordinary effort.
and what the fuck does that all have to do with me? Why do I need to make room in my life because your son is crazy and you want to tack on another 4 hours to your trip?
and didn’t we just spend a week with you not three weeks ago?????
My 5th wedding anniversary is that weekend. I’ve been working on my mom for weeks to take the boys for one night that weekend so that The Husband and I can slip off somewhere, do something during the say, eat something good in the evening, find ourselves in a hotel to sleep (seriously) and then pick up the boys the next day. This is a gross downscale of what I thought we’d be doing for our half-decade mark, where I thought we’d be back at Punta Cana, sipping on something alcoholic and starting at the mighty Atlantic. Bwhahahahahahahahaha. That’ll never happen again.
So I give my husband my “please don’t disappoint me,” look and he was actually on board. “We’re too busy buying a house. I’m not going to deal with them,” He said.
Of course, when he told them the news over Skype yesterday, they hmmmed and hawed like we’d stolen their lunch money. The Husband assured them that we’d invite them up after we move. I’m very excited about not seeing them again until Christmas, which means that I won’t have to entertain them up this way until Ursa Major’s third birthday in January. I don’t know if they’ve done that math yet. We’ll see. Something tells me I haven’t heard the last of this.
I have other fish to fry, anyway. Because on Friday at 8am, I got a voicemail from my Realtor. “Happy Birthday” was in no way part of the message.
“I want to remind you that your commitment day is the 10th, and that if we are going to get everything processed, you need to make sure that all of the contractors have their stuff in. Otherwise, you’ll need to ask for an extension, which could be a disaster with the septic…”
Now, I had it in my mind that the Commitment day was the 17th. So I opened up the legal purchase and sale document and started looking for the date. Clearly, it’s the 17th, not the 10th…right? Right??
Wrong. So wrong.
Sooooo I spent my birthday on the phone. Leaving messages with everyone and their mama trying to get this paperwork in. While we got assurances from one of the contractors (the one who was recommended by my good friend), the other one never answered his phone, and the one my husband prefers had the will, but not the time: He was going on vacation starting Saturday.
Well, that’s fine, but can you do the forms tonight? Please??
Sure, he says. So we email them to him. He says he’ll fill them out and leave them with his wife.
We get a call on Saturday morning while I’m making breakfast. The forms are ready, come out to get them (3 towns over). The Husband goes flying out to get it.
40 minutes later, he returns, dejected.
“He only did one of the forms. There are three more to do,” He sighs, “and he’s already gone…”
We kick around ideas. Finally, we call our Realtor.
“Well, you know, you could take the forms to him. I think he is out fishing in Maine,” My realtor suggests.
I look at my husband. “There is no way you’re driving to flippin’ Maine this weekend.”
I won’t bore you with all of the details, but the forms got signed.
Our mortgage guy got back to us today. Four major sections are missing.
“Maybe we should be talking with your realtor about an extension,” The mortgage guy says.
And the guy who my friend recommended? The one who reassured us all weekend that he’d have everything done?
Haven’t heard from him. And he hasn’t turned anything in.
it is 2:30est. The bank guy leaves the office at 5. I don’t know if we’re going to make it, kids. I just don’t know.
And just to make sure that I illustrate just how crazy this has all become, I’ve lost my glasses. The cute ones that are featured in that picture I posted last week? Yeah, I put them on my nightstand last night around 10:30 and when i woke up at 6, they’d walked away. So I’m wearing my bulky, ugly, not sophisticated backup glasses and hating myself–and I have a headache because they are a stronger prescription than my regular glasses.
Oh, and I busted my lip open on my car this morning while I was taking Ursa Major out of his carseat. A fly flew in my hair, I freaked out, and my survival instinct was to slam my face into my car. It bled more than I anticipated and dripped onto my white sweater….good for me… but luckily, I had a T-shirt on under it, so I was able to get through playgroup without looking like an axe-murderer. Of course, it’s still a pretty huge gash and I’m wondering if I should have popped by the ER for stitches…
It’s 2:40est and we’ve heard back from the other guy. He’s got it all together. We might actually pull this off without an extension. This down-to-the-wire stuff is terrible for my blood pressure!!!!
Thank you for the well wishes last week. I did have a lovely birthday. Despite all of the craziness of the weekend, I did do some book planning and some writing. I also decided that I’m going to attend WordCamp Boston this month, so if you are going to be there, too, let me know!
I bought Ursa Major icecream for my birthday. I also bought him a grilled cheese sandwich. He did not eat the sandwich. Silly mommy!
We saw goats after we road on the tractor at the farm on Friday. But Ursa Major was too busy having a temper tantrum to notice. Ohhhh the good times…