Movin' On Up.

Right now, my house looks like a gigantic Chaos Monster came inside, ate up all the pretty things and vomited out boxes and bins and stuff.

Gross.

So we are possibly two weeks-ish away from moving. We have, despite our best efforts, been unable to get a closing date. I literally got an email from a young-ish girl who works for our lender as the "Coordinator", who I cannot believe lives on the same planet I do, that said, "We maybe can set the date next Wednesday and can shoot for Friday to close if you'd like." Seriously? You think that I am so amazing that I can plan, arrange movers and be ready to move out of my four bedroom house with my three kids, husband and cat in TWO DAYS?

Maybe people roll that way. Maybe I am the unreasonable one, expecting too much notice. I said to Dan this morning: "We can't POSSIBLY be the most anal people who move. " I mean, I know some people who are Real and Serious Planners and I can't see this type of schedule ever flying with them.

What's most frustrating is that these phrases keep getting used: You probably will need this. Things seem to just work out. I'm not sure. Maybe. Tentative.

I just want someone to call us up and say, "Mrs. Libutti, your closing is set for Friday, June 18th at 10am. Come to (insert location here) at 10am. We'll sell your current house first, then have the closing for your new house at 12 noon. Bring (insert amount of money) with you for the closing."

But I don't see that happening anytime soon. Thankfully our wonderful real estate agent talked me down off the ceiling this afternoon and I feel a lot better about the whole situation.

In the meantime, we are packing up our belongings, box by box. Last weekend we spent a delightful- and delightfully HOT- three hours cleaning out our attic, our only storage space in the house which has not been gone through since we moved in ten years ago. Down the stairs came Christmas decorations, luggage, and lots and lots of bins filled with baby girl clothes. Also down the stairs came a few surprises: a set of white dishes I totally forgot we had; a three piece set of a Department 56 Christmas village that Dan's mom gave to me before she passed away; a set of Christmas dishes I thought I had lost in our move to the house; Dan's famous Cheerios box which had been missing for a few years and contains every memento and non-clothing item that he moved up to our apartment when we got married. The victory of the day was that it took longer than Dan thought it would ("It'll only take an hour" he said; "You're on CRACK" I said) but not as long as I thought it would. Our family room has been transformed into a storage area, stacked up to the ceiling. It's Breathtaking.

Then we moved on to Alec's room, where I took apart a room that I had lovingly just assembled 9 months ago. I had a small victory the other day at Lowe's, where I found the paint we used in Alec's room so I can repaint his new room the same color. (Speaking of victories at Lowe's, do you know that Lowe's sells really great moving boxes that are REALLY cheap? Score!!)

Then it was on to the girls' room, which is so cramped and messy and disorganized it makes me slightly hyperventilate every time I go in. Dan and I worked together, organizing stuff into piles, packing and taping and labelling, and carting the boxes downstairs. The room looks empty and a little wistful for the stuff that used to be in there. Michaela hates it and has told me so several times. And I don't blame her.

The pictures are down off the walls, the dining room and living room are packed away with just the furniture and rugs left behind. The kitchen and office and garage and pantry are still on the to-do list. In an effort to reduce the number of snack food/ frozen treats/cereal that we have to move, I offered a quarter to the girls if they finish eating an item and I can throw away the box (actually, throw it in the recycling bin). (How obnoxious of me to point out that I RECYCLE. How NOBLE of me. How AMAZING I am. Bleaaaahhhh.) In typical Michaela fashion, her eyes widened and she said, "How about a dollar??" And Mean Mommy said no, a quarter is more like it.

Because we have a new house to pay for.

Eventually. If we ever get a closing date.