And while we also realize that “it isn’t over until it’s over”, finding a buyer in a mere three months, (which is relatively quick for this current housing market), has definitely helped in chipping away at our hardened tension levels.
And just how else should one respond to such a huge mountain being scaled?
By praising God and making a list of everything that is good about the situation (as in all honesty we do have a slight bone to pick. Not with God. But, we do indeed have a bone to pick. Where did that phrase originate?).
And just how should one respond to the chipping away of the useless rock that surrounds what can one day be transformed into a beautiful piece of art?
By praising God and embarking on yet another fun-filled “Pajama Ride”.
Throughout this home selling adventure, George and I have often shared that it has been the kids who have weathered it the best. They have been incredible. Helpful. Encouraging. Excited. Flexible. Eager to help. I could go on. The “storm” that has been this experience for us, the responsible, faith-filled adults, has only been a tiny Spring shower for the children.
Thus, after a great dinner out at The Noodle & Company, (where the checker actually saved us money by suggesting that we just split one large mac-n-cheese for the kids, rather than ordering two smalls . . . I share this because this has never happened to us at any restaurant), we did a little wandering through Border’s. Once home, we rushed the kids up to bed.
Shout out to Melody for the gift card to The Noodle & Company. Ordering out has been so very helpful these last few weeks, for I haven’t had the energy to meal plan, nor have we wanted the stress of messing up the kitchen in between our frequent showings.
Upon arriving home and hustling the kids up to bed, we waited about 30 minutes. Once we were sure that things had settled down upstairs, we launched into kooky and crazy parent mode, grabbed our saucepans and wooden spoons and began yelling and hooting and hollering and clanging and banging as we ran up the hallway and entered the kid’s rooms.
“PAJAMA RIDE! PAJAMA RIDE! Everybody up! Into the car! PAJAMA RIDE!”
Harper was out of her bed in a flash and ready to go. In fact, she disappeared downstairs only to return with her own stainless bowl and spoon in order to join in the drumming parade.
We couldn’t wake him.
Three of us in his room clanging on stainless steel cookware.
He didn’t budge.
Nothing. Nada. Zip. Snore.
George had to actually pick him up and carry him to the car where we then proceeded to coax him awake with the lure of ice cream.
Yes, he did eventually awaken and enjoyed a bit of his ice-cream before announcing, “Ok. I’m done. Put this in the freezer. I’m going back to bed. Good Night.” And he was gone. Up the stairs to his room where he climbed back into bed.
Gotta love that.
Well, I’m NOT going back to bed. I’ve been in a walking coma for a few months now and I’ve needed the shocking sound of those pots and pans to jar me back to the land of the living.
I know we still have a bit of a hurdle in front of us to complete our sale, and yet, I feel as if I just woke up from a great slumber.
And perhaps, just perhaps, my son will forget that last night ever happened, thus leaving his ice cream for me!
Ok, that’s just mean.
No, instead of lifting my son’s ice cream, I think I’ll head out for a walk/run this afternoon.
Doesn’t that sound great?