Tuesday, June 16, 2009

In Following Up...

On "Posted Memo":
Turns out it wasn't the forgotten cat box that scared away our prospective buyers. In fact, it is likely that, as little time as they spent here, they did not even make it to the laundry room where the cat box is or up to the boys' room, which sports our new Indoor Water Slide. Nope. These people live in Mid-Town and are looking for a vacation home. Very hoity-toity of them, isn't it? Apparently not hoity-toity enough, though; our home is too big for "just a vacation home".

On "If [they] only had a brain...":
I'll never forget how exciting it was in our first home the day we had our living room furniture delivered. It was brand new and delivered right to our home, not a hand-me-down set from my brother-in-law or a thrift store find. Brand new. And delivered right to our home. It was a very light cream color with a shade darker cream color geometric patterns woven through the fabric. It was comfy and served us well. It even stayed its same light cream color.

Until we had children at which point it became a burp cloth for spit-up, a napkin for messy fingers, a Kleenex for snotty noses, and a Welcome Mat for dirty little feet.

When we sold our house (in 6 weeks, I might add!), we added to our To-Do List "Call Thrift-Store-That-Makes-House-Calls to come pick up dirty, ugly living room set". We didn't know how else to get rid of it and maybe our junk would be someone else's treasure, right? Apparently so because the lovely engaged couple (whose father bought the house for his son and "starter wife"--another story) who bought our house asked if they could buy the living room set. We gladly threw it in FOR FREE as part of the deal.

One thing I hated about that living room set once we had children--mobile children--is that all of the cushions came off. And they were always off because despite all of the money we spent on toys, the cushions were always much more entertaining. Since I spent most of the last 3 years of life in our house pregnant, bending down to pick up cushions became a great source of contention for me. I vowed my next couch would have cushions that even Superman could not separate from the couch.

But, alas, we could not find a couch with attached cushions that didn't also have a floral pattern. I don't do floral patterns. No offense. Floral patterns are pretty in other people's houses, they really are. Just not in mine; chalk it up to my missing "girly" gene. So we justified the purchase of a couch whose cushions can be flung in all directions with a single fling with the assumption that now that our children are older, they will not find such joy in playing with the cushions.

We couldn't have been more wrong. (Yes, I know you could have told me that.) Anyway, my post about my boys losing their brains did not elicit all of the sympathy I had hoped, all of the sympathy I, in fact, needed in order to continue wallowing in my pool of Woe Is Me. No, instead everyone applauded by boys for their ingenuity. And, in fact, some of you laughed with at me. Not that I'm going to mention any names, mind you. (ahem, Arby)

But I get it. I'm an overreactor. I really am. I know it, and I try to be less overreactive, but it's hard for a control freak to overcome. Yesterday, however, when the boys--despite the fact that we've told them a million, kazillion times not to play with the cushions--began a game with the cushions, I let them carry on. At Sunday School, they often watch a video which features a kids' TV game show called "Gunk." In it, kids dive into goo for correct answers to questions. So the boys created their own version of "Gunk". They made up questions along with answer cards and buried the answer cards under a mountain of cushions. When asked a question, the contestant "dove" under all the cushions to retrieve the answer. The one question I overheard was: How many men were crucified along with Jesus? 0, 1, 2, 3, or 4?

A creative game and totally not worth overreacting.


Arby said...

There are five people in this house. I'm the only one who keeps his socks on his feet. The others peel off their socks and toss them...anywhere. Literally. You'd be disgusted at all the places I have found dirty socks. Your cushions are my socks. I don't think I'll be getting over this one, even if the kids create a game show where one of the questions is, "How many pairs of socks did Jesus own, and did He know where the hamper was?"

CrossView said...

I can't wait to hear more about the "starter wife"??!!

Sorry your home didn't meet the size requirements. But wouldn't they know that BEFORE they went?

I love the creativity of kids. My motto is; You just gotta laugh. Left hanging is the other part: 'Cause if I don't laugh, someone's gonna get it. ;o)

I remember when a certain sweaty pre-teen boy grabbed my beautiful chintz throw pillow and wiped his face on it. And when one of the darlings ran through the house and bumped a shelf and broke my beautiful Asian vase. And when a certain girl was told not to pour a drink on a desk since she might spill and she poured a drink and saturated the bills. And when....

Courtney said...

How frustrating with the house! I guess people don't think of all the work it takes to make a house presentable (if they're looking for a vacation house they probably don't even have children!)
Our couch "accessory" pillows were what always ended up on the floor. What I'm sick of picking up now are those stupid little magnetix magnet balls. AAAAHHH!