"...my mental mantra collection."

Our agent called this morning and the homeowner did not accept our offer, but did make a counteroffer. We've submitted a new offer and are waiting for a response.

While we wait I'll share a brief story...

I came across a great quote late last night (or possibly early this morning, I'm not sure) that I'd like to make note of...

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." ~ Dr. Seuss

I've added this quote to my mental mantra collection.  I used to really care about what others thought of me, I mean really care. To the point that I was trying to do anything and everything just to get the "right" people to like me and I was completely miserable for it. No matter what I did, those right people still wouldn't let me in. The harder I tried, the worse my life was because I was not doing what made me happy. The choices I made in my attempts to fit in led me to make many wrong turns in my life and I got so lost.

Years later, after a lot of hurting and self-loathing I gradually stopped caring about what others thought. It wasn't due to apathy, but because I'd finally met people who mattered. And that makes all the difference.

"...I could hear jet engines..."

I drove through the neighborhood again tonight. The weather was just wonderful; the sky was a bright, clear blue, there was a whisper of a breeze carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and the laughter of children. How could I find anything wrong with this neighborhood? I couldn't. I cruised around with my windows rolled down and listened for the airplane that was scheduled to take off at 4:35 according to the airport's web site. Four thirty-five came and went and I didn't hear anything but lawn mowers so I started looking up. Moments later I saw the plane gleaming in the sky and when I listened closely I could hear jet engines, but I believe that if I hadn't seen the plane I probably wouldn't have picked up on the noise.

Good enough for me.

It looks like the current home owner is eager to move as she was having a yard sale. It looked like she was busy last night because her driveway was full of household items that we'd seen in the house during our tour earlier in the evening.

Feeling good about our choice in home I picked Peanut Butter up from work since he carpooled this week and we headed to our agent's office to submit our offer.

And now we wait...

"...that would probably be a little creepy..."

We continued our search for a home last night with our realtor. She brought us back to the bird house for a second look. It's still our favorite.

She also brought us to a couple of houses that we could probably afford, but have decided that we didn't want to push it. Plus I don't feel like I want a bigger house to take care of at this point in my motherhood.

We stopped for dinner at the end of the evening before heading home. We debated the pros and cons of each of the houses we had seen. Most we could quickly write off for one reason or another; too expensive, too old, not our style. The bird house still came out on top.

Sure, we've only been physically searching since Monday, but we've been watching the listings since we lived in Florida. Before Branflake was even born. Not many new houses come onto the market and most that do are priced so cheap or so expensive we know that it's not even worth looking at. The median-range houses that would suit us are not often available.

As much as I like the old houses and the style and details in them, I also know that at the prices they're asking, they would need a lot of updating for them to be acceptable with a new baby. Several years ago I lived in a house that was built in 1921, I'm not going down that road again until I know I can do what it takes to update it. Now is not that time.

When we got home Peanut Butter got online and researched his credit score. There was a bit of an alert, but we seem to have figured it out and are comfortable with moving forward on getting a loan.

I know that I shouldn't set my heart on this house and I'm trying not to, but it's so easy to see us living there. I can see our things and I can visualize the simple changes I would make to the kitchen and dining room (since those rooms would be my territory - PB gets the garage and the third bedroom as his lair). I think we both know that it is not realistic to walk into a house and find it to be just perfect for us without needing any changes whatsoever. Honestly, that would probably be a little creepy if that happened. 

I think we both have this house stuck in our heads. He called me about an hour ago from work and we talked about it again and decided to call the realtor about making an offer so we're meeting with her this evening to begin drawing up a contract.

I've been busy making use of google today looking up neighborhood information, checking the sex offender registry, local crime maps, etc. There is one final area of concern that I'm going to investigate before our meeting and that is one of the small local airport nearby. Although I didn't notice any airplane noise either time we visited the house, I'm going to make one more visit to the neighborhood around the time a plane is expected to land just to make sure.

Thank goodness Branflake has been so good today or else I wouldn't have been able to get so much research done.

"...a continual eye-roll fest..."

So where am I supposed to start? Do I introduce myself? Do I give a background story? Should I offer an explanation as to why I bothered to start a blog? Do I just start writing about my day and see what happens?

I should make this quick, Branflake is rolling around on the floor and could be licked to death by the dog at any moment.

Well, Hi, I'm Dee, Mrs, Mom (actually right now "Mom" just sounds like infant babbling, if anything). What I'm called depends entirely upon what role I'm currently playing in my life. I wouldn't presume to go too into depth in describing myself anyway as I'm bound to contradict myself at some point. Anyway, there's not much to say about me. Anything of importance, I'm sure, will come out at some point or another if I choose to maintain this thing. Blog.

Which that leads me to....background story. I don't have time to write a 28-year history of my life. That would probably take...28 years. Suffice to say that I'm a new mom, a new wife, new homemaker, new resident of the Ozarks. New New New.

So it seems everyone else on the planet has already had their blogs going for years because I had one hell of a time finding a web address that wasn't taken. Why did it take me so long to hop on the blog train? Well, I used to have one over on deadjournal (no clue if that even exists anymore), but it was extremely juvenile as I was only 19 through 21 when I was keeping it. And I didn't call it a blog. It was my journal, because I was just cool like that. If I went back to read it now I probably wouldn't even recognize myself, or, if I did, it would be a continual eye-roll fest as I guarantee I was an absolute idiot during those years of my life (and I'm sure that I will feel the same way about my 28-year-old self in another seven or so years). But the main point of starting this blogging thing again is because so much has happened and is continuing to happen and I might as well make an attempt at documenting it.

So here I am, attempting to document my life...