Dreams: We are drooling over 1 particular house that is more than I think we can qualify for. But I am OBSESSED with it. Seriously. Tell me this isn't amazing. we would need roomers for a while. Especially if Hubby doesn't find a job. Because even though our current costs would go down, we would still be struggling. This is assuming we can even get approved for the mortgage.
But oh, my...we want this house. It's ridiculously big. And gorgeous. And has a FENCED IN YARD. Which means P has a place to play. And the dog can finally have a place to run crazy. I can plant a tree. A dream of mine. Plant a tree in my own yard and watch it grow over the years. We had not intended on staying in this area, but at the same time, we are tired of moving around and feeling like transients. We want to be settled. We want to be able to paint and personalize and not worry about security deposits.
Schemes: This house has me scheming all sorts of things. Such as the roomers to make it feasible. Not exactly a plus, but we could actually do a lease for roomies n stuff. Because it would be OUR HOUSE.
It has enough rooms for us to look into foster care/adoption. Grow our family. Be able to have people over and have enough space for it. Feel like adults. I see children running around the back yard. My imagination is on over drive.
Which pretty much means I am setting myself up for epic disappointment. But I need a goal to focus on. So, I scheme. I figure out how to make this work. I wonder what we can do to improve our chances. I let my dreams run rampant during this hard time so that I can think of things that would make me happier. Make our situation better.
Circus Scenes: P LOVES bath time. You know when you go to an aquarium, or to Sea World, and the big mammals are trained to splash the shit out of the first few rows? They make a point of saying "You are in the SPLASH ZONE"? Yeah, that's P in the bath. I could put 2" of water in there and he will soak me.
We put in water up to about his belly button. And then, forgive me for my bad mommy moment, we STAND BACK. We don't leave him alone, but he splashes so much that the floor gets soaked. It's a small bathroom. Water EVERYwhere. He gets what we call "the face" - all scruched up, lips pursed - as he splashes. So concentrated, so defiant. And he has so much fun. His eyes get bloodshoot from all the water that gets in them. He fights the actual cleaning process. And getting him out requires tactical precision. He would happily stay in there until he is a total prune and his lips turn blue.
The whole thing is hysterical. Every time. It doesn't get old. Just wet. Very, very wet.