My Toddler is Possessed

There is a noise coming from my toddler that emanates straight from hell. It is guttural, it is frequent and it is annoying as shit. I used to think that the screech was the worst sound he could make. Oh, silly Mommy. Silly, deluded, only-partially-deaf Mommy.

Jack made this noise not only in the car today, but through four different furniture stores in two separate trips. What can I say, we're gluttons for punishment and on a mission for a new bedroom set. I believe that, upon leaving the last store, I dropped him from about three feet in the air straight into his car seat. This, at least, stopped the noise long enough for him to register some surprise. Alas, the noise began once again with a fury. But - and sadly this is a relief - quickly turned into normal toddler sobbing that Mommy is a Meanie. Yeah, you know what? I AM a Meanie sometimes. Especially when Satan himself is in the back seat trying to wrestle the last bit of intelligence out of my brain with that GOD FORSAKEN NOISE!

OK. All better now. But mostly due to the intervention of Sandy, my single gal-about-town friend who just called and simply suggested duct tape to remedy the entire problem. I laughed hysterically, maniacally even, and now I think I can be a better Mommy.

Until the next noise materializes.

Home again, home again, Dancing a jig.

Jack and I have made our triumphant return to Columbus. This was, of course, after the tumult of leaving Grammy standing in the driveway in Cincinnati. As we pulled out, Jack suddenly realized the Giver of All Good Things was not coming with us and began wailing uncontrollably. As he is 18 months old, he was distracted by his new toy saxophone (I'll make a band geek of him yet) and Mr. Monkey 5 minutes out of the driveway. Sorry, Grammy.

We have the inspection on Cassingham on Monday. I'm looking forward to it. Breezing through your potential home with toddler in tow in 20 minutes and making an immediate offer is not the ideal way to find your Forever Home. So, Osi and I are both looking forward to spending a few hours in the house, going over each room inch by inch. We'll take pictures and measurements as well as using Mandie's highly-recommended inspector. We're hoping he finds a whole lot of nothin'. The inspection on Bitterroot is Wednesday. I am expecting the worst, as the guy who did the inspection for us three years ago was incompetent. (Uh, shout out to Conrad Fuchs at Protech. Never use them.)

That is all the brain dribble for now. Very tired. Shopping for a new bedroom set tomorrow. It is the last of the starter wife furniture to go. I am very excited about that. I believe a bonfire in the front yard on our final night would be fitting.

A New Chez Zimmer

In the span of 48 hours, we managed to reach an agreement on the sale of our home and, unbelievably, have our first offer accepted on the purchase of what I honestly hope will be our "forever home." That is moving a lot of real estate, people. We close on both properties on May 23rd and will be moving over Memorial Day. Sadly, I believe we're beyond paying people to help us move in pizza and beer, but the offer is out there.

It's completely weird knowing the people whose home you are buying. My mind has been racing for the past 4 days, mentally placing my furniture in Barney's house; erasing his artwork from the walls as if they were just a giant dry erase board.

Osi and I have come to the conclusion that while our collective "stuff" is great for the house on Bitterroot, it turns to crap the minute we move it into Cassingham. We now officially own a home that is waaaaay too nice for the stuff we have. I'm beginning to have a little bit of Central Bexley Panic. Apparently, the neighbor two doors down is a cellist in the Columbus Symphony. Uh, OK. So the neighbors have money AND culture? We're the frickin' Bexley Hillbillies. Property values will plummet the minute we park our jalopy in the driveway.

In other news, Jack an I remain on sabbatical in Cincinnati with Mom while Dad is in China. We went to the Newport Aquarium today. All of us were impressed. The shark tank alone is worth the visit and I think Jack really enjoyed it.

J's talking is slow going. Everything new is either "Ba" or "Da." This leads me to believe he is a genius when the new word I am trying to teach is "bath" or "duck" but leads to frustration on both ends when the word is "more" or "transcendentalism." He does seem to be a happy kid for the most part though, so I am trying to count those darn blessings and chug along.

Musical Homes

Yesterday turned out to be a very productive Sunday. We received an offer on our house - which made us giddy. It came with the provision that we vacate Chez Zimmer by May 18. Giddyup! That is less than 30 days to pack up 1600 square feet and 3.5 years of accumulated crap and move it across town to a house we have not yet found.

Team Zimmer shot into high gear. The offering couple was coming through the house again with somebody's father at 2, so we had to leave a spotless house for a few hours. As our house is usually far from spotless, there was work to be done, people. While the fine, upstanding Americans that are (hopefully) buying our home were making their final decisions (after all, dads tend to be deal-killers), Iron Lung Warner - our Realtor - managed to get us into a few houses in Bexley.

After seeing a "nice" house that would work, we ended up in the house of of Barney Brickner, the Zimmer Family Rabbi. He did Jack's naming and hosted a wine tasting at our house several months ago. I happen to love the man and have, in fact, been accused of stalking him on at least one occasion. The fact that I was now perusing the contents of his closets just seemed wrong. As it turns out, though, we loved the house. Great kitchen that'll be fantastic for entertaining, bedroom sizes that will FINALLY work, 2 full baths, a 1st floor den and the front porch I have been looking for.

So, the news to report for this Monday is that we appear to be in the early stages of negotiations on 2 houses. Yikes. Every step we take in this journey makes me more sure that this will absolutely be the last time we move. Straight from Rabbi Barney's house to the nursing home.