Max is asleep and Evan is spending his Quiet Time on pbskids.org. I look at my hardwood floor (what "little" there is of it), obsessing over the opinion that they have been "improperly maintained." I figure I'll try to give them a quick shine before our 4:30 showing. It is a "Second Showing," after all, and I really want to impress the potential buyers.
I use a Swiffer wet cloth. It reacts poorly with whatever cleaning system the Cleaning Ladies had used the day before. Now the floors have a cloudy film over them. Oops. So I try to buff them with a dry microfiber cloth. On my hands and knees. At 37.5 weeks pregnant. They started to look better, so it's worth the significant uptick in Braxton Hicks.
I start to clean up the rest of the house.
The hardwood floors still aren't perfect. The afternoon sun shines beautifully through the front of my house. Bright and sunny and revealing all imperfections in the floor and...damn...also the storm door. That's a distinct Max Face Print right in the center of the glass.
Wash the front windows.
The phone rings. It's my realtor with the "Great News" that, in addition to the second showing at 4:30, another agent wants to bring back another second showing for...3:30. As in 38 minutes from now. I glance at the hardwood floor, glance at the monitor to see Max, still asleep, and feel another Braxton Hicks contraction come on. "Sounds great!" I say.
I give the floor yet another once-over, this time with a barely damp microfiber cloth. (I really don't know what I'm doing...I guess they really are "improperly maintained.")
I tell Evan to wrap up his game as I fly around the kitchen wiping down countertops and the faucet, and hiding phone cords and extraneous papers. I throw some snacks in my purse and bound upstairs to rouse the hibernating bear.
Max is up, changed back into jeans from his Comfy Nap Pants, and we're beginning the process of putting shoes on. Evan had, of course, taken off his socks to wear slippers all day, so the process begins with the repeated adjustment of the socks which are, at the same time, too tight, too high, and too bunchy. We get the socks right and we start on the shoes. Deep breath...I say to myself...we CAN get this right on the first try. Miraculously, we do.
Evan is putting on his coat and I enter the playroom to tell Max it's time to go. As soon as I open the door, though, Damn. First, SOMEbody needs a diaper change. And I hope that the room airs out in the next 16 minutes. [This is karmic balance though, for the funky bathroom we found after a showing last weekend. OMG.]
Fastest diaper change in the history of this house and we're out the door. I'm getting Max strapped into his seat and reassuring Evan, in the Way Back, that YES, you CAN get in your seat all by yourself! You're Buzz Lightyear, this is your Star Command! You CAN DO IT! But do it fast, we HAVE to leave.
He does a good job of adjusting his own shirt...no coat necessary today, thank goodness. I help him with the straps and jump in the driver's seat.
We pull out of the driveway. WITH 10 MINUTES TO SPARE. I pat myself on the back, thank the boys for their cooperation, and head to the library.
Which is closed. (?)
So we head to the Barnes and Noble Train Table.
Sam meets us there and, after killing an hour and a half reading books, playing with trains, and dancing on the stage, we head out to dinner. We get a call telling us that, at this very moment, an offer is being written up. I'm not impressed. We've had two offers already and they were laughable.
We finish dinner, head home, and get the kids ready for bed.
The boys are in bed. We're back downstairs. The phone rings. It's our realtors, with the offer details. We listen, we consider, we counter.
The prospective buyer responds. We ACCEPT THEIR CONTRACT.
We look at each other and say, "I can't believe we sold the house!"
I rub my belly and tell Molly that, NOW, she's welcome Anytime.
We'll close the end of February and rent back through the end of June when, hopefully, our new house will be ready for us to move right in. It couldn't be more perfect.
We're not sharing the details with the boys yet, though, as any major change for them is still a long way off. And I don't want them to worry that we'll soon be living in this:
We'll wait until there are walls and windows, I think, before we start calling this "Home."
I think Evan's drawn his own conclusions about recent events, though, because when he asked to get out ALL of the GeoTrax this afternoon and I said, "Sure!" he looked at me a little suspiciously. "Because we don't have any more showings?" he asked. Just try to sneak something past this kid.