*Deep Breath*

Today I will do something that I have never done before.  Something that, quite frankly, goes against everything that I have always believed in. 

I am going to call our mortgage company and stop paying our mortgage.  Not on the house that we live in, but in the house that we used to live in.  The house that, before the real estate market tanked, we always thought of as part of our retirement fund and our children's college fund.  I cannot fathom not paying our obligation, however the bottom line is that we can't afford to make those payments.  We've tried to talk with the mortgage company and to modify the mortgage.  Since we don't live in the house, we can't modify our mortgage.  Mortgage modifications are only for primary residences.  They don't care that we've tried to sell it.  They don't care that our mortgage payments are $500 per month MORE than we're getting in rent.

We're just out of options on it.  I am extremely conflicted about what we're about to do.  We've crunched the numbers every way we can imagine.  We've looked at the market, our checking account, and the money that we have coming in each month.  There's just no way to do it.

Pinching pennies, hidden benefits

Pinching the pennies, for the most part, is not fun.  My husband and I came to the decision that, while we're going to try to hold on for as long as we can, we have to let go of some of the stress and just know that we've done all that we can to stay afloat.  

Which brings us to yesterday- we had the cable turned off.  We anticipated a riot from the children.  The oldest (who I thought would storm off in a door slamming huff) was fine.  The youngest was just concerned that he wouldn't be able to watch sports.  We reminded him that his grandparents had TV, and if there was a game he wanted to watch, he could always go over there.

At which point he got up, dried his tears, went and got the Rummikub game and proceeded to beat me.  I didn't even let him win.  He then built a Bionicles from a kit that had been sitting in the house for a while, and then he went to karate.  When we got home, we finished up dinner, dessert and bedtime breakfast.    Then books and to bed. 

The whole house was peaceful and relaxed. 

I'm not going to miss the TV, if every day is as nice as this one was. 

Just...

 over it.  I'm just over it.  I have to write to process some of this, but I don't even know where to start.  Or where it will end.  The house + the house= the houses.  We can't afford one of them, much less both of them.  We can't sell the other one, so it's rented out but the rent doesn't even cover the cost of the mortgage.   I haven't had a damn closing in over a year, so I went to work for the school system last year to make a little (very little) money, but mostly so that we would be able to get some health insurance.  Mike is working as hard as he can, and we're just trying to make ends meet.  I just cashed out the last of my life insurance a few months ago, so that we could try to keep going.  We're out.  Out of money, out of energy.  So tired of trying, and spinning my wheels, and not getting anywhere. Just trying to hold it all together.  And failing.  Jensen asked me a couple of days ago, "Are we going to lose our house?"  All I could say was, "I hope not.  We're trying."  What a kick in the gut from a 7 year old, who is wise beyond his years, and worried about things he shouldn't have to worry about.  We can't modify the loan on our old house, because we don't live in it.  We can't modify the loan on our current home because we refinanced it last year to get a better interest rate, and the loan had to be originated before January 2009.  Ours was originated February 6th, 2009.  I keep trying to put my faith and trust out there, and hope that everything will work out.  I just don't see how it can.  I'm just stuck.  Tired.  Sad.  Stressed.  Over it.  Out of money, out of energy, and out of hope.

Such a gourmet

Porter wanted spaghetti tacos, but we didn't have any taco shells.  We did, however, have hamburger buns from our Sloppy Joes (or Untidy Josephs, as the children call them).  So, he asked if they could have spaghetti sandwiches for dinner. 

Of course not!  What kind of mother do you... think.... I.....

Hey, wait.  Quite often,  spaghetti comes with garlic bread.  I made the sauce, and it has spinach and other vegetables stirred into it.  I also diced some meat and put it in the sauce, to add some protein. 

They ended up pretty messy, and fell apart, but dinner was a lot of fun.

Bon Appetit, kids.

SO behind....

This is the story of the Christmas tree. Of our driving into the middle of... well, nowhere, and cutting down a beautiful tree to put in our living room.

I went to the local forest service office to get our tree hacking permit. Because I am a rule follower... well, most of the time... I ask for the map of the approved tree cutting areas. Turns out that where we cut our tree last year was not a legal spot, but that's water under the bridge, and it was really pretty and a total accident, and we didn't get caught, so...

We get in the car, drive a while. Find a seemingly good spot to park the car. Remember, we're out in the middle of NOWHERE. About 30 minutes drive from any other real people. This will be important later.

Hop out of the car. My husband, because he is responsible, puts on the hazard lights. We bundle up, and go out into the great Rocky Mountain National Forest to claim our prize.

We find the perfect tree- right off the bat. I am all for cutting that sucker down and getting it on the car and us back home. But really, we can't cut down the first tree we see, and it really is rather big, so we talk ourselves out of it. And we go off into the bush to find the perfect tree.

We trudge around. And around. Decide that this area isn't for us, so we walk across the road, and look there. And we look. And look.

At this point, the kids are ready to cut pretty much anything down, but now that we have so much invested in it, I'll be damned if I'll settle for some loser Charlie Brown stick thin Christmas tree. Soooooo- we keep looking. We cross the road again. Totally different area, that has us scaling hillsides to find the perfect tree.

Finally, we decide.... we really did have the best tree with the first one we saw. So- you guessed it- we went and took another look. Man, that sucker is BIG. But so beautiful. Mike measures and it will fit. The kids are sold- but we remind them- it always looks small in nature, and big in the living room. They insist, and we decide that it is our tree after all.

So, yes. We cut down the first tree we saw. But it was an hour and a half later when we did it.

And we got back to the car, Michael and I managed to heave it on top of the car, we tied it down, and we were positively giddy at the prospect of putting it up. Load in the car, buckle up, turn the key....

and nothing.

Nothing. An hour and a half of safety flashers has killed the battery.

Mike gets out. Sighs. He'll start walking the probably 15 miles in a snowstorm back to town. It's 4 PM, on a Sunday. We've done NOTHING right- didn't tell anyone where we were going, left late, and forgot our cell phones.

The children and I settle in for what I predict will be a long wait. I feed them some granola bars and a little water. They want the heater on, and I launch into an explanation of why that's not possible since we can't start the car, and.....

Here comes Michael. In a car that he met just as he walked out of sight. They give us a jump, we delight in our good fortune, and drive on home.

The tree, when we get it home, is.... well.... huge. Jensen commented, as we hefted it off of the car, "WOW! IT GREW ON THE WAY HOME!!"

Part two will be the decoration. Which deserves another entry all of its own.

Hello, Newman.

Newman. He doesn't look mean, nasty, vicious. Oh, no, he looks like a beautiful rooster. But underneath that plumage, and disguised by his brilliant red comb is.... evil.

I bring him scraps from the diner. I make sure that his water is always clean and fresh. I feed his harem of pampered pullets, give them nice boxes in which to roost and lay. And every time I go up there and feed him a bucket full of lettuce, french fries, hamburger scraps, and hash browns... he tries to attack me.

Eventually, I think that I'll get through to him. We will bond someday, I'm sure. Perhaps over a large vat of home made chicken soup.

So am I, buddy.

So. A few nights ago was LAUNDRY NIGHT. That would be the night when I could no longer ignore the pile of laundry that needed to be folded.

Got it sorted. Laid out. Hung, and resorted into piles that needed to go into the respective childrens' rooms.

Got it all into Porter's room. He was in bed, reading. Would give me the cute little smile of his when I entered into the room, but was mostly into his book.

Then it was time to go into Jensen's room. He was also in his bed, reading happily. My first trip, the pants trip, he informed me that, from this point on, every time I went into his room, I had to give him a hug. Twist my arm. He didn't notice that the underwear trip became the underwear trips, as I began to bring the pairs of underwear in one by one. Same with the shirts.

Every time I walked in, his little face lit up, and his arms reached for me. Big hugs. Lots of giggles. And that smile. The one that melts me instantly- I got that one, every time.

The last trip, he said to me, "Mom... I sure am glad that I made up this rule."

So am I, buddy. So am I.