Despite everything I might have said previously, we ARE going to sell our house. GAK.

I am elated -- we've been talking about it forever and now we actually get to do it! -- and sniffly -- we brought our babies home to THIS house! - and terrified - how in the world do I live here with two kids AND keep it looking neat and clean?! The plan is to get in show-worthy order this week, take pictures, sign the paperwork and stick the sign in my yard on Monday. MONDAY. GAAAK.

There's no time to waste, right? For a minute I sat on the couch this morning thinking: "WhatEVER. It looks FINE. I don't have to go CRAZY." A split second later I was perched atop the kitchen counters, wiping down the tops of the cabinets above the microwave. I want this house to sell, okay?

My kids love a book called Baby Knows Best about a baby who has everything a baby could possibly ask for but all she really wants is to play with newspapers, eat food the grownups are eating, and basically have everything she’s not supposed to have. I think they like the book because it’s funny and true. My kids definitely have a “grass is greener” attitude going on. They can’t wait until they’re grownups and can have all the fun toys Dan and I enjoy, all the privileges and none of the responsibilities.

I can’t say that I blame them. I have the same sort of attitude in reverse. I’d love to have their level of responsibility while maintaining my current level of freedom. Naps all day and easy chores, while maintaining the ability to stay up late whenever I want to, drive a car and spend money at my discretion.

If you follow my personal blog you are no doubt sick of hearing me talk about my HOUSE and how it is SMALL and my various CRACKPOT IDEAS for how to extricate ourselves from this situation. Most people, because they are NORMAL, would work with the house they have, be thankful and shut up about it on their personal websites. But not me! Oh no, I prefer to whine (eloquently, of course) about the near-impossibility of getting my kids to sleep in the same room and woe is us and maybe we can sell it now, rent a bigger house for a year and THEN find our Perfect House, once Phillip is done with grad school. Oh yeah, did I mention grad school? And how people must be crazy to think about selling one's house in a difficult market when they are shelling out tuition money every quarter? RIGHT.

What happened to writing letters to Santa Claus? All my kids talk about is getting their “lists” to Santa. Their lists consist of the words “I want” followed by a whole slew of gifts, mostly impossibly elaborate and magical gifts, that they want the fat guy to deliver on Christmas Eve. It has been an uphill battle convincing them that although presenting Santa with a “list” is what they see in books, movies and on TV, it’s not what we do. The polite thing to do is to write Santa a letter thanking him for last year’s presents, asking about his life and times in the North Pole and possibly telling him about one or two things you might enjoy receiving for Christmas, should his elves have the time and resources to make it happen.

Every once in a while they show glimmers of understanding, faint recognition that they can understand why it might not be fun to get a letter from someone with a list of demands. Santa currently loves children and brings them presents out of the goodness of his heart. He symbolizes charity and the spirit of giving. I say he currently loves children because I cannot imagine how he’ll keep up the love with the way he’s being treated. I want, I want, I want… Oh, I only got half of what I wanted… Next year I want, I want, I want. Obnoxious.

For the past two weeks, I've been at my Dad’s house cleaning it out from top to bottom in order for him to sell it. When I say "cleaning from top to bottom," I literally mean every closet, drawer, and cabinet -- including his attic. He and my Mom lived in this house -- my childhood home -- for thirty years. To say that there are thirty years of memories and memorabilia stored in the house is a huge understatement!