Finley

"Do you really want to wear your hair that?" I asked when she emerged from her room on picture re-take day. Her hair was normal in the first photo she had taken at school, but somehow she managed to be bug-eyed, like she was trying to see if her eyes would fall out if she just opened her eyelids wide enough. But this day, she opted for the side-of-the-head ponytail. "I like it this way," she said. And so I let it go, wondering if she will like this photo six years from now.

Of course, most days, she doesn't want even want to brush her hair. "Brush you hair, Finley," I will order her when I see the tangled mess. "Why?" she asks. "So that you will look nice," I say. "Why do I need to look nice?" she asks. Usually I only answer that question in my head. So that no one will think I'm a negligent mother. This is where I finally understand my mother when she would exclaim to me, "People will think you're an orphan!" But, really, what does it matter? I make her brush it anyway.

Some days Most days, I am amazed at who Finley is turning out to be. It's those moments when they don't know you are watching, and you get to see who your kids really are without parental interference...

A few weeks ago, we had a little girl visit. It was Kinzee's first time at our place. She was a first-grader, younger than Joe, but Finley was excited as ever to have a friend to play with. Finley decided to give her the tour of the farm, and all the kids took off running. They hit the play-set first, swinging and climbing for just a moment. Then Finley wanted to show her the berry patch, and off they all ran again. Next came the big pond. The "nature club" (a play area under some trees) was next, but by this time, Zivah was tired and couldn't keep up. Halfway to the nature club (about 50 yards or so), she just stopped while the rest of the kids ran on to the club.

I watched for a minute to see what would happen. I was far enough away that I couldn't hear her, but I could tell that Z was probably crying, so I started walking over. Finley, upon arriving at the club, looked around and noticed that Z wasn't there. She finally spotted Z, then rallied Kinzee and Joe, "Come on!" she yelled, "We need to see what's wrong with Z!" And she took off running back up through the pasture. Upon inquiry, Z sobbed that she had been left behind, and then Finley put her arm around Z and they all walked down to the nature club together.

Know what else makes my heart swell? She wants a truck when she grows up, and she wants a dirt-road driveway (not even gravel) so that the mud will kick up onto the truck to get it dirty. She says trucks looks cooler that way.

[For a glimpse at one of her riding lessons, click here.]

More drywall...

I thought putting up insulation would be the most miserable thing I would do at this stage of the game, but I was wrong.

Chris finished all but two sheets of drywall on the main floor of the house over the Thanksgiving break. Our neighbor, Terry had helped hang all the ceiling and upper walls, then took a well deserved break from us to hunt and spend time with his family. All that is left downstairs is covered up by drywall that needs to go upstairs.

While Chris worked on drywall, I worked on framing out another cubby area upstairs and building temporary doors for the crawl spaces under the roof in an attempt to keep the cold wind from blowing in and sucking out all the heat. When that was finished, we decided to start on the drywall upstairs.

We figured we'd better work on some of the smaller, less convenient areas that Terry would probably not like to work in, so we slapped some drywall up in "the secret passage," then moved on to the cubby in Z's room. I'll tell you what: trying to hang drywall over your head on an over-insulated slant is enough to make a saint grumpy. Or so I tell myself.

I will spare you the details. I don't want to work myself into a bad mood remembering. I will just show you a picture of my finger with the scuffs and small, metal splinters it suffered from the day's work. I know it doesn't look all that bad, but nothing makes you want to cuss more than a drill slipping off a screw and slamming into your finger. I take that back. There are things. But it didn't feel like it at the time.

In the end, we got it finished.

The upstairs is going to take a lot longer with all its crazy corners and angles. I am just daydreaming about the time when the mud and paint is finished and I can start on flooring and trim work. That will be fun.

You know your son loves you when...

...he doesn't want you to die.

translation: Tornadoes. I want to make them go away. Tornadoes, go away. I love my home. I don't want my mom to die.

Thunderstorms are scary. I hope one does not attack my mom. Tornadoes are scary to me. It can tear houses apart. I do not want my mom to get smashed by a tornado.

Hurricanes are the most deadliest storms in the world. My mom is special to me. I do not want her to die in a hurricane. Hurricanes are scary.

















There were pages about floods and blizzards, too, but apparently, Joe's not worried about me dying in one of those.

I Think We're Getting Somewhere

 

Friday morning, in spite of the fact that all the insulation still isn't finished and there are several random things we need to do before drywall can go up in certain areas, we had the drywall delivered.

Carrying the 12 foot sheets upstairs was going to cost extra, and true to form, Chris didn't want to pay someone to do what he could do himself. But somehow, I managed to convince him to have the guys carry up at least half of what we needed.

Friday afternoon, our neighbor, Terry told Chris he was ready to get rolling on the drywall. He slapped together the little drywall lift he bought from Northern Tool, and they worked into the night getting the ceiling up in the living room.

We still hadn't decided on someone to finish the drywall, so Chris called yet another guy recommended to us by the drywall suppliers. He came out Saturday to look things over. Chris asked him to give a quote for hanging the upstairs and finishing the whole house, and he came back with a price that higher than two different Hispanic guys gave us for hanging and finishing the whole house.
So Chris asked him to give us another quote just for finishing.

I keep thinking about the Little Red Hen. I know the story of the Little Red Hen is a story about not being able to get help, but I think I'm going to rewrite it. In my version, the Little Red Hen will never be happy with either 1. they way other people will do the job that needs to be done or 2. how much it will cost Little Red Hen. Will Little Red Hen learn to let go and let others? Or, in a fatalistic end to the story, will Little Red Hen (or Rooster) pick up a mud knife and pan? We shall see.

In the mean time, Chris and Terry got a lot done this weekend...

It's beginning to look like our goal of a May/June move in date is really feasible!

Workin' Hard

Just looking at it makes me itch.

We worked hard last week putting up insulation. It took about four days with the help of my mom and brother to get all the exterior walls and ceilings insulated. I'm sure a profession crew could have finished all of it in half the time (or less). But, perfectionist that I am, it took us a little longer, and we probably did a better job.

We still need to insulate the floor and some of the interior walls for sound dampening, but I couldn't handle another day of itching.

In the mean time, I've been getting my eBay store up and running again to bring in some 'extra' money. By the end of this week, I'll probably be so sick of eBay that I'll be happy to dive back into the insulation.

In other news, Chris decided that, since our neighbor offered to help, he will hang the drywall himself. I am hoping we will still find someone to finish it for us.

For kicks, I looked up how much we've spent on the house so far. I really have no idea how much it would have cost us to get to this point if we had hired out the work, but I'm convinced we've saved a butt load. (Note: I just learned that a butt is an actual unit of measurement equivalent to 2 hogsheads or 126 gallons.)