Two showings yesterday.  One showing this morning.  Do you really want the torture of the blow-by-blow sale of our house?  I’m not sure I even want it.  The excitement of being For Sale has definitely worn a bit thin… and we’re only on day 3!!

Basically, I have become a total freak, Neat Freak that is, freaked out Neat Freak.  Dave came home on Wednesday and joked that we should keep the house this clean all the time.  Don’t get me wrong.  I like looking at a perfect home myself, but there is NO WAY I could do this long term.  I spend about 1.5 hours in the morning emptying the little bits of trash there are out, wiping hairs off bathroom floors, making beds perfectly, and vacuuming every little crumb off the kitchen floor and every speck of dirt in the foyer.  Andy followed me around all morning Wednesday asking me to “Peas read.  Peas read.”   “Peas pay Yittle People.”   “Pay cars peas.”  Yesterday was a little better because he had Jack around to terrorize him instead.  And Mom and Dad came up last night, so there were lots of people to entertain everyone.  But this is definitely not the way I want to parent, much less live my life.  Come on buyers—put us out of our misery.

And I am feeling discouraged just because we’ve heard that two of the viewers don’t want our house.  Of course, most people aren’t going to, right?  It would sure be great if the Right Family could come along quickly.  One of the them mentioned that they felt overwhelmed by the thought of having to install central air, which being a people pleaser, makes me wonder if we need to run out and get central air installed.  But no, they must not love our house if they are overwhelmed by central air, don’t you think?  I don’t know.  We, of course, bought our house with gold-squared wallpaper in the foyer, black-and-white-striped paper in the upstairs bathroom, dark paneling in two of the rooms, etc, etc, and somehow we saw past it (and have changed it all).

We went to Jack’s kindergarten orientation at the new school today.  (Hence, Mom and Dad’s visit to watch Andy.)  They took the new kindergarteners off for a bus ride and to read a book in the library, and my shy still-4-year-old trooped off happily, waving and smiling.  I can see that he is so ready for kindergarten—it’s a little sad, they’re all going off and already becoming their own little people.  What was all that I said about homeschooling?  Maybe I should just grab them all for a few more years.

Speaking of which, I found out from the woman I pray with that our to-be-next-door neighbor is the pastor of a Baptist church, and they homeschool their three children (a girl aged 8, a boy aged 6, and some child aged 3 or 4—those poor third-borns, no one can even remember their sex, much less their age).  At first that sounded great and Dave was thrilled that I could have a great friend next door, but now I’ve built her into a paragon of a woman whom I’ll always feel guilt-ridden around because of my unruly, wild children who attend, horror of horrors, Public School.