Ding dong the bamboo’s done. (And the lighting and the paint.)

6 months.

1 trip to Ikea.

17 breakdowns.

842 sq. feet of cootie free bamboo flooring.

At least 20 gallons of paint.

My furniture isn’t pretty enough to live here.

Heck, I’m barely pretty enough to live here.

You, Moosh, turn Big Three today!  My little girl is growing younger today.  No kindergarten next year.  No learning to ride your bike without training wheels this year.  No learning to play the piano this year.  You are turning Big Three today and going to preschool again next year.  Thank goodness you decided to grow backwards this year.

I know you think you are turning five today and that that makes you “almost an adult,” but you will always be my little girl.  I tease you relentlessly because I love you.  Your mom gets emotional when she thinks of the number of words in your vocabulary now, and she wants you to stop growing.  I want you to stop growing as well, but I am so glad that you have all those words in your vocabulary (even if they don’t all make sense when they are put together in a sentence).  You have become so smart and I swell with pride when you retort what I say with a simple sentence based on some logic that actually makes perfect sense, but that a four year old should never be able to think of on her own (I think you would make a great law student, but your mom would make me sleep in the man cave if I wished law school on you).  Some of my favorite times with you have been when we drive places and make up stories to tell each other, or when we work on a project together and you carry on a conversation with me.  I loved coming home the other night to you watching the BBC News; and when I asked what you were doing you looked at me like I was naive and you said, “I’m watching the news.”  You have become one of my best friends and one person I love to hang out with.  I never get tired of being woken up by a playful punch in the face from you, or your constant jumping on my stomach while I’m napping on the floor.    I get excited and proud when you constantly ask me to show you my toys from when I was a kid.

You are no longer just my daughter, you are my buddy and I hope that never changes.

So, happy fifth birthday Moosh.

P.S. Thank you for playing with my He-Man toys for a few days even though they were, as your mother says, “creepy boy toys.”

Whoops.

You move into a new house and time just flies right by doesn’t it?

It may be that I’m drowning in boxes.

Or that my downstairs ceiling is leaking upstairs toilet water.

It may be that I am completely consumed with the fact that I have five light switches that control nothing.

Perhaps it’s because my baby, my one and only offspring TURNS FIVE TOMORROW.

I’ve also been concerned about the heating vent RIGHT above the head of my bed that bakes my boogers as I sleep leaving me a stuffy crusty mess each morning. (You’re soooo welcome for THAT visual.)

Also? There’s a lot of room in big houses for funny noises to happen. Funny noises bother me almost as bad as light switches to nowhere but not nearly as bad as residual toilet water dripping on my head.

And dude, the ladybugs? Seriously, I was always all “LOVE THE LADYBUG” growing up but apparently I moved to the one place in the country where all the ladybugs go to die. You can only have so many crispy ladybug carcasses jump out at you from every crevice before you begin to rethink the ladybugs purpose here on Earth.

I’ve also been writing my official life list in my head. When going over it with Cody last night I realized we’re not quite equal in the life list scheme of things. For example. I have jumped out of a plane however I have never won a trophy.

I really want to win a trophy. Plaques, ribbons and silver plates? Check. Trophy? Fail.

We were given a fake Christmas tree to enjoy which is actually pretty awesome, it currently has a stuffed poodle, a picture of Jesus and a 1994 piano competition trophy underneath it. (Obviously not my trophy.) We spent the evening last night searching out a candle that smelled like a real tree. (You must understand, Cody resorting to a fake Christmas tree is the equivalent to PETA chowing down on a tasty tasty cheeseburger.) Which leads me to this observation, I have never owned a Yankee Candle. $21 for a candle? And they have their own freestanding stores? Who loves candles that much? (We went with the much less expensive White Barn essential oil option…)

As for my Christmas list? It currently contains one item. A very pretty cutting board. I feel like I already have so much that there’s not much else I want/need. I mean hello, your first house two weeks before Christmas? Kind of hard to outdo that. (Except with maybe a trophy?)

I was told to ‘CHILL’ in all caps tonight from my contractor.

I can see why the moosh is so smitten kitten with him. (Truth be told she’s moved onto Keith, the do everything and anything man that works for Gene, he has a charming Midwestern drawl.)

I can also see why home renovations can easily lead to divorce. Or at least leaving you wishing you had built a separate bedroom for that toad that insists on calling himself your husband who thinks you have crappy taste in wood flooring. (Note: We have two extra bedrooms plus miss moosh will have a bunk bed, and no I don’t want him to sleep in either of them, he’s not a toad and he loves my taste in fine bamboo flooring.)

With the (possible) toking subcontractors, fantastic curtains from JCPenney and walls with pain colors like ‘Urban Putty’ ‘Studio Taupe’ ‘Whole Wheat’ and ‘Enchanted’ I’m about to fall on my face with excitement.

Naturally this is where I would show you pictures. BUT HA! I HAVE NONE! I’m so busy making kissy faces at my floors and sniffing the paint fumes that I keep forgetting to bring my camera.

Appliances will be delivered Monday (ZOMG APPLIANCES THAT I PICKED OUT AND THAT ARE MIIIIIINE!)

And if all goes well? I get to move out of the hotel on the ninth and into my home on the tenth (or something like that.)

Pictures are coming. This whole thing will be the best Christmas present ever. EVER.

Now tell me, have home renovations almost lead you down the path of destruction? Also? Is it natural to want to kiss your contractor on the nose?

***UPDATED BELOW*** (AGAIN!)

I’m not one to get all up in arms about this sort of thing.

But after my experience tonight JCPenney has got me thinking.

I went into their store looking for a specific curtain rod. It was on sale online but not in the store. This was the first hiccup.

However the sales ladies were absolute doll faces and I could have kissed them for their help.

Also the sales ladies who helped us on “Black Friday” when we purchased a whole bunch of curtains were all eligible for some sort of award involving hugs.

However when I went online tonight to purchase this particular curtain rod while it was still on sale for “Cyber Monday” their site had pretty much crashed. Absolute standstill. I tried calling their 24/7 customer service line only to have their automated system hang up on me. Twice.

Their facebook page has over a half million fans and a lot of them were having the same troubles as me.

Now I’m not sure how JCPenney will handle this kerfuffle, but it has left me wondering, can a brick and mortar store make it with a crappy online presence? It’s the biggest online shopping day of the year, shouldn’t they have been prepared? What about the reverse? Can a fantastic online store make it if they have horrible real life customer service? (I’m looking at you all of you secret/closet online Wal-Mart shoppers.)

I don’t mean to get all grumpy, but I just wonder what will happen to the future of shopping with this whole online/real life thing. Because I would have much rather spent the extra $20 to buy the rod from the cute old ladies than swear at my computer and threaten kicking puppies just to save some money online.

Is real life customer service worth the extra cost to you?

***UPDATE***

As of this morning, JCPenney.com will not honor the prices from last night on merchandise purchased this morning even though their site did not work last night. Tried calling customer service and was hung up on by their automated system, again. Facebook is absolutely full of ticked off customers. INSERT DRAMATIC DUN DUN DUN music here. (Okay, honestly, it’s not that big of deal. I’m just curious how it will play out. You know? I like cereal…)

***UPDATE #2***

JCPenney came through today on facebook, actively answering questions, and apologizing for the big mess last night. Not sure if everyone came away happy but it looks like they did their best through all avenues, facebook, twitter and through an email apologizing for the kerfuffle and extending their free shipping offer.

I was able to finally get through tonight and get the same prices from last night along with free shipping.

This my friends is where I say “and they all lived happily ever after…in a freshly painted house surrounded by luscious curtains.”

I would like you all to know that my Thanksgiving plate was perfectly divided into sixths with nothing overlapping. I do not like my foods to touch. Syrup and eggs on the same plate?

I’d rather wear ill fitting skinny jeans everyday for a month in August.

While pregnant.

Cody on the other hand piles everything on top of everything else, stirs it around and glops jelly on top (since our hotel is fresh out of cranberry sauce he made do with a couple of tiny pots of blackberry jam.)

My brain currently feels like what Cody’s Thanksgiving meal looked like. It all went together but you couldn’t tell where one thing started and another thing ended. And occasionally there’s a bite of who knows what with something crunchy on top snuck in there for good measure.

This living in a hotel thing isn’t horrible. But I don’t love it. Very close to stir crazy. I’ve been rotating about four outfits since I left for Utah in the middle of November. Everything else is packed up in a box. You know what else is packed up in a box that is driving me bonkers? My personalized stationary. I really like writing notes with it. Even if the note is just “I must be a grown up because I have stationary with my name on it!”

I have all these thank you notes I want/need to write but refuse to write them on hotel stationary. So by the time they are actually uncovered I’ll have to write something like “HI. Sorry I didn’t write to you sooner to say thanks but I HAD to write it on this card because hello? LOOK HOW PRETTY! But they were all packed away in a box where I couldn’t get to them.”

I also slammed my middle finger in the door of a 2010 Camaro leaving it multicolored and without feeling except for searing throbbing pain.

I’ve finally learned how to type without it. *phew* I’ll have to tell you all about the Camaro, and my finger, however we’re still currently in mourning over the fact that we had to give the Camaro back.

In the meantime. What’s going on with you? Anything new? I’d really like to know. Unless it involves a hotel. Then just lie to me.

As many of you may know I went to Butterball University and was glazed in turkey wisdom.

All I learned and all you should know is yonder…at the Butterball Blog.

Here’s the thing. (And I’m not saying this because they paid me to.) The turkey talk line is like real life google for turkeys only you get one answer and it’s the right one. Having a panic attack about your turkey? 1-800-BUTTERBALL. Seriously. Even I’m going to be calling to make sure I’ve got things right.

165 degrees in the stuffing. 180 degrees in the thigh. Chant it if you have to.

About my first Thanksgiving…it won’t be spent in my new house. Boo. BUT! It will not be spent in a hotel. It will be spent with friends. And my little family. And no matter how my turkey turns out? I am most thankful for them.

the moosh has a crush on the guy doing the work on our house. She says his name all drawn out and flirty. She draws him pictures and asks him “whatchadooin?”

Really?

Can’t blame her.

Because as of today my bathroom went from looking like this:

To this:

This utterly weird built in desk has been changed from this:

To this beautiful pile of rubble which will be changed into:

A CLOOOOSSSEETTTT!!

Oh, and then there’s this crap:

We knew there was a serious leak in the ceiling, after that was fixed turns out there were two serious leaks in the ceiling. And then when those were fixed water started pouring out of the freaking wall.

Three broken pipes and two holes in two different walls later and I have working plumbing.

I’m still having a hard time envisioning it all. But Cody and I realized last night that every surface except for the laundry room will be fresh and new. Cootie free. Free and clear for the moosh family cootifying.

Sure I’d rather not be living in a hotel while all of this goes down and it would have been lovely to just move in, but I like this process. It will be new. And it will be mine.

And my kid will have learned the value of a hard working man. (Well, you know, outside her father. And grandfather…you know, one who can lay tile and hang drywall, not just do your taxes or write a strongly worded letter.)