sometimes we're fancy

Before we reach the outer limit of time when it becomes inappropriately late to post Easter pictures, here's a few of the little ones and me all dressed up on Easter Sunday. Alex was on a plane returning to Austin when these photos were taken, so he missed our church's annual butterfly release on the Capitol grounds.

Our family's butterfly, which I'm pretty sure was a moth, was quite spritely this year and took off before I could get a decent photo. The little guys are usually stunned when they first come out of their envelopes (I'm still not clear on how that whole process works), but ours was ready to see the world.

always find a stud

Disclaimer: I started this blog post about a week ago. I don't know. I've lost track of time, but when you read "this morning" below, it wasn't actually this morning.

This morning I was feeling quite pleased with myself because it was the first time in my adult life that I had a true walk-in closet (and it happened before I turn 40!). I was so overjoyed and that I had one of those "I feel like a character from Sex in the City" moments, to which only girls of a certain age can relate, as I placed my first pair of shoes in my new closet. With great gusto--and alone with my dramatic devices--I anointed my favorite pair of shoes (white Birkenstocks, obviously) queen of the closet. It was a Carrie Bradshaw meets Austin wannabe hippie mom moment.

Several hours later; however, the moment came crashing down. Literally. But let me back up a for a second. I neglected to tell you that the night before I became a true adult with a closet, Alex and I stayed up until 3:00am assembling that closet. It was someone's brilliant idea to start the project around 10:00pm when the children were sound asleep and the wine was flowing because anyone who has ever tried to renovate a house will tell you you get nothing done with children around. And wine makes home projects more fun. Do you see what a great idea this was?

The only setbacks were 1) we don't have a functioning light in our bedroom, which made reading directions a little tricky and 2) it was 10:00pm and the wine was flowing when someone decided to embark upon this project. I'm that someone, by the way, and I stand by my decision.

Back to the crash the following day: some time around mid-afternoon I heard a suspicious noise from our bedroom. It sounded too loud to be any sort of rodent activity, so I checked it out without hesitation. When I looked in the closet I discovered one of our sturdy hanging units had separated itself from the wall. It could have been a disaster, but luckily the other screws were holding on for dear life and kept the shelves and hanging rod afloat. Apparently Alex and I had missed a stud--even after my big joke of the night where I referred to myself as the true "stud finder"--when we were screwing the hanging thing (that's what you call it at 2:00 in the morning) into the wall.

I should note that the endangered shelves and a hanging rod had already been meticulously organized by me. Even going off three hours of sleep, I can organize a closet; however, my spirit may not have recovered if I had had to witness my day's work strewn recklessly about. That would not have been a Sex in the City moment.

hunting and waiting

It started as a chilly morning--at least by Austin Easter weekend standards--but that didn't stop the children from enjoying their second egg hunt of the season on the grounds of Laguna Gloria. We had to skip Scout's soccer game to make the hunt, but we had a good reason. Through some twist of fate (or perhaps a case of mistaken identity because there is another Sarah Wheat in Austin) I was recently elected to the board of Inherit Austin. Don't ask me the organization's mission statement yet--I'm still working on memorizing the FAQs that I received at our first meeting last week--but it has something to do with maintaining the historical integrity of the city. All joking aside, however, I'm excited to be part of this group, and one of its major fundraisers is the annual Easter egg hunt at Laguna Gloria.

Because I just joined, I was exempt from working the event, which meant I was able to enjoy it with my children. It turns out that "enjoying" the egg hunt with these three meant I got to hold everyone's balloon animals and donut holes, while trying to balance my coffee, as they ran wild in search of technicolored plastic eggs. Scout and Tillie were disappointed with their loot, but the bunny-inspired face painting made up for it...sort of [see group photo, below].

When the big event was over, which had kicked into gear at the delightful hour of 8:30am, we found ourselves jacked on candy (at 10:00am!) and no place to go. As we considered whether to crash the neighborhood egg hunt or go to the Capitol grounds for the festival our church puts on every year, I decided we should run by the Home Depot first. Now that we're homeowners again, I find myself at the Home Depot at least three times a week; it just felt like the thing to do on a Saturday morning.

It was a successful trip. Side note: I consider any trip to the Home Depot where all children come out with all limbs in tact a "success." But there was a surprise waiting for us in the parking lot when we returned to the car, and the car wouldn't start. It turned out to be nothing but a dead battery, but it took up the next two hours of our day and nixed our plan to hit as many egg hunts as possible this year (which, admittedly, was a terrible plan when you consider the amount of sugar that would have been ingested on such a mission).

Instead of whining and complaining--like I really wanted to inside--I used the dead battery as a teaching moment for the children. You know, the kind where you tell them sometimes adversity comes up in life, blah, blah, blah...and they just sit there like "Okay, Lady, but can we eat all this candy we just worked so hard to gather at the egg hunt?"

the demo days

Today I handed our contractor a check, and we parted ways. I'm not gonna lie--it was kind of sad saying goodbye. It's such a strange relationship you have with your contractor. For two weeks (in our case) you're on the phone with this guy every day. He's asking you questions like what color grout you want for the tile; you're looking to him for advice; you're also cursing his name behind his back. It's a complicated relationship. His "guys" are in your house every day. They have a key and let themselves in...they know your children and laugh at your husband's elementary Spanish when he tries to crack jokes. And then...poof! It's over, and they've moved on to their next relationship.

I'm not suggesting that I'm pining for the days when there was a dumpster in driveway and ductwork littering our front yard, but I am suggesting that I might come up with a few more "projects" just to check in with my contractor every few months. I told you--it's complicated.

the story of a rat

I'll spare you the visual, but I have a little story that goes something like this...

But first, the backstory. The backstory begins, as they often do, with the stories of our friends and how they purchased their homes in this coveted Austin neighborhood. It seems that everyone has a story about how they "got lucky" purchasing a home from a hoarder or a house where the roof was caving in on itself. Our story is that we "got lucky" by purchasing a rat-infested home (or maybe it's more accurate to say the only home in our price range in this neighborhood was rat-infested). To be clear: we knew there was a rat "problem" when we purchased the home, and "rodent exclusion" was on our list of "things to do" before we inhabited the house. I know I'm using a lot of air quotes here, but bear with me if you want to hear a semi-decent story.

Long story short: the "rat guys" came in; they did their thing; they left us with a sealed-up rat-free home...or did they? It rained (a lot) last week, and apparently rodents--at least the kind that live in your attic and not the sewer--seek shelter in the the rain. Last Friday night I heard the sounds of a "friend" playing around in the kitchen while I was quietly reading on the sofa. We still don't have television, so there was no white noise in the background to drown out the noise of, say, a rat messing around in your kitchen. On Saturday morning I called our local pest control experts (we have them on retainer) to let them know I had seen "evidence" of rodent activity. If you'd like to know, my evidence consisted of droppings and a paper bag that had clearly been chewed through by our unwanted guest. The earliest they--Pest Control--could come to our house was Tuesday because (guess what?) they got backed-up due to the rain (and presumably all the critters seeking shelter inside).

And then it was Saturday night. The girls went to bed as per usual (Catcher was in Houston for spring break) and I was, once again, reading on the sofa alone. I heard the rat in the kitchen; imagined him cooking up a cocktail of paper bags and chia seeds (it turns out he likes those) for himself. I went to bed uneasy yet not terrified because 1) there was a box of Cheerios in the kitchen if he got tired of chia seeds and 2) I've dealt with rodents before--I lived in New York City.

And then it was 1:30 in the morning. I don't know if I woke up because I heard something in my bedroom or I woke up and then I heard something in my bedroom. It turns out that waking up at 1:30 in the morning and discovering a rat beside your bed will kick you into terrified mode pretty quickly. I shined my iPhone flashlight--because I sleep with my phone in the bed when Alex is away--in the direction of the noise that awoke me or I heard when I awoke just in time to see the fat mother (you know what) scurry out of the bedroom into the living room under the piano. I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. When daylight finally broke, to my great relief, I felt as if there was once again a newborn in our home dictating my sleeping patterns--I was tired and frazzled.

Fast forward two days. Alex came home; I told him the story about the asshole rat who came into our room in the middle of the night (I think he half-believed me), and we set a good old-fashioned snap trap with a morsel crouton wrapped in salmon wrapped in brie. The rat took the bait. The trap did not snap.

At this point I abandoned my humanitarian side that feels cruelty toward animals, and I got inside the mind of the rat. I defaulted to a glue trap. My rodent endeavors from my days in NYC had taught me that, when in doubt, go with the glue. There are many negatives to this type of trap, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The end of the story is, of course, we caught the rat. (At least we caught this rat...the jury is still out as to whether or not there are additional rats roaming the grounds.)

The long and short of it is this: I put the (glue) trap in a position where I know it would not fail. The rat had gained confidence over the previous nights and carelessly went for a crouton in a paper bag on the floor that had been surrounded by glue traps. I heard the thrashing of the rat body on the glue trap (too graphic?) in the morning around 5:45 and knew we had caught the sucker. Because Alex missed the rat-by-the-bed incident, I elected him disposer of the rat that had its face and half its body affixed to the trap.

It may not be a humane story, but it's our story about that time we bought a rat-infested home in Hyde Park. Sometimes in life one has to make sacrifices.

sneak peek

My hands are spattered with black paint because last night after having a cocktail (or perhaps it was two) I decided it would be fun to paint the fireplace black. And I didn't stop there. Stay tuned for more...

let me remind myself...

The first photo is to commemorate our moving day. The next two photos are to remind me of what our living/storage situation looked like last week. The last photo is to remind me that the outdated/dirty/yucky bathroom that was here when we bought the place will be long gone from memory as soon as we get the finishing touches (like a toilet!) in this one.

In other renovation news...things are going well. We reconnected with the 21st century via wifi yesterday, and I cooked  a frozen pizza in the oven the other night (the only meal we haven't eaten out since we moved in...there goes all that money I was saving on rent by moving in before renovation was complete). We also have interior doors now; but no knobs yet. I'm told the plumber is coming tomorrow, so as much as I tell myself I like the adventure of walking outside to use the toilet in the casita, I'll be happy when I don't have to round up all the children for a ride on the potty train.